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auncyen · 2 years

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I meant to post this on ao3 today as kind of just an idea? but it's too close to worktime so I'll look it over again tomorrow

Might not even work as a fic, I need to replay p3 when the switch port comes out lol

Aigis transferred into Shujin as a second-year on the third Monday of January. The Shadow Operatives did not know what year the Phantom Thieves actually were, or if they were even students; she simply picked the year because she already knew she looked the age. The passage of time did not reflect on her features the same way it would for a human.

“What a miserable thing, transferring so close to the end of the year,” Aigis’ new homeroom teacher said. “You might as well have finished the year at your old school. Not that you aren’t welcome, of course…. Ah, please ignore any rumors you might hear. We’ve had a rather eventful year here.”

“What sort of rumors?” Aigis asked. She was not planning to ignore those at all.

“Oh, that the seat you’re at is cursed, or some such nonsense….the girl who transferred out is alive, thankfully.” Mr. Hiruta looked troubled. “Anyway… here we are.”

He led her into the classroom and had her stop at the chalkboard, handing her a piece of chalk. “Introduce yourself, please? Your name, and something you’d like us to know about you.”

Aigis obediently wrote her name on the chalkboard as he went to his desk, then turned to face her newly designated peers. “Pleased to meet you all. My name is Aigis.”

“…Does she really have no family name?” her teacher muttered, paging through documents. “There’s none on the paperwork, but…”

Some of the documentation had been rushed in the haste to transfer her in. “I am a Phantom Aficionado,” Aigis announced. “I am happy to be attending the school where they started.”

“Don’t tell me that’s why you transferred in…”

His volume was still low, obviously not meant to be heard, but Aigis chose to answer anyway. He wanted them to know something about her, did he not? “It is,” Aigis said, drawing laughter from her new classmates. She did not elaborate further; a full disclosure would be counterproductive to her mission.

The Phantom Thieves seemed to have taken an insidious hold of Tokyo. For that reason, it was essential to gather information on the group. At one point their leader had supposedly been in police custody, and Mitsuru-san should have been able to learn his identity through the Shadow Operatives’ government ties, now that there was less… interference, but even now there were still problems. In this case, everyone who had dealt with the leader directly seemed to be either dead, missing… or had been given a change of heart and were adamant they would not betray the Phantom Thieves’ justice. It seemed the group no longer saw a need to disguise what they were doing as anything besides brainwashing. And yet they still enjoyed a fervor of popularity that was outright unnatural. In fact, if the excited whispers and smiles on her classmates’ faces were any indication, it was especially strong at Shujin.

“Yes, yes, the Phantom Thieves saved us from a stolen election and corrupt government,” Mr. Hiruta said, getting back up from his desk with a book in hand. “Now I must ask you to all focus on the lesson at hand, lest we all end up with corrupt minds. Aigis, that seat by Sato, that’s yours.” He pointed and waited until she had taken the empty seat to begin his lecture. Aigis turned her focus to processing his lecture, but not without noting that the teacher, while less effusive thank the students, seemed to also believe in the Phantom Thieves.

Between classes, people asked curiously about where she had transferred from and if she really had come to hear about the Phantom Thieves; she played the part of Phantom Aficionado as Yukari had suggested. She’d transferred from Port City; she’d had to transfer anyway, but Shujin had been her pick among other possibilities because she was so curious about the Phantom Thieves. In turn, the students regaled her with their accounts of the Phantom Thieves’ first victim, Suguru Kamoshida. A former Olympic gold medalist, he’d put on a jocular facade while physically abusing the volleyball team members. He’d even pushed a girl to attempting suicide. He confessed to all this after a flurry of calling cards were posted on school walls stating that the Phantom Thieves would steal his distorted desires.

Aigis understood now why Mr. Hiruta had warned about rumors. In all the crosstalk, it came out that for a few weeks the class had thought the suicide attempt had succeeded, and that had caused the vacated seat to be regarded as cursed. She would have to take care to verify anything she heard. So far, the students’ accounts agreed with what had been reported in the news after Kamoshida’s initial arrest, and contradicted the articles that had been published late in the year, claiming those targeted by the Phantom Thieves were innocents compelled to false confessions by mental illness.

Shirogane expressed frustration when Aigis shared her findings that evening. “With the entire city behaving strangely, the students could easily be under some kind of manipulation.” She pursed her lips. “However, I was able to discuss details of the case with the detectives who worked it. They gave fairly concrete details about the volleyball members who were willing to discuss the alleged abuse. I believe it did happen. That, plus the amateur nature of the first calling card, makes me believe the Phantom Thieves could have been started by either Kamoshida’s victims or someone with ties to them. Try to approach the girl who was harassed first.”

Aigis happened to find Ann Takamaki during lunch period the next day. She was laughing with a boy, and Aigis paused, trying to think if there was a way to break gracefully into the conversation, when Takamaki’s eyes glanced toward her and the girl smiled at Aigis. “Oh, hi! You’re the new transfer, right?”

“Only other blonde, who else would she be?” the boy at her side asked. “Yo! Ryuji Sakamoto, nice to meet ya.”

Ah. That both of them were the friendly sort made things easier for Aigis. “It is nice to meet you too, Sakamoto. My name is Aigis.”

“Just call him Ryuji, Aigis. I’m Ann,” Takamaki said, and Aigis was reminded of s second-year Yukari. “Are you settling in okay? I know transferring can be rough, and right at the end, too…uh, do you need any help catching up?”

Sakamoto snorted. “What, you’re volunteering to help? That’d just get her in more trouble.”

“Shut up! …I mean, Ren could help her out, right?”

“Oh, so you were gonna volunteer him. You know he’s been crazy busy!”

Aigis was starting to form an evaluation: these two could be prone to distractions and tangents. “Thank you for the concern, but it is unnecessary. The curriculum is already stored in my memory. I am more interested in learning about the Phantom Thieves. They started here, did they not?”

It was, perhaps, overly blunt. Aigis had never been much for subtlety. But the two second-years didn’t seem bothered by it past the first few seconds of surprise. “Yeah! They took care of that dirtbag Kamoshida,” Sakamoto said. “He was such a piece of shit, always looking down on everyone and treating Shujin like his personal castle. My leg got messed up ‘cause of him, and for a while I was real angry about it, him and the school coverin’ for him.”

“You were on the volleyball team?” Aigis asked, scanning his features again. She thought she had already identified the team’s members, and he had not been one.

“Nah, track. Last year Kamoshida got the track team’s coach fired, then ran us into the ground until I snapped like an idiot. You probably didn’t hear anything about it since it’s old news compared to what he confessed to.”

“He should have confessed to that too,” Takamaki said with a frown. “You deserved an apology.”

“I mean, would’ve been nice… but look, Ann, I’m over it. Even dyed my hair back, y’know?” Sakamoto pointed up at his hair. Indeed, when Aigis focused on the dark tufts, she could discern a quality to the color telling of a dye job.

“It looks weird on you,” Takamaki stated.

“Wha—oh, come on! You said blond looked weird on me too!”

“Because you used way too much bleach. But I don’t know, I got…used to that, I guess. I’ll get used to ‘good boy Ryuji’ too.”

“Don’t make me sound like a puppy,” he groused. Takamaki just laughed and mimicked a dog’s bark at him.

Aigis did not have time to steer the conversation back to a more productive direction before the bell sounded to announce the end of lunch. Sakamoto and Takamaki immediately commented about the need to head back to class, and Aigis turned away herself, filing a note to try ‘running into’ both of them again. Then she spotted a boy scowling her way at the end of the hall. From a visual analysis, this was Yuuki Mishima, a second-year who had been on the volleyball team.

She stepped toward him. “Is something the matter?”

The way his eyes shifted made her realize he’d been looking past her. Takamaki, Sakamoto? …Was Sakamoto’s dyed hair that appalling? Aigis had not seen anything unusual about it. “It’s nothing,” the boy muttered. “Don’t mind me.” He stepped past her with his eyes cast downward, but she saw a flash of the scowl returning. She wanted to stop him for questions, but they were already the last two in the hall. There were no stragglers after the bell. Rules were an important part of society, but the population of Tokyo seemed outright compelled by them now. So Aigis headed to class as well. After school, she made an attempt to look for Mishima in class 2-D, but he seemed to have already left. There was another former volleyball player there too, so she tried talking to him instead. He seemed annoyed to talk about the subject of Kamoshida, which seemed natural, and his brusque answers revealed nothing interesting, so Aigis let that conversation end briefly and went “home”, to the apartment Mitsuru was renting for her, and reported to the Kirijo heir. It did not take long. There was not much to report.

“That’s fine,” Mitsuru said, when Aigis expressed concern over not having more intelligence. “You’re at least in a position to observe should any more sudden changes occur in the city. Keep us apprised. Also, Yamagishi uncovered some information you should know….”

Aigis spent lunch on Wednesday trying to find Mishima, but just as she did he abruptly doubled back and went into the boys’ restroom. It would be regarded as highly suspicious if she intruded into the bathroom, so she waited until that seemed to become suspicious as well, judging from glances from her fellow peers, so she went to track down some first-years who had played volleyball instead. She tried classroom 2-d after school. He was already gone. She made a brief report to Mitsuru, largely that nothing about the first years had stood out so far.

On Thursday she tried to find Mishima before classes started at school, but he again ducked into a restroom and remained there until the bell for classes rang, which was suspicious for both the duration he remained in there and that he did not emerge immediately after the bell. Aigis calculated the odds that he was experiencing gastrointestinal distress two days in a row that was not severe enough to keep him home or send him to hospital. She considered how he was lingering in there, and how he had been the only straggler besides her on Tuesday.

The most probable conclusion seemed to be that Yuuki Mishima was not ill, but avoiding her. Following that thought, if he was not ill but freely choosing to linger in the restroom, a secondary conclusion seemed to be that he was not experiencing the same compulsion to follow rules that most students were.

Yuuki Mishima was the most suspicious student at Shujin thus far. She beelined to classroom 2-d as soon as lunch began, at a speed that was slightly faster than 99.99% of female humans could reach, though considering it was still humanly possible she still didn’t think it merited the looks she got in the hall. Ignoring those, she opened the classroom door and stood at Mishima’s desk just as he was rising from it, earning a very wide-eyed look from him.

“Mishima-kun,” she said. “Can I talk to you?”

“I don’t want to talk about Kamoshida,” he answered.

“Understandable.” If that was the reason he was avoiding her, she did not blame him, but there were certainly other things they could discuss. “I have heard you’re rather knowledgeable about the Phantom Thieves. Could I ask you about them?”

Mishima sighed harshly, his head half-turning to the back corner of the room before he stopped himself. “They’re all anyone seems to want to talk about nowadays…”

Strange. His mood seemed to be souring even more at the new topic, even though Tokyo was near-unanimous in its admiration of the Phantom Thieves. While he’d already proven somewhat exceptional in his behavior, didn’t he want the Phantom Thieves to be popular? After all…

“That’s thanks to you, isn’t it?” Aigis lowered her volume. “And the Phansite?”

“H-how—“ As Mishima startled, there was a flash of movement on the edge of Aigis’ vision. The corner of the room again. Takamaki sat in that area; was she listening to their conversation? She wasn’t looking their way, eyes on her phone, but perhaps she was trying to hide her interest. “Look,” Mishima said. “…Let’s talk somewhere else, all right?”

It seemed the intelligence had been correct. Fuuka was very reliable. Continuing the discussion elsewhere was agreeable to Aigis, so she stepped aside and walked alongside Mishima through the halls of Shujin. They meandered for a good thirty seconds before Mishima realized she was expecting him to decide their destination, at which point he led her up to the school rooftop.

“So, you’re…good with computer stuff too, I guess,” Mishima said. “And one of the biggest Phangirls, even now.”

“Are you a Phantom Thief?” Aigis asked. The group did seem to have a…self-promoting tendency, given how the masses’ cognition had been changed.

But Mishima immediately laughed at that, both self-deprecating and too quickly to seem anything but genuine. “I wanted to be. I wish I had been… Look, you just tried to blackmail me so I’d tell you all about the great Phantom Thieves, right? But I’m not even sure you can get me in trouble for being the Phansite admin. I panicked when you said that ‘cause a month ago, I totally could have gotten in hot water, but now I’ve thought it through, and who’d care? Or no, maybe they would care, but it’d be a good thing! People would give me credit as being the first to see how fantastic the Phantom Thieves are! So go ahead!” he yelled, throwing up his hands. “Go tell the first person you see I’m the Phansite admin! Get on the PA system, tell the whole school! But maybe think, maybe think for one second, isn’t it weird? Isn’t it weird everyone’s in love with the Phantom Thieves? Everyone loves these rebels, even the authorities, isn’t that, isn’t that weird? It’s weird!”

“Mishima-kun,” Aigis tried to interject, to get him to slow down. She could still process his speech, but he was going so quickly he was beginning to trip himself up. He sounded desperate, and perhaps that would have been helpful if he’d been a Phantom Thief, but his desperation seemed to stem from knowing how strange matters had turned in the city. He wasn’t hesitating at all to point it out to her, like he believed her feigned interest in the Phantom Thieves but, rather than enjoying it as she thought a Phantom Thief or one of their most dedicated supporters would, absolutely hated it.

“It’s so weird,” Mishima continued. “You only want to talk to people about one thing and people notice that but no one thinks it’s weird because everyone wants to talk about the Phantom Thieves anyway. Everyone in the city has lost their minds, and I’d say the flood of blood did it but most people were acting weird before that and you…totally think I’m the crazy one,” he sighed, his shoulders sagging as all the frantic energy seemed to drain from him in an instant. “Which, okay, I do feel a little crazy right now, but you all started acting crazy first.” He stared at her for a few seconds before shrugging. “So, I don’t want to talk to you about anything, I’m going back down to eat, go ahead and tell everyone I’m the Phansite admin and a nutcase, I don’t care. I don’t have the energy to care right now.” He turned away from her.

Unacceptable. They now had a new matter to discuss. “Mishima-kun,” Aigis said, stepping in front of him. “You remember the events of December 24th?”

He pulled up short, though she wasn’t sure if that was from the question or the obstacle she was posing. “…What?”

“You referenced a ‘flood of blood’. Tokyo experienced rain that was visually similar to blood on the evening of December 24th, but there were no social media accounts or news reports of any kind made about it, as if no one had actually seen it.” To the Shadow Operatives’ knowledge, no one but Yukari, present for a shoot, who’d reported the otherworldly phenomenon as soon as her phone resumed function.

Now she knew he had Mishima’s attention from the way his eyes were focused on her and his mouth gaped. “You…saw it too?”

“No, I did not. I was told about it by someone else.”

“But they saw it, at least? Can I talk to them? What else did they tell you?”

Aigis was starting to feel rather sorry for Mishima now. She imagined it would be disorienting to think he was the only one aware of the changes in Tokyo. His attitude toward her had done a complete reversal at the revelation she might have information for him. But she still needed information too. “If you are not a Phantom Thief, do you know one of them?”

He hesitated. As if he was deliberating. “…You’re not actually a Phangirl, are you?”

She would have liked to consult with Mitsuru first, but this seemed like a circumstance where she had to decide here and now. “I am not. I am investigating the cause of Tokyo’s current state. Why, as you put it, ‘everyone in the city has lost their minds’ and is blindly praising the Phantom Thieves.”

“I…. I can’t—“

The door to the rooftop banged against the stairwell as it was thrown all the way open, startling Mishima into cutting off. “Mishima! Oh, and the cute transfer, too.”

“Amamiya?” Mishima seemed to still be startled, both confusion and alarm on his face.

The boy he’d called Amamiya grinned widely. “Mishima, they called your name on the PA system. Guess you missed it up here? You’re wanted in the vice-principal’s office. It sounded urgent.”

“…R, right,” Mishima said. “Then I…” He looked at Aigis, then at Amamiya’s smiling face. “I’m going.”

“I’ll find you at the end of classes,” Aigis told him. This discussion wasn’t over.

Amamiya whistled. “And you just got here! I didn’t think Mishima could move that fast.”

Aigis’s first thought was that Mishima’s speed was not that sluggish. Then she realized, after further parsing, that Amamiya thought they were attracted to each other. She chose not to rebut the false notion, but she didn’t miss how Mishima looked at Amamiya one last time before heading down the stairs. Did the idea embarrass him? That reaction wasn’t unusual for teenagers.

Amamiya was still smiling as he looked Aigis up and down. She had been ‘checked out’ by guys a number of times before, but Amamiya was being unusually brash about it. “Excuse me,” Aigis said with a nod, intending to go back downstairs, but Amamiya stepped between her and the door.

“Hey, don’t be in such a rush. So, is Mishima really your type? I’m surprised. Ah, that’s probably rude to say, but girls always blew him off before.”

It was very rude to say, and Aigis was beginning to form a derogatory opinion of Amamiya. Still, forcibly removing him from the doorway was not yet justified, so she simply requested, “Let me pass.”

“Sure, sure,” Amamiya said, stepping to the side. But he followed her as she went down, shuffling along with his hands in his pockets. Seeing his face in profile, she placed him as Mishima’s classmate who sat behind Takamaki; he’d been looking out the window from his seat earlier. “You’re a second-year too, right? Let’s walk together for a bit. A friend of Mishima’s is a friend of mine.”

“Are you a friend of his?” Aigis had thought male friends did not typically check out girls they thought their friend was interested in.

“Ouch,” Amamiya laughed as all of Aigis’ systems buzzed. There was a strange quality to his voice as it traveled through the air. Aigis scanned the staircase, but she could not see an immediate explanation for the distorted sound.

Then they stepped out onto the second floor, and all over the hallways was plastered Shujin’s school slogan:

‘True freedom lies within the constructs of society.”

Aigis halted, observing the many papers posted up even outside of the bulletin boards to show those words in various sizes, from the font size most school announcements were posted in to a banner size pronouncement screaming across two meters of the wall. It had certainly not been there at the start of lunch.

“Is something wrong?”

Amamiya was focused on her. He did not seem to have registered the new flurry of posters, setting Aigis on higher alert. She darted to the nearest window and saw a sky tinged with red and structures formed of huge skeletons intersecting with Tokyo’s architecture. Features Yukari had described from her experience on December 24th. She had also said that while Tokyo’s residents had not been encased in coffins, they had still seemed oblivious to the changed world around them, just as Amamiya was acting. He’d followed her to the window, but still seemed more interested in her.

Aigis sent out an emergency signal, though she knew the odds were against any receiving devices being functional at the moment. What was the trigger for this phenomenon? The Dark Hour had always begun at exactly midnight. Yukari had seen this during evening, but Aigis knew by her internal clock that it was currently 12:19:48, suggesting it was not triggered by time of day.

“Amamiya, please stay close to me,” she said. Even if he was annoying, he was a civilian. She had an obligation to protect him if there might be danger.

The boy’s eyebrows rose up, and he chuckled. “Well, I’m not going to say no to a pretty girl…”

Annoying indeed. She chose to ignore his input.

“…But there’s more to you than that, isn’t there, Aigis?”

“We should go down,” Aigis decided. They needed to be on ground floor. If there were any shadows in the building, the staircases could end up blocked, which would make it harder to escape with Amamiya.

“Are you all right? You seem scared.”

“I am concerned. Follow me.” She entered the staircase again, listening to make sure he followed. It was easy to track his footsteps. There were no other sounds of movement, as if they were the only two in the school.

“What’s going on? Can’t you tell me?”

“Have you observed anything out of place?”

“Hmm….” Amamiya drew out the sound out. “Not really. Same old Shujin.”

“Then you would not understand—“

A shadow burst out in front of them on the first floor, its white body a cross between humanoid and lizardlike with the long, skinny tail trailing behind it. Aigis did not hesitate. “Amamiya, stay behind me!” she called before opening fire, her fingers uncapping to unleash a flurry of bullets. The shadow flailed as it took damage but didn’t collapse, so it had some endurance, and Aigis braced herself for the counterattack that came in the form of psi energy. It hurt, but she could endure it—

And then a bolt of electricity ripped through her systems. Aigis jolted as the shock gripped her, then staggered back, searching for the new attacker. She could see nothing besides Amamiya.

He was still looking at her with complete nonchalance as she wavered. “Thor," he called, and a Persona clad in gold helmet and white cape briefly appeared and called down with its hammer another lightning bolt that made Aigis’ frame spasm, dropping her down to one knee. “Weak to electricity, huh. So, who made you?”

He was a Persona user. Which meant he’d most likely been feigning ignorance of the altered surroundings, and had probably been acting even before that. “You are…a phantom thief…?” Aigis attempted to rise again, but the lizardlike shadow tackled her. After the two lightning strikes, she found it harder to push the shadow off than it should have been.

“Right,” Amamiya said, kneeling down by her, at ease with the disgusting shadow. “Congratulations, Aigis. You went looking for the Phantom Thieves, didn’t you? Well, you’ve found them.” Amamiya placed a hand on the breast of his school blazer with a smirk. “Now, who sent you?”

She visualized his face in silhouette, comparing it to the December calling card. “You’re the leader.”

Amamiya shrugged. “Are you go to answer my question, or should I start dismantling you now? Your hardware probably has some clues about which part of the conspiracy still needs to be rooted out. A robot like you must be one of a kind.”

“I am not part of any conspiracy,” Aigis denied. She started to prepare Orgia mode. She needed one more minute before her limiter would be disabled, so it would be best to keep Amamiya talking until then. “What about you? Why is a teenager conspiring to control Tokyo?”

“Well…I’d say because it seems fun. But I’m not controlling Tokyo, or trying to. That’d be a fool’s errand.”

“The people are praising the Phantom Thieves—“

“—Just as they’d praise a loyal dog,” Amamiya interrupted. His patience seemed to be growing short.

Thankfully, her limiter had just deactivated. Aigis threw the shadow off of her toward Amamiya. The lizard shadow twisted mid-air, righting itself before it hit Amamiya, but the burst of motion still made him retreat two steps. This time, Aigis did fire at him. The number of times she’d opened fire on a human were exceedingly rare, thankfully, but she knew that a Persona-user in a cognitive world should not be lethally wounded by one hit. Amamiya grit his teeth in pain, hissing as the first shot connected, but she would not kill him. Merely disable him.

Except then a Persona shimmered behind him with an outline that looked different from Thor’s, and then bullets began to be repelled from him.

Aigis stopped firing to not waste any more ammunition or time. She’d miscalculated. A wildcard…!

“Okay,” Amamiya ground out. “I’ll destroy you.”

Aigis did not report in at her usual time. Mitsuru tried to contact her, then contacted Fuuka when there seemed to be technical difficulties. Fuuka confirmed that Aigis appeared to be unreachable. Mitsuru then contacted Shujin, posing as Aigis’ guardian, and received the news that Aigis seemed to have decided to skip out on all afternoon classes. Highly disappointing, delinquent behavior. The faculty seemed to have decided that Aigis had chosen to miss class, not even considering she might be in trouble. Of course, she should be the last Shadow Operative who could have gotten in trouble, given her nature, but…

“She would have sent an emergency signal if she thought she was in danger,” Mitsuru reasoned aloud. “Unless—did she encounter the same kind of phenomenon that happened in December?”

“In that case, she wouldn’t have been able to get signal out,” Fuuka said, frowning as she stared at her laptop, trying to think of any way to reach Aigis they hadn’t tried yet. “T, though, if that’s what happened, maybe she’ll still contact us soon? Yukari said it lasted a while, but it’s already been hours…”

They waited, but Aigis never called.

“I heard that cute transfer student’s dropping out. What a shame.”

Mishima jolted when Ren came up to walk alongside him after school as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t sent Mishima on a wild goose chase to the vice principal’s office (as Mishima had half-expected, the vice principal had been confused to see Mishima there and had sent him away) and been the last one with Aigis before she ‘skipped’ all of afternoon classes. “Wh—what happened?” Mishima asked.

“Well, you know, transferring can be stressful,” Ren said blandly. “So don’t expect to be seeing her again. Or telling her anything.”

“I—wasn’t going to—“

“It kind of seemed like you were thinking about it.”

“Because I don’t know what’s going on! You weren’t telling me anything before! You’ve barely been talking to me! Sakamoto, Takamaki, are they just acting too?”

“I’ve been trying to not draw attention to you, Mishima. Because Tokyo isn’t kind to people who don’t fit in right now.” Amamiya paused. “You might want to consider dropping out yourself.”

“Is—is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning.”

Aigis did not often dream. She was not built to need to.

But for once she dreamed, and in her dreams, she saw Minato.

#ren amamiya #yuuki mishima #aigis #persona 5 #persona 3 #ryuji sakamoto #ann takamaki

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femchef · 1 year

Text

So today was the first day back for teachers (semester starts on Monday) and I was going over my notes from one of my classes and picking out things to share with another teacher who’s teaching the same class on one of our satellite campuses -

So anyway, does anyone want to read my lecture notes on thickening agents that I turned into a study guide (I wrote one up during the semester because we didn’t have any previously prepared materials because other instructors just skip or gloss over the chapter but I felt like it was worth the time to focus on the topic and also I’m a Nerd about stuff that makes things gooey).

You know what - I’m just going to post it under a cut below, because it’s fun and also an infodump.

**For context, even though my notes go into more specifics than the required reading, the book for the class is called How Baking Works by Paula Figoni (3rd edition, tbh needs an update but is a good reference), and the link I am telling them to refer to for more information on gelatin that includes conversion charts is here:

Thickening Agents Study Guide

1. Thickening vs. Gelling

1.1. Thickening = moving slowly, viscous, but still some movement while set

1.1.1. Either when sugars and proteins become loosely entangled or when water is absorbed and trapped by swollen starch granules, or when air bubbles in foams or fat droplets in an emulsion slow water movement.

1.2. Gelling = completely set, no movement whatsoever

1.2.1. When water and other molecules are prevented from moving around at all, usually when sugars and proteins bond or tightly entangle and form a larger network that entraps water and other molecules.

1.3. A number of thickening/gelling agents are interchangeable in different quantities.

2. Food-Grade Gelatin (Type A Gelatin) is produced by boiling or soaking pigskins in acid; the connective tissue breaks down into thick strands of collagen and thinner strands of gelatin

3. Powdered Gelatin is made from lower-grade pulverized sheets

4. For more information, take some time to view the attached link in blackboard and the conversion charts.

5. Vegetable Gums = polysaccharides that absorb large quantities of water and swell to produce thick liquids and gels. Veg Gums are a nice source of dietary fiber (think fiber one Powder added to drinks)

5.1. Pectin = present in all fruits

5.1.1. LM (low Methoxyl) Pectin = Also comes from citrus peels or apple. Used in low-calorie jams and jellies, relies on calcium rather than sugar to solidify. Suitable for dairy-based products. Becomes increasingly firm as calcium is added until it reaches saturation point, at which time it begins to reverse in process and soften.

5.1.2. HM (high Methoxyl) Pectin = Comes as Rapid Set or Slow Set; extracted from citrus fruit peels. Rapid-Set for products that require suspension; Slow-Set for recipes that require a smooth texture with no suspension (such as a jelly)

5.1.3. NH (Thermal Reversible) Pectin = Modified LMP; Requires sugar and acidity to gel (and less calcium), and can be melted, set and remelted – requires heat to activate properly. ‘NH’ because of the Ammonia Hydroxide treatment it receives to modify (NH3(aq))

5.1.4. Apple Pectin = Derived from apples. Usually sold as a powder, can be used as a gelling and thickening agent, as well as a stabilizer. Is high in healthy carbs, dietary fiber, sodium, manganese, copper, and zinc – which is why it is a common ingredient in health supplements and pharmaceuticals. Additionally used in laxatives for natural purgative qualities.

5.2. Agar = Is a polysaccharide extracted from either of two varieties of red algae (ogonori and tengusa); has gelling/setting properties that behave remarkably like animal protein. Less agar is required than gelatin, and agar has the benefit of holding shape at room temperature. Cannot be used to stabilize aerated products, and does not whip well.

5.3. Carrageenan = a family of sulphated polysaccharides, name comes from variety of red seaweed found off the Irish Coast termed “Irish Moss”. Typically used in conjunction with meat and dairy products, for which they work particularly well, in large-scale production for stabilization, thickening gelling and texturing.

5.4. Guar and Locust Bean Gum

5.4.1. Guar Gum = Extracted from the endosperm of Guar Beans (legume); does not self-gel like LBG, but is more soluble. Requires high temperatures, high ph and longer times to cause gelling. Low-cost alternative to many other agents and starches, and is 8 times more effective than cornstarch. Used commercially, and stays stable when frozen/thawed.

5.4.2. Locust Bean Gum = Extracted from endosperm of bean on Carob Tree. Dispersible in hot and cold liquid, and converts to gel with addition of minimal amount of sodium borate. Is naturally sweet and is typically used to sweeten foods and as a replacement for chocolate.

5.5. Gum Arabic = Acacia/Senegal/Indian/Sudani Gum = Harvested from Sap of two Acacia Tree Species. Primarily used as a stabilizer (such as in sodas and cosmetics).

5.6. Gum Tragacanth = derived from several species of legumes in the genus Astragalus (Tragacanth, lit. “Goat + Thorn”, which is common name). Largely produced/exported from Iran. Is viscous, odorless, and tasteless water-soluble sap. Traditional binder for pigments in artist’s pastels, and main gum used in fabricated Gumpaste.

5.7. Xanthan Gum = derived from a species of bacteria, Xanthomonas Campestris (same bacteria which causes a variety of plant diseases, such as black rot in brassicas and bacterial wilt in turf grass). Produced via fermentation of glucose and sucrose. Is used to stabilize emulsions (is not an emulsifier in itself). Also helps suspend solid particles in liquids. Commonly used as a thickener in egg white substitutes and to build matrix in gluten-free products where there is no gluten-development.

5.7.1. Shear Thinning/Pseudo-Plasticity: Non-Newtonian behavior of fluids who’s viscosity decreases under ‘shear strain’. Examples Ketchup and Salad Dressing.

5.8. Methylcellulose = “Modified Vegetable Gum” an emulsifier and bulk-forming laxative. Unique property of Setting when Hot and Melting when Cold – commonly used in ice creams for this reason.

6. Starches = Starch molecules are polysaccharides that are arranged in one of 2 ways: either as long, straight chains or as short, but highly branched chains.

6.1. Amylose = long, straight chain starches

6.1.1. Clouds when cooled

6.1.2. Firm, heavy-bodied gel when cooled

6.1.3. Not freezer stable

6.1.4. Thicker cold than Hot

6.1.5. Masks flavors

6.2. Amylopectin = short, branched chain starches

6.2.1. High Clarity

6.2.2. Thickens, but does not Gel

6.2.3. Less Likely to weep over time

6.2.4. Less likely to weep when thawed (more freezer-stable)

6.2.5. Same thickness hot or cold

6.2.6. Less likely to mask flavors

6.3. Cereal Starches = extracted from endosperm of cereal grains

6.3.1. Cornstarch

6.3.2. Rice Starch

6.3.3. Wheat Starch

6.3.4. Waxy Maize

6.4. Root Starches = Extracted from roots/tuber plants

6.4.1. Potato Starch

6.4.2. Tapioca Starch

6.5. Modified Food Starches = Starches treated with one or more chemicals to possess more desirable properties or results. (i.e. increased stability with excessive heat/acid, texture, speed of setting)

6.5.1. Corn

6.5.2. Potato

6.5.3. Arrowroot

6.5.4. Tapioca

6.5.5. Waxy Maize (clear and clearer tasting)

6.5.6. Instant Starches = pregelatinized or cold-water swelling (jello cold pudding mix).

6.6. Refer back to previous chapters about gelatinization of starches

6.7. Refer to chart 12.5, pg. 337 for a comparison of properties

Homework: 1-30, Ch. 12

#food stuff #work things #gelatin #study guide #fun with stabilizers #go forth and gellify!

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imnotgoinganywhereok · 2 years

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Welcome to a second Monday post in a row. Am I back on that Monday grind? No. But it’s funny that it happened twice. Anyway, ya girl is ill again. Yup, it’s my throat again - but just a common cold this time. Being a teacher for less than a month and they already got me. So sick of this. The weather sucks too and I don’t know what to do anymore. I hope it passes soon despite me having to go to work tomorrow anyway.

I hope you missed my Sim girls!! Since Serafin became a teen, these tree eventually became young adults and went to university!! All roads lead to UBrite, it seems. And that’s pretty cool because I love this uni!! I’m telling you, the high school pack was such a hot mess, a literal steaming garbage, I just had to play with Discover University to feel better. I even renovated one of the dorms for the first time - it was the cutest, and I limited myself to BG and Uni too!! It has 7 beds now instead of 4 because I thought such a big house should feel more lively, and I also wanted more roommates than just one so my girls actually have a taste of social life at uni. I think it’s adorable.

I picked the degrees that would later let my girls pick the jobs I thought suit them the most. Blanka studies History - a degree I’ve never picked before. Debora and Gizela chose Communications. Normally Gizela copies everything Blanka does but the job afterwards didn’t suit her, so I let her catch a break this one time. The required skills and their initial schedules are similar enough, though, so it’s all good. To be fair, Gizela might need this time with Debora - to realise she doesn’t have to be so jealous of Blanka all the time like when they were children; this is why I let them share the room. Meanwhile, Blanka got a room with some random guy with depression. Man, this takes me back...

Y’all, I cannot stress enough how much I missed playing with uni. The last time I did it, it was Andrea Doria getting her Biology degree, so laidback and relaxed. It’s embarrassing to say but this is actually my first time using the dorming system. I’ve never wanted to leave the houses before but this time is a special time for me - and I’m having so much fun!! Darby the Dragon, my beloved ( ∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩) I also like that the roommates can change with each semester - I imagine that some pass, some fail, some actually finish uni because they started earlier. It’s a relatively small thing but it matters to me a lot!!

So, that’s pretty much it for now. The housing seems sweet, the roommates are friendly, the classes aren’t the hardest (though you always have to work hard to be the best). Blanka loves to challenge everyone to a ping-pong game - she hasn’t won a single match yet. It seems this is all for now. I only played through the first semester, and I take 3 classes per semester so we still have 3 more semesters to go. I’ll try to make the most of their time on campus, so look forward the next post!! See you around ( ˘ ³˘(◡‿◡˶)

#the sims 4 #discover university #darby the dragon #university housing #dorm #gallery

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romanarose · 7 months

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Update on how things have been.

ups and downs ups and downs...

TW for depression, suicidal thoughts, sh, and ig work issues although those seem small in comparison to the other warnings

Monday was much better. Today is worse than Monday but not as bad a last week. Last week I was in serious danger to myself. If I was insured I would have committed myself for my safety.

I relapsed on SH this week, been over a year since doing that so its pretty disappointing, but not as bad as when i relapsed after like 5 years.

As some of you know, I quit my job on friday. It was my weekend job at olive garden that i'd been at for a long time, and had evn more years at different olive garden locations and long story short i was feeling a lack of respect and decent pay for certain postions so i said i was done hosting, expecting to do bread, salad, or to go. I get schedule to buss which pays worse than host and i lost it lol. Completetly. It felt like an insult. It honestly got blown out of proportion bc of my emotions but the way my general manager handled it was really disappointing and brushed me off when i wanted to talk about it on saturday. On sunday we did actually talk. One of the other managers was in the room and while i didn't feel my GM understood me, the other manager did. She said she was the one that scheduled me that and didn't mean it as an insult nor a punishment but she validated why I felt like it was. She took me off one of the bussing shifts as an act of goodwill. I'll be working less hours there and more on my on campus job but i think over all it got smoothed over enough.

But after that, i cried and cried and cried. for 45 minutes. Like i sat in the parking lot sobbing bc i could not drive. Eventually im able to get to panda express and cry more trying to calm down and get my food. I just went i with my face red a blotchy ad tears in my eyes and went home and watched My Man Godfrey via screenshare with a friend. Good movie.

Unsure how I feel. I naively thought yesterday that this was over, but one good day does not a cure make.

On the brightside, my Race and Ethnicity in america class was supossed to do a presentation on jackie robinson tomorrow and my and a classmate were gonna work on it today after class... and she said "hey i pretty much did everything, if you just wanna come to class a little early tomorrow we can go over the slides." I felt bad bc I didn't do anything but she said she really just prefers to do work by herself. She and I are both history majors and know each other well, so I know for a fact that I can return this favor some day. I started tearing up and saying how I've been struggling so this is such a relief.

Grades will be okay I think. geology is gonna suck at the end bc ive been bullshitting it all. Race and ethnicity in american will be an A i think. Just got my paper back for the other american history class, I got an A so far. Im not super confident about the research paper at the end but... If I have an A a C or something for the paper will be alright. I got my midterm back for the history research class and I though I got like a 50% lol but it was a B-. everything else has been a's so far so if i dont do great on that paper ill survive. Race and law is an A rn and I dont precieve that changing. I need to keep a 3.0 gpa to keep my scholarship one more year.

Anyway y'all dont care about any of that.

I fear as this semmester goes on there will be less and less time to write fics so be prepared. Im trying my best. Everything is awful rn and i dont wanna exist but im pulling through.

sorry for the depressing post

#tw depression #tw suicide #tw self harm

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writers-ex · 1 year

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Istg i am so tense today 💀

So yesterday was Friday. Its Saturday morning here rn, btw. And some of my friends werent coming to college due to personal reasons. Now because everyone is usually busy in their work, no one has time to send the notes from the classes, so they told everyone to take the day off. Our Fridays are shorter days btw.

Being the head girl of the college, i tried to stop them cuz it might get us in trouble. But they didnt listen, so everyone was taking the day off. So i also thought that there is no reason to go to the college cuz no ones coming. So no one came, as planned.

EXCEPT ONE GIRL. She advertised the plan of not coming to college to everyone on our insta group, and then she just backed out. We thought that it was ok as long as she didnt tell anyone.

BUT THEN WHAT HAPPENED? We get a message from the teachers, saying that the parents have to tell the reason why everyone except that girl came. We panicked a bit but we all had our excuses. We decided not to message the teacher and just tell our excuses on Monday.

And thats where it all came crashing down. We just got a message, like 5 mins before the time i am writing this, that our whole class except that girl will be heavily penalized because we 'lied to our parents about the day being off' and 'breaking the college discipline code'. Btw we never lied to our parents.

Anyways, we found out that THAT GIRL SNITCHED ON US, SENT OUR CHAT'S SCREENSHOTS TO THE PRINCIPAL, AND GOT OUT OF THE PLAN LIKE SHE WAS NEVER INVOLVED. Mind you, if her parenyts had agreed to let her take the day off, she would never have come to school. And she was so unapologetic too. Like i get that we werent all innocent, but snitching and throwing everyone under the bus is so wrong 😭😭😭

I never liked that girl tbh. She fails her classes, she is not good at any extra curriculars, she is a wannabe teachers pet. And she visits the washroom 10 times a day idk why. Thats suspicious, if you ask me.

Im sorry for this long story, but i just wanted to vent out. Please pray for me and my class 😓

-🦔

this girl sounds horrible so i hope your weekend is better, i am glaring at her from my laptop and patting your back as well >:( rude little troll- please keep me posted bc this sounds…i want to know you are ok plz

side rant that happened with a girl in my class that turned out to be a cousin of mine…she so fricking ditzy giggling and making the teacher answer the most randomest questions in class while they give us lecture like bish wait or write it down BUT NO she keeps going and asking about the test and only paying attention to a lecture if its going to be on a test and not the actual INFORMATION WE NEED TO DO THE JOB LIKE BISH LIFE ISN"T ABT A GRADE????? i care abt my grade and study but like i want to perform the actual job correctly so even if the textbook is old i want to understand the idea and actually perform the task up to the standards NOT WEAR MY HEADPHONES AND LEAVE RANDOMLY FOR ABT AN HOUR OF CLASS ONLY TO BUG THE TEACHER ABT DOING THE LECTURE AGAIN BC YOU "LEFT SOMETHING IN UR CAR" why do you have to leave TEN TIMES A DAY TO UR CAR?????????????????? and then she hugs and hangs out with me like nothing happens and smells dirty like idk ur home life but shower or borrow my perfume please TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT dont even get me started on her cheating and she has the nerve to complain abt her grades being one point less when she cheats??????????? i study and earn my grade honestly PISS OFF but i usually just smile and walk away before i punch the wall <3 bro this wednesday i was cleaning instruments during our BUSIET CLINIC EVER so i had to clean everything for eight hours straight with no help and one classmate lost a tiny screw in the sink when i left to grab some water BC I HAVEN"T DRANK WATER IN LIKE FIVE HOURS?????? so im tired, thirsty, and surviving off some milk i drank in the morning bc we don't get breaks for food either and THIS GIRL HAS THE NERVE TO LAUGH AND HUG ME SAYING THAT SHE WANTS ME TO CLEAN HER ROOM BC SHE NEEDS TO GET SMT IN HER CAR WHILE IM PANCIKING ABT LOOSING THIS SCREW THATS EXPENSIVE AND INSTRUMENTS ARE PILING (and god im so mad rn) and its all a blur after that bc i think i cried or blacked out and kept cleaning ignoring her :') i hate my life bc she thinks we're buddies and i want to slap her

whew rant over….so sorry to sound so violent this girl gets me mad and did also b4 we left class yesterday (it was friday for me) GAH

#🦔 anon

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scarlettriot · 3 years

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Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

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simizzy-writes · 2 years

Text

almost friendship

|| Pairing: AGED UP!Aomine Daiki x GN!Reader

|| Warnings: 13+. language.

College AU. You and Aomine have an interesting dynamic in the beginning. Almost like a weird sort of friendship. Enjoy✨

(had to re-post this because it wasn’t showing up in the tags. yay. thanks tumblr, very cool.)

For anyone who hasn’t worked in some form of customer service, here’s a fact: you’re an underpaid actor. You must smile, speak politely, and cater to the customer’s whim, et cetera et cetera. You pretend like it’s your life’s passion for barely above minimum wage. It’s not hard, but every now and then there’s that one person that just makes you want to scream.

Aomine Daiki was that person.

It was Monday, goddamnit. Why must your week start off like this?

You stood at the street corner diagonal to the coffee shop where you worked. It was small, quaint and free from corporate oversight. The owner was your neighbor, and when they offered you a job to help pay for your university tuition you accepted. They allowed you flexibility, and you gave them loyalty in return. Besides, it was close to the university campus, so it made sense to accept.

Anyways, where were you? Ah. Right. It was Monday, and waiting ever so patiently in front of the coffee shop was that blue-haired, cocky, arrogant -

“Yo, are you goin’ to open this place up or what?” Aomine called out.

“Prick,” you muttered. The sun wasn’t even up yet, why was he even awake at this hour? To annoy you, probably. He was like that. Honestly, if you really had to dig deep, Aomine wasn’t that bad. His company was nice sometimes, but why he fixated on you when you thought you had come across as nothing but a bitch towards him was beyond your understanding. You distinctly remember writing his name as Aho-mine on his order the first time you met because he was acting like a jerk. Maybe he liked the whole ‘edgy and indifferent barista’ vibes you put out, because Aomine seemed to make it a point to come by and irk you in some fashion during your shifts. And if you had to really do some soul searching, you could even admit that you liked it. There were worse things. Like having to work full-time to put yourself through college. Yay.

The shop keys jingled in your hands as you approached the shop, any hope of a peaceful shift opening getting thrown out the window. Aomine would follow you in, pester you with some sort of conversational topic, order the same thing, then leave once it started to get busy. On the surface it sounded just fine, and honestly it most likely was, but you weren’t a morning person. You liked routine, and a major part of that routine was the sound of silence. To his credit, he never seemed to be bothered with your robotic single-syllable replies, so there was that, at least.

You opened the employee entrance door, pulling it open and allowing Aomine to follow in after you. You sighed, unzipping your jacket and hanging it up on the employee coat rack. From behind you, a chair scraped across the tiled floor and you heard him yawn.

“Man, how can you handle getting up this early?” he mumbled as he sat down, chest pressed against the back of the chair and his long legs stretching out in front of him.

“Money,” you replied. “I like having a paycheck. Why are you up so early? You never bug me this early.”

He shrugged, blue eyes following you around the shop. “Couldn’t sleep. Went out to shoot some hoops, and now I’m here.”

You hummed in acknowledgement. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Another shrug. “Don’t know.”

That was a lie. He knew, he definitely knew. More or less, anyways. Aomine tossed and turned for most of the night. His body was agitated and restless. He was anxious for something, but he didn't understand what. It certainly wasn't related to his college classes, or the upcoming basketball game he was going to be in. His mind was racing but he couldn't focus on anything. After getting sick and tired of waiting for sleep to hit, he got up well before dawn, and decided to go shoot some hoops alone. Aomine worked up a sweat doing it, too, as if sweating out his anxiety was going to enlighten him on what was subconsciously bothering him. It partially did, but eventually he decided to change tactics. He would go by your coffee shop and wait for you to show up for your shift. Through his excellent powers of observation (which meant that he made a lucky guess) he knew that you preferred to work opening shifts so that you could go to your classes in the afternoon. You weren’t a morning person and he wasn’t either, but his classes were in the morning, and he admittedly liked starting his day off with you. Well, he mostly just watched you get the shop ready for the day, counting money for the registers, setting up the table and chairs, getting pots of coffee and tea ready for the morning rush…You had your routine down to a science, and he liked being able to watch you work with such efficiency. Eventually, Aomine came to appreciate the little details about you. You’d bite your lip as you counted money, close certain drawers with your hip, the way you knew this needed to be done that way…The way you made your own drink every morning and how you prepared for the morning regulars knowing that this guy liked this in his drink but the woman after him would have it that way…

What he enjoyed the most, though, was how you paid attention. Yes, you weren’t much of a sparkling conversationalist in the morning - he wasn’t either, let’s be honest - but you did listen. Aomine would joke around sometimes, pestering you and disrupting your routine just enough to annoy you but not kick him out. Sometimes he sat in silence, or sometimes he’d talk about basketball and his experiences playing in high school with his friends and what it was like playing on a college team. When he’d think you weren’t paying attention you would surprise him with a specific question or comment that proved otherwise. It reminded him of his friendship with Momoi on a basic level. He and Momoi had been friends since forever and he could talk to her about everything. She was comfortable and understood him and that’s what made her such a great friend. You were like that to some degree, but it went a little beyond comfort and understanding. You didn’t have any ties to him, no history or any association beyond this odd before-opening interaction. Was it a kind of anonymity? Like Aomine could pour out his insecurities to you and just know that you would simultaneously care but not enough to go gossip about it? Ugh, he hated this kind of crap. It would be easier if his feelings were as simple as ‘yeah, I want to fuck you’ instead of…whatever this was.

“Banana milk.”

“Huh?”

You stood in front of him with an outstretched hand holding a carton of banana milk. Clearly you disrupted his train of thought, so with a teasing tone you repeat yourself. “Banana milk for the big, strong boy.”

He huffed and swiped it from your hand. “Yeah, yeah, talk shit all that you want. Shit’s good, okay?”

You nodded dutifully. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. Probably puts hair on your chest better than anything else in the world.”

“I can take my shirt off and we can find out,” he said with a smirk.

“If you need me to help you figure out if you have any chest hair or not it’s probably safe to assume that you don’t have any.”

He laughed, and it dawned on you that it was the first time that you heard Aomine laugh. It was pleasant, deep and warm. Like the way a hot cup of tea feels in your hands. You smiled and enjoyed the pleasure of hearing it.

There was a pause and empty air pressed between the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was tentative, like something needed to be said but neither of you knew what to say. Thankfully, Aomine broke first.

“Hey, so…” he began, only trailing off when he noticed your attention was completely on him for a change. It made him feel nervous, which was new, but he continued. “I’ve got a game coming up. If you aren’t doing anything, you should come check it out.”

You tilted your head to the side in mock consideration. “I mean, I could try to squeeze you into my schedule…”

Aomine scoffed. “All you do is work and go to class. Have some fun for once.”

“Bold of you to assume that I will have fun,” you challenged.

“Oh, you will,” he assured you. “Every game I’m in is worth watching.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so humble, Aho-mine.”

With flourish, Aomine swung his arms out to either side and grinned. “I’m the entire package. Humble and talented.”

And hot, you thought to yourself, but he didn’t need to know that. “Right, right. Sure.”

Before another pause settled in the air, he spoke up again but his tone was sincere. “I’d like it if you came and watched the game.”

His honesty was surprising, but you were touched that Aomine was actually being sincere with expressing that he really did want you to be there. Could this be a true step towards a friendship with Aomine Daiki?! Wild.

“Okay,” you replied. “I’ll be there.”

#aomine daiki x reader #aomine daiki #aomine x reader #knb imagine #knb x reader #had to repost this because it wasn't showing up in the tags #so that's cool #smh

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chopshopcheesecake · 2 years

Text

til my lungs give out

rafe cameron x reader

my first time posting anything ever!! I’m the ultimate lurker on here but figured I’d be brave for once and post something….. this is the beginning (which, really, is the middle, chronologically) of a long, angst-filled rafe x y/n fic I’ve had going for a while now. Hoping that if I actually post something it’ll force me to finish the fic. Wrote this today on mobile, don’t know how to tag or link or post an accompanying picture or do any of the things the rest of you do so flawlessly 💕 open to any and all thoughts, comments, and feedback (and tips for potentially creating a masterlist 🥴 (jfc) if I get that far)(AH I’m afraid!!!!!)

————————————————————————————

Professor Ken Gilbert was a sadist. That’s the only explanation, Rafe thought. He should be locked up for the obvious enjoyment he took in torturing America’s youth.

That was the only possible reason why Professor Kenneth J. Gilbert so diabolically insisted that his Banking and Finance class—which was a mandatory requirement for all junior year finance and economics majors at Duke University—only be offered once a year, at 8:00 a.m., on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Only a person who truly took pleasure in others’ pain would force newly legal-drinking aged students come to a 3 hour lecture at the ass crack of dawn three days a week.

And on top of that, Ken Gilbert didn’t believe in syllabus week. No, he insisted that his classes “get started right away” and “waste no time”, choosing instead to send the syllabus out two weeks in advance, with no less than 50 pages of reading due on day one.

And even more unfortunately for Rafe Cameron, he knew from his fraternity brothers that Gilbert practically jerked off to the Socratic method. And took attendance. And counted even one second past 8:00 am sharp as late and, thus, an unexcused absence.

So despite himself and in light of all the above horrible characteristics attributable to one Professor Ken Gilbert, Rafe Cameron found himself slouched in the back corner, of the last row, of lecture hall 401 at 7:55 in the morning, baseball hat pulled low over his head as his large hand absently swirled his iced coffee.

Gilbert was visibly readying himself for his big moment: the first cold call of a new academic year, and Rafe groaned internally.

He turned back to the lethargic conversation going on next to him between his SAE fraternity brother, Peter Shultz, and two men’s lacrosse players. Schultz and the lacrosse players—Dan Quigley and Sean Harmon—were replaying the night before: the drunken antics, the drugs, the girls they’d had and the ones they wish they’d had.

Maybe I should just go get laid, Rafe thought dully. Maybe then I wouldn’t be fucking miserable all the time. But Rafe knew he wouldn’t ‘just go get laid’, knew it wouldn’t help anyways, so he sighed somewhat defeatedly. Reserved to a life of misery, he supposed.

He added nothing to the conversation and actually found himself relieved when Professor Gilbert called the class to attention. As Rafe waited for the attendance sign in sheet to make its way around the room and all the way up to him in the farthest possible seat from the door (and Gilbert’s watchful eye) he listlessly sipped his coffee and allowed his gaze to wander around the 70+ person lecture.

Gilbert was at the whiteboard, pointing to a supply and demand graph he’d drawn with his back to the door, when it opened slightly, catching Rafes eye in his peripheral vision. He instinctively checked the clock right above the door.

Ooh, 8:10, he thought. Someone’s about to get their ass chewed, if what Rafe heard about Gilbert was true. He felt his lips twitch upward slightly, leaning back in his chair in anticipation of the yelling and flailing for which Gilbert was infamous.

Shit, maybe he and Gilbert had more in common than he thought, the way he found some twisted form of enjoyment in this poor soul’s rapidly approaching demise.

When the door opened a crack more and a petite, baseball-hat clad figure slipped inside, Rafe’s whole body straightened, sitting up so quickly that his chair scraped the floor, generating a loud noise and immediately drawing Gilbert’s attention directly to him.

It was an involuntary response, really, like how Army cadets stand at attention the second their commanding officer enters a room. The person who’d just stepped into the lecture hall—simultaneously stealing his breath and providing him with the very oxygen he needed to survive—certainly had that effect on Rafe Cameron. (And he wouldn’t really disagree with the idea of calling her his commanding officer, either.)

Gilbert fixed the figure with a blistering glare that radiated through the hall. “And you are?”

She was the bane of Rafe Cameron’s existence.

“Bane of my existence” is a funny phrase, really, Rafe thinks, recalling a conversation from nearly two years prior about the meaning of the saying.

Typically used to describe something one hates or despises. But “bane” is defined as something that causes great distress or annoyance; the source of harm or ruin. Historically, bane was also said to be something—typically a poison—that caused death.

“So”, Rafe’s enthusiastic counterpart had told him two years ago, “really, ‘bane of my existence’ could be used to describe something so wonderful that it’s distressing, something so perfect that it’s ruinous, something so sweet, and euphoric and fated that it’s poisonous, harmful, a cause of death.”

The hopeless romantic who’d convinced Rafe that love ultimately meant the destruction of life as he knew it? None other than—

“Y/n Y/l/n—“ you began, the sound of your voice raising goosebumps on Rafe’s forearms.

“Well, Miss Y/l/n, you wouldn’t know this seeing as you are more than 10 minutes late to my class,” Gilbert began, his anger—and volume—building as he went on. “But I have a zero tolerance policy for lateness!” He boomed, his sour mood causing the air in the room to curdle with the thick tension.

Rafe’s stomach sank as he recalled how, mere seconds ago, he’d been about to relish in your misfortune, ready to watch in amusement as Gilbert reamed you out in an unnecessary display of power. Now, he found himself running through ways he could somehow do something worse — offend Gilbert more — so that you and your tardiness were no longer the target of his withering rant.

Rafe watched as you bowed your head slightly, and he swears he feels—no, hears—his heart crack. He’s now hyper aware of how rigid he is, how fast his heart is beating, and how little he is breathing. When had his own baseball hat become turned backwards on his head?

He lets out a shaky breath as Schultz eyed him nervously.

“Oh gosh, I’m terribly sorry, sir, you see—“ you said apologetically but sweetly—sinfully so—your practiced southern charm coming out in full force. Though Rafe couldn’t see your eyes from up here, save for the baseball hat, he knew the exact look you were giving Gilbert right now. Shit, he could probably draw it on the fucking ceiling of the goddamn Sistine Chapel, he’d committed it to memory so well. Wide, blue eyes sparkling as they gazed up from beneath long lashes; pouty lips turned up ever so slightly in innocence.

“I’m on the university’s women’s tennis team,” you continued, voice syrup in Rafe’s ears it was so smooth. “And, well, we have morning practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’d hoped to talk with you about this after class, in private,” you lowered your voice somewhat conspiratorially as you gave a quick glance at the class, feigning embarrassment. Oh you’re on one today, sweetheart.

“But now my tardiness has bungled that all up,” you finish, bashful, undoubtedly shooting Gilbert your classic puppy dog eyes. Were your brows knitted together ever so slightly, too?

Rafe can’t help but let out a sharp breath of air in stifled laughter. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Rafe did too. But he had to admit, you were really laying it on thick with Gilbert. Must’ve heard about him being a huge dick, Rafe thought. Had to pull out the big guns.

“I’m so sorry for the disruption I’ve caused, Professor, but maybe I can find a seat and we can start fresh after class?” Rafe heard you posit, your voice still soft and sweet, but half an octave higher now. He knew all too well that you’d just flipped the switch from your sad puppy eyes to your hopeful puppy eyes, complete with the slightest smile and a demure glimmer in your gaze.

He didn’t know how you did that, seemingly made your eyes light up and sparkle on command, but God, what he wouldn’t give to see it happen up close and personal one last time, to have that very switch be flipped on him, to melt once more like putty in your hands.

Gilbert stammered slightly as he stared at you. Even he wasn’t immune to your charm, the old grouch that he was.

“I - well, I - yes, I suppose that’s fine,” Gilbert huffed, giving you a half hearted wave of his hand as he turned back to the whiteboard, the choppy, tense energy that had filled the room a moment prior now calmed by the breath of fresh air that follows wherever you go.

You made your way past Gilbert and up the center aisle of the lecture hall, angling to take a seat in the completely empty front row on the left. As you turned into the first row, you stole a glance up at the sea of students. And you smirked. And then you winked.

Was that at me? Did you just wink at me ? Who fucking winks? Christ, I didn’t know a wink could be so erotic. Wait, did you wink at me? What if you didn’t? Who the fuck else would you be winking at?

Rafe’s reeling thoughts were halted at the sight of your shirt, and his breath hitched, not for the first (or tenth) time in the last 60 seconds. It was a light blue tshirt, too big for you; a faded image of a ships steering wheel across the back, the words “St. Thomas” sprawled above it in old, navy lettering.

The shirt was worn; covered in a fair few stains. The collar was frayed slightly on the left side, and there was a tiny hole in the right shoulder.

Rafe knew because it was his shirt.

Rafe knew because he’d been there when an ember from a boneyard bonfire jumped up and singed that hole in the right shoulder, you yelping sharply and him panicking slightly before you both broke into a fit of laughter.

Just like you’d been there when he popped a bottle of red wine, depositing the faintest array of purple dots that he knew still littered the left hem. You’d been there when he’d dropped hot sauce right down the front, and you’d been there when he accidentally bleached the corner of the right sleeve when you tried to show him how to do laundry the first time freshman year.

Rafe had been there when he first noticed that frayed collar, after you’d stolen the shirt from his drawer and he found himself memorizing every detail, every stain, every memory of you inextricably woven into his new favorite shirt; memorizing how it hung on your body, loving how so seemingly enveloped you were in a piece of clothing that belonged to him.

Seeing you sitting there—a mere 100 feet and 20 rows away—in his shirt— his shirt! — after all this time made his heart lurch with hope.

And when you removed your baseball hat to shake out your ponytail, raking your fingers through your hair and massaging your scalp in that way he knew you loved so much — leaving your hair tousled and slightly unkempt like you’d just been thoroughly fucked — it made his dick twitch, thinking back on all the times he’d run his own long fingers through your hair and massaged your scalp in that way he knew you loved so much, gazing into your eyes as he peppered kisses around your face, your neck, your chest, traveling lower and lower still—

Rafe had to get ahold of himself. Christ, just seeing you redo your ponytail was getting him worked up enough that he almost felt the need to bite down on his knuckles.

When you tipped your venti Starbucks iced coffee back and he watched your throat swallow once, twice, three times, he actually did. (It wasn’t lost on Rafe that you’d used tennis practice as your excuse for being late, yet had a seemingly freshly-made iced coffee with oat milk in your hand, which made him smirk before he frowned again. He’d always brought you coffee, precisely because of your chronic inability to get anywhere on time.)

So yes, the small framed girl in a baseball hat and a white tennis skirt who’d just slinked into this class and charmed Old Grinch Gilbert, was the bane of Rafe Cameron’s existence. But not because she was distressing, or annoying; not because she was something he hated or despised. Because she was something he loved. Something—someone—he loved so deeply and fully and whole heartedly that it physically pained him to see her, or rather, to see her living without him. Someone he loved in a way he didn’t know possible, in a way that felt so right that to not be together seemed to contradict the will of the Gods themselves.

A person so wonderful that it’s distressing; a love so perfect it’s ruinous; a connection, a bond, a partnership so sweet, and euphoric and fated that it’s poisonous, harmful, a cause of death.

You were all those things and more.

Yep, Rafe thought, willing his heartbeat to slow and his breathing to return to normal. Y/n y/l/n. The bane of my existence.

Your absence in his life had been slowly poisoning him for the last year. Being without you, it would plague his life and undoubtedly end him, he just knew it would. It’d be his eventual cause of death, the bane of his existence, forevermore.

It was torture to see you down there in the front row, in his shirt, shoulders hunched slightly as you studiously took down notes by hand. His predisposition to reach out and work the kinks from your neck—to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb—it wasn’t a want, it was a must. An instinctual need to take care of you, to protect you, that invisible string tying you to him tugging at his very soul as he watched you adjust your oversized glasses.

Rafe frowned. No, he thought. Stop. She’s not yours, not your girl, your perfect girl, and she’s made it clear she wants nothing to do with you, he told himself.

In an instant, Rafe is back in your house, on that day, 9 months ago, hearing you speak those words for the millionth time. “I’m doing this for you.” “I really believe this is what is best for you.” “I love you, always.”

But then, almost imperceptibly, something shifted. In an instant, something clicked inside Rafe’s brain and it was as if the world had been off kilter and was ever so slightly beginning to return to its normal axis.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was—not yet—but, for some strange reason, after moping and pining and wallowing for the past 13 months, four days, and 16 hours, give or take, he felt himself almost smile.

You were wearing his shirt.

#outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe x y/n

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dapperappleton · 3 years

Text

Poly!EraserMic x teacher!reader

Summary: Y/N finds out that the students have a betting pool on who the three of them are dating. Little do the kids know, all three of them are together and definitely going to use their knowledge to their advantage.

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x gn!teacher!reader x Yamada Hizashi

Warnings: none

Word count: like a few hundred, I’m too lazy to check

A/N: I absolutely love poly stuff, so if you ever want to request it please do. Also this isn’t my best work, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for ages so I’m posting it anyway.

H/N: Hero name

While waiting for you to come into the classroom, a large group of 1A students huddled around a desk. Mina, who was sitting at the desk, had a sheet of paper in front of her.

“Okay so Tokoyami, Tsu, Ochaco, and Jiro, you all are betting on Aizawa and L/N?” Mina read the first category on the paper as the four nodded. “Then Kaminari, Kirishima, Sero, Mineta, Sato, Aoyoma, and I think Present Mic and L/N. And last we have Midoriya, Ojiro, Shoji, and Hagakure for Aizawa and Yamada.”

“Add me to the last one.” Todoroki, surprisingly, spoke up.

“Alright the only people we don’t have are... Bakugo, Iida, Yaoyorozu, and Koda.”

“WHY WOULD I BET ON-“

“I WOULD NEVER DO SOMETHING LIKE-“

Iida and Bakugo started to simultaneously shout. Iida about respect and rules, Bakugo about how stupid he thought it was. Little did they know, you had been standing outside the door listening to them yell. Even though it was hard to understand what either of them were saying, you managed to figure out that there was a betting pool on you, Shota, and Hizashi dating. You whipped out your phone and sent them a text before opening the door and walking in.

“Alright! Everyone in their seats. Here’s what we’re going to do today.”

***

Shota pulled out his phone when he felt it buzz. Hizashi, who was sitting next to him, did the same. They read the text you sent them before looking at each other. Hizashi looked like he was bursting at the seams, obviously very amused. Shota was also amused but significantly less so. They looked at each other knowingly and silently decided to use this knowledge to their advantage.

***

The three of you had to watch over the cafeteria during lunch, so you made a point to stand very close to Shota while Hizashi stared at the two of you from the other side of the room. Because of your quirk, you were able to hear the group of 1A and 1B kids that were close by, but not close enough for Shota to hear.

“Look at how close Aizawa-sensei and L/N-sensei are standing!” Uraraka squealed. “They’re so cute!”

“But Present Mic is standing over there staring at them, and Aizawa just winked at him.” Midoriya started mumbling about every time he had seen Aizawa and Yamada act like a couple.

As they talked about why their ship was better, you relayed what they were saying to Shota. He looked like he wanted to smile, but he was too good at keeping his face blank.

“You of all people should know that I like to keep my life private, but this is pretty funny.” Aizawa looked to you, but quickly back to the students when he noticed a couple of students from 1B walking up to the class A kids. “Is B in on this too?”

“We heard about you guys betting on H/N, Eraserhead, and Present Mic. We want to join.”

“Yeah! I’m betting on Present Mic and H/N!” Tetsutetsu was loud enough for Shota hear.

Midoriya shushed him, and Kirishima high fived him, saying that he said the same thing. A couple other kids from class B came over to say who they were betting on. You wondered how they had even heard about it or who they would bet on seeing as Shota didn’t teach them.

It had been nearly a week by now. The three of you had been messing with your students continuously. Honestly, it was a little surprising that no one had figured out that you knew about it. All of a sudden the three of you had started acting strange out of the blue, but luckily the students seemed more focused on what you were doing instead of why. It had been rather funny to talk about on the way home. The three of you would share any news you’d heard from the kids or what you did to trick them a bit. Somewhere towards the end of the week the teachers had started to pick up on what was happening, especially anyone else who taugh class A or B. At one point All Might, who is very oblivious even though he has literally seen you and Hizashi cuddling with Shota, asked Shota if he actually was dating either you or Hizashi. Shota apparently literally just stood up and walked away.

Monday morning you walked into the 1A classroom, expecting to only find Shota. Instead, all the students and Shota were there already. Ignoring the students since they were huddled in the back, you walked up to Shota and handed him his lunch.

“You forgot this, dork.” You hit his shoulder playfully. “Zashi did too. I’m glad that one of us knows how to cook. You and Hizashi would burn water if it were possible.”

“Hizashi forgot to grab his lunch? That’s odd for him. He has been stressed lately.” Even though you were quiet, it seemed the students still noticed you.

“See, they act like a couple.” Tsu said quietly to everyone around her.

“But they’re talking about Present Mic too.”

You looked at Shota and smiled.

The next day you and Hizashi were on lunch duty. The two of you stood on opposite sides of the cafeteria, but every time your eyes met you would make weird faces at each other and start laughing. A couple kids from 1B noticed and started watching the two of you like a tennis match. Some other kids joined, even some kids from different years and classes started to look around just to see what the fuss was about.

This went on for about two or three more weeks before people started showing up with pins saying who they shipped. By then, Shota had decided that enough was enough. It had become much less funny to him and much more annoying, especially since almost everyone shipped you and Hizashi more than him and either of you. The day after the buttons showed up, he walked into school holding both of your hands. He walked each of you to your respective class, kissed you both smack on the lips, then left. Immediately, screams could be heard from any 1A or 1B kids nearby. All Might was there too, but he couldn’t have looked more confused and startled. In homeroom, every single one of Shota’s kids asked about fifteen different questions, all talking over each other. He activated his quirk, and they shut up.

“I’m dating them both, now sit down and be quiet before I fail all of you. And get rid of the bet, you all lost.”

#Aizawa Shota x reader #Yamada Hizashi x reader #Shota Aizawa x reader #Hizashi Yamada x reader #erasermic x reader #poly!erasermic #poly erasermic #poly!erasermic x reader #present mic x reader #aizawa x reader #Aizawa Shota x reader x Yamada Hizashi #gn!reader

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

fox rain | five

• ☽ — pairing: bts x reader • ☽ — genre: crack, fluff, angst, college/uni au • ☽ — words: 9.9k+ • ☽ — rating: sfw • ☽ — warnings: stop two on the angst train express!!! not as blatant, more reading between the lines here...... have fun! • ☽ — notes: bros... it’s only downhill from here. cowa-fucking-BUNGA amirite cowboys???????!?!?

— posted; 18.09.2020

When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

— • masterpost | prev. | five | next • —

You lay in a sort of placid, bewildered shock, the kind that is sourced from confusion as opposed to an unpleasant surprise. After waking to blearily turn off your alarm before it blasted through the entirety of Dancing Lasha Tumbai, you’d unlocked your phone to find this curious set of messages from a number you haven’t saved. You’ve been lying in place for several minutes as your tired, wired brain slowly kicks into gear and attempts to debunk the mystery. After another unsuccessful few minutes of staring blankly at the screen, you’re saved from impending cranial combustion when your phone lets out a delightful little tinkle and another message hastily joins the others.

Ah, that makes so much sense now! Except it doesn’t. Actually, it kind of adds to your bewilderment. Taehyung… is texting you? You don’t think you’ve ever in your life had any correspondence with him that didn’t either take place in the presence of Jimin or under the influence of alcohol… also in the presence of Jimin, now that you think of it. You haven’t really interacted with Taehyung outside of Jimin. So it is particularly odd to wake up to a series of messages that are from him, and pertaining to such an odd topic. You’re still so tired you can’t even fathom what would warrant a text from him. Maybe you dropped something at one of your tutoring sessions and Jimin asked him to give it back to you? It would make sense, since after the rollercoaster of a ride the last week has been for him (in particular, the questionable events that took place at the hands of one Kim Seokjin but somehow ended up with Jimin and Hoseok making up? You don’t really understand it but you’re not even going to bother to try to at this point) he has ended up a little preoccupied.

Tapping the screen when your inactivity leads it to go dark, you take a moment to scrounge a response from the empty barrel bottom that is your brain. Once satisfied, you drop your phone onto your bed and flop yourself back to the position you’d been in before your own alarm woke you so rudely. Technically, you don’t have to be up and about for another hour…

With faith that your additional hour of sleep will revive your ability to think, you allow yourself to slip somewhat self-indulgently back into sleep and pass the fuck out like a woman who has spent the night trying to forget.

(Which you are, and did do, except with maybe a little less alcohol than what that sentence implied.)

X X X X

It has been almost a week since the unfortunate end to that tutoring session on Monday, and while you’ve managed to stay off social media enough that you haven’t triggered yourself by accident in the entirety of that duration, every time you come on campus it’s like for however many steps forward you took, you take double the amount backwards. University students are such gossips! Well, the jobless ones are, anyway. The students that work and study are too busy dragging themselves around campus in a stunning rendition of the undead from various media to be bothered with the latest plot twist in the resident school drama. Which is to say, there has been no twist. The population is still shamelessly up Sera’s ass in the belief that she is the author of the poem, and as has become the norm you find yourself resisting the urge to hunt the bitch down and go in for round two on her face. Surely, your self-control has earnt you the title of a saint by now.

You’re blasting some angsty shit on the way to your music history class and pretending you’re in a music video for some indie band (it’s cathartic, and you will argue that fact to your grave), when you make it a few steps past the entrance to the food court and have the absolute living daylights scared out of you. Thudding footsteps reach you through your earphones and two hands clamp on your shoulders to halt you in place and spin you around like Barbie Ballerina.

“You’re a disgrace!” It’s Seokjin who has halted you in the middle of the hallway, every bit as dramatic as you’d come to expect. “You skipped drama class? And you call yourself an acting major, PSH!”

Yanking your earphones out, you nail the tall, pink-haired idiot with a glare. Very bold of him to be approaching you after you nearly chopped off Lil’ Jinnie barely a few days ago for his bastardous antics. Perhaps he’s getting a bit big for his glittery pink rainboots.

“First of all, will you please listen to me when I tell you I’m not an acting major?” Unfortunately, when you speak your voice comes out more exasperated and less threatening than you intended. “Second of all—very bold of you to be approaching me right now. You’re lucky you escaped with your life, you meddling bastard. You want me to bite the rest of your dick off?”

“You should know by now that I take that as a compliment,” Seokjin sniffs, haughtily, ignoring the latter part of your threat. “And do you know how boring it is for me to crash your class when you’re not even there? No one threatens me like you! It’s getting harder and harder to get it up these days, you know. I need a hit of the good stuff.”

For a moment you’re simply stunned into silence, staring at him and wondering just how and why he seems to have been sent here with the sole mission of making you want to kill him and then yourself. Nothing you could think to say really is enough, so you settle on simply turning and walking away.

Of course, you forgot that no one turns their back on Kim Seokjin and gets away with it.

“YAH!”

You wince—you think he actually just broke a sound barrier, or maybe your eardrums— or both. Seokjin quickly scrambles to place himself in front of you, arms out. His eyes are wide in something you suspect he thinks is a puppy-eyed look, but actually comes across more like he’s trying not to shit himself.

“Promise me you won’t skip drama again!” Seokjin says, pointing a finger at you in borderline accusation. When he doesn’t see your expression budge, he quickly changes tactics. “If not for me, the most charming prince in the story of your life, then at least for Jungkook, that poor virgin—”

You blink, distracted for a moment by what he said. “Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?”

“’Wait, Jungkook is in my drama class?’” Seokjin repeats in a voice a few octaves higher than your own. “Listen to you, not even knowing who is in your own class. For shame! But have no fear, since you clearly skip so much I will happily extend my generosity and take you under my wing. Tutelage fee starts at $55 with an extra $5 for every question you ask that I don’t know—”

“Do you ever actually hear yourself talk?” you ask, feeling your will to live draining out your ears. “Like, the shit that comes out of your mouth? Do you hear it? Because—wait, are you saying you would charge me for questions that you don’t know the answer to?!”

Seokjin shrugs, “It’s a little unorthodox, I know. But—”

“I would literally be bankrupt! Thousands—no, millions of dollars in debt!” You exclaim, grabbing him by his stupid big shoulders and shaking him about. “Do I look crazy to you?!”

“Oh, what, you think you can do better?!” Seokjin demands, voice wobbling from your shaking. “What’s 2x2?”

“Fucking four!” you wail, releasing him in your despair. You can’t do this, your day only just started and you are not exhausted enough to micronap while he talks like usual. “I’m leaving, don’t follow me. DELETE MY NUMBER.”

“Haha jokes on you!” you hear Seokjin holler from behind you, voice rapidly growing quieter from the speed that you’re powerwalking away. “You never gave me your number!”

You make it to class barely on time due to Seokjin acting as one of the biggest inconveniences in your life, and while you manage to push him from your brain for the duration of it, you wish you could say that is the last time you see him,

It’s probably the fact that you busted his ass being a weirdo with Jimin and Hoseok last week that has him so…. attached this week, you suspect. You’re at your third Seokjin encounter for the day and you’re honestly considering whether you should trip to the campus pharmacy and look for some pepper spray, or maybe an umbrella. Pepper spray would be more effective, but the umbrella…. You can’t argue against the satisfaction it would provide.

You’re trying to sneak your way into a library on the Arts side of campus, one you don’t usually go to, so you can study without worrying about going absolutely batshit insane in the presence of Seokjin. It was hard, but you think that you’ve finally managed to shake him. What on earth had him so determined to tail you today? Was it seriously because you skipped your own class? Nutcase.

You peek your head around the corner looking not only for Seokjin, but for another thing you had happened to notice every time you were ambushed. You have yet to determine whether the glimpse of phenomenally bright floral print right before Seokjin pounces you is causation or correlation, and it makes you a bit nervous. Cautiously, like timid forest animal, you creep around the corner and begin to make your way into the building, eyes flicking from the library door right at the end to the rest of your surroundings. The café coming up on your right tempts you greatly, but you know it is too great of a risk. Out in the open, you’d definitely be seen.

This area is almost like a courtyard, an undercover area between three separate buildings. With a looming cement and glass ceiling, though, it feels like a building of its own. The library sits nestled in the corner of the largest building, and although it isn’t very wide, it spans several floors. You plan on going to the highest one and hiding in a corner near a window.

You’re close, so close to reaching the library in fact that you’ve fallen into a false sense of security. By the time you register the sound of pounding footsteps approaching behind you, for the second time today, it’s too late.

“Ah, y/n! Wait!”

Instinctively you prepare to burst into a sprint to get away, but at the last second stop yourself. That doesn’t sound like Seokjin… that sounds like—

“Taehyung?” you ask, turning in surprise as the boy comes to a screeching halt in front of you, bending with his hands on his knees as he attempts to catch his breath.

“I’ve… been trying….” he huffs, “To talk to you…. all day….. hah…Why are you so….. good at running away?”

He looks absolutely wiped out, cheeks red and sweat beginning to bead on his forehead. You’re just beginning to feel guilty when you notice his shirt, the bright floral print that you literally don’t know anyone else bold enough to wear, and you realise he’s really not lying. Poor Taehyung, just like you he has fallen victim to—

“That Seokjin bastard,” you say, completing a quick scan of the area to make sure the mention of his name didn’t somehow summon him. “He’s been harassing me all day. I’ve had to really up my game. By the way… are you okay? Please breathe… also what did you want to talk to me about?”

Taehyung straightens, eyes closed as he attempts to control his breathing. One of his hands comes to sweep the ashy hair from his face, the ends slightly damp with sweat.

“I’m fine,” he says, sounding slightly like he’s about to pass out. You prepare to take a step forward and catch him if he does, but he opens his eyes in the next second and shoots you a dopey smile. “I’m fine! Apparently just… whoo… really out of shape.”

“Your sacrifice is not in vain,” you say, smiling when he lets out a sudden laugh. Another shaky breath rakes past his lips before he straightens, eyes blinking a little wider. “Ah, right. I was looking for you because, um… you didn’t respond to my text… and I needed to ask you something that’s a little time-sensitive…”

“Your text…” you wrack your brain, sure that you remembered responding to it this morning in bed. Your mouth shifts into a wince, though, when you can recall writing a response, but not actually sending it. “Oh. I am so sorry, I’m an idiot. I was kind of half asleep when you texted, and I swear to god I typed a response but I think I fell asleep again before sending it…”

There is not a shred of accusation on Taehyung’s pleasant features, lips instead slightly curled in a smile. “That’s fine,” he chirps, rocking on the balls of his feet for a moment. “I do it all the time too. I’m just glad I caught you.”

You return his smile, before a thought that had been nagging you earlier returned and you acted on the urge to voice it. “By the way…. How did you get my number?”

Your question seems to be unexpected and, for some reason, flusters him slightly. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, averting his gaze for a moment. “Uh, Jimin gave it to me. It was for something stupid a while ago but I never needed to use it.”

You raise your brows at what he said, but get the feeling he’s not going to elaborate. Instead, you remain quiet and wait for him to continue his thought from earlier. He shuffles on his feet, returning his gaze to your own. “Anyway, the reason I was trying to catch you all day was because I wanted to ask you something…”

“I know it’s not really any of my business, but I kind of noticed, and Jimin mentioned lightly that things haven’t been, uh…. great for you lately.” He doesn’t even give you time for that statement to sink in amongst your shock, continuing without pause despite the way his cheeks begin to flush, “And, uh, my exhibition is this Friday, and I was gonna go with Jimin but he double-booked himself with Hobi, so now I have no plus-one and I was wondering… if you wanted to go?”

When you simply stand there, dumbfounded, he clears his throat awkwardly, fiddling with the cuffs of his button-down. “To um, you know, take your mind off things… maybe… you don’t have to, of course, but I just thought I would—”

Snapping out of your stupor before he can take back the invitation, you hastily step forward and outstretch your hands. “Oh, no I would love to go! This is really—” you clear your throat, trying to ignore the light sting of your eyes “—sweet of you. I’d like to go, if it’s ok. You’re sure Jimin doesn’t mind…?”

Taehyung seems shocked, and you suspect he might have thought you would turn down the invitation from the way his eyes seem to light up. Have you really been walking around campus looking like that much of a gloomy bitch? You need to check your facial expressions when you get home this afternoon.

“He won’t mind,” he says, waving his hand excitedly. “Great, perfect—um, here is the little info sheet. I’d stay to tell you more but my class actually started a few minutes ago, so…”

“Oh!” you exclaim, taking the sheet from his hand before waving him away. “Go! Go to class! I’m sorry I made you late! Thank you for this, by the way!”

He seems slightly dazed at your enthusiastic thanks and farewell, but he shakes himself out of it and before he goes he sends you a smile that you can’t think of any other way to describe except dazzling. “It’s no problem, y/n. See you then.”

And then he’s off and you’re left standing alone in the pseudo-courtyard, clutching the exhibition pamphlet in your grip. Your eyes sting ever so slightly, and you can’t help but think how kind of sad it is that one person goes out of their way to think of you in the midst of everything you’re dealing with and you’re so touched you’re nearly driven to tears.

Hormones suck and you want a refund.

X X X X

Taehyung was right when he said that what he had to ask you was time-sensitive.

You hadn’t realised it at the time, but Friday was only a few days away— and in the midst of classes, schoolwork, and everything else, those days went fast. Before you know it, it’s Friday morning and a panicked glance at the pamphlet Taehyung had given you reveals that the exhibition opens officially around 4:30PM. That works out surprisingly well for you, considering your last class ends at three o’clock and you can easily reschedule your session with Hoseok and Jimin.

There’s a lot about the invitation you haven’t gotten to really dwell on, and that continues to be the case as the day flies before your very eyes. By the time your music theory class comes to an end and you finish scribbling down the last few lines of note from your teacher, the event is even closer than you anticipated. From your recent examination of the pamphlet, you’d found earlier that Taehyung’s exhibition is being held at a small university-sponsored gallery downtown. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there from your house, and on the way home after packing your things, you plot out the route you’re going to take. It’s about a twenty minute trip, as you discover, since there is by some stroke of luck a bus that goes straight there from a street just around the corner from your own. Taking that into account, you should have around forty minutes or so to get ready.

Considering you’re one of many poor university students populating the area, it’s not often you actually put the effort in to get dressed up. Around these parts, there is a distinct culture of sweat pants and comfortable tops and more often than not a socks-and-slides combo, something you take part in more often than you’d like to admit. Still, you feel that considering the nature of the event you’ve been invited to and what you know of Taehyung’s works, you should probably be putting in much more effort than usual.

While you might act like a slob sometimes, this isn’t actually a problem— even goblins like you can have a stash of decent clothes somewhere in their cave. Yours happen to be pushed to the back of your closet on hangers that haven’t seen the light of day in months. What can you say? University takes its toll in mysterious ways.

Standing before your closet, eyes boring into the portion that’s been held in its depths for longer than you can remember, you wonder which way you should go with your outfit. Exhibitions are fancy right? Should you dress it up? Logic says you should, but on the other hand what if you are the only one dressed up? That would be humiliating. You pause for a moment to think about the type of garb you usually see Taehyung in— you have a feeling that he will probably dress the same way tonight. Recalling his bold, avante-garde taste in fashion is about as helpful as one might imagine, but it does comfort you to know that no matter what you choose, most eyes will likely be on him anyway.

Comforted by that fact, you make up your mind and pull out a set that isn’t too over the top, and won’t make you look like a rat. Once you’ve slipped into those, you freshen up and wash your face, trying to make yourself seem a little bit more alive afterwards and not like you had an 8AM class today. You’re successful, to a degree, but you’re a little tight on time so you can’t really dwell on it. Feeling your stomach rumble as you grab your bag and key, you can only hope that this exhibition has free food.

x — x — x

“Ah, y/n! You’re here! You… you look nice.”

You were so busy staring at the large, shiny building before you that when Taehyung’s voice rings out in greeting, it startles the hell out of you. You don’t even register what he says before you’re pointing with eyes and mouth wide open, “Your exhibition is in there?!”

His expression of surprise melts into one of amusement, a laugh tumbling from deep in his throat. You don’t even notice the way his cheeks are flushed ever so slightly as he meets your gaze.

“Fancy, right?” he says, wagging his brows. “Some loaded alumnus who actually enjoyed his university experience practically donated it to them. So now they use it for, uh… for most exhibitions.”

“For the best ones, you mean,” you say, your grin widening when he scratches the back of his neck, bashful and blushing. “But yeah, damn. I was expecting it to be nice but I wasn’t expecting it to be this nice.”

Taehyung laughed again, clearing his throat. As he takes a moment to collect himself, you let your eyes scan over his form. The second you do so, you feel a foreign flutter in your stomach, heat flushing to your face. There is truly no other way to describe his choice of outfit for today except for painfully boyfriend. Perhaps on anyone else it would look a little less than presentable, but on Taehyung’s model-esque form the loose chestnut pants and an oversized leather jacket over a boldly patterned shirt work wonders. How does he look so effortless yet so…?

If you’d attempted to wear something like that you’d end up looking like the local court jester. Perhaps you should just make peace with the fact that God has favourites and Kim Taehyung is clearly one of them.

“It, um. It started a few minutes ago, shall we head in?”

Taehyung offers you his arm, a gentlemanly move that completely contrasts the boyish grin on his face. Ignoring the sudden sensations in your abdomen, you make a show of curtsey-ing before you take it, eliciting a laugh from your company as the two of you head to the entrance and the full exhibition experience begins.

As soon as you enter there is someone by the door, who seems to be at the very least taking note of how many people enter, a table with flyers and booklets beside him. Taehyung parts from you only to move over and grab a few, brandishing them as he returns with a bright grin.

“Here is all the information about the event, madame,” he says, with an extremely exaggerated air of grandeur, presenting one of the flyers with a flourish. You take it, unable to help your soft snort.

“I would have thought I had something better, what with the very artist behind the event accompanying me,” you say, grinning when you see his cheeks turn an endearing pink as he flashes a bright, boxy smile.

“True,” he returns, folding the other flyer and slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. “You can’t ask a flyer questions in real time. Anything that crosses your mind, you can ask straight to the source.”

“Oh? Then, may I enquire as to what the theme of this exhibition is?” You’re enjoying the playful air that drifts between you now, unable to rid your face of the smile currently displayed on it even if you wanted to.

Taehyung’s eyes flick to you, a lopsided smile tugging his lips to accompany the sly accent to his gaze. “Ah, a tough one right off the bat. I think telling you straight-up would be too easy. Let’s see if you can try to guess it as we walk through.”

You turn to him with an affronted look, having expected him to easily supply you with the answer. Taehyung is a little cheekier than you remember. You snap your mouth shut, cheeks heating when you notice he has offered his arm to you once more. Taking note of the other people in the room walking around in a similar manner, you slip your arm through his and try to ignore the way you feel your ears light on fire.

“Okay, you’re on,” you respond, if a few moments too late. He doesn’t comment on the delay, simply sending you a smile that you can’t quite decipher the emotion behind. You don’t get to dwell before the two of you are off, beginning on your journey through the building and starting on your tour of the exhibition.

You’d kind of always known that Taehyung was talented, considering he managed to make such a name for himself on campus in such little time with such ease. Hell, he’s well-known enough to have made it onto the list of suspects for the muse of your poem. Still, this knowledge is only compounded the further into the building you go and the more of the exhibition you see. Taehyung is truly talented, the images blown up and displayed on the wall each capturing a certain emotion that you don’t have a name for, yet is so familiar that each time you see a new one it gives you pause. Viewing his works, seeing into this part of him and witnessing this bit of his soul he has bared, you can’t help but feel a slight sense of kinship.

It’s something that rests in the space between your lungs and diaphragm, something that tickles but also something that aches. You do know this feeling, so familiar yet so out of touch and far from the tip of your mind’s tongue. You do try to guess the theme of the exhibition as you go, throwing out the occasional dumb guess to elicit a laugh— he always laughs, and it always makes you smile— but you don’t quite manage to pin it.

“The five senses,” you shoot into the dark, standing before an image that has made you stop and stare for a good five minutes now. It’s not quite black and white, and it’s not a particularly unique image— but something about the composition, something about the movement in the two hands that are so close yet so far from actually touching, speaks to that hidden part of you. The way one of the hands simply hangs, unbothered and neutral, but the other, the one slightly closer to the foreground, has fingers ever so slightly outstretched, reaching but never quite committing to the movement and the unspoken consequence of the hinted action.

Of course, you know the answer even before Taehyung says it. He laughs, hands in his pockets, “Nope, ddaeng.”

“This is hard,” you whine, without much heart behind it. The smile stays on Taehyung’s face.

“Whatever. You’re smart, I know you can guess it. It should be easy, for you.”

The compliment catches you off guard, and you have to turn away so that he doesn’t see your cheeks warm. The two of you had parted when you caught sight of the snacks table; you’d been prepared to abandon him and make a beeline over, but Taehyung had surprised you by marching over himself and coming back with a loaded plate. He’d confessed with a sheepish smile that he hadn’t had lunch, and really you were in no place to judge since you hadn’t either. By this point in your journey, though, the plate is almost empty. There’s only two tiny cupcakes left and you’re letting the rest of the things you scarfed down settle before you go in for more.

Perhaps it was a little dangerous, coming here with Taehyung. He looks so fine, even while shoving sweets in his mouth, that you spend about the same amount of time looking at him as you do at his artworks. It takes all of your willpower to tear your eyes away every time you catch yourself looking at him and admiring the truly boyfriend fit he has donned for this occasion. Every so often he will simply stand before one of his works, scrutinising it with a fresh perspective and ever-criticising eyes, and the sight of it will make something nameless and foreign well within you. You don’t quite know what to do with it, so you ignore it. Or at least, you try to.

It feels a little too similar to what you know of yearning. It leaves you confused.

You stop not long after in front of another piece, this time a combination of three images that act as separate snapshots of smaller parts of a larger image. You admire the way he has set it out, revealing not too much but just enough that the viewer gets a sense, a feeling, but isn’t confronted with the message. It allows everyone to take their own sensation from it. You like that a lot about his works— he doesn’t tell people what to feel as they view his images, but merely hints, prompts and nudges. He sets the stage and allows people to take what they need, see whichever bits draw their eye most and spell meaning from elements of their choosing. He’s talented, you find yourself marveling again, so incredibly talented.

But still, you can’t put a finger on what the theme is.

By the time you make your way completely though the exhibition, having doubled back at a few points to look again at a select few of the pictures, you’re still no closer to guessing. It has you deep in your thoughts as you stand outside, waiting for Taehyung to return from thanking one of the guests who had recognised him for coming.

“Guessed it, yet?”

You turn, pinning him with a look that you hoped didn’t look as dumb as it felt. “Leave it with me,” you say. “I’ll figure it out eventually.”

At your words, Taehyung laughs— it’s one of the full-bodied ones you’ve come to enjoy, where he throws his head back a little and shakes his hair back into place after. You have to snap yourself out of it before he catches you staring.

“I’m sure,” he says, unable to keep the cheeky grin off his face. It does slip ever so slightly though, just for a moment, as you watch a thought cross his features. “By the way…”

You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. You feel an odd combination of at-peace, and unsettled. Holistically, this is the most at-peace and relaxed you’ve been in weeks. However, when you take a moment to tune into the inner machinations that make up your being… something in this exhibition has reached into your insides and fiddled around, moving things where they shouldn’t be and touching things that aren’t meant to be touched. It’s odd, and you acknowledge that it gives you quite a bit of cognitive dissonance. Even so, you’re calm enough that you have no trouble being patient while you wait for Taehyung to continue and say what he seems so nervous to say.

“Um, I know I initially only asked you about coming here, to the exhibition…” he begins, reaching to rub the back of his neck in what you recognise to be one of his nervous ticks. “But, I actually have these vouchers I won in a competition a while ago for a paint-and-sip session that are about to expire, and I was wondering… would you like to go? Now, I mean. Since they actually kind of expire tomorrow. Unless you’re busy, because if you are that’s—”

You decide to put him out of his flustered misery, reaching to nudge his arm. “Of course, that sounds fun! Plus, you were right the other day; I could really do with the chance to relax. Thank you, for all this. I really appreciate it.”

It takes a second for your words to register, but when they do the most blindingly bright smile spreads across his face; he’s practically beaming at you.

“Of course,” he says, with barely a moment’s hesitation. “I’m really happy you agreed to come— I’m glad you said yes to the paint-and-sip, too, because it’s one of my favourite places. Come on, let’s get going. If we get there at just the right time, we can get a really good seat, hopefully by the window.”

The journey continues, Taehyung leading you through the city while chatting easily all the while, a stunning twilight cityscape backdrop and the gentle glimmering surface of the river meandering through buildings providing the perfect scenery. If you had a little more faith in your artistic ability, you might try and paint the image you see now; Taehyung in the colours of dusk, soft and natural against the bright lights and harsh lines of the metropolitan landscape. But alas, you aren’t as talented as the man besides you, and you don’t even want to think of how it would turn out if you attempted to paint such a thing. You quickly throw the thought from your mind before it can linger and get up to more trouble than it’s worth.

“Here we are!” Taehyung’s cheer breaks you out of your stupor, bright smile directed your way once more as he stops in front of a large establishment with long strips of window and a colourfully sewn awning.

‘Brush & Bar’, the cursive, neon sign reads above the door, flickering between soft pink and peach orange. It’s an interesting aesthetic the place has going on, but when you look over and catch sight of Taehyung once more it suddenly makes sense why he likes it so much. The style of this place is very similar to some of the more outlandish things he tends to model around campus. Before your reverie lets you remain abandoned outside, you hurry to follow after the ashy-haired boy, grabbing the back of his jacket when you almost trip over the door frame. He spares a look over his shoulder to make sure you’re okay before he continues, moving towards the counter and smiling with more charm than you can personally handle at the staff member there.

It’s a woman, who you suspect is in her mid-thirties, and she is pretty enough that it takes you by surprise when she rolls her eyes heavily at Taehyung’s approach.

“You again, boy?” she asks, though it sounds more rhetorical than anything and you catch the slightest tinge of humour accenting her words and it soothes your hackles. “Don’t you ever get sick of hanging around here?”

“Nope!”

She cracks a smile, lines appearing at the edges of her eyes. “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. We’d miss you an awful lot if you ever stopped showing up here.” Her eyes flick ever so slyly to you, and then back. “Say, is today the day you’re finally gonna make good on those vouchers you won? I know you said you were waiting for the right chance to ask that g—”

“Yes!” Taehyung cuts in loudly, eyes wide and cheeks flushing darkly. “Yes, yep! I brought the vouchers! They do expire tomorrow after all!”

The woman, Bora as you now see from her nametag, simply smiles, something sly about the action intriguing you. Taehyung clears his throat, reaching to scratch the back of his neck sheepishly. “So, um… I will use them now. Is the window seat free…?”

Bora nods, a fond curve to her lips now as she rummages around behind the counter and takes the offered vouchers from Taehyung to punch holes in them. “Your favourite spot? Of course. I had a feeling you were coming, too, so I’ve already gone and set it up with some canvases and acrylics.”

She hands the vouchers back, and Taehyung slips them into the pocket of his jacket. “Paintbrushes and jars are in their usual place, and I know you don’t normally drink while you’re here but if you’d like some tonight just take your order up to Kyungsoo. Oh! And tonight’s special for snacks is tea cakes, so definitely make the most of that. There are some good ones in the display.”

At the mention of food and alcohol, your gaze had already started to wander on its own— you catch sight of the display of cakes and other sweets and feel your mouth water. Ridiculous, since you were kind of full before, but what can you say, you’re a complicated woman. Lots of layers, not unlike an onion. The thought almost makes you snort.

With a gentle nudge to your arm, Taehyung is bringing you back to the present moment and leading you over to the window, where a medium-sized table has been set up with two square canvases and a basket of paint bottles, palettes leaning to the side. Taehyung instructs you to take a seat, informing you with a smile that he’ll grab some paintbrushes and water for the two of you to use. At his suggestion, while he is gone you open up your phone and search for something to paint. Something that’s not too hard and not too easy. Because your skills are… well, they’re not nonexistent but you’re not about to go around tooting your horn in front of someone with actual art skills and talent. Apparently there is usually an image supplied for each night, but Taehyung says it’s not strict and that tonight is one of the nights where all the patrons just have free reign.

You sort of get distracted part way through the activity, eyes subconsciously seeking Taehyung’s leather jacket amongst the decently filled establishment. It’s really quite nice inside, actually; the walls and general decor are soft and neutral, with pops of colour everywhere that bring each corner and table to life. A lot of the furniture is wooden, natural and polished underneath specks of paint that decorate in layers that tell of time spent well. The lighting is soft with the exception of the bulbs stationed above each table, which are brighter and angled towards where the canvas would be. On one of the walls, the one near the bar, it is completely covered by greenery— vines that, as far as you can tell, aren’t actually fake. A soft, almost jazzy tune filters lightly through the room, complemented by the low hum of chatter and paintbrushes hitting glass. You’re incredibly impressed and, admittedly, you like this place a lot. It has the kind of vibe that just… makes you content.

“Here we go!”

You startle at the sound of Taehyung’s low register, looking over to see him placing a bundle of paintbrushes in between the two of you and a jar beside each of your canvases. He takes his seat across from you, smiling brightly. “Did you decide what you want to paint?”

You hum, turning your gaze out the window for a moment to see if it grants you any inspiration— it’s a gorgeous sight, the twilight sky broken by the outline of buildings with glimmering insides, but it doesn’t help much. You don’t know what you want to paint. Of course, there is this big, expanding feeling inside you, the urge to express it somehow filling you to your fingertips, but what do you do with it? You don’t even know its name.

“No,” you answer, reaching for one of the palettes propped up to the side. “But I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just see where the vibe takes me.”

The smile Taehyung gives you at that is softer than most, and he eagerly follows suit in grabbing a palette and beginning to set it up; he squirts a big dollop of white, blinking at it for a moment as though he hadn’t intended to put that much. “There are some pencils and erasers to the side there, too. I prefer the moldable one.”

You thank him for his advice, before realising as he puts his own pencil ever so lightly to canvas that he hadn’t told you the subject of his painting. “What are you going to paint?”

“A secret,” he says, leaning around the canvas to grin at you. “Since I don’t know what you’re painting. Let’s swap paintings after, though. I do want to see eventually.”

That makes you laugh, but you don’t bother pushing further. A surprise is nice every now and then, you know. So long as it’s not the kind that ruins your life as you know it indefinitely.

But you’re here to have fun and relax, so you’re not going to get into that. You’re not even going to think about it.

Taehyung clears his throat, catching your attention immediately. “Right, before we start we should probably order. Did you—”

“No need, my boy!”

Two new figures appear at the side of the table, one a youthful man on the shorter side, the other older and plumper with grey beginning to speckle through his hair. The shorter one places two drinks onto the table, colourful cocktails in a generous glass, and the older laughs before placing down two plates, each with a different kind of cake slice situated neatly in the middle.

“On the house,” the man continues, chuckling at the shocked and somewhat flustered look on Taehyung’s face. “You’ve given us a lot of business so don’t even worry about it. Plus, we heard you were finally making the most of those vouchers so… here’s a little something to start the night off well!”

“...Thanks, Mr Kang,” Taehyung finally manages, shooting them a smile that could honestly give Hoseok’s own a run for its money. “You too, Kyungsoo. Do…. do I wanna know what’s in this?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks, a somewhat fearful look on his face. The shorter man shakes his head, thick brows curved in mirth as his lips twitch into a lopsided smile. “Nope. Tastes good though, so you got nothing to worry about.”

You can’t tell whether Taehyung is relieved or concerned, and so step in to save him a moment of reprieve. “Thank you so much— this all looks amazing!”

Happily, the two men soak in your praise. “I assure you,” Mr Kang says, patting his chest proudly. “It tastes as good as it looks.”

Kyungsoo snorts, but doesn’t disagree. He gives the two of you a small smile. “Right, we should be on our way. You two enjoy yourselves, and if you want refills just come let me know.”

Taehyung nods, thanking them again, and then it’s just the two of you once more.

“Well,” he says, licking his lips and reminding you of a puppy as he stares intently at the slice of strawberry crepe cake, decorated with a generous drizzle of syrup and two fresh, sliced strawberries in a dollop of cream beside it. The other one, a coffee-caramel blend you presume from the heavenly aroma reaching your nose, looks just as good but is nowhere near as successful at capturing his attention. “I guess… let’s begin!”

Whether he meant painting or devouring the food, you end up doing a bit of both. Each mouthful of cake that enters your mouth is announced with an explosion of flavour so rich it lingers long after you’ve swallowed the mouthful down. The drinks, too, are delicious. Fruity but not too syrupy or sugary, you suspect Kyungsoo had used spirits and tempered the fruity flavour with a bit of lemon or lime.

You still aren’t really sold on what to paint, but in the meantime you end up sketching out the flowers that sit on the windowsill a little behind Taehyung. They don’t seem too complicated, and if they end up looking terrible you can just smear the canvas with paint and call it abstract. Of course, part of Taehyung’s shoulder cuts the vase off from view so he’s probably going to end up making an unwitting appearance in whatever mess turns up on your canvas.

Even though neither of you have any idea what Kyungsoo put into those drinks, you’re sure its something strong. Before long the two of you are already giggly, conversation flowing easily as you put paint to canvas and attempt to make something decent. It’s around the time the two of you are almost finishing your drinks that the conversation takes a delightful turn, which consists of Taehyung telling you about his little fluffball, Yeontan.

“Oh my god,” you say, fingers gripping the paintbrush tight as you try to pet the urge to pet a dog that isn’t even here. “He’s so cute! Look at his grumpy little eyebrows!”

Taehyung laughs, having taken a break from painting to show you his dog like a proud parent. He takes his phone back and slips it into his pocket, paint-flecked hand returning to the brush he’d abandoned. “He’s such a smart dog, but he’s also super dumb. Runs into shit all the time. And there was one time that a friend came over and brought a new camera that he hadn’t seen before—”

Taehyung has to pause recounting the story, he starts giggling so hard. It makes you erupt into laughter as well simply because of how contagious the sound is. “He got so mad, he ran in front of me with his little legs and started barking at it like he was trying to protect me. I love that little dog.”

“I love him too and I haven’t even met him,” you giggle, using your pinky (the only finger you’re sure you haven’t gotten paint on yet) to wipe under your eyes. You don’t think you let a tear slip but you’ve been laughing so much you can’t be sure.

Taehyung beams at you from around his canvas, brush held midair. “That’s exactly what Jiminie says.”

That gives you pause. “Wait— Jimin hasn’t seen your dog? But you’ve been friends for ages!”

You catch the photographer smiling as he delivers a few soft strokes to his painting, affection hidden in his tone as he responds, “Yeah, a few years. Since… the last? Second last year of high school? Maybe? It was a wild start to the friendship.”

“Wild?” you echo, intrigued.

“Yeah. What really kick-started our friendship was this one time I came over while Jimin was really upset about something. I can’t remember exactly how it happened but we ended up at some wack university event nearby. It was boring as hell, and somehow we figured the best way to be entertained would be to commit a mild crime and get away with it.”

Once more, the ashy-haired male has to pause his story to get the giggles out of his system, taking the opportunity to sip a little more of his cocktail. You do the same, not one to pass up much of any drink these days.

“Long story short, he ended up streaking across the field and earning himself a title at the university as ‘mooncheeks’ or something equally dumb and funny, earnt himself a bit of a nude legacy.”

You pause, the alcohol beginning to slow your mind just enough that it takes a little longer for you to connect the dot between his story and something you’d shoved so deep in the back of your mind years ago that you’d almost forgotten it.

“Wait—” you smack your paintbrush down, eyes wide as an accusing finger is thrown his way. “That was— he ran into me on the way back! Oh my god I almost forgot, that was you two?!”

Taehyung erupts into laughter that is an octave or two shy of being too loud, having to place a hand over his chest to brace himself. He’s nodding wordlessly, eyes pinched shut, and it’s probably the alcohol making your eyes blur but for a moment you could almost swear he’s glowing.

“Yeah,” he finally manages to articulate, wiping a stray tear or two from his eyes, sniffling. “It cheered him up, though, so I think it’s worth the potential trauma.”

That makes you laugh, another sip of your drink going down. A lot of the spirits must have settled at the bottom, because this one had a little warmth as it went down.

The night goes so easily it’s like a dream, the atmosphere and alcohol in combination with Taehyung’s company making you feel much like you did before this whole shitshow, back when it wasn’t so hard to release the tension in your shoulders or to muster a genuine smile. Taehyung happily gets you a few refills, refusing to let you pull out your card— which is probably for the best because you’re not sure where your wallet is and you’re not coordinated enough to look right now.

You’re on the further side of tipsy, teetering on the edge of pleasantly drunk where nothing makes sense but you’re still somewhat coherent, and everything is funny. Taehyung has almost dipped his paintbrushes in his drink instead of the jar a few times, resulting in a long round of laughter and sore stomachs each time. Eventually, you’d moved his drink to the other side of the canvas and he’d offered you a sheepish smile.

Surprisingly, your painting doesn’t look too bad, either. Currently it has a bit of a blurry, undefined quality to it, but in your current opinion it kind of works for it. Taehyung’s shoulder did end up making a feature and as the two of you talk you find yourself distractedly painting patterns in the ‘leather’, swirls and hearts and hell, even a few triangles. Eventually, you reach the point where you think that you really can’t do anything more to make the painting better in the time you have, so with a contented sigh you place your brush down and instead turn your attention to Taehyung.

Even as he talks to you and wobbles a little in place, he’s still so incredibly focused in his work, in every detail that meets canvas at the direction of his nimple finngertips, that you don’t think you even see his hand shaking while he paints. Which, your hand was— a lot. It’s the main factor responsible for this one squiggly flower stem in particular you can see in your painting.

As you sit there, happily listening and laughing at each anecdote Taehyung offers you about his life, you find your mind wandering a little bit. Back to the exhibition, and the works and even the way you caught him regarding them. You recognise the critical lens that he viewed them through, because it’s one you adopt yourself for your own creations. Something wells in you, an urge to reassure him in case he ever had any doubts about his own talent; you’re far too many drinks in to be in a place where you can stop yourself.

“Taehyung,” you begin softly but seriously, with minimal slur. He doesn’t stop his motions, but you see him pause for the briefest moment before humming in acknowledgement. “Taehyung, I have to tell you…”

You’re figuring out how to best word your impression of his works and his talent, but you must take longer than you thought because Taehyung lets out a soft huff, giving you a smile that you can’t quite decipher.

“Don’t worry,” he says, flicking the paintbrush back to rest the wooden stem on his knuckles. “I already know I’m not the muse. You don’t have to worry about convincing me.”

For a second, all you’re able to do is blink. Taehyung simply goes back to his painting, expression neutral and his soft hum brushing your ears beneath the soft melody floating from the speakers. You realise quickly that you don’t know what to say to that, and that the full implications of his words haven’t really sunk in yet. He must have noticed that you’d been trying to go around and convince all the suspected subjects that they aren’t the muse of the poem… you feel oddly ashamed, for some reason. Your cheeks feel hot, and not just from the alcohol flush.

“Done!”

Taehyung’s voice breaks you from your reverie, his cheery smile greeting you once more. “All finished?”

You nod, offering a smile of your own and taking the opportunity to say what you wanted to earlier. “Yep. I’m excited to see yours, you’re so incredibly talented, Tae.”

His smile turns shy at that, a bashful laugh tumbling from his lips as he does his best to clean up his area. You do the same, standing up for the first time in a while and having to reach out and stabilise yourself on the table so you don’t fall. The drinks hit you a little harder than you first thought!

“Thank you,” he finally mumbles a few moments later, collecting the brushes. “I’m excited to see yours, too.”

You let out a short laugh at that, knowing that whatever you threw onto that canvas isn’t going to be able to hold a candle to what he made.

Quicker than you can keep track of, the two of you finish tidying and then before you know it you’re saying your goodbyes to the staff and stepping outside. You shiver at the unexpected breeze that greets you, people along the other side of the street huddling together. It’s a windy night and the breeze carries a bit of a bite.

“Oh, right,” Taehyung starts in place, offering his canvas to you. “Careful, it might still be a bit wet…”

Somewhat mindlessly, you swap paintings with him, smiling brightly before your gaze is drawn to the side. By nothing but absolute chance, it passes over the line in front of a bar popular with students at your university, and you almost blink and move on before your eyes halt in familiarity. At the hands of nothing but stupid luck, there is someone you recognise over there. Yoongi stands, face indicating a loud complaint before it even leaves his mouth, and there are a few others around him that he seems to be with who are laughing as they wait in line.

Your head feels so messy, like the wind has managed to get inside your skull and fling everything about like leaves on the autumn breeze. You’re so distracted in the moment that you don’t see it as Taehyung follows the direction of your gaze, and his expression drops. When you jerk out of your reverie, it’s just in time to see his eyes flicking from your painting, to his, and then back to you.

You’re about to peek at his painting and fill the silence with a compliment, but he beats you to it. Something is different about his expression, and not just because he’s no longer under the warm light of the paint bar. The glow you’d noticed so easily earlier seems to have dimmed a bit.

“Did you figure out the theme of the exhibition?”

At his question you startle, gaze flicking to the side as you try and figure it out on instinct on the spot. You’d completely forgotten to think about it, and considering you spent about as much time looking at him as you did his works while at the exhibition, you can safely determine you’re still nowhere closer to the answer. “Ah… no.”

As though drawn like a magnet, your gaze ends up over in the direction of Yoongi for the briefest second. You struggle to tear it away.

“It’s anaxiphilia.”

Even through the inebriation slowing your thoughts, his words reach you immediately. It’s as though your heart has turned to stone and dropped straight through your chest. That unspeakable, unknown emotion wells and bubbles within you, swelling to twice, thrice its size and blocking words before they can even reach your throat. Your eyes are on Taehyung again, but his are still centred where yours had been— had he also noticed Yoongi? You didn’t know they knew each other...

“Oh,” you finally manage, swallowing down that nameless sensation. Taehyung’s gaze slowly slides back to you, dark eyes full of so much… something, you think it would take you years to unpack and familiarise yourself with it all.

For a second, the two of you stand with your gazes locked, both of you too deep in your own thoughts to do anything about it. Taehyung is the one that breaks the spell.

“Well, it’s getting late, I shouldn’t keep you out any longer… There is a bus stop here, and tons of ubers in the area…” His eyes flick away as he talks but return as he murmurs this last bit, “Thank you for coming today. I hope you had fun.”

“Of course I did,” you rush, finally finding your voice amongst the shambles in your head. “Thank you for inviting me, Tae. I really… I really needed this. Thank you.”

He nods, smiling at you, but you notice it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Please get home safe,” he says, and you nod immediately, making his gaze soften. “See you later.”

“Bye! Thank you again!” you wave, Taehyung turning quick and already a decent way down the street after his farewell. He offers a wave over his shoulder and you catch it just in time before you turn back, gaze unconsciously seeking out the familiar figure across the road. Distantly, you observe that Yoongi is no longer in line for the bar and has switched to the bubble tea place a few stores down.

Taehyung’s exhibition and it’s theme swim through your mind, a sudden impulse welling within you in response that spurs your legs into a motion. You’re about to go across the road in a sudden spurt of something like bravery, but for some indecipherable reason, you stop before you can get more than a few feet. You turn your head, gaze thrown over your shoulder, eyes seeking without an explicit goal in mind.

You catch sight of him just before he rounds the corner and disappears from view— even from the back Taehyung presents a handsome figure, but in the split-second you manage to view him, the most notable things about his retreating form is the slumped curve of his shoulders and the lowered angle of his head. He’s gone before you can blink leaving you for good this time with nothing but your messy head and the one thought that swims to the surface that says after seeing him glow in happiness for the better part of the evening, sadness doesn’t suit him much at all.

Clutching the painting, your turn back to the front and try and focus on the present for just a minute or two, like whether you’re going to catch a bus or uber it home, but each time you start a new thought it always brings you back to the odd mix of guilt swirling deep in your gut. There’s something else there, the familiar hollow pit of yearning, but for once… you can’t quite tell who it’s for.

a/n: thank u so much for reading! i really hope it was worth the wait and that you look forward the future parts as fox rain begins to slowly draw to a close!! pls let us know u liked it w a like and rb and screaming in our inboxes is always ALWAYS welcome!! thank u !! love u !! <3

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inforapound · 3 years

Text

The Devil Inside - Part 3

I really meant for this to be the last chapter but it got away on me. I’m sorry. Also, please don’t date anyone who acts like Ivar. This chapter really makes me miss high-school though. 😬 It actually will be a couple of week before the finale is posted.

Pairing - Ivar and you

Warning - SMUT

The rest of the weekend was quiet and you spent it at home, declining invitations to meet up with friends. Instead, you studied, baked banana bread, and overall did as many wholesome things as you could to restore moral balance after your movie theatre shenanigans.

In truth, you felt a little sick over it, like you had been duped but what would you have even said to Ivar if he had called anyway? Thanks for the rub? Nope.

It was rare those days that your mom and dad were both home at the same time, or at all, as each traveled so much for work and you were pleased to have a family supper that Sunday night and pretend that you were still a kid.

Of course, the events of your Friday night did not leave your mind and you found yourself zoning out, remembering how Ivar had looked at the theatre and how he smelled, and what his mouth felt like on yours. God, his tongue had been inside your mouth as if wanting to taste your orgasm. More than once you had thought about his words, the part where he said “he knew that you were a good girl.” How exactly did he know that? And if you were good, what was bad?

By Monday the entire event seemed less vivid and it was easier not to think about. But walking out of the school at lunch and seeing that black Camaro brought back that same rush of uncertainty. Was he there for you? Of course, he was, you almost rolled your eyes at yourself. He was parked right beside your car instead of his usual spot across the lot. God, you felt anxious but weren’t you also a little relieved? Shit... and where were Kim and Amanda? You needed them. As if they heard, your phone chimed but looking at your screen it was not a number you recognized.

: Are you going to stand there all day?

It was Ivar. Obviously. He apparently had your number after all.

Walking toward him, you were acutely aware that he was watching your every move. You could feel those cold blue eyes and because of the small size of your hands, when you got to the car, you struggled to open his car door with its stiff classic car handle. It was impossible to miss how he rolled his eyes when he leaned over to help open it from the inside. You felt stupid and awkward and by the look of him, you were already on his nerves.

“Hi,” you said meekly as you slid down into the seat.

Not saying anything back, he glanced over but continued to stare out the front window watching kids head to their cars.

It was quiet and felt strained and just… nope…. you weren’t doing it; his attitude, his sighs, and rolling eyes. Forget it. You had some self-respect and weren’t going to be ignored while sitting in his car.

“So, I was thinking... the other night,” you started and he glanced at you again, his face unreadable but the frown he often wore was there. “It was kinda crazy and I just don’t want to...”

“To what?” he snapped.

Hesitating you waited in case he was going to say more but when he didn’t you licked your lips and his bright blue eyes flicked down to catch that subtle movement. “So... I was saying,” you continued and he locked eyes with you again, “I don’t want you to think that you’ve got to follow up or, I don’t know, take me out...”

“You don’t want me here?” he cut you off again, his eyes were narrowed at you, assessing.

Oh no, you had not given enough thought to what you were trying to say. You had obviously insulted him.

“No, no,” you repeated, reaching over and putting your hand on his arm, his leather coat feeling soft. “I only meant...”

“Meant what?” his eyes narrowed further and he made a face like you had just blown salt at him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, shaking your head. “I’m bad at this. I only meant it feels backward, doing something so... intimate and then seeing each other and trying to... I don’t know...” you shrugged, sounding defeated.

Leaning over the console between your seats, he smirked. “Kiss me then.”

“What?” you couldn’t help but smile at his instant change in mood and you leaned back slightly to better look into his blue eyes. God, were they ever electric.

“If you’re not sure what to say, just kiss me. Everything else will come.”

Your enormous grin forced him to smile and you did, you kissed him. His hand came up and held the side of your face and it felt so amazing you sighed. You actually sighed. God, was this happening?

Pulling his lips away, he looked at you and his expression was serious but you could feel that his entire demeanor had softened. He was less on guard.

“Are you hungry? Wanna grab food?” he asked.

“Last block was home-ec; I ate everything in sight but I’ll go wherever you want so you can eat.”

Nodding, he straightened and turned the ignition; the engine firing up with a roar.

Less than five minutes on the road and you could tell where he was taking you. Driving through the gates, the impressive Tudor house came into view and he parked right in front, not saying a word as he got out and headed in, his crutch making a soft clicking sound as you trailed behind.

Inside, no one was around but you heard a TV or radio in the distance perhaps from the kitchen or that family room.

Down the hallway and into his room, you stood in the center looking around as he balanced his crutch against a hip and took off his leather coat, tossing it onto the loveseat. Flipping on music, he looked over at you and sat down on the end of his neatly made bed. You were dragging out the moment and when your eyes met his eyes, you knew, that he knew you were stalling.

“You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“I’m just trying to get a sense…. I don’t actually know you.”

Tipping his head to one side, he looked at you. Really looked, seeming to simultaneously analyze your appearance, your meaning, your reasons for coming, why you had let him do all those things to you. You didn’t actually know what he was thinking but that’s what it felt like. Regardless, it was clear, he held the power in the room.

“Come here,” he nodded to the bed beside him, his eyes not giving away his thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you made your way over, slowly sitting down, your hands running over your thighs to smooth out your skirt. Turning his head, he continued to look and you glanced up nervously.

“I know something about you,” he crooned, his expression a little more playful.

“What?”

“I know you are smart. Top of your class. I know you don’t go anywhere without those two chicks. I also know you dated some rugby player from Reynolds.”

“How do you know all that?” you asked your body picking up that static in the air that tended to play between you.

“Mark,” he answered matter-of-factly.

“I see,” you shifted on the bed, feeling squirmy. “I’m at a disadvantage then. I know nothing about you. Other than you have two brothers.”

“Three.”

“And that you go to Clairmont,”

“I don’t…I do school online.”

“Oh. I know that you are a good kisser,” you peeked up at him seeing how your comment brightened his face. “But that’s it.”

You weren’t sure why you couldn’t hold his eye contact but it was then that his fingers brushed back the hair hanging over your shoulder, and you stayed frozen as he pulled the collar of your white blouse aside. Slowly he leaned in closer and closer, his face reaching the crook of your neck and he pressed a kiss just below your ear. Ahhhhhh, you nearly melted as his lips continued lightly across your throat, gently sucking your skin into his mouth, making your body shiver. But you didn’t move…..

Pulling back, he looked at you and then sighed loudly.

“You’re so tense,” he breathed out. “Fine! What would you like to know?”

“Pardon?”

“You feel like you don’t know me. So… ask.” He lifted his eyebrows and shook his head like what he was saying was obvious. “I never lie.”

“Ohh-kay,” you said cautiously feeling unsure of where to start but not wanting this window to close.

“Where are your parents?” you started with the basics.

“My father is never around. Overseas working and my mom died two years ago.”

Okay, that was NOT where to start. “I’m sorry,” you turned your head and looked at him.

Swatting the air as if to move on, he gawked, impatient for you to continue.

“What do you want to do after school?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who was your last girlfriend?”

“Skip.”

“Wait you said...”

“I didn’t lie,” he cut you off. “I said skip.”

“Ohh-kay,” you replied, thinking quietly for a moment and you could tell this game was nearly done. “Do you deal drugs?”

He actually flinched and flared his nostrils, and you kept your eyes on him watching his reaction. Glancing around the room, he seemed to be steadying himself obviously hating this game.

“Weed,” he said almost bitterly. “I don’t deal drugs,” he mimicked some voice as if it was yours. “I sell weed. Nothing more than that.”

“Why?”

His head snapped over to look at you again and you could tell he was trying not to glare. God, he was not an open person.

“For the money,” you smiled, indicating you were joking, trying to lighten the mood.

“I started smoking it a couple of years ago. I went through a bad time after my mom passed. My legs were pretty bad,” he glanced over, “I have a disorder that I was on a lot of pain meds for and then the Drs gave me more shit because I was messed up over my mom. My dad basically ditched and I was not doing well. I had to quit all that shit. I knew I was heading toward a point that you can't come back from. So,” he shrugged, “I dropped the pills. Quit everything and just smoked weed.”

You were silent for a moment. “I see,” you said and it felt like the safest response.

“I started buying it in big qualities. Didn’t want to deal with small-time sellers. Didn’t know where their shit came from or what was in it. Just started selling a bit here and there and pretty quickly it paid for it. And then some.”

“Were you selling to other people who were in pain? Instead of them taking, like, pharmaceuticals?”

“Fuck no,” he scoffed. “Anyone with cash.” He rolled his eyes but it turned into a smile. “I’m done with your questions.”

With one hand, he pushed you abruptly back onto the bed.

“Ivar,” you gasped as he quickly scooped an arm around your waist and yanked you up until you were both laying on the pillows.

Meekly, you tried to resist, but he called bullshit and held your free hand back before pulling you against him and kissing you. His lips felt good, his tongue working its way into your mouth, his knee pushing between your legs. He knew exactly what he was doing pressing his thigh up against your crotch, his hand squeezing your ass, and running down the backs of your thighs.

You were going to stop him. You were. Just a few seconds more of his hot mouth, his amazing taste, and smell that flooded your head warming your body right down to your center. Oh god and the sounds he made. Small grunts like the more he kissed and touched you, the more he realized he wanted.

In one swift movement, he rolled on top, leaning on his elbows, his kisses becoming borderline rough. It was the bulge in his pants grinding against you, your hips rolling up against him that felt way too much. Way, way too much.

“Ivar,” you pulled your mouth back but he simply diverted, sucking on the side of your throat, one of his hands magically arriving at your cleavage and beginning to work on the buttons of your school shirt.

“Ivar, stop,” you said a little louder.

“What?” he asked, glancing up, managing to open two more bottoms with the flick of his fingers. How was he so good at that? Instantly, his hand was inside, squeezing and groping your breasts through your bra.

“This is too fast,” you muttered.

“Not for me,” he puffed, working his mouth back up to yours.

“Ivar, stop,” you turned your chin enough to escape him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, he tilted his head back to better focus on you.

“I don’t even know what is happening between us?” you continued sounding...well... a bit whiny.

“Don’t be childish,” he dismissed.

“I just want.... to take it slow. This is all new.”

“New?” his eyes flashed. “Not for me. I have wanted you since last the summer.”

What, you thought?! Last summer? Seven months ago? This was bewildering, you just met him.

“I just fucking knew when I saw you,” his face grew serious, and he reached up, brushing your hair back from the side of your face.

“Knew what?”

“I just knew.”

Woah, this was overwhelming. His blue eyes were searching yours and you then understood how sincere he was being and how excoriating it was for him to be like that.

“Can I just... have a minute?”

“No,” he frowned but his features softened and he leaned down and kissed you again. It was a soft kiss, a beautiful kiss, his gorgeous lips pressing against yours, holding still as if pouring out the feeling behind what he had just shared. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, his arms tightened around you.

“Don’t push me away, okay,” he whispered and you heard the anxiety in his voice.

It melted your heart and gave you some insight as to why he was such a weirdo. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you embraced him back.

“Why are you so.... cool with me sometimes. You’re unsure?”

Shrugging, he lifted back up to see your face but looked away, and you realized he was embarrassed.

“I don’t wanna freak you out. I can be…. a lot.”

No shit!

“Enough of your yapping,’’ he looked back and you could tell the subject had been changed.

“Ivar!” you gasped as his hand shot up your kilt, grabbing the waistband of your blue underwear.

Squirming, you latched onto his wrists to stop him but he clucked his tongue as if you were the one being naughty.

“These can fuck off,” he said yanking your underwear down your legs, slipping them off, along with your black shoes, and tossing everything onto the floor.

Narrowing his eyes at you, he looked wicked and smug and so incredibly sexy and you found yourself just watching, seeing what he’d do. Kissing you one more time, he moved down your body, nestling between your legs, and attempted to push up your kilt. Mouthing the word ‘noooo,’ your hands shot down to hold it against you.

“Move your hands!” he ordered.

“No, wait, this is crazy.”

“Move your hands or I swear to god,” he glared as if insane but it morphed into a grin. “Move your hands!” he barked, this time actually looking a little annoyed.

So, fuck it, you did. You moved your hands and he flipped up your kilt.

Oh god.

Even as your self conscientiousness began to burn, your bare box a mere five inches from his face, the glee that came over him made you laugh. But within a second, some darkness moved behind his blazing eyes and he just stared down at your pussy. Grabbing the back of your thigh, he bent your knee up, opening your legs wider.

Oh god.

“Can we close the blinds or something? It's so bright in...”

“Shush,” he quieted you not looking up. “I want to see what I’m doing.”

Oh god.

With his free hand, he carefully spread the lips of your pussy, and you looked up to the ceiling, your cheeks hot, unable to watch. It was so weird, your legs instinctively tried to close but he clucked again, pulling them back open.

“Don’t hide from me. Ever,” he whispered and you glanced down just as he looked up at you. “Plus, you said you would go anywhere so I could eat,” he grinned wildly, looking handsome, like a total deviant.

You jumped when his fingers touched you a second time, his fierce eyes watching your face as he began running his thumb over your clit. Fucking hell, it was intense and you had never had a guy just hang out down there, staring at the details of your body. His mouth fell open alittle and you watched curiously as he spread your lips even further, rubbing that same spot that you knew was starting to swell under his soft strokes.

“Do you know how fucking perfect you are?” he asked, glancing up again, his expression looking somehow pained. “Do you like that?” he kept staring at you, observing your reaction, his thumb gliding over and over. It felt amazing and by the way his head tilted to the side, gazing at your pussy and swearing under his breath, you knew he appreciated how wet you were getting.

“Fuck!” he rushed out loudly, “I could barely sleep last night. I was thinking about you. About kissing you. Everything at the movies. How wet your pussy was. Fuck!” he swore again. “Like it is now.”

His thumb pressed harder, and your stomach flinched making him laugh but he quickly grew serious and without breaking your gaze, he lowered his face, extending his unnaturally long tongue and swiped up the center of your folds. Jesus, it felt good and you glanced at his door noticing there was no lock. Steadily, his fingers spread you further apart, so wide it almost hurt and he grunted, sounding very pleased, his tongue descending again and licking you, lapping you, feeling warm, circling your clit. Within a few seconds, your hips began to gently rock and your breathing became shaky.

Time was obviously not of the essence as he took his time swapping back and forth between tasting you and running his thumb over your slit and each time you twitched or shuddered, those menacing eyes were back on you, studying your reaction, seeing what made you moan.

“Please,” you heard yourself whimper and it made him chuckle.

“Please what?” he asked, clearly loving it.

“Please,” you whined as his thumb and his intermittent licks began to drive you mad. Your pussy was wide open and needing more.

“You will have to be more specific, beautiful.”

“Please,” you tipped your chin down and looked directly at him. “Make me cum, Ivar, please,” you added the ‘please’ just to make him happy and his eyes flashed.

With that his mouth dropped down to your flesh, sucking your soft layers and clit right into his mouth. He was devouring you and it was raw and wild and the carnal sounds he was making made you imagine him as some beast. The climb to your finish was fast and powerful and when you finally came, all inhibitions were gone, you bucked your pelvis and grabbed his perfect hair, grinding your cunt up against his mouth, incoherently crying out. It was messed up and you had never once felt anything like it before.

“You are so beautiful, baby,” he murmured, kissing the inside of your skin and running the palm of his hand up and down the inside of your thigh. “You are so fucking beautiful. I have wanted this for so long,” he spoke against your skin as you came down from your climax.

As you untensed and simmered, he slid back up beside you, his hand snaking inside your blouse and grabbing your boob.

“You almost made me blow in pants,” he smiled and you just gazed at him, blissed-out, taking in how dreamy he looked.

“Oh shit!” you said, lifting your head, your eyes trying to find a clock.

“What time...”

“Relax,” he tightened his hold on you. “We’ll leave in 15 minutes. Plenty of time.”

Resting your head back down, you closed your eyes loving how much larger his body was than yours and how it felt to be in his arms.

“Plenty of time for what?” you asked, opening your eyes again.

“I’m not done.”

Oh god.

Sitting up, he grabbed you, roughly flipping you onto your tummy, his body quickly covered yours and pressing you down into the bed. It was so fast and you were confused but still too spaced out to speak. Pushing your legs apart, he shifted his weight to one side and flipped up your kilt uncovering your naked ass.

“What....” you rushed out, feeling too exposed. Your bottom, the back of your you-know-what, everything just out in the open.

“Stop fighting me,” he pressed his mouth to your ear. “You have a perfect ass, by the way.”

Fidgeting you realized he was opening and pulling down his pants and panic shot through you.

“Ivar, I can’t...”

“Shush, I’m not going to have sex with you. Relax.”

What was he doing, your mind started to reel? Was he lying? Was he going to try? If you were being honest, part of you wondered if maybe you’d let him. It was crazy.

You jumped, sucking in air when his hand touched the back of your pussy, his fingers rubbing between your lips and around your entrance. As the tips of his fingers dipped inside, the sounds of his approval fired back up. Bracing for it, you were thrown off when his finger didn’t push inside but instead traveled up the crack of your ass, circling around your asshole. Your eyes bugged out at the odd sensation and it hit you what he was doing; he was using your own slick to lube you up. But for what?

“What are you doing?”

Ignoring you he lowered himself back down, his weight feeling heavy, and you felt his hard bare cock land right in the crease of your ass. His elbows settled on either side of you, boxing you in, and just as you were about to tell him to get off, his face and chin burrowed back into the side of your neck. Slowly, he rolled his hips forward, his cock sliding between your cheeks, slippery and hard and feeling so unexpected. Pulling his hips back, he rutted again and his strained breathing showed you he loving it. It was different and hot and the sound of his panting in your ear was such a turn on. Not to mention his intimidatingly large rock-hard dick, touching the back of your entrance.

“All that panic for nothing,” he grunted and you could tell he was smiling. “I just needed to feel your perfect ass.”

It felt good. It felt surprisingly good and without thought you pushed your bum up toward him, immediately making his hiss.

“That’s it, my beautiful girl,” he grunted in your ear, pumping against your behind even harder. “Your little body knows exactly what to do, doesn’t it? Fuck!” he swore as his pace picked up.

Leaning on one arm, he snaked his hand under your tummy, finding your crotch, pulling you up toward him so your butt was at a better angle. Spreading your own legs a little wider, you dug your knees into the bed, arching your back even more. He fucking loved it and made you cry out when his fingers connected with your overly sensitive clit.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you? Hmmm? Put my dick inside you. Your beautiful little hole?”

He was moving faster and faster, it was so slippery and wet and you felt filthy because of how much you wanted him, wishing it might just slip and jab you.

“But I’m not going to rush you. I can wait,” he kissed the side of your head, his fingers rubbing your front which was a dripping mess at this point, your own hips moving in time. Everything began to feel funny and you realized you had never, not even once, had two orgasms in a row.

“You’re so wet,” he groaned as his hips moved faster and his fingers pressed harder. His breath grew even more ragged in your ear and everything began to distort. You couldn’t tell how long you’d been under him, grinding, panting, bucking up against him, and starting to whine his name. The air felt thick and your skin felt hot and you wished you were naked instead of your kilt being bunched around you. His arm was securely under you, his fingers slipping relentlessly over your clit, his cock sliding over the back of your pushed up ass. It was all too much and, in that blur, your second organism rolled, rocking you hard and stretching on so long you weren’t clear if it was still going or you were just that sensitive. You couldn’t breathe or think or move and or even make a sound. It was Ivar, crying out into the air above you that drew you back, his hips stuttering against you hard, and then you felt it, a warm pool of cum at the top of your crack.

His body went slack and he flopped down, half on and half beside, his leg and arm still wrapped around you. Catching his breath, he brushed the hair that was sticking to your tacky forehead away to uncover your eyes and pressed a breathy kiss to your lips. You didn’t open your eyes but felt him snuggle in, your faces very close and you guessed he was looking at you.

“I want you to be that person in my life… who….” his voice dropped off as if unable to finish what he wanted to say and you thought you heard him whisper your name. “God,” he continued. “I just want to be with you. So badly.”

Woah……

----

Not once on the short ride back to school did he let go of your hand, even bringing it to his mouth and kissing the back a couple of times. If you had any mental capacity left after your two earth-shattering orgasms and his heart breaking-ly sweet admission, you would have realized that you were in shock. Was it good or bad? It was hard to tell but he was swooning over you, smitten with an entirely different warmth in his eyes.

Kissing him goodbye and swinging the door closed, you walked toward the side entrance of the school, wondering if it was possible to bruise a tail bone and seeing your two best friends, waiting. By their expressions, it was clear they wanted to talk.

Great, you thought, you had to tell them that, like it or not, Ivar Lothbrok was your boyfriend now. And despite your hesitations, you did, you liked it very much.

Next chapter

*Happy Valentines Day❤️

@youbloodymadgenius @whenimaunicorn @ceridwenofwales @sweeneythots @funmadnessandbadassvikings @redama @mdredwine@didiintheblog @londongal2810 @fields-and-fields-of-poppies @oddsnendsfanfics @youbelongeverywhere @flowers-in-your-hayr @hecohansen31 @naaladareia @gearhead66 @blonddnamedhandz @lisinfleur @geekandbooknerd @xbellaxcarolinax @edythofhastings @ivarsgoddess @where-beauty-goes-to-die @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @snatcherheart @lordsexmachine @fuchsiagrasshopper @wilhelmyna @heavenly1927 @cececolbert @peachyboneless

#ivar au #modern ivar #highschool ivar #ivar vikings #ivar fanfic #ivar smut #ivar love #you and ivar #ivar and reader #lets be honest this is sarah

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 3 years

Text

Snowy Favours

i wrote this for one of my favourite humans in the entire world! @queen-of-demons-and-hell i just kind of forgot to post it on here oops

masterlist; my links

[image has alt text]

She smells coffee. And then pancakes, and then freshly squeezed orange juice. And suddenly she's three days into a Indonesian island holiday and there's sun streaming through her windows and the sheets draped over her bared skin are cool and if she opens her eyes she'll be met with ruffling lace curtains and the sight of the ocean just over the deck.

Annabeth Chase wakes up to silence. To darkness. To New York plunged into winter as if Khione had taken her rage out on the city over night. Snow covers the concrete buildings, already turning sloppy and muddied with the trek of never ending people. She is nowhere near Indonesia, nor in a villa overlooking blue waters. She is in her grungy apartment in her more-mattress-than-bed bed and the single window in her bedroom looks out onto the brick of the building next to her. In short its just another Monday morning.

The disappointment that floods through her is breathtaking. She feels her life swallow her up, wrapping around her lungs and squeezing as if it had taken lessons from a python. Her fingers curl around the duvet pulled over her as she stares at the wall, at the pictures littering it. She takes a deep breath, another, another. Slowly the python loosens, her heart returns to it's normal rhythm.

Glancing at the small pink clock on her bedside table she almost groans as she sees the time. Three minutes till her alarm rings. Not enough to dive back into bed but enough to consider it anyway. She forces herself to get up, feeling the cool of the wood under her feet and traipses to the bathroom where she is met with tile, the sudden cold pulls a hiss from her.

With a zombied look in her eyes she goes about her morning routine: pee, teeth, shower, change, scrounge around in empty cupboards for something at least half edible, scarf another energy bar when nothing better makes itself known, and then finally pack her bag and make her way out. She can do it with her eyes closed by now, sometimes she even does.

Still as she steps into the biting air that comes with snow her body wakes up considerably. With a curse that middles Greek and English, she twists her scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her beanie over her ears. She decides she can spare a moment to go to her favourite coffee shop this morning just to throw down a hot drink that hopefully scorches her insides.

With a determined step she sets off to the subway, earbuds shoved into her ears blaring "do re mi" by blackbear. A violent song for this early in the morning but one she mumbles along to all the same.

The coffee shop, as she so lovingly calls it, is more like a caravan sized hole wedged between two skyscrapers. It fits maybe five people comfortably, ten if you're looking to be smothered. But the coffee is beyond magical and they have the most decadent blueberry muffins she's ever had the pleasure to eat. Besides her best friend works here and really if anyone can turn her from bruised-eyed zombie to semi-human it's Percy Jackson.

The door creaks as she steps through, announcing her presence. She's too busy basking in the warmth of the little hovel to worry about the greeting thrown her way.

"Gods it's cold out there." She sucks in a breath, feeling her lungs defrost.

"Yes," Percy grins, "I suppose someone pissed off Khione again."

She rolls her eyes, as her body collapses against the black marble counter. "Khione gets pissed off about everything that's hardly an excuse to give us all frostbite."

"I suggest you take that up with her, because I cannot see any of us coming out alive after that conversation."

"Just give me a coffee you menace," She scrunches her nose in distaste, but cannot keep the playfulness out of her voice.

"Want a blueb?" He shakes a paper bag, something thumping inside. "On the house." The accompanying wink sets her cold skin on fire.

Her eyes narrow as she surveys him. His unruly black curls are kept back by three butterfly shaped clips, bright pink and probably Estelle's, and his skin browner— like dark roast coffee— from the weekend his family had taken in Spain three weeks before glows softly under the warm yellow light hanging above then. The black polo neck he wears under his "Holed Up" company t-shirt, makes his eyes look darker than normal. His jeans, faded blue, stand stark against the rest of his outfit. Even like this, in work appropriate clothes, he looks beautiful. Looks like the beginning of spring, and the happily ever after of stories, and the change of tides.

"What are you planning?" His look of incredulity almost makes her laugh.

"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"

"I've known you since we were twelve Jackson," She scoffs, as if his question is ridiculous in itself. "I know every face, every expression, every movement of your body. I know when you're up to something." She finishes off with a glare for good measure.

His green eyes are bright as he studies her, emotions warring across his face. To spill or not to spill. He pushes her coffee across the counter and she looks at him expectantly as she grabs the cup with both hands. Her numb fingers instantly start to sting with the sudden change in temperature.

"Fine." He sighs, looking at her through his lashes as if maybe be could get away with not telling her. She raises a brow. He curses under his breath and flops down on a chair hidden behind the counter.

"I need your help with something—"

Yes, of course, is on the tip of her tongue. She would do it. No hesitation. There's not much, not anything, she wouldn't do for him.

"But before you say no or worse get mad you have to hear me out." He finishes quickly. And then his eyes are big and pleading and she doesn't know if she wants to turn away or lean in closer, study that captivating green like it's the newest find in her paleontology class.

Instead she clears her throat, "What is it Percy?"

"I need you to be my fake girlfriend." He says it in one breath.

She almost asks him to repeat in case she hadn't heard right. But she knows she did. She knows she couldn't have heard anything else

He swallows. She blinks. He drops his head to his hands, a sigh already on his lips. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut.

"Okay I know it's...odd," He starts, "But I kind of got roped into going to a mixer with some people from my class and this one guy asked if we could go together but I don't really like him so I said no." Percy was rambling but she was too speechless to stop him. "But then he looked really hurt and I felt really bad so I kind of said I already had a partner which made him look less hurt but then Piper, the girl hosting the mixer, over heard me and said I should bring my partner along, since a few of them were bringing their partners, and you know I couldn't exactly back out of the lie after that so I said I would and well..." He gestures between them. "Then this happened."

Annabeth takes a sip of her coffee. And another, she downs almost half the cup before she has the ability to talk. "Why don't you just say your partner is sick on the day?"

It's her first question and instantly she wants to take it back. Because the flinch Percy tries to hide is enough to have her scrambling for a way to take back the words. Because it's not that she won't be Percy's (fake) partner, or even that she doesn't want to.

It's more that she doesnt know if she'll be able to draw the line between fake gestures and her very real feelings. Having a crush on someone for the better part of eight years tends to tug at her emotional side in a way that overules her logical one. Yes she can be Percy's fake girlfriend. No her heart won't believe the lopsided grin he gives her when he makes a bad joke will be 'just for show'. Yes she can hold hands with him and meet his friends. No she can't help the jump in her stomach as she sees the interlaced fingers.

"You don't have to." He says quietly. "I'll think of something." He waves it off, a small smile already finding its way onto his face. She knows, even without careful study, that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She has to fix this.

"No." It comes out in a snap of rushed regret. "I will, I want to."

He looks at her, gaze wide, hesitant. "You do?"

She nods and then, as if the gesture isn't good enough stumbles through her words. "Yes, I want to." Her smile is shy, but the beam she's rewarded with nearly knocks her off her feet. "I think it'll be fun."

He scoffs at her, waving a hand. "Everything we do is fun. We're Percy and Annabeth."

And he says it's like there's no other way their names could be said. Like if someone says his hers must follow. Like if someone says hers his cannot possibly be far behind. He says it like they belong.

Her heart does a giddy sort of flip that spreads warmth through her chest and in her stomach, better than the coffee ever could.

"Okay Percy Jackson." She holds out her hand, to shake on. "Let's pretend to be madly in love."

With a wink, that causes her brain to explode, he takes her hand in his and turns it over before placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.

She becomes the air itself. And as she floats to lectures she decides maybe it's not just another Monday. Maybe she did wake up in a paradise of sorts. Maybe life isn't so dull. She laughs to herself.

It can never be dull if Percy is there. It never has.

#percabeth #pjjg fanfic #percy jackson #annabeth chase #percy #jackson #annabeth #chase

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koreanmadeingreece · 3 years

Text

Why, why, why (10)

University student!Yuta x reader

Genre: slight enemies to lovers au, a bit of angst, a lot of fluff, and several mixups

Summary: You just got into uni and decided to move in with your childhood friend!Taeyong at the city where you are going to study. As you’re about to start your new, adult life, you meet his friends, and you realize that not everyone likes you. Nakamoto Yuta in particular almost seems like he hates you.

A/N: In this fic, Jonghyun from NU’EST appears for a while (just to avoid confusion). Also we’re so close to the end guyyyyys!!!!

Warnings: Some making out hiiihihihiihihi (also I think some fu and shi words?)

Word count: 1.7K

Part 10/11 (I think) First / Previous / Next

Taglist: @melitadala @chxotickpoptrash @aiforyuu @fineapplehoe (let me know if you’d like to be tagged!) (also idk a friend informed me that my tags weren't working so I'm redoing all of them in all my posts sorry about thaaat)

During the next few days, you barely went to your classes. You didn’t want to see anyone. You didn’t even spend much time with Taeyong, as he reminded you of what had happened. You took a few days to yourself, just to let yourself calm down after the storm. After about a week, you were ready to come back in touch with the rest of the world.

On Monday, first thing in the morning, you stopped by the café where Jonghyun worked, and got your regular coffee. By some sort of miracle, there wasn’t much work, so he was able to steal a few minutes for you.

“Jonghyun,” you said.

“Yeah,” he replied, noticing how you got all serious.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For disappearing this week.”

“It’s okay. It happens. I just need you to be okay and to tell me if there’s anything I can do to help.” He was reassuring towards you, even though you had practically ghosted him all this time. Sure, you texted a few times, but you were never actually there.

“Can you be any more perfect than you already are?” you joked.

“Only when I’m with you.”

It was true that you were dating for almost three months and things had started to get more serious as time went by. For the next few weeks, you tried to spend more time with him, inviting him over to your house when you knew Taeyong wouldn’t be there. Thankfully for you, he had a busy schedule as a third year. Sometimes you knew he went out on purpose, just to leave the house for you. He was the perfect friend.

At the same time, you had started seeing Yuta less and less. You tried not to be home when you knew he’d be there but tried not to be entirely rude and saw him every now and then at uni or sometimes you stopped by when the guys were out. You kept your distance, to keep things from going the wrong way.

You knew that Yuta probably wondered why you stopped seeing him so suddenly. You trusted that it would be forgotten as time went by, and that you’d eventually find a way to casually coexist around each other without fighting or disrupting your well-being. Because that’s what it was, a disruption. Before you even came, he was fine, and you were too. Before you decided to get to know him, things were quiet. Sure, you fought sometimes, but nothing happened.

You had fucked up, and you knew it pretty well. Sometimes you’d see Yuta around uni, talking to his friends or heading to a class, and he’d steal glances from you. He’d slow down his walk to see if you’d talk to him, but you rarely did. You noticed how every time he waited for you, but you never gave him any attention. You hated to do this. You didn’t want to avoid him either. But, with the way things had turned out, you didn’t have any choice.

A few days later, you finished class earlier than usual and found Jonghyun at uni. His classes were over for the day, and you decided to spend some time together. You invited him over, as you knew Taeyong had at least one more class before he headed home. In that way, you’d spend about three hours alone and you’d have the house to yourselves. Both of you wanted some alone time, considering that your relationship was more stable than ever. Jonghyun was happy to follow you home. You opened the windows to get some light in and brought him a cup of his favorite tea. You sat for a while, discussing how your day was, when he decided to put some music on. It was a relaxing playlist with artists that both of you liked.

You sat next to each other on the couch, your legs on top of his lap. When his hands started caressing your legs, you knew it was time for more. In a quick movement, you climbed on top of him, spreading your legs on each of his sides. You placed your lips against his, slowly luring him into your mood.

“Wait, what about Taeyong?” he asked, as you were in the living room.

“His classes end at 8PM. Don’t worry about it.” You continued kissing him and started to grind on his crotch.

He was eager to respond, slowly starting to suck your neck. “I want you, Y/N.” You loved how his voice sounded when he whispered to you. You felt wanted, desired.

You didn’t waste any time and unbuttoned his shirt, seeing his bare body underneath you. You loved the sight of him desperately wanting you, panting from the excitement. You let him take off your shirt as well, and briefly got up to take off your pants as well, staying in your underwear. You sat on top of him again, somehow embarrassed by the way he was looking at you. He glided his hand from your chest to your stomach, admiring how you looked, then went lower, getting it inside your panties. You wanted him, and moaned his name as his body touched yours, his fingers inside you. His lips went from your neck to your chest, sucking your skin. You were ready, and you wanted him. For the next few seconds, all you wanted was him.

~ ☼ ~

Taeyong decided to skip his last class and head home early to rest. “Yuta, are you coming?”

“Sure.” And so, the guys headed home in Yuta’s car, since Taeyong asked him to help with some stuff he needed to carry. Yuta parked in front of the house and got out of the house to help Taeyong.

“I’ll bring the stuff. Can you go unlock the door for me?” Taeyong asked, giving Yuta the keys.

Yuta went ahead and unlocked the entrance door, then went up to your apartment. When he realized what was going on in the living room, it was too late.

~ ☼ ~

You moaned Jonghyun’s name, as his fingers worked magic inside you.

“Y/N are those-” Jonghyun had heard the keys on the door, but the damage was already done. Yuta had walked in, seeing you on top of Jonghyun, him sucking your breasts. He froze. He looked you dead in the eye for a second that seemed like eternity, and walked out of the door, closing it behind him. You immediately got up and put your clothes back on, leaving Jonghyun alone to get dressed too. You stormed out of your apartment, only taking your keys with you.

“Taeyong,” you said as you saw him at the entrance, “where’s Yuta?”

“Y/N what happened? I sent him to help me, and he came back running. He didn’t take his car. I think he left.”

“Fuck, Taeyong.” You went towards the street to find him, but he had already disappeared.

“Y/N, tell me.” Taeyong approached you.

“I screwed up. He saw us, Taeyong.”

“You mean, like, walked in on you?” he asked.

“Yeah. I thought you’d finish at 8. Fuck. I should have asked.”

“Whatever’s done is done now. Go to Jonghyun and I’ll find him, don’t worry,” Taeyong said, giving you his stuff. At that moment, you knew you’d have to give Jonghyun an explanation. You didn’t know what to say though. Why did you storm out? Why did Yuta run off and why did you chase him? Suddenly, it hit you. You were wrong all this time. Jonghyun wasn’t the one who you wanted to spend more time with. Jonghyun wasn’t the man you actually wanted.

You went back inside, determined to clear it all up. It was your fault for not seeing this earlier anyway. “Jonghyun, I need to talk to you.”

“I was wondering how long it’d take you. Apparently around three months.”

“What?” you asked, surprised.

“At first I didn’t know, I noticed it at the movie night, but I wasn’t sure.” He paused. “I brushed it off. I thought I was just misreading things. When you stormed out right now, that couldn’t be my misinterpretation.” He grabbed his jacket and headed to the door.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“It was amazing while it lasted.”

“Yes, it was. You are perfect, Jonghyun, but I’m not the one you should be with.”

He smiled at you. “I know. I just would have appreciated it if you had told me sooner.” He was right, and he had every reason to hate you.

“I didn’t know myself.”

“More like you didn’t want to admit it.”

“Yeah, that too.” You paused. “I’m sorry. Again.”

“Yeah.” With that word, he left you alone in the living room. You hoped he’d called you names, cursed at you, but he didn’t. That was partly the reason you were more certain than ever about your choices. You weren’t madly in love with each other, and no matter how perfect your relationship was, you couldn’t have stayed together for much longer.

You grabbed your phone. You called him, but he wasn’t answering. You called Taeyong. “Where are you?”

“I went over to Yuta’s. He’s not here.”

“Fuck. I called him and he’s not answering either.”

“I know. I called him too. Don’t call him for a while, and maybe he’ll reach out to me. I’m coming back in a few minutes.”

Taeyong opened the door and found you crying on the couch, waiting for him. “I fucked up, Taeyong.”

“No, don’t cry. We’ll find him and we’ll settle it, okay?” he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m a horrible person. And stupid. It was him I liked all along and I blew my chance.” You leaned on his shoulder and stayed like this until you calmed down.

The next morning found both of you sleeping together on your bed, just so you had company to get through the night. You opened your eyes, your head hurt from all the tears you shed the previous day, and you knew that Yuta would be in a similar state if not worse. You were determined to end this once and for all.

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onlydreamofmysoul · 3 years

Text

You should visit more often

I couldn’t do a whole thing on the background of the fic and then not post it😂

Some Theyna to feed the soul

Summary: High school. The best or worst days of your life? That's definitely up for debate.

(But it certainly helps when your girlfriend visits.)

"Ugh! I just cannot with her anymore!" Thalia declared dramatically flopping down on the grass on the grounds of their school, throwing her bag down next to her and crossing her legs as she sat.

"Uh, Thals? You're in a skirt." Annabeth pointed out, having caught a a nice glimpse of Thalia's underwear.

"Stupid school uniforms. Stupid Katie. Stupid assigned seating." Thalia grumbled as she readjusted herself, rearranging her skirt.

"Wait, are you talking about Katie Gardner?" Piper asked, eyes wide in shock.

Thalia shook her head as she backpedalled a little. "Katie Gardner is a sweetheart. I'm talking about the infamous Katie-"

"Greene." Everyone else sitting in their little circle finished.

Thalia grinned. "At least I'm predictable. Anyways so we were in chemistry, you know the way she's my lab partner? So we were just starting to measure the amount of hydrogen peroxide when she declares that she can't help because she didn't want the chemicals to mess with her fake tan..."

Thalia launched into her story of the day, her friends called it the Katie Chronicles. Attending an all-girls Catholic school didn't have many perks and it certainly had a few downfalls. One being uniforms and dress codes, another being assigned seating. Thalia could swear her chemistry teacher sat her next to Katie on purpose. What Thalia did in a past life to deserve this, she didn't know, but it must have been truly awful to wind up with this punishment.

It wasn't that Katie was blatantly a bitch. Thalia could have grudgingly respected that, being absolutely awful, but at least you were honest about it. No, Katie was much worse than that. On the surface she seemed so sweet, almost kind. But her tone was always teasing. Her words sweet but her eyes betrayed her. She would wait for you to say something she thought she could use against you, then pounce. Thalia always had to have a guard up around her, making her responses almost always sarcastic, so Katie wouldn't be able to hold anything against her. To be perfectly honest, it was exhausting. Thalia had no idea why being cruel to other people seemed to get Katie off, but she would be damned if she ended up one of her unwitting victims.

Thalia finished telling her tale, then normal conversation resumed, Annabeth organizing a party for Percy's up and coming eighteenth birthday, Piper chiming in to help with the guest list. Her boyfriend Jason would be flying in from California to attend along with Reyna - Thalia's girlfriend. Leo, who was attending the neighbouring boys school was secretly inviting all of Percy's friends without him knowing. It was truly becoming quite the undercover operation.

A few weeks and many Katie encounters later, only a day remained until the surprise party of the year. Jason and Reyna had arrived the previous day, under the guise that they were due a visit to their respectful significant others and it just so happened to coincide with Percy's birthday. To be perfectly honest, Thalia couldn’t believe they had made it this far without Percy noticing anything, but who was she to look a gift horse in the mouth.

She had the entire day for herself and Reyna planned, and it had been perfect. They had gotten hot chocolate and strolled leisurely around the city, basking in the sun and each others presence. But all good things must come to an end and Reyna and Thalia had to depart ways, Thalia getting the bus back to her apartment, where she lived with Percy and Sally while Reyna returned to the accommodation she and Jason were staying in.

After walking her to the bus stop, Reyna pulled Thalia in by the waist, tugging her into a kiss. Thalia went with it willingly, melting into the warmth and familiarity of her girlfriend. They kissed sweetly for a few minutes, until Thalia pulled away reluctantly, having heard the bus pull up behind her.

"I gotta go." She mumbled against Reyna's lips.

Reyna groaned, kissed her one more time before pushing Thalia away slightly.

"Go." She laughed. "You'll miss your bus. I'll see you tomorrow."

Thalia laughed, waved then spun around to join the line for the bus. And her stomach dropped.

Standing in the queue was none other, than the one and only Katie Greene herself. Staring at her. Complete with her entire group of friends, all of whom would have looked less shocked if Thalia had shot them. Thalia smiled politely, groaning inwardly, before proceeding to ignore their presence on the bus the entire way home.

The party was a massive hit. Percy was genuinely surprised and everything went off without a hitch - Thalia would have expected nothing less from something planned by Annabeth Chase. Most of the other guests had left, leaving only Percy's close friends gathered around in the living room, just talking and having fun. Somewhere along the line, chatting had turned to revealing ones secrets and they had fallen down the rabbit hole of telling their most embarrassing stories.

"Your turn Thalia." Hazel called from the floor having just regaled them with a story involving shampoo, a wild horse and an avocado and was still blushing ever so slightly, Thalia groaned from her seat between Reyna's legs on the couch, hiding her face behind her hands as she cringed.

"Okay guys, you'd better buckle your seatbelts because you are in for a wild ride." She stated before launching into her latest Katie encounter. Her friends were an excellent audience, oohing and aahing in just the right places, groaning as expected and looking at Thalia sympathetically.

"I'm never gonna live this down!" Thalia cried as she finished her tale of woe.

"But," She added a few minutes later, as Reyna stroked her thigh soothingly, you should've seen her face. “I'm never going to forget it. Her mouth made a perfect 'o'.” Everyone laughed and Thalia found herself joining them no longer dreading facing chemistry class next week.

The following Monday, Thalia strolled into the chemistry lab, Katie already at their desk. Reyna had left last night and this time, she and Thalia had said goodbye sans-audience. Katie looked up as Thalia reached their desk, eyes already wider than plates.

Thalia just smirked at her before she could begin her interrogation.

"I hope your jaw didn't hurt when it hit the ground."

Katie's eyes grew impossibly wider. Thalia just smiled sweetly as the teacher walked into the room.

After class, Thalia took out her phone and texted Reyna.

You should visit more often.

#thalia grace #reyna ramirez avila arellano #theyna #percy jackson #annabeth chase #Piper McLean #jason grace #Hazel Levesque #theyna fic #thalia/reyna

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storygirl000 · 4 years

Text

ML Fic: Power Trip

Summary: Lila, in order to keep her sheep in line and punish those who defied her, puts extra time into prepping the class’ end-of-the-year trip.

Unfortunately, she underestimated just how far Marinette would go to upstage her.

Ao3 link here.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Something that always bothered me about “Marinette is the best at student council” salt fics was that Lila and/or Alya always have no idea what this position entails. I don’t think that makes sense; assuming Lila tried the same act at previous schools, she’d probably know the ins and outs of working on the student council by now. And Alya wouldn’t just forget her time as Marinette’s class rep assistant just because she hates her now; she’d most likely have a working idea of what that entails, too.

So I chose to make Lila smarter here than she usually is in fics regarding this subject. (No worries – she still gets her karma.)

00000

“I’m so glad you could all come!”

Lila smiled at all of her classmates, who’d gathered with her in Ms. Bustier’s room to discuss some important matters.

She heard Alix mutter something about the gathering being “mandatory” and “another example of Bustier’s favoritism”, but she ignored it.

“Now, as we all know, every year we do an end-of-the-year field trip to some amazing location. As your new Class Representative...”

She paused to shoot a quick smirk at Marinette, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

“...I propose that this year...we go to Disneyland Paris!”

Naturally, her lackeys cheered for her, and Adrien’s eyes lit up at the idea (she had to thank Gabriel for sheltering the boy as much as he had; it made him so easy to manipulate). The others – the ones that had sided with Marinette – seemed intrigued, but nothing beyond that.

Lila smirked again. This was almost too easy.

She quickly switched to her disappointed role model face. “Unfortunately, Ms. Bustier has ruled that some students will be unable to attend this trip due to all the unacceptable behavior they’ve demonstrated in the past. This includes being discluded from any fundraisers we will have to help fund this trip.”

It took all of five seconds for Marinette and her cronies to realize this meant them.

Naturally, Alya and Chloé protested the loudest, but they were quickly shut down by Adrien, who admonished them for daring to bring their drama into an official class meeting. Upset, they took Marinette and walked out, followed by everyone else who’d supported them.

This left herself, Adrien, Kim, Max (and Markov), Mylene, and Ivan.

Ah, well. She’d worked with less before. She could do this.

With that, they started planning things out.

00000

It didn’t take her long to secure approval from the principal and the school board for the trip. Ms. Bustier had volunteered to be one of their chaperones, and so had Mylene’s father.

With her calculations, she realized that they needed roughly $6000 for the trip. A little flattery (and a promise to keep spying on his son for him) had gotten them a $1500 donation from Gabriel Agreste himself, so that left them to raise $4500 more for the trip. Quickly, they went to work.

The first fundraiser had been a bake sale – Mylene had gotten the idea to theme it after fall, with cute leaf patterns and gourd-shaped cupcakes and the like. And besides, the bake sale was always their first fundraiser of the year. Lila had agreed immediately.

There was only one problem – their main distributor of baked goods was no longer a part of the fundraiser.

Whatever. They didn’t need her anyways.

The group dedicated an entire weekend to baking these treats, and started selling them at school on Monday (after obtaining the permission of the principal and making sure it didn’t collide with any other fundraisers, of course). By the end of the day, they’d raised almost $500.

During her shift, Lila had spotted a pair of boys walk past the table – an older boy in a blue hoodie, and a younger one in a red hoodie. She recognized them as friends of Marinette (Luka and Marc, if she remembered correctly). Listening in on their conversation, she learned that Marinette had apparently hosted a bake sale of her own over the weekend.

She was torn between confusion (why had Marinette done a bake sale?) and confidence (obviously it wasn’t a success). She chose the latter.

By the end of the day, she had Ms. Bustier chewing out Marinette for daring to undermine the class’ fundraiser.

$4000 to go.

00000

Next up was the annual homecoming game and dance. That, like all major school events, had its ticket money split between the various classes and the school overall, with the class that raised the most money getting the lion’s share.

Kim had volunteered to help drum up support for the school team with his girlfriend Ondine (who Lila had promised could come on their class trip after her class had unfairly excluded her for daring to badmouth Marinette). The duo sold tickets fairly fast, their enthusiasm likely playing a part in it.

Lila also noticed that Marinette and her friends were handing out pamphlets for some website – apparently, the former “everyday Ladybug” was trying to launch her own clothing line.

She snorted. Good luck with that – the world of fashion was cruel, fickle, and would probably eat her alive.

The game and dance came and went, and Bustier’s class had sold the second highest amount of tickets after Mendeleiev’s class. The teacher was concerned (they’d always been in the top spot before, for some reason), but Lila didn’t care; they’d gotten $1000 out of the deal, after all.

$3000 to go.

00000

As December came, both Max and Adrien proposed fundraisers for the season.

Max suggested candy cane messages. According to his calculations, these were always successful in previous years.

Adrien suggested that they have girls (and some boys) pay him for a picture of them kissing under the mistletoe.

Max’s idea was the one they went with, but Lila had to say, she was surprised – Adrien had never tried to use his looks to his advantage before. Perhaps her own cunning mind was rubbing off on him.

She could deal with that.

As Max had predicted, the plan was a success, netting them more cash than their previous endeavors. Everyone in school had wanted to send a message to someone else, be it a friend, a crush, or a teacher. Even Lila herself had gotten a few.

Over the course of the fundraiser, she’d overheard a conversation between Marinette (ugh), Juleka, Rose, and two girls from Mendeleiev’s class (Aurore and Mireille, right?) about some trip they were going to go on.

Hmph. So Marinette was going to force another class to accommodate her and her friends, huh? So be it.

She quickly told Ms. Bustier of this new development, and smirked as she watched the teacher chew out Marinette for daring to drag another class into her drama.

$1500 to go.

0000

Christmas and New Year’s came and went, and Valentine’s Day was coming up. And so was the Valentine’s Day dance.

Ivan was the one who came up with the idea to sell heart-shaped candy and Hershey’s kisses alongside the tickets, and everyone agreed it was a good way to get some extra money if they failed to get enough money to fund the rest of the trip. Lila agreed to it, but warned that she wouldn’t be able to help as much as she had before; after all, she had to start preparing all the necessary paperwork for the trip.

Sure enough, the plan went off without a hitch. The class once again managed to get the top spot, and the candy sales more than made up for what they lacked. They were going to Disneyland Paris.

She then had one last encounter with Marinette’s allies – Luka and Nathaniel were putting up fliers for a Jagged Stone concert. When she bragged to Nathaniel about how her leadership had netted them the trip, he’d given her a cold smile and an odd response.

“Oh, that’s alright. We already have a trip planned that we need to fundraise.”

Privately, Lila celebrated. With Marinette on their side, it was more than likely that Mendeleiev’s class was going to fall short of their goals.

After all, she was completely useless.

00000

The end of the year came, and so did the class’ (and Ondine’s) three days in Disneyland Paris.

Naturally, the whole trip had been amazing. They had plenty of photos and souvenirs to share with their less fortunate classmates (officially, to make sure they weren’t “entirely left out”; unofficially, to brag). And Lila had finally gotten Adrien to kiss her.

Lila had wanted to gather the entire class together so that she could make Marinette and her cronies feel even worse, but strangely none of them were there when she got back. Neither were several kids from Mendeleiev’s class (Aurore, Mireille, Marc, and Kagami) or Luka, for that matter.

She didn’t know why until her lackeys started sending her urgent texts.

She looked at them...and her stomach dropped.

It was an Instagram post of Marinette, Alya, and Chloé at an airport; Marinette was sitting on a suitcase, Alya was holding the phone, and Chloé pretended to be distracted by doing her makeup.

The caption read “Taking a trip across the states with all of our friends!!! It was originally gonna be the class trip, but that fell through.”

So that was what the brat had been planning.

Lila felt herself go pale.

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Lila spent the rest of the summer checking Marinette, Alya, and Chloé’s Instagrams (and Nino’s, which was likely gotten just to help rub salt in the wound). Each adventure felt more unbelievable than the last.

First was New York City, where Marinette had apparently managed to secure the group a tour of the Avengers Tower. There were photos of Chloé sassing Tony Stark (and Pepper trying her hardest not to laugh and/or give the girl an apprenticeship on the spot in the background). Of Rose and Juleka on Captain America’s shoulders, fangirling over him. Of Alix, who mostly took selfies with the Black Widow and Hawkeye. Of Kagami and Sabrina (of all people) helping Stark’s young interns (Peter, Harley, Shuri, Ned, MJ, and Riri, apparently) play various pranks around the tower.

Alya posted an interview where she asked the heroes questions about Paris’ own heroes on the Ladyblog, and the site’s traffic immediately tripled.

The next location was Miami, Florida. According to Marinette, this destination was meant to be more low-key.

Which meant they just so happened to enter a music shop that international pop star Austin Moon was frequenting at the time. And it just so happened to be the shop run in part by his girlfriend and frequent collaborator Ally Dawson.

Naturally, this lead to photos of Luka and Nino jamming out with the two of them and their friends.

And, apparently, Marinette decided to namedrop Lila. Because the next video on her Instagram was one of Austin’s manager angrily cursing the Italian’s name (and that of Adrien, for some reason) for bullying such an amazing girl and lying to her classmates about it.

Lila wasn’t surprised when she and Adrien were kicked out of the class’ group chat shortly afterwards. She was too numb to be surprised at that point.

Next was Gotham City, which naturally lead to photos with both successful billionaire Bruce Wayne and resident superhero Batman. And all their kids. And the nicer Rogues (often with Nathaniel and Marc loudly sassing their villainous plans in the background).

Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark had apparently gotten into a Twitter war over who was going to adopt the group first. Alya had responded by suggesting they get shared custody.

Next was Hollywood, California. Marinette managed to get photos with Finn Wolfhard and Mckenna Grace on the set of the new Ghostbusters movie (and their numbers, if the captions were to be believed). Chloé, meanwhile, preferred to take photos of all the hunky actors and beautiful actresses walking around.

Their final destination had been Hawaii. That one (much to Lila’s surprise) did not end with the class meeting a celebrity; however, they did get to meet students from a Japanese school that had apparently had the same idea as them.

Alya took photos with some kid named Mishima, claiming they had something in common. Other photos were taken with a pair of blonde kids (Lila didn’t know if they were siblings or not, but given their apparent romantic closeness, the latter was more likely), a brown-haired girl, and a blue-haired boy.

The most photos, however, were those of Marinette with a boy her age, with messy black hair and glasses. Judging from Alya and Chloé’s comments, the two were into each other.

Lila couldn’t take it. She’d thrown her phone against the wall at that.

How was Marinette having so much fun when she’d done her best to ruin her life?

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Finally, school started up again. Predictably, everyone was glaring at Lila when she entered the building – even her former sheep.

She was the first to enter the classroom. As everyone filed in, they shot a glare at her – or at Adrien, who’d apparently been dragged down with her.

Marinette was the last to enter. She stood in front of Lila’s desk, gave her a cold smile, and asked her one thing.

“So, Lila! How was your summer?”

Lila wanted to scream.

#my writing #miraculous ladybug #ml salt #lila salt #adrien salt

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