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twimshi · 11 months

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Shattered Realities Prt3

Hobie Brown/Reader (3/5 part)

"Yes or no?"

Maybe she was the dirty window.

(A/n I wanna preface that webbie is based of you, the reader but mainly as a POC with semi tan to dark skin but you can imagine her as whatever because she is a self insert in a sense so go nuts)

Also plz comment, l love replying

Tag list

@kittekat420

@zeyzeys-stuff

@50yruken

@oromaangel

[I also might start a discord server for the updates so just drop ur discord Id]

It's been about a few weeks since Webbies arrival and stay at Hobies, yet she still isn't used to some things.

"I'll be heading to out now" Says Hobie getting ready.

Webbie asks, getting bored of the mundane life she's been living "Wait what do I do here?"

"Uhm? I don't know, just chill. I guess? Don't watch any British shows without me, I heard kitchen nightmare is airing in an hour but I 'ought to handle this police chase real quick"

Before Hobie could gear up, he was alarmed by the sound of popping from the window.

"Woah, fireworks." Webbie said trying to stick her head out to get a closer look while Hobie is confused.

"Fireworks on a normal day? My god Webbie-" He shoots his webs to her shoulders inside to hold her back and closes the curtain with another

Webbie struggles in his webs, hands stretched to the window "Hey! you're blocking me the fireworks"

"Those are gun shots Webs" Hobie deadpans.

Sometimes Webbie forgets that there were scheduled protests in Old York.

She stops her struggling and backs away from the miror "Oh, noted....Wait, Webs? I didn't know we were on nick name basis"

Hobie shrugs "I've been calling you so many names all this time, and you notice when I call you Webs?

Her eyes glimmer, not paying attention to what he says "You need a nickname."

Hobie crosses his arms "Isn't Hobie short enough"

"Not short enough, what about Bee-bee?"

"That's like the same amount of syllabus. You make me sound like a cartoon character" He says, trying to make sense of the name "Plus it sounds odd, anyways gotta go now. Call me if you need anything"

Webbie taps his shoulder before he can go out "Erm...I don't have a phone to call you though, I could probably learn how to do smoke signals to communicate with you?"

"How would that even work in this small place"

"Like incase I burn your place or something, smoke signals"

"Thats it, you are officially banned from the stove"

Webbie looks at him in shock "I was only joking!"

He gives her a teasing look before trying to think of an alternative solution.

"Hold that thought" Hobie types something on his phone, there was a ping back "Right, I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Just sit tight"

Webbie does as told watching an animal programe that was playing on the television when Hobie swings back with a small device on hand and hands it to her.

"One of my ex-bandmates is a tech whiz, she had some extras on hand. It already has a sim card inside so its all set"

She takes the phone after thanking him, trying to figure out what type of model it was "Not complaining, but what brand is this phone? I just want to know to jog any memories because it looks familiar but mixed in with a bunch of other brands i know"

"Thats because it is a mix of brands"

Webbie tilts her head still confused.

"My bandmate experimented on a couple of phone scrapes to make the most efficient phone and came up with this, works like a normal phone. Just better" He explains.

"Woah, you even got me a tangerine charm"

Hobie gleams, almost proud of himself for getting the little phone charm "I got Pav a watermelon one, seems right to get a matching one with you too"

"Whose Pav?"

"He's my-" Hobie wants to say but is rudely interrupted by his watch beeping "Acrually it's better if you met him in person, I gotta bounce right now"

He swings out without another word and before Webbie could even peak out of the window he webs it shut with a note reading.

Don't even try, call me if you're burning -brown

Webbie contemplates burning the building down out of pure pettiness and dying the the flames.

Hobie returns after an hour of erands.

"You're finally letting me out of the house?"

"You make me sound like I'm holding you captive" He says making his way into the window "But actually, we can go out now-"

But Webbie has already made her way to the bathroom, changing her attire.

As promised, Hobie brings her around, taking her sightseeing.

She even got to take a picture with the clock tower which was called 'An doomsday clock' by Hobie.

Once that was done, it was late evening so Hobie decided to introduce her to his old band mates after bumping into them.

He decides to grab some snacks, leaving Webbie to converse by herself.

Webbie thinks of something to try to break the ice "Oh! If you had the chance to be any animal, what would you be?"

"A penguin" Says the one with a bandana

"Thats a tricky one, totally would be a salmon fish" The other with gauges in his ear says.

Webbie makes an 'ooo' sound, taking note of everything "I want to be a whale" She states "Not only are they the biggest mammals but oh!"

They jump a little, waiting for her to continue.

"I just remembered I like space! Like black holes and all that"

The other two seemed to be having a conversation on their own, so Webbie just speaks to the Jerm (the guy with the bandana)

The more Webbie speaks, the more excited she has with the overwhelming feeling of her memories resurfacing.

"And did you know that Venus is actually more hot than Mercury from the atmosphere, quite similarly....."

Webbie stops, realizing that his expression was slightly bored.

He shakes his head when she stops talking "Sorry Webbie just dozed there for a second, what were you saying?"

She covers her emotions "Actually that's all! Thanks for listening"

"Oh really? Well, you're welcome"

Their voices slightly blur as a familiar sinking feeling from when she was younger.

Webbie thinks she sees a child? A person? She settles on child with child person.

She thinks she sees a child looking at her mother.

Then she cant seem to here the words.

But she can feel them to her core.

They run into the bathroom and just stare into the miror, tears streaming down their face.

its like she could feel every emotion they felt from that rear view miror.

Theres a moment where they just cradle their head, trying to make sure they dont make a peep.

It hurts.

She feels hurt and its scary.

They child person stare into the miror, tears streaming down their face as they they slide down the wall - biting on their hands, making sure they didnt let any sound out.

It was lonely.

It was c̴̡̰͖̯̹̲̱̤͈͎̤̻̜̺̠͍͚̦̦̈̍̿͆̿ͅͅo̸̡͉̤̟̩̼̰̯̻̞̱͉̤̺̳̞͙̣̫̲͇̠̼̠̽̅̉̈̀͑́̽̌͆͘̚l̵̛̫̫̯̗̪̖͇̣͋̍̂́͒̒́̍̽̆̾̐͊̓̀̾͝͝ͅd̶̢̡͖̪̫͍̩̞͎̱̣̮̮͚̝̩̯͓̻͓̰͇̥̉́͜

õ̴̢̨̙͕̘̳͓̘͈̼̩͍̙̊͐ͅh̶̡̡͚͍̗̫͔̗̞̮̗͔̮̰̱̅́̑̍̏̉

Her thoughts are snapped back into reality when she receives a text from her phone from Hobie.

Of course, it was Hobie, the only contact on her phone.

She calms herself to make an important decision as Hobie send her an assortment of snacks for her to choose from saying she could only choose one.

Webbie makes her decision to settle on a hashbrown and skittles.

Hashbrown and skittles por favor (*¯︶¯*)

Hobie replies in an instant

That has the weirfedt combindsation evear

M texting eithj one hend si dstop your snar ky reples

Webbie snorts and sends him a reply

( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ ) okay illeterate slob

Webbie sets her phone down and dec8des to try,to engage in conversation again.

She compliments their earings.

"Have you ever thought of getting one?"

"I uh...not really? But I'm open to get like a super cool one, but only one, but like....a cool one"

"She should get a dermal piercing" His friend laughed and grabbed Webbie shoulder suddenly, who was slightly alarmed but played it cool.

She could totally be cool.

These were Hobie's friends, after all.

Her eyes kept darting between all of his band mates, hoping Hobie would get back when his unnamed friend spoke up "Come on guys don't"

Hobie walks back with the snacks on hand, paasing then to his friends "You getting along bug?"

"Y-yeah totally bro man"

He gives her a weird look, resuming conversation.

The laughther is interrupted when her a dermal piercing is brought up.

Hobbie turned immediately towards Webbie "Piercing? Did he or you say that-"

Webbie tries to reasure him, punchjng his shoulder lightly "You worry wart, of course I suggested it"

"Yeah man don't worry, she said she might get a dermal at Mikes"

"Come off it man, a dermal? You trying to poison her first experience?"

"Chill it was just a joke, no harm"

Webbie inhales smiling, trying to be cool about it even though she felt a little foolish about it "It's fine, I'm alright" She scoots to Hobie whispering "What's a dermal?"

Hobie looks around and points to his neck.

"Oh....ew"

"Yeah ew, don't get crowd pressured to get something. Seriously."

Webbie pats his back "I know.It's fine, really"

Hobie doesn't look that convinced until she playfully punches him and sticks to him from the side.

He decides to let it go, shoving his hands in his pockets "You wanna drink?"

Webbie makes a thinking face "No but I would like to try?"

Hobie nods, confirming plans with his friends as they make their way to a nearby pub.

----

Webbie was slightly hoping for a margarita or a sweet type of alcohol but the place they went to only seemed to serve beer and chicken wings.

"Ew, this beer, taste like bread" Webbie gags after trying to drink it again "You might as well blend bread and mix hand sanitiser with it"

Hobie rolls his eyes at her "That's what all bear taste liks"

"Gross, it tastes like my broken dreams"

Hobie raises an eyebrow, interested "You got dreams?"

"I was being sarcastic!" She tries to take another chug to spit it out "I don't feel anything, this taste like garbage and im feeling good. Alcohol is one big lie"

He takes the mug away from her "That's enough beer for you. Usually it takes some time for people to feel it, gotta pace yourself for that"

She scrunches up her face at him "Gross"

The music booms louder and Webbie closses her eyes for a while to try to quite it down as Hobie slowly seperates from her to his friends at the other side of the island table.

She doesn't understand why she feels so, lonely?

Like all the people are laughing and talking but she feels like she's looking right at them from a dirty window.

Maybe she was a dirty window.

That needed windex.

The beer was the windex.

But she hated beer, so that still leaves her as the dirty miror.

She just asked for some water entertaining herself by watching the football on the TV.

She has a whole conversation in her mind about what's so interesting about balls getting tossed around.

Seems like it was a huge event because more people rushed into the bar.

It kind of felt like mash potatoes, Webbie would relish in some mashed potatoes with actual relish right now.

Unsure and a little fed up, she looks around the pub to find Hobie.

She gets up and squeezes her way towards him, sighing in relief and holding his sleeve like a lifeline.

She could almost fall asleep like that.

Hobie tilts his head back to look at, her distasteful smile in her sleepy state.

He says something to one of his friends who nods their head and wave at the confused Webbie as Hobie slowly menurvers them out of the crowded room.

He shoves his hands in his pocket and points to the street sign with his thumb "Wanna get smoothies then go to spider society? I have to check in for something, but we can get little bites before we go"

Webbie thinks her heart expands then sinks at the same time "What? No. You don't want to hang out with your friends? You talked about wanting to do this since like, last week?"

"What about it?"

"I just....I don't mind going home"

"Alright let's go home"

She panics.

Ashamed that he can read her mind.

She grabs his vest "No- I mean you go have fun, I'll go home. It's totally fine Beebee" her fingers tighten.

Hobie chooses to ignore the name "And I mean we can go home together, I hang out with them next week for the gig. Might as well do one more song"

"Hobieeee" She drags.

"Webs" He mirors.

"Webs?"

"Yes Webs" He leans on a wall, looking at her, but his tone becomes gentler "What's got your panties in a bunch?"

"Okay I know that's slang, but it sounds so weird and secondly, what makes you say that

"For starters, you're being less" He makes some hand gesture "You"

"Whatttt?" She shurgs, trying to seem nonchalant "No way, bro......"

"Webbie" Hobie says firmly.

"Okay, fine so what?"

"You do know that I don't mind your silly annoying absurdness"

"You think I'm silly?"

Hobie rolls his head back, punching her shoulder lightly to get out of whatever sappy mood that was slowly forming "My friends don't mind you also. They're just a different demographic. Promise not to change your individuality"

"You sound like a self-help lecturer but alright Brown"

"Promise?"

"I promise to always be annoying" Webbie smiles, looking up at him and knocks her feet against his.

She forgets how tall he was sometimes.

Hobie looks down at his feet and knocks his feet back to hers "Atta lad"

After some time Webbie pushes him back to the door of the pub "But for realzies, go back to your friends. Maybe I could go and take a nap at the spider society pub or something"

"Spider society does not, unfortunately have a pub. Trust me I've checked" He sighs thinking back "Throughly"

"I mean, the whole multiple universe thing that you explained to me seems like a whole space theory" She adds "Which means there is a possibility where there is a univerese where people drink alcohol like water"

"That would probably mean they found a cure for liver cancer. The universe would either be fun as hell or a living nightmare"

They both nod their head.

After just stalling, Webbie looks at Hobie again "But seriously, go back to your friends. I'll just go to Spider Society and hopefully avoid Miguel on the way there"

Hobie hums "Are your memories coming back?"

"Something like that, its just an uncomfortable feeling I get" She grips herself and let's go before Hobie can speak "Like when you think you're about to sneeze but can't"

"Thats oddly specific-"

"Or when you think youre about to silently fart but its really loud-"

"Alright, alright. You've made your point." Hobie opens up the portal. "I'll be home at around four, so give me a ring if you get back early"

Webbie hops into the portal waving goodbye with her last words "Okie Beebee"

"I ought to shank you for that-" The portal closses before he could even finish his sentance which leaves Webbie giggling to herself.

She makes her way to Margo (Byte) without pulling too much attention to herself.

By attention to herself, she means to avoid talking to any of the spider people which could be hard sometimes because they were all so friendly and funny.

Why couldnt Miguel be funny.

He's like one of the few spidermen that were not funny, well other than Spider plush, his backstory with uncle with Teddy Ben was quite heartbreaking so it dosent count.

Webbie calls out for Margo, who is estatic at her return

After hugging, she takes a selfie of the both of them with flash on.

"Oh, you got a new phone. Did Jess give that to you?" Margo quickly noyes.

"She was supposed to, but she seems kinda busy with the whole pregnancy and balancing multiverse, so I didn't bother asking again"

"Did you steal it?"

"I wish I was that cool, but no, Hobie got'em for me, and oh." She dangles her phone charm to Margo. "He evem got me a tangerine charm"

"Thats nice of him, how long are you staying here today?"

"Just for a couple of hours, wouldn't want to distract you guys"

"You don't girl, you good. Let me finish some documents them we'll talk"

"Kay-kay"

Webbie likes spider society, everyone here was nice and fun.

Just being in company with Margo made her gleam in joy.

She doesn't even dig for more information about her memories unless specifically asked for.

Margo finishes up a report and looks at Webbie, who was sitting upside down on her phone "What are you doing?"

"Trying to send Hobie an animal fact, did you know seahorses mate for life? And slugs have like, four noses. Like what are they smelling in the seafloor other than salt and steel?"

"I did not know that" Margo says typing something on her own phone to notify Malala of Webbies surprise visit.

The two converse their weekly updates to each other.

"Yeah, I tried convincing Hobie to let me cook something but he won't let me near the stove because I made one joke about burning his kitchen-"

"Webbie!" A figure yells.

Malala takles Webbie to the floor out of pure excitement "Oof, good to see you to scarffy"

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming back!"

"It was a last-minute decision babes"

"Babes?" Malala Saya caught off guard "You hang out with Hobie too much. Anyways, how have you been?"

"Just dandy" Webbie says, feeling slightly woozy "Do you ladies happen to know where the snacks are, more specifically tangerines?"

"I think we do, mind if you get them yourself? I've got a mission to do soon and need a nap" Margo says.

"Same here" Malala adds.

"No worries my bromies, I'll to get it. Where is by the way?"

Margo chuckles awkwarly, not making eyecontact with webbie " Uhm...Just near Miguel's office"

"You've gotta be kidding me" She looks for Malala's eyes "You're kidding right malala?"

"Sorry Webbie" She says apologeticly.

"I'll be fine, why wouldn't I be fine approaching a tall angry man that gave me big time pain through a porwal....peetal" Webbie smacks her lips together trying again "Portawl....close enough"

Her speech becomes slured and vision becames a little messy as the alcohol finally settles in her stomach.

It honestly felt like sleep walking so she couldn't be drunk, at least she thinks so.

She finally finds Miguels office but hides behind some equipment when she hears Jess's voice through the intercome

"Don't you find it weird that the spider-9833 event isn't happening?" Miguel says.

"Right, it's been a lot of unscripted filler. Which is normal, but not to the point where no canon events have been happening lately"

"More anomalies have been showing up but thats normal, but its becoming more......Mundane"

"Are they linked to her?"

Webbie feels herself sweat, they dont even have to say who.

She knows its her.

Miguel sighs "Theres no way of confirming....Other than the bigger work load she hasn't been causing all that trouble and most of the events have been docile so there isn't a huge issue"

"Alright then, over and out"

She looks at her hands and back at Miguel thinking about the entire exchange between the two, did she really want those tangerines?

Webbie didn't belong here. Period.

Where would she go to?

She's so close to-

Miguel sighs, grabbing a picture frame, Webbie peaks her head inside more to get a better look.

It was a little girl, who she assumes is either a little sister or daughter.

He was looking at her so longingfully.

With such.

Solemnes.

And longingful eyes as he plays a clip of a little girl and him playing soccer.

Webbie stands there for ten minutes watching Miguel replay the same clip over and over when she feels like she's intruded.

Well she has obviosly intruded, but alcohol has made her placid to stay in place.

She backtracks her steps and makes loud stomps with her feet to the door.

With a a sigh Miguel turns off the computer, returning to his stoic expression once more.

"Hi Migi-bear" There was no reply "Okay not on nick name basis. Hey, have you seen a box of tangerines anywhere?"

Miguel points to a corner, grufly saying "Right behind the table over there"

Webbie nods her head and scurries to the box, tripping on herself again causing her to slightly slide across the floor.

Miguel looks at the girl who immediately tries to sit up playing it cool by making finger guns at him "How's it going from up there"

"Are you okay?" Webbie could have sworn he almost sounded concerned, actually maybe he was, she couldnt tell.

"Of *hic* course bro-man" Why did she say that?

"Are you drunk"

"Er.....no?" He is totally falling for that.

"Do you actually think I'm falling for that"

He does a pose which can only be described as an angry old man when he finds used socks left by someone on the living rooom floor "Can you at least tie your shoe laces?"

She finally finds the box, looking back at Miguel sighing "It's a style choice..."

Webbie picks up the box and manoeuvres the box of tangerines, scooching side to side to try to get the box out of the room without dropping it.

Unsure, she gives him a slight bow for respect purposes.

Does he know its respectful?

Regardless he makes a grunt of acknowledgement.

It makes Webbie somehow.

Glad.

"Found the hangover meds!" Margo hands the medicine to Webbie after she requested for it after beung unable to open her packet of skittles.

She chugs the medicine down, soering at the horrible taste, but in an instant, she's sobering up.

"You good to go now?" Margo checks.

"Yeah all good" Webbie grins rubbing her head "Argh, my heads all woozy now"

"At least you decided to come here today, those tangerines should be ripe in a day or two"

Webbie frowns "But I'm hungry right now for them"

"They're going to taste like rubber"

Webbie groans picking up the heavy box "The last time I came over there was only like six tangerines, you guys need to inform me if there's another tangerine lover out there"

Margo types out Hobie's universe's serial number and opens the portal "Actually Miguel ordered those for you"

"...He did?"

"Yeah, he got them sent in last week. Said you would and I quote 'Bother everyone' if you didn't have these"

"He does have a point" Webbie says trying not to think to much about Miguel as Margo hugs her and makes her way to the portal "See you next time Marge"

"Webbie you got my name wrong-"

But she's already gone into the portal

She smiles to herself.

She did a bunch of things today.

Got a phone.

Met new people.

Saw her two babes, Margo and Malala.

Got tangerines.

A job well done.

She didn't even flinch when she got out of the portal this time, becoming a normal thing.

Webbie groans as she placed the box of fruit down on the floor with her entire body bending forward.

"Ow- My back" She yells out, holding her back like an old man in his late sixties "My backkkkkkkkk"

Once she felt less sore, she plops herself on the couch, looking at the time. It was about four in the morning.

No sign of Hobie yet, she shrugged it off and slept off.

When she woke up, she didn't realize how hungry she was until she remembered she just ate a singular hasbrown and one skittle.

Yes a singular skittle, because she left the rest at spider society.

She nags herself in the miror for the mistake after ransacking Hobies house realizing that she might need to get a job because there was little to no edible food in the fridge anymore.

Webbie thinks back of the other week when she suggested to go out but was hit with an immediate 'Naur bruv'

Something about being unsure, which was a rare thing for Hobie to say considering his whole 'I break rules' agenda.

Webbie walks over to the box of Tangerines and Peels, one open with her hands "I know Margo said these aren't ripe, but meh"

It tasted like the balls you got at the gumball machine.

She should have listened to Margo.

They were indeed, not ripe.

This was an insult to all tangerines.

Webbie sighs, chucking the horrible tasting fruit into the bin, looking in the cabinet realizing the monstrosity she might have to eat.

It was approximately eight thirty into the night when Hobie walks back into the house tiredly.

He was not prepared to see the horror movie in front of him.

"What the hell are you eating?"

Hobie is home, and he is unamused.

Webie looks at him, taking another bite her food "Cereal"

"I can clearly see that, but it's what you eating it with"

"I- what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Hobie was very blunt with his question, and he looked like he just wanted the answer.

He was also a little disturbed from the cereal with water, and he raised an eyebrow.

Webbie just continues eating making faces while reading the newspaper "Not my fault you don't have milk....or any other edible stuff"

"Couldn't you eat it dry?"

"Yeah but it wouldn't be the same"

Hobie sighs "But...why?

"It was either this or gastric" she says, taking another aggressive bite.

Hobie is about to say something but she flails her hands around "But don't worry about it! I totally can live off this, Maybe I should get a job?"

"And feed this capitalistic society?" He scoffs.

"I'm litrally free loading here. I don't know why Miguel won't let me just stay at the spider society?"

"He did say you were distracting the rest of 'em with your annoying stories"

"My stories are not annoying!" She yells defensively but sooner realizes the true power of her storytelling bullshitery "But they do, in fact, distract the people...."

He signals her to his window "You know what? Let's go get some groceries"

Webbie nods excitedly, throwing away the watered soggy cereal into the sink.

Hobie chuckles as she hobbles to him wearing her shoes and helps her up the balcony which Webbie found odd since they used the door earlier.

"Question" Webbie asks, looking down from the rooftop.

"Proceed"

"How are we getting to said store if we are supposed to get on the store on the roof-"

Hobie wiggles his wrist to her direction.

"Oh yeah..." Webbie takes a moment to process what this means "Oh yeah! Wait, so this means I'm getting one for myself? I don't even have the upper body strength like you, spider people. I've watched this one cartoon called invincible and my arm will totally-"

Webbie realizes she's rambling and stops to wait for Hobie to make any sound of annoyance.

But he's just watching her patiently adjusting his web shooters "Gonna keep going, bug?"

Webbie scratches her head "I mean, I totally could but I'm reading the air so I'm gonna let you speak"

He clicks something on his wrist "Alright then, you cool with me holding yer waist?"

"Uhm why?"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes but why?"

"We're gonna swing there"

"Swing? Swing as in you're gonna" Webbie makes finger motions "Pew pew us there?"

Hobie nods.

"Excuse me for one moment" Webbie turns around and squeals before turning back to Hobie with a stone cold expression, offering her hand like a little lady in movies "I am ready"

He grabs it with as muxh grace before hoist her arm around his shoulders "Don't puke on the way there"

"Now this is a targeted insult to-ME!" Webbie says as Hobie runs at full speed and shoots his webs to a building and jumps off the roof.

Webbie has a tight grip on him.

Thankfully, his grip is tighter as he swings from building to building.

Though she feels the motion sickness coming through.

She can't help but hold a wonder look at the cars and buildings that she passes by.

It was almost surreal looking at the people go on their day.

Hobie lands behind an aly, taking of his mask and throwing on a bomber jacket quickly.

Webbie could definitely see Hobie in those fashion changing magic shows.

Where the lady would wear a horrendoes leapord dress one minute, and the next moment, she was wearing a ballroom dress.

The only difference between them was spandex, and a hint of punk and grunge.

Other than that, there are totally no differences.

They walk into a little quaint conner shop, Hobie seems to know the owner and gives him a little dap on the shoulder.

"Pick out some stuff" Hobie says to Webbie, handing her a basket.

Her eyes follow him as he picks up a carton of milk "You say that like you have a bunch of cash"

"I don't" He chuckles, going to pick out some fruit "Did I tell you that I was briefly a runway model"

"You need to stop getting cooler" Webie's places her hands on her hips, trying to imitate a model's pose.

Or at least that's what he thinks, with her odd pose.

"Want me to teach you some stuff?"

Webbie inhales and does a little hand spasm motion, staring at Hobie excitedly nodding.

Hobie and her stayed at the same spot, simply conversing about posing techniques.

"And you gotta strut your hips and make sure you put your chin up- No, not that up"

Webbie currently looked like a disoriented baby flamingo trying to replicate to various vouges magazine poses.

"You look lopsided"

"No, I'm doing it right. Your head is just lopsided" She says confidently as her legs cross each other, on the verge of falling on the floor.

"They're not-"

The owner clapped his hands to their direction "As much as I love to watch two people bond, I've gotta close up so if you lads could wrap it up"

"Right right" Hobie grabbed a few more things and was ready to pay "You would be a horrible runway model"

"That's why I'd be an amazing story teller duh"

Hobie nods along and pays for the groceries heading to the back aly again to put on his mask and offers a hand "If the lady would mind"

"Why thank you gentleman-" She tries to finish her sentence but he's already grabbing her waist and swinging without warning it almost seems to be on purpose to get a reaction out of her.

Her thoughts are replaced with the slight motion sickness.

Through the piss smelling city she finds solance in his shoulder.

"You enjoying the view?" Hobie says swinging.

"Yeah! Pleugh" She shouts, spitting out some stuff from her mouth that was probably bugs "Totally!"

Hobie takes a glance at the girl in his arms, whose eyes are barely open, trying to get used to the swinging.

He let's his gaze linger, slowing down as she slowly peels herself from his shoulder to look at the view.

Webbies eyes lit up like starlight, which was obviously scientifically impossible but it did.

Hobie just watches the many emotions on her face.

He decides to take the longer route home this time, swinging through the more lit parts of town.

She smiles like she just found out her favourite cartoon got rebooted.

Regardless, Hobie decides to make new tech for her.

Was the city that good to have Webbie gleaming?

But also maybe it was.

He ought to appreciate it more often.

#hobie brown #spider man: across the spider verse #hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse

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applescabs · 2 months

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I was tagged by my buddy @phoenixfangs so lets goooo

Are you named after anyone? I've heard this story a buncha times so I'm pretty sure my mom got my birth name from a singer. She heard it on tv and liked it a lot, back then it wasn't a very common name in my country. My names as of now are 50/50, Tom didn't come from anyone but Teddie was 100% something I picked up from Teddie p4, hahah.

When was the last time you cried? Last Sunday when I rewatched ep 11 of Bucchigiri. especially during the part where Zabu got the absolute shit beaten out of him. Finn came home right after that and doesn't understand that one of the big points of media is to reach you emotionally, so he thought it was weird that I was crying.

Do you have kids? Nah, but I'd like to some day, if fate allows it.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Not nearly as much as I used to, because most of my friends are autistic and don't get it most of the time, so I just end up upsetting them whenever I do use it. Being sincere is much more fun anyways.

What sports do you play? None, but I would love to swim or ice skate (or, hell, do some skiing). Neither are really possible for me atm, unfortunately (do you have any idea how expensive skiing is btw. it's crazy). When I was a kid I did gymnastics and streetdance, I also played tennis briefly as a teen, but had to quit due to a lack of people in my age group playing at that club.

What’s the first thing you notice about people? I usually take note of how someone dresses and does their hair. Ever notice how dull most people's clothes are? I like seeing styles that stand out.

What’s your eye colour? Brown, it's not a particularly dark shade, but I wouldn't call it hazel (my dad has hazel eyes though).

Scary movies or happy endings? This ones a little... vague? But I guess if I had to choose... I wouldn't. I don't care about genre or what type of emotional impact it has, as long as it's coherent and entertaining in its own right. (That doesn't mean I don't care about quality btw. I literally just. watch anything and judge it for what it is.)

Any special talents? I'm a boss at packing in groceries quickly and efficiently. Not a talent that everyone possesses, I've learned (sorry Minke <3).

Where were you born? Netherlands babeyyy ✌ North-Holland to be a bit more precise. I lived next to a dyke (not that kind) so I got the real under-sea-level experience. I still live around the area but not in my hometown anymore.

What are your hobbies? Drawing, (writing?), translation and the nuances that come with it, watching movies, tv shows, animes, cartoons, playing video games, reading books, comics and manga. (and then talking about cinematography, parallels, themes, symbolism and the likes) I also collect soda cans (+ the occasional glass bottle), candy packaging, and anime figurines + other merch.

Do you have any pets? My little baby Jody (dog) who I've had since I was 7 years old! She's about to have her sweet 16 on the 23rd (that's in 2 weeks!) she's getting blind and deaf as hell but she's still lively and sweet as ever <3 And my sweet Tiger of course, who's of undetermined age (around 8/9 the vet said) and currently living with my good friend Minke and their 2 other cats (he does not like them) and dog (he is ok with her). He's not with me rn because my mom's bf is allergic, unfortunately.

How tall are you? 1 meter 59. that single centimeter haunts me. I would've also preferred an additional 10 as well.

Favourite subject in school? Art history used to my favourite in high school, and when I was in film school for a brief period I loved film history. I just love anything pertaining to the arts and it's history that involves analysing and comparing it to other time periods, really.

Dream job? I wanna be someone's househusband and make a buncha weird art on the side. Not kidding btw. But if I had to choose a more conventional dream job... it had to be something in the creative or design industry, otherwise I'll probably die of unhappiness.

tageroonie @kuwupikaa @sunflowermews @xrd @isleofair @spunktrumpetsasara and uhhh other mutuals who feel inclined to do this 👉👈

#thanks for the tag buddy appreciate it mwuah #you're right these are fun to do. but it doesnt happen a lot anymore. at least not in our circles it seems #tag meme #tedpost #also i type. really weird.#i tend to switch to using very formal speech <like this #but i also use abbreviations and more casual speech? in the same paragraph?#idk man it might be because im reading richard again.

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omegaray45 · 6 months

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Excuse this ramble but... There is a distinct lack of wholesome, character relationship centered Isekai's out there.

And no, I don't mean romantic relationships. I mean where is a story about four friends who are simultaneously warped from their home to a fantasy world? Where is a story about them learning to live in this new world, fulfilling the traditional roles of a fantasy genre as they travel? Where's the moments where they huddle around a campfire, reminiscing about their first adventure and how they nearly lost the reward because they forgot that the gold statue that was the objective had to be spotless and one of them put it at the bottom of their bag along with the moldy sauce they forgot to throw out?

Legitimately, too many isekai focus about power fulfillment instead of friendship. The power of friendship is overused as well, but you don't really see slow progressing, slice of life stories about friends learning and traveling together as if it was a road trip but with swords and magic.

Frieren; Beyond Journey's End is a great example of this. Beyond all the conflict with demons and the inevitable fights that take place against them, at it's core it's a story about people. About how people effect other people and how one should value their relationships with other people even if their perception of time is so vastly skewed that it's hard for them to realize how they feel toward said people.

I'll reiterate; give me a story like Rising of the Shield Hero, but instead of every other hero being foolish and choosing to form their own parties, they have some common sense and think "Hey, we all have the basic components of a fantasy party, let's work together" and then traveling together. Give me a story where they have enough common sense to recognize that something is off about the certain shady people they meet, and then bouncing that idea off their other three party members so the issue is resolved with efficiency and it bringing them all closer together. Give me moments where an outsider, a healer perhaps, tags along for a few days and they're struck just by how friendly and close knit they are. That they click so well with each other that if they use their heads and work as a team, there is literally no obstacle they cannot overcome.

Most of all, if you want drama, expose these friends to something that would strain friendships in real life. Have one of them consumed by their own thoughts, to the point they don't think the others like them. Have it grow progressively worse over time until it gets to the point a cursed artifact uses it against them, and they must fight their now brainwashed friend to free them of it's control. Have them reassure their friend that they ARE still important to them, and that they would never abandon them for the petulant reasons the little voice in their head gives.

Alternatively, if you'd like to twist the knife, present an equally likely scenario. Have one of those friends give in to their darker urges permanently. They betray their friends and defect for whatever horrible reason they have, whether it be riches or a seductive individual or simply power. Have the friends who were betrayed foster an unreasonable hatred because above all, their friend abandoned their relationship and bonds in favor of something fleeting. The traitor may or may not come to regret their decision, but what never changes is that they still gave in, and that wound will need work to heal.

Sorry, this is overly long. Basically; give me friends in fantasy settings. No more of this overpowered harem fantasy fulfillment. Give me people who form bonds with one another, and stick together for as long as possible so they can cherish the warm and happy memories they make. Give me friends who work together to beat their next biggest enemy or solve their most complex puzzle. Give me the epitome of the human spirit of connection with each other, and how it opens the way to a brighter future.

#writing #anime #isekai

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thebramblewood · 1 year

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Thank you to @venriliz for tagging me! I'll tag @thecrumblingisle, @sweetbeagaming, @cactusblossom, @simatomica, @10000dreams, @solarlemonade, @lotuso3o, @cinnamonferns but feel free to ignore! I know it's a long one.

1. What’s your favorite sims death? Oh my god, I forgot the running with scissors death in TS2 existed until @venriliz mentioned it, but that made me remember I once killed off an unwanted legacy heir using that method. :/ Don't ask me why I couldn't just move him out and leave him to his own devices. Anyway, I think death by cowplant is pretty classic.

My LEAST favorite Sims death is freezing because I had a really traumatic experience in the second generation of my legacy where my Sim Phoebe made the bright decision to host a birthday party for one of her housemates at the Bluffs in Windenburg in the dead of winter and everyone decided to start swimming and like three people froze to death, including the birthday girl. It remains a horrifically vivid memory to this day, lmao.

Putting the rest under a cut!

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match? Maxis Match for the most part. I find that anything alpha just ends up looking too out of place unless it's closer to the Maxis side of the spectrum.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight? If it fits their lifestyle, I'll have them work out/eat healthier, but I try not to interfere otherwise.

4. Do you use move objects? Absolutely, it's permanently activated!

5. Favorite mod? MCCC is obviously essential, as well as anything that makes CAS better looking and more efficient. I also wouldn't play without Sunblind these days! I can't get enough of those gorgeous sunrises and sunsets.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got? I think I got City Living and Seasons at the same time. I was kind of a late adapter to TS4 but fell very quickly down the rabbit hole.

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing? I want to think I pronounce it like LIVing because I know that's technically correct, but I think half the time I still pronounce it like aLIVE in my head.

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made? Oh, this is so hard... If we're going solely on Sims who originated in CAS, there aren't really many options! Most of my Sims have been born in-game. I am really proud of Helena, and I think everyone can tell how attached I've become to her. Hmm, I need to make more Sims, I guess.

9. Have you made a simself? Noooooooooo. The Sims for me is very much an escape from myself, so I don't think I ever will.

10. What sim traits did you give yourself? I would probably give myself music lover, perfectionist, and socially awkward.

11. What is your favorite EA hair color? The lightest blond, I think? The one that looks almost platinum and isn't quite as yellowy as some of the others.

12. Favorite EA hair? That short choppy hair from Cottage Living (the one the Creature Keeper has). For a while, I was absolutely eating up every single variation I could find.

13. Favorite life stage? If I'm being honest, young adult. I find that my gameplay is most varied and interesting when my Sims are in that stage because they're traveling, meeting a lot of people, trying new things, etc. Once my Sims settle down and start a family, it's easy for me to forget places and people outside their home lot exist and everything becomes more routine.

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay? Me, a builder? That's a funny joke. I'm definitely more in it for gameplay and storytelling. I'll do everything I can to avoid building a lot myself. I don't mind redoing interiors, but it takes me forever, so I try to limit how often I do that, too.

15. Are you a CC creator? No. I've done a couple very basic recolors/edits for myself. We're talking kindergarten level stuff. I don't really have the willpower for learning anything more complex right now.

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad? Sim squad is such a weird term to me. I do still feel like a bit of an outsider in the Simblr community at times, but I also have a handful of mutuals who I've enjoyed connecting with, and it always makes me happy to see them in my notes and on my dash!

17. What’s your favorite game? The only games I've ever been heavily into are The Sims and those Nancy Drew computer games... I think you can guess which one is my favorite. But if we narrow down the franchise, The Sims 2 has a very special place in my heart.

18. Do you have any Sims merch? No.

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims? No, and as someone who can't stand hearing or seeing recordings of myself, it would be a nightmare.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing? I've honestly wondered about this myself! I don't think it's really changed so much as become more refined. I don't make a ton of Sims, so I don't think I have an obvious aesthetic style. But my play style has definitely changed in that it's more storytelling-geared, which does mean I spend less time actually using gameplay mechanisms and more time setting up. My visual style (e.g. composition, editing, etc.) has definitely evolved a lot even over the past few months.

21. What’s your Origin ID? Going to pass on this one! My sister and I share an account, and I don't upload anything on the gallery anyway.

22. Who’s your favorite CC creator? Oh, so many! I will download basically anything that sforzcc or softerhaze upload. My absolute favorite hair creators are simstrouble and okruee. And I've been using a ton of stuff from awingedllama and leaf-motif when decorating lately. But those are just a few that come to mind.

23. How long have you had a simblr? I only just started my Simblr back in January or February. But I've been on Tumblr itself way too long to admit out loud.

24. How do you edit your pictures? I try to let Reshade do the heavy lifting, but I also like using a few of these actions in Photoshop to make them pop a bit more.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far? City Living because San Myshuno is one of the only worlds that really feels "alive" to me and I think it does festivals best, and Cottage Living because it's the complete opposite but the slowed down, quiet, countryside aesthetic is so serene and relaxing.

26. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next? I don't trust EA to do it right, but all I want is bands and another super dense and populated urban world and more apartments! I would also never like to see another world inspired by an American suburb again.

#i am almost physically incapable of giving a concise answer to anything!#asks

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sophieswundergarten · 1 year

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(tags from @nobody33333333)

Part three of Curtain living with the Benedicts!

Kate pesters him to no end about learning magic, and he keeps blowing her off and skirting the questions. After a few days of this, she tells the other kids (in great detail and with the utmost drama) how impressive his skills with the action figures were, and they agree that this would be fairly interesting to see, if he wasn't always so intimidating.

After S. Q. gets situated, he hears Kate talking to the others about her next plans to wear Curtain down, and remembers hearing her ask about it on his first day there.

S. Q.: "Wait, you want my dad to teach you magic?"

Kate: "Yes, I've been asking him for a while, but he keeps avoiding the question. I'm not sure why..."

(Constance mutters in the background "I would say he's embarrassed. Action figures and conjuring would be a new low, even for him.", before Reynie and Sticky shush her. "Be nice, he's still S. Q.'s dad.")

S. Q.: "Well, I don't know where he learned it, but I know a few card tricks. I could teach you, if you want? He taught me a couple of things when I was younger, and I used to practice a lot when he was busy, so I think I'm okay at it."

Kate, ecstatic to finally be getting somewhere: "Absolutely! I would love to learn from you, I bet you're so good at it."

She starts chattering about how excited she is to be learning some magic, and how great S. Q. is at this, and how she can't wait to show her dad. S. Q. is actually quite skilled, ironically, and has figured out how to incorporate his slightly awkward movements into misdirection. It takes Kate a bit longer to get it, since she's all about efficiency and is more focused on moving the cards than she is doing it subtly.

But she gets it eventually, and begins scheming on how to show off her new skills in her quest to get Curtain to teach her. One day, when most of the adults are out of the house, she corners him while he's making tea.

Kate: "Mr. Curtain! Or, uh, Dr. Curtain? I'm not sure how to refer to you. Anyways, look at what S. Q. taught me!"

Curtain, expecting to see some sort of art skill: "What is it, Miss Wetherall?"

Kate: [showing off her magic trick] "He said that you taught him some stuff, and so he taught me! Will you teach me the rest of your tricks now?"

Curtain, fully caught off guard that S. Q. learned something from him and valued the information enough to share it but struggling to hold onto his composure: "I suppose I might be inclined to share my skills. But why would I teach you? You have got to be one of the worst students I've ever seen."

Kate: "Because it's so cool! And the world should have more magic in it, and since you seem determined to be gloomy, I'll have to do it for you. And besides, you don't do anything fun with your magic anyway. Magic should have costumes and knives and doves and things. And glitter."

Curtain: "That is still not a good answer. I seriously doubt the world needs more glitter in it."

Kate, smiling innocently and about to put the tactic she learned from Constance to use: "Well, you could always teach me to make up for being the reason my dad abandoned me for the past ten years."

Curtain, now wholly regretting his decision to leave his room for tea: "Well, that is at least a better reason. [sighs in defeat] Meet me in the upstairs study down the hall tomorrow at two o'clock sharp, and I will teach you. Speak of this to no one."

Once Curtain has beat a hasty retreat to his locked room, Kate wastes no time in finding her friends to share her victory, and begins brainstorming ideas. ("We can be a trio, with him, me, and S. Q.! Or maybe just a duo act, then at least he can use his name for something. 'The Great Kate Weathermachine and Ledroptha Curtain', no that's too long. 'The Great Kate Weathermachine and her Mystical Assistant'. Or 'The Great Kate Wetherall and her Stormy Assistant', that one sounds better!")

#and s. q. politely thanks her but asserts that he does not want to be in any magic act #kate accepts this and beings working with constance on what kind of tricks they should do #although constance votes for a lot of tricks involving knives #and one that somehow incorporates acid #reynie and sticky watch for a few minutes before dragging s. q. off with them #“they're going to be at this a while”#milligan is of course overjoyed at kate's new hobby #and number two offers to make them matching costumes #mr. benedict smiles as hard as he can without passing out and just shrugs #“i think this will be good for you nathaniel. think of it as community service”#they also definitely find a way to use madge instead of a pigeon #mbs #the mysterious benedict society #mr. curtain #ld curtain #ledroptha curtain #kate wetherall #sq pedalian

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rt2051hwu · 4 months

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RFID and its Applications in The Modern Sporting World

Hey, this is my first-ever attempt at a blog series for a University project so please bear with me- I can't promise a best-selling novel here.

As mentioned, I'm a university student studying 'Sport and Exercise Science' at Heriot-Watt University in Scotland. As a part of this course, I am taking a class called 'Shaping Tomorrow Together' which revolves around how we as students can shape the evolving world. As part of this course, we are spreading information and awareness about a blossoming piece of industry or technology and how it impacts certain fields. This leads me to the topic of my first post, RFIDs! (and how they can be used in sport)

What is an RFID? Why should I care? These are both very valid points and I would be lying if I said I would definitely pay attention or even bother to read some random post on Tumblr, but I promise if you give me a few minutes of your time you may learn something new or even find yourself inspired.

So, after that rambling but necessary intro, I should probably actually tell you, what is an RFID?

Simply put, an RFID is a tracker. It utilizes a tag inside of the object being tracked which is then paired with an antenna to communicate data and information to a reader as seen in the graphic below.

Personally, I think when it comes to the more industrial uses of this technology such as livestock tracking and tracking of equipment across countries this seems like a great idea, its 5G compatibility and widespread connectivity and longevity is truly industry leading. However, I was initially quite speculative when it came to its application in sport, what is the point? I understand that the sporting world is changing and it isn't enough to simply be the best anymore as you're fighting against other athletes backed by highly trained specialist teams learning as much as they can about their athletes and opponents to gain the slightest upper hand.

However, to some degree of irony, I began writing this during the 6 Nations rugby tournament where every few minutes at the top of the screen a stat pops up i.e. 'Pass distance: 21.5 m', and low and behold upon looking up the company 'Sage' I realized that they specialize in producing rugby balls using the RFID technology.

I feel like it is probably a bit too much to dump onto your brain right now so I won't go into too many of the intricacies and ins and outs in this blog, I'll instead save that for a later blog (stay tuned!), this does not mean I can't detail further its applications across sports and its history in such however.

The 2 main applications of this technology in sports are within players' kit and sportswear (such as NFL padding), and within actual sports equipment (such as different balls in their respective sport). The aforementioned usage in NFL padding was actually the pioneering instance of this technology in sports, more specifically in one of their shoulder pads.

"How was this data used?" I can hear you screaming, and yes I'm aware I haven't actually explained what this data can show and be used for yet, but I have to keep you on edge somehow. In the instance of this first application in the NFL, the sensor data allowed the coaches to gain greater insight into how their players moved on the pitch no matter what the conditions and movements of the players, with modern-day sensors taking up to 20 recordings of data per second, as explained in the below video which simply and efficiency encompasses the technology and its usage in another sport from the viewpoint of the technologies utilisers, Sage.

youtube

This technology is vast and limitless in its capabilities in sports right now so one post does not sit right with me and I must make another, in the next post I will hopefully shed more light on other instances of the use of RFIDs across numerous sports and activities, to (hopefully) paint a much wider picture for anyone interested.

Bibliography:

Mellert, K. (2021). RFID in Sports: Athlete Performance & Event Tracking. [online] Weldon, Williams and Lick, Inc. https://wwlinc.com/rfid-in-sports/#:~:text=The%20National%20Football%20League%20

Miller, M. (2022). Six Nations brings Sage on board for data analysis. [online] Broadcast. https://www.broadcastnow.co.uk/tech-innovation/six-nations-brings-sage-on-board-for-data-analysis/5175612.article

https://www.ttelectronics.com/blog/rfid-technology/

Keenan, M. (2023). What Is RFID Technology and How Can I Use It? [online] Shopify. https://www.shopify.com/uk/retail/rfid-technology.

#D57SB

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snackhobi · 4 years

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pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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notesbyash · 3 years

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Work Smart, Not Hard: a few practical study tips and tricks that have worked for me

(Note: These tips are not geared for students who are already doing well and would like to excel in their classes. These are for students who are trying to pass and find themselves overwhelmed and strugging to keep up. I have never been the former student, but I have certainly been the latter. "Work smart, not hard" is a mentality of pragmatism, not perfectionism, and the following tips are geared towards that.)

Ask your instructor what they want you to learn in the course (and what they're going to put on the final)

This tactic is especially helpful for big-picture people. Having a bird's eye view of the class as a whole can help you avoid getting overwhelmed with details. Though the "learn everything you can!" mindset is beautifully romantic and often espoused by professors, most of the time it is not practical. Within your class not all information is going to be equally important. Some sections are probably going to be more crucial to the course than others so instead of dividing your energy evenly across everything taught, focus in on studying and understanding that material. In courses that build upon previous information, this would mean focusing on the foundational topics

Secondarily, do not be ashamed of directly asking what is on the exam. Some instructors might take offense to that but you can always dress it up in alternative language to sugarcoat it. Suggestions of how to ask include "What are the key takeaways for this course?" and "What should we come of this course knowing?" or my favorite, "I want to really understand the material. What should I focus most of my studying on first?"

Don't set up study plans before a course begins (and/or don't force yourself to stick to them)

This is an optional and potentially controversial tip but I have a reason for claiming this. Too many times, I've gotten halfway through a semester only to realise that the study plans or summary reading sheets that I created at the start of the term have been untouched. Or worse, I've been using them and completely ignoring more efficient way to study. Classes, especially STEM classes, can really vary in how they are taught and what you are expected to learn/do within them. Some courses rely heavily on a textbook and structured reading notes help with that. Some courses list a textbook but barely use it, in which case stuctured reading notes aren't going to be particularly efficient. Sure, it would be nice to read the suggested text and put together a document of notes, but if reading the textbook isn't necessary to learn the material (which, in some courses, it honestly really isn't) then you are under no obligation to do so.

However, if you know what your course is going to be like and know that you work best with a study plan set out before the course begins, then use a study plan! You know how you study best (more on that later)

Set achievable goals (or break down your goals into smaller more achievable steps)

It's great to push yourself and to want to do the best you can do and set these lofty ideals (I'm looking at freshman first semester me right now) but that's also a really great recipe for burnout and a plummet in self-confidence. If you're an average studyblr tag following student, I'm sure there's been times where you've not managed to check off everything on your to-do list and felt a sense of guilt for not doing so. You shouldn't feel guilty, but I also do that on a daily basis and know that me just saying "don't feel guilty <3" isn't particularly useful.

So instead, break down your lofty goals into smaller steps. It would be great if I could read three chapters today but based on past experience I've only been able to do one or two a day, so I'll just change my goal to one for today and balance out the rest of my week's tasks so I can still complete all of my reading. Alternatively, put the bar to reach in a different place. Maybe I do need to read all three chapters today but instead of reading them as academic sources and taking notes, I'll instead set a goal of reading through all the words like a storybook. It might not be as ideal or perfect, but I'm still going to get a subset of the necessary information that way and it's something I know I can achieve.

Shameless point grabbing is your friend (and partial credit is better than no credit)

This one is pretty self explanatory; point grabbing is a blessing, particularly on non-multiple choice exams. Circling back to the "ask your professor what they're putting on the exam" point above, sometimes if you simply demonstrate that you understand (or are trying your best to understand) what they want you to learn, they may be more lenient in their grading. There have been many times where I've gotten stuck on an exam question with limited time left on the clock, and quite literally written out in words my thought process and what steps I was trying to do. I have written the names of concepts on my exams. I have written notes about how my numbers feel off and should be in this other numerical range instead. And sometimes, I have gotten credit and points back for doing so.

Good instructors want you to learn and understand that uni is difficult, so if you can show them that you are learning in some capacity they may let things slide a bit. It's the academic equivalent of looking an approaching driver in the eye while crossing the road; most of the time people's conscious kicks in and they avoid totaling you or your grades.

And most importantly: Learn how you learn (and don't always listen to advice on the internet)

I wasted the most study time trying to apply tips given to me by other people that were counterintuitive to how I actually process information. Thanks to a lot of self-reflection, I've discovered that I learn best when I am working alone to understand the information, asking my instructor or peers specific questions to patch in where I feel inadequate, and then going to review sessions to gauge where I am in relation to the class at large. Therefore, no matter how hard I tried, constantly working with other people in study groups was never going to be an efficient use of my time.

Figure out how you process and catagorise information in your own mind. Figure out if you need others to bounce ideas off to, or if you need the silence of an empty room. Figure out if you need wide open spaces to physically lay out your notes or if you need a small tidy desk with only a few things on it. Figure out if you need handwritten notes that force you to slow down and summarize instead of copying slides, or if you need digital notes full of thorough information that you can quickly rearrange. Figure out what you don't need. Figure out if you need a combination of everything depending on the material that day, or if you need one method that's tried and true.

Learn how you learn, so that you can work more quickly, more efficiently, and more intuitively.

#apologies if there's typos i wrote this in one sitting #work smart not hard #notesbyash #study smarter not harder #advice #study tips #study advice #studyblr #studyspo #productivity #study #studyblr community #uni advice #college advice #university advice #masterpost #long post

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stellalunatmblr · 2 years

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The Flower Path | Chapter 3

Genre/Tags: isekai (kinda?), bangtan x fem!reader, not poly, oc!bestfriend, surprise romantic pairings; rom-com, slow burn, fluff, angst (will update tags along the way)

Status: Ongoing

Summary: What would you feel if you find yourself transported to the world of a cheesy web novel? Ecstatic, of course (well, among other things), except you’re stuck being the main character’s best friend slash sidekick. Fair enough, you don’t think you’re main character material anyway. Determined to get through your life that has changed all of a sudden, you try to keep yourself in the shadows of your “best friend.” Let’s just try to get through the last year of high school in peace. You thought it was gonna be easy – like a walk in a flower path– but the thing about walking that road is that there are bound to be thorns along the way.

Inspired by the web novel and manhwa: Inso’s Law

Word Count: 7.1k

Chapter warning: mean teenagers

Chapter Note: oh hello there! i just wanted to say, due to popular demand (lol) i opened a taglist. (See this post). i'll start the tagging next chapter.

please don't be shy and let me know what you think of this chapter by commenting or sending an ask! it makes me really happy. enjoy~

masterlist

As soon as you stepped inside the school gymnasium, you could hear shoes squeaking and balls thudding on the hardwood floor. When you inhale, the smell of muscle relief patches fills your senses. You were grateful that, although with such a large space, it was well ventilated because the smell of sweaty teens was the last thing you'd ever want now that you have the obligation to come here frequently.

You didn’t expect to get called to the faculty that day after class, but even more than that, you did not expect that your application to be the volleyball team’s manager would be approved by the coach and team adviser.

"We were supposed to pick only one, but then I suggested having two managers for both teams would be more efficient since they don’t always get the same venue for away games. They already picked the other one, so you’ll get to know them eventually," the volleyball coach—coach Kai as he introduced himself to you—says as he hands you a binder.

He also mentioned that you and your co-manager will be rotated between the boys' and girls' teams, so he recommended you become acquainted with all of the team members to make your job easier.

"Here are some documents the former manager left for whoever replaced him because he thinks it would be helpful. He used to supervise both teams, and so he left a lot of whatever is in that." He pointed to the binder that you were now holding, "I'll leave this with you because I forgot to give it to the other manager." He dismisses you after that.

So now you're standing here, confused, unsure how you got into this predicament in the first place. Given you did apply for the position, but you thought your application would just be brushed off. You clasp the binder to your chest even closer, feeling a bit small. You have done a lot of half-assed things in your life. Your academics, learning to cook, heck—even that crocheted blanket you pushed to finish before winter one time. But this… this is what gets you results? You were barely qualified for the position.

To be fair, this wasn't your world, and perhaps the rules of the real world don't apply here—clearly. Maybe it was the kind of world where you didn't need to know anything about volleyball to participate in it. You scoff quietly to yourself. Or maybe I'm simply here to help move the plot along, you think. You were uncertain how it would help, though, because you do not really know what to expect in this novel. You only knew what this world was like.

You were still perplexed as to why you were cast as Minyoung's best friend when you lacked her exceptional traits. You'd offer nothing except that you'd always be the one who supposedly followed her about like a dog as her sidekick. To be honest, she didn't need you; she can make it on her own here with all of her main character privileges. But alas, you can not escape your fate. You know Minyoung has every intention of keeping you by her side.

You looked around with astonishment, as it was the first time you stepped into the school gymnasium. It was large enough to house two volleyball courts divided by a floor-to-ceiling net. You're assuming that each side is designated for each team.

Your snooping was cut short as you heard a ball roll onto your feet. You stare down at it before moving your gaze to the individual whose squeaky shoes have moved closer to you. Minyoung lets out a shriek.

"It's you! Please, please, please tell me it's you!" She hugs you tightly, the binder digging uncomfortably into you, and you brace yourself so she doesn't knock you over. From behind her, you can hear her teammates laughing, and you can even hear someone warning her to let you go before you both fall over. Minyoung ignores them and squeezes you even more.

"Uhm.. it's me?" You answered, puzzled as to why she was asking because she knew who you were.

"No, I mean, you're here as the new manager!" She says, pulling away from you to shake your shoulders.

"Oh, right. Co-manager, but sure," you shrugged, and she jumped up and down and embraced you again, so you laughed and hugged her back.

"You must be ___. We've heard so much about you." A team member extends her hand to shake yours, and you shake it as you cast a tentative glance towards Minyoung.

"All good things! Don’t worry," she continued when she noticed your expression.

Minyoung comes to a halt at her spot. "Wait, did you just say co-manager?" she asks, her face knitted, as she walks in front of you again.

"Yeah, they decided at the last minute to get two and split them between the teams," you say, nodding. "So I think I'll be switching between the guys' and girls' teams."

You watch her pout and cross her arms.

"I can't believe I have to share you with Jeon," she muttered but you don't hear her.

"Huh?" Your brow furrowed as you inquired of her.

She suddenly smiled and shook her head, "Nothing. I didn't say anything. Come on! I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."

The other girls must have found Minyoung's antics entertaining, obviously fond of her, because they were all smiles and chuckles when you were presented to the team. You could tell they were polite and had a lot of respect for your friend. Ah, so that’s why she’s captain, you thought as you saw them all interact with her.

You and the others were all smiling as Minyoung proudly displayed her jersey with the number 1 highlighted to you.

Her teammate, who you know as someone from another section of Year 3, taps her on the back and looks at you, "She worked really hard to earn the position of captain; please look after her—and us."

You grin at her sincerity. It's comforting to know that even when you're not around, people are looking out for Minyoung.

The introductions were cut short, however, when you saw someone raising the net in the center of the court and approaching the girls' side.

"When will we get our turn?" The silver-haired boy grumbled.

"You've had your time with her, so I'm taking her now," he said as he gently yanked at your free wrist and dragged you across the gym.

"Taehyung," you said sharply, rolling your eyes, "I can walk on my own." You pulled your hand back and grabbed the binder with both hands, hoping he wouldn't try to pull it back to him. He glances at you, and you give him a fake grin, but he only laughs in return.

You swear to the heavens this guy is giving you whiplash.

After that incident in the library– which made you think he actually hated you for some reason – he went back to being casual like nothing happened. You almost tripped over your own feet when he nodded at you in recognition in the corridors when you ran into each other at school; you were expecting him to just start ignoring your presence.

He boasted, "Be careful, I know I'm stunning, but you should watch your step."

You glared at him and scoffed, "as if," loud enough to be heard throughout the hallways. You saw that people were paying close attention to you, glancing your way and then looking at him. You had no regrets about that one, almost wanting everyone to know how appalled you were by his statement.

Taehyung called out to Jungkook once you both arrived where the others were. He turns around and collects the rest of his team when he sees you.

You bow to them and introduce yourself more formally than you did to the girls' team because you know it will take them longer to warm up to you. You didn't mind, and based on what you've heard from Minyoung, the boys' team is under a lot of pressure following their loss last year.

"I'm looking forward to working with you," you said softly.

"Please take good care of us," Jimin said as he took a step forward and bowed, followed by the others.

You reciprocate with a smile. Jimin was the most courteous of the three musketeers to you, with Taehyung a close second but more bothersome than polite, and Jungkook last since he never actually talks to you.

"You guys should get back to doing what you're doing," you say, and they started bowing slightly towards you before dispersing.

You see Taehyung reach out to ruffle your hair, but you catch his wrist and give him a cold stare. You attempt to break free from his grip as he reaches out his other hand to cover your eyes.

“Stop! You're really annoying!" You eventually broke free from his grip and pinched at his side, which he gripped tightly and dramatically whimpered. His antics make you roll your eyes.

Taehyung was a dangerous one, you thought, and certainly someone you should be wary of. You can never figure out who he is as a character because he acts one way one minute and then the total opposite the next. You think his charming smile is deceiving.

“Fine, fine,” He held his hands up in surrender, “You’re just fun to rile up,” he adds.

You breathed a sigh of relief as he finally stepped away, grabbing a ball from the cart and lifting it up to spike it to the other side. Just from that interaction, you feel like you've aged. You're hoping to be assigned to the girls' team more since you don't want to deal with Taehyung's erratic behavior any longer.

You take one final glance around before choosing to leave, but before you can even turn away, Jungkook jogs back towards you.

"Hey," He says tentatively.

“Hmm?" You hum back, uncertain how to respond since this is the first time he's really spoken to you directly.

He clutches the back of his neck.

"Would you mind if — I mean, did the coach say anything about..." He pauses, and you wait for him to finish, prompting him with a cocked brow.

You observe him hesitate for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.

"I– nevermind, I'll ask another time," he says as he walks away, leaving you to wonder what the hell just happened. That wasn't really a conversation; they were just a few words he uttered to you–which, by the way, didn't make any sense.

You shrugged as you shifted your gaze to the other side of the gym, waiting to attract Minyoung's attention before waving goodbye. She returns it with a nod and resumes giving directions to her teammates during a drill.

Taehyung notices your retreating figure and calls out your name.

"Bye!" You hear him yell in a singsong manner.

When you saw several kids looking in your direction as you approached the court's exit, you quickened your speed and covered your face with the item you were holding.

You can hear Jimin chuckle alongside him.

You were walking back to your building, taking your time and kicking on some pebbles along the way. Even though it was the end of the school day, many students were still there, engaged in their various extracurricular activities. The typically empty field was crowded with various clubs, some of which were practicing and others doing routines.

You slowed your pace as you turned away from the open field and peered beneath the purple tree nearby. You noticed Jin underneath it, clutching his phone to his ear and seemed to be engrossed in a serious conversation.

You feel like a creep doing it, but you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he looked with the wind brushing his hair and the tree's fallen petals dancing around him. The warm glow of the almost-setting sun gave him a serene look, and you couldn't help but grin when you noticed the tree's petals were almost the same color as his hair.

For a few moments, you just stood there, enthralled by the scene before you. It seemed like something out of a movie, only the peace and quiet contrasted with the grimace currently decorating his face.

You see him purse his lips while on the phone, brows knitted in what seemed to be exasperation, then converse again before his expression changes to a dejected one. His other hand brushed over his face, but it didn't smooth out the wrinkles caused by his frown.

You didn't realize you were approaching him slowly, so as he moved his weight to the side, his eyes landed on you.

You were taken aback by his attention, but you smiled and waved nevertheless, and you observed him halt for a second. His eyes softened and his face morphed into something akin to relief.

You can see him thinking about something, then he turns aside and talks into the phone once again, this time with more conviction than before.

He puts the phone down and walks toward you, meeting you halfway.

“That looked like an important phone call,” you point out once he reached you.

“Yeah, my dad.”

His dad?

You narrowed your eyes at him. But it looked like they were fighting over the phone, you thought.

"You haven't gone home yet?" He inquired as you both began walking back to your building, him matching your steps because you have shorter legs than he does.

"No, I'm returning from the gym." You turned your head away from him. "I'm apparently a manager now," you stated as casually as you could, trying to hide your embarrassment.

He must think I'm ridiculous for even considering going through with the application.

"No way! That actually worked?" He gasped exaggeratedly, and he nudged your shoulder with his. You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulders away, causing him to trip over his feet as he cackled.

"You’re like, the least qualified applicant for that."

You huff in response, denying him the satisfaction of a spoken retort. I mean, he was right, but he didn't need to say it right to my face!

His laughter died down eventually and you were enveloped in silence. It wasn’t awkward, but it did seem uncharacteristic of him to be quiet around you. This was Jin, and he, like Hobi, practically never shuts up when he's with you guys, so it did cause you some concern. You wonder whether it has anything to do with the phone conversation he had with his father.

Because of his silence, you peered at him and noticed his eyes reflect his thoughts that were racing at a breakneck pace, his poker face gradually morphing back into a frown.

You feel your hand twitch. You kept your head straight and continued walking. After a few minutes of stillness in the atmosphere, you decide enough is enough and stop in your tracks.

He kept strolling aimlessly, and he would have kept walking if you hadn't grabbed his wrist to stop him. He staggered for a moment before looking at you, wide-eyed.

"You okay?" you ask casually, not wanting to seem nosy.

A few beats pass before he decides to reply.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" he replied, flashing the million dollar smile that you're used to seeing him show.

You responded with a hum and continued to stare at him. He attempts to hold your gaze for a few moments before turning away.

He began walking away again, and you followed suit, strolling side by side.

"You’re going to be alright, you know? Whatever it is." You tell him without looking, and you feel him turn to face you.

"And even if you're not fine now, that's okay too."

He waits a little longer before saying, "How do you know that?" like a whisper in the wind — as if he both wants and doesn't want you to hear it.

"Because," you laugh quietly, "I just know."

He's a protagonist, so you can tell him that in confidence. Things will always work out for him, even if they don't right now. Whatever he's worried about, you can be sure he'll overcome it with the aid of whatever forces the novel gods throw his way.

You, however, were lost. You had no notion why you were here, much less how things would turn out. You were blindly navigating your existence here, like if you were wandering down a long, dark corridor. You groan inwardly and forcefully push down the bitter sensation that had begun to sneak up on you.

You were so preoccupied with your own thoughts that you didn't see Jin staring at you as if you were the most complex puzzle ever devised.

How can she say that to me when she appears to be in the same boat as me?

"I don't know if I will, though. Be okay—I mean." He adds, his gaze fixed on you despite your lack of reciprocation.

You can't exactly explain to him why you were so certain of his future, so you settle on giving him a small shrug. You felt your fingers twitch as he gazed down on his fumbling hands and furrowed his brows even more. You turned to him to poke his cheek, and as soon as you did, you froze. He did too. You don't know why you just did that.

That's so embarrassing! Why did I poke his cheek!

You notice a menacing smirk forming on his face and before it could fully form, you let out a defensive huff.

"I just– you were frowning so much that you could nearly play the Grinch!" To emphasize your point, you flail your free arm about, although you doubt it helped. It only made you appear dumber.

When you heard him chuckle, you crossed your arms and walked faster.

"This face? C'mon, you're just spouting shit now."

You rolled your eyes at his reply. You can hear him closing in on you before you feel a tiny pat on the head and hear a hushed "thank you."

"Huh? For what?" you asked, but you were left with no reply as he raced ahead of you and opened the door to your classroom.

"You have been blessed with my presence!" He yells inside, and you shake your head before stepping in after him.

You notice him grabbing your seatmate's chair and twisting it around to annoy Yoongi when you finally get in after him. You gather the rest of your belongings and stuff them into your bag along with the new binder.

"Oh! Are you about to head home?" Hobi asks as he watches your movements. Only the four of you were left in the classroom, along with just a few other classmates.

"Minyoung is practicing until the end of the day today, and she told me to go ahead."

You were about to walk away with your bag hiked up on your shoulders when you heard a chair screech, which caused you to pause and look back.

"Wait a minute! Let's go hang out!"

Your brow furrows as you look at Jin.

You turned around and pretended not to hear him when you heard the sound of another chair being dragged back.

You think you know exactly what will happen. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose as you close your eyes.

"I don't want to go home yet, either, because no one is home and I'd get bored," Hobi says.

"Then you guys hang out and be bored together," you groan with your eyes still closed, your hand now covering it.

Jin pried your hands away from your face and had you headlocked before you could even move a centimeter away.

You try to push his arm away from you, but the man is much bigger and stronger than you.

"Let go right now," you threaten with a scowl before he lets go and pouts like a child.

You brushed off the imaginary dust on your blazer and straightened your hair before taking a deep breath and glaring at each of them.

"Look, I don't have energy for any more social interactions today. I'm all spent," you said, rather than attempting to explain that you're not exactly fond of whatever force of nature occurs every time they are exposed to other people's presence, just like that time at the library.

"Don't go home yet," Hobi exclaims as he snatches your wrist and swings it back and forth between you.

You sense yourself faltering a little and you hate yourself for it. You yank your hand away. Again.

"Nope, I'm leaving." For the nth time, you begin walking away.

"In that case, I'm coming with you!"

You yank your hair in frustration and turn around to see both of them ready to follow you like you're their kindergarten teacher and they're, of course, the kindergartners. You quickly cover your lips to avoid a chuckle from escaping due to the image before you, but your eyes betray you by crinkling up. The muted laughter you tried so hard to conceal wasn't lost to the two in front of you, and you watch them slowly smile triumphantly. You shook your head as you rolled your eyes. You knew you'd lost the first time you looked back.

Fine. Fuck. Whatever.

You straighten up before letting out a fake huff of irritation and glancing towards the back of the classroom.

"Are you coming, Yoongi?"

You see him sitting up straight and looking at you for a split second before unhooking his bag and standing up.

He came to a halt in front of you and formed a line with the other two. You turned around and raised your hand as if it were an invisible tour guide flag.

"All right, my ducklings, let's go!" you exclaimed as you led the way.

What you don't see is them glancing at each other in confusion before following you.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

You snapped a picture of them playing with your dad's gaming console in the living room and opened your messaging app.

[From: You] minyoung why did you leave me alone with the children :(((

[From: Choi Minyoung] im coming home soon from work my sweet, dont worry

She also included a kissy sticker with this one which made you smile.

[From: You] lol you're an idiot

[From: Choi Minyoung] i cant believe ur hanging out without me !!

[From: You] come over when you get here then

[From: Choi Minyoung] you know i will !!

You placed your phone down your side on the couch, and stretched your body that was now clad in comfortable clothes–some sweatpants and a loose shirt. The guys opted to just remove their navy blazers so they can move more freely.

"You guys hungry?" you inquired, but you received no response since they were too busy shouting at each other over Mario Kart.

You walk to the kitchen to see if you can make something, and as you're searching through the fridge, you hear the front door open.

As you padded along the foyer, you had a panicked expression on your face, and you heard the boys pause their game.

You exhale a sigh of relief as you see your father enter with paper bags in his hands.

As you approached him, you remarked, "I thought someone was breaking into our house." He chuckled.

"I left early since business was slow. They could all manage by themselves." You grabbed one bag from him to assist since he did bring a lot.

"And look, I packed so much food!" He looked down on what he was holding with a glimmer in his eyes. You bask in his joyous warmth, which brought a grin to your own face.

You walk ahead, but you hear him stop as he sees the figures who are occupying the living room. They all froze as you turned around to see them looking at your father looking at them. You rolled your eyes and huffed amusingly.

"These are my—" you hesitate, unsure what to call them "classmates. They've come to hang around."

Your father looks at you with wide eyes.

"You have friends?!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you have any friends besides Minyoung?"

"How does that wording make it better?"

You heard muted laughter from the sofa and cocked your brows at the three guys, your eyes giving them a warning. Your father promptly lays the paper bags to the ground and begins shaking their hands and introducing himself. You're surprised he's taking it so well, given that his teenage daughter just brought home three male friends, and he's casually shaking their hands. You grin at the notion that, while your father is extremely protective of you, he trusts you to surround yourself with nice people, and you know – or think – at least that these ones are harmless to you. You can see it as they all gently smile back, suddenly humble in the presence of an adult.

When he's done, he stands up straight and exclaims, "This is wonderful! I can't wait to embarrass her in front of you!"

"Embarrass—dad!" You scold him, but he ignores you and picks up the bags from the floor again, this time taking the one you were holding.

"What? You never invite friends around, this is a rare opportunity for me," he says, hiking the paper bags more tightly in his arms as you try to follow him to the kitchen, but he turns back.

"Let me prepare you all some dinner before I pull out the photo albums," he says to everyone.

"Wha- albums? Are you serious, Dad?"

You turn around in a panic, seeing both Hobi and Jin gripping their stomachs and laughing, and Yoongi with his head averted but his shoulders obviously shaking.

"Yah!" you scolded, stomping your feet childishly.

You approached them, pulled the controller from Hobi's grasp, and scowled at Jin.

"I'm going to beat your ass in Mario Kart just for that," you remarked, only to be met with an "I'd like to see you try."

After beating Jin in three games, gloating to him, "I told you so," and hearing him complain about how you were "cheating," you rose up and slipped the photo albums into your room, shoving them deep into the closet. You know your dad will not enter your room if you prohibit him, but you can't risk the albums falling into the hands of your friends. You think that seeing your baby photographs – which your father would undoubtedly bring out – and images of you as a child with different kinds of dirt on your face and clothes would be too embarrassing for you and too intimate for the degree of connection you currently have with those people in your living room.

You returned to find the coffee table full of food and your father talking to the guys, so you sat next to Jin and began eating as well. After putting the meal down, your father excuses himself and leaves you alone.

Minyoung arrives not long after and wraps her arms over your shoulders.

"I'm exhausted! And I miss you!" She complained in a whining tone while helping herself with a serving of food.

"We only saw each other a few hours ago."

"A few hours too long, you mean," she jokes, rolling her eyes before turning to the others. "What were you thinking when you chose to hang out here? I'm surprised she let you in."

"I didn't, they let themselves in," you claimed, but Yoongi interjected with a "No we didn't," which you didn't contradict because you were just kidding.

When Minyoung notices something, she glances around. "Where is Joonie?" She specifically asks Jin.

He swallows his food and then purses his lips.

"He had an important event to attend."

"Really? And you're not accompanying him? But don't you come in as a package?" She chuckles.

Jin frowns and has a distant expression on his face, and you suppose he didn't plan to show anybody, but you picked up on it. You raise an eyebrow at him, but he has his face turned away.

"They are joined at the hip." Hobi quips in, "Like me and Yoongi," he says, and you and Minyoung laugh because Yoongi doesn't dispute it and just keeps munching on his meal more intently.

When you glance at Jin, you see him playing with his food a little. You feel your hand twitch and sigh, remembering how distressed he looked earlier that afternoon and wanting to help him feel just a little bit better.

"All right, enough of that. Stop bothering him. Jin is his own person, you know?" You remarked, taking a piece of bulgogi with your chopsticks. From your peripheral view, you notice him turning to face you.

You sympathize with him a little because, while Hobi may not mind his name being linked with his best friend, Jin may. You sympathize because you, too, are now affiliated with Minyoung since you are there wherever she goes. Because you, too, come in a package. Her "best friend" is you. When people address you, they say, "___, you're Minyoung's friend, right?"

But you want to be more than that. You want to be more than just someone who people associate with Minyoung– or even with the sevens. You’re you, albeit sometimes irritable, shy, and prideful, you like to think there’s something in you that makes you special and exceptional as well. Your mom ingrained that in your brain as you were growing up.

"He may suck at Mario Kart, but I'm sure he has something amazing in there," you joked as you looked up but not directly in his eyes, and patted his head. You could feel his stare at you. He shrugged your hands off and turned away with a humorous sneer after a beat.

"I do not suck at Mario Kart," he said with genuine amusement.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Jin."

You see him try to headlock you, but you push him away first.

"Hey!” you tsked at him. “You're in my house, don't you dare." You warn him with a pointed finger.

You let them play some more after you finished eating, even indulged Hobi as he took pictures of and with you guys – which is something he seems to like to do. After a while, Hobi checks the time and tells the boys they should leave so as to not impose any further. You call out to your dad so they can say their goodbyes.

As you guide them all to the door, you notice Hobi wrapping his arms around Minyoung as they bicker, and Yoongi strolling with his hands in his pockets as usual. Even with his companions being as raucous as they were today, he remained calm.

You trailed after them, with Jin strolling alongside you.

"Thank you for having us today," he murmured quietly, and as you approached the door, he turned around to look at you.

You raised your head and simply shrugged at him. "It's whatever," you responded, earning a grin from him.

He was usually brazen and had little to no sense of personal space around you, so it startled you when he asked, "Can I have a hug?"

You were stunned, but you didn't think much of his request, so you nodded casually, and he drew you into an embrace, exhaling a long sigh.

He felt a weight lifted off his shoulders when he drew away.

"All right, enough of that! You could miss your train." Minyoung chides them and shoves them towards the direction of the elevators.

She waves them goodbye as you lean against the railing in front of your apartment doors, gazing out at the city lights.

It now occurs to you that you have let them in, entering your home, your bubble, and your personal space. It was terrifying because you were unaware of it as it was happening. Or maybe you were, but chose to ignore it. But a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you can't deny that you had a good time today. Maybe it's alright. Maybe this isn't that horrible. You consider getting caught up in this life, planting your roots here, but knowing what you know, it is all easier said than done.

The light in the hallway starts to flicker. You turn around and don't see Minyoung; you assume she's gone back to their flat, despite the fact that you didn't hear the click of their door. You simply shrugged.

You close your eyes and lean against the railing once again. You wait for the thousand thoughts in your brain to calm before opening them, and as soon as you do, someone pulls you into an embrace.

You gasp in surprise and shove them away, turning around to find Minyoung startled and even a little offended that you pushed her away.

"Minyoung? What are you doing there?" You said, your mouth agape after speaking.

"What do you mean? I've been here the entire time. I just waved the guys off." She looks at you incredulously.

What? She offers you another embrace and pats your behind as she coos, before you can even grasp what she just said and what she meant.

"I'm going in now. Don't stay out too late–there could be bugs."

When she turns around, you can hear the distinctive chime of the door opening and the click of it closing.

You shook your head and exhaled a confused sigh. Maybe you just exhausted yourself today. You don't want to acknowledge it, but hanging out with the others today was enjoyable. It did drain a significant amount of your energy, though.

You give a little smile and stroll back into your flat, almost unconsciously.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°

It was break time, and you were returning after speaking with the volleyball team adviser about organizing a practice game with a nearby school's team. You've been taking your manager responsibilities seriously, and you've done a lot of research and worked hard to be an efficient one. You reasoned that even if you obtained the job by sheer luck, you may as well give it your best so you don't humiliate yourself.

The coach has even commended you on your organization skills.

"See, there's a reason I knew I had to choose you," he remarked, smiling.

You were ready to enter the classroom when you noticed the sight inside and came to a halt. You notice the sevens gathered around your table conversing, and Minyoung has taken a seat in your chair. You marvel at the fact that they look like they're in the middle of a photoshoot, with their nice looks, faint smiles, colored hair, and all.

But, soon, the smile fades from your face.

They looked picture-perfect in this position. You have the feeling that if you step in, you will seem completely out of place. You gaze down at your own dark hair, a stark reminder of your place. You know you're supposed to keep in their shadows, yet you can't help but feel spiteful. It's not a pleasant feeling to always feel inadequate. Being around all of these great personalities would gradually sap your self-confidence, and insecurity is an emotion that does not settle well for you. It makes you want to claw at your skin.

You were ready to suck it up and take a step when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You notice a girl with short black hair beaming at you.

"Hello, my name is Jinah." She said, "And these are my friends," pointing to two girls behind her.

"Would you want to join us at the cafeteria? We were on our way there," she said with a warm smile. You take a peek around before pointing at yourself.

“Me?”

“Of course silly, who else?" she playfully rolled her eyes. "So?”

You pause for a moment. They actually want to befriend me? You take a breath in.

This may be your chance for a taste of normalcy, away from the sevens and Minyoung, and you seize it impulsively, too elated to think too hard about it.

You nodded eagerly, and Jinah took your arm in hers as she led you to the cafeteria. In any other circumstance, you would avoid the cafeteria and would not go anywhere near it. But, because you were certain that the main protagonists were in the classroom, you were confident that there would be no incidents in the cafeteria today. It was simple, and unlike the library, you didn't feel like you were suffocating. You find yourself just talking about whatever you want with Jinah and her two other pals, Minji and Ayeong.

They asked about you and told you stories as you ate food. You were in the midst of laughing at something Jinah said when Minji tapped the table to gain your attention.

"Are you friends with Minyoung?" You pause for a beat before nodding cautiously.

“Right! And I've seen you around the Seven Princes as well," Ayeong adds and you grimaced at the nickname.

“Uhh.. yeah, I guess." you looked down at the table and felt Jinah nudge her companions in the shin under the table.

You look up to see her turn to you and say, "Don't mind them, you didn’t have to answer that."

She gives you a smile and you tilt your head at her when she looks away. She slid a carton of chocolate milk across the table to you and resumed casual conversation.

You tightened your grip on the beverage in your hand. You felt another piece of yourself chip away. You're no longer just you. You may be exaggerating, but you feel like you've been reduced to just being "someone who is friends with Minyoung and occasionally hangs out with the sevens."

You don't think they notice your silence as they continue to talk.

When the warning bell rang, they waved you goodbye, and you parted ways.

As you walked inside the classroom, you noticed that the group that had earlier gathered around your table had gone. You sat in your chair, but you couldn't help but feel a lingering gaze on you. You simply stare down at your hands and allow your thoughts to overwhelm you, not caring to listen to anything the teacher says in front of you.

You were sitting in a fast-food restaurant, caught up in conversation when Jinah clears her throat from beside you.

It was after a few days when Jinah and her friends invited you to hang out again after class, but this time you had the courtesy to text Minyoung about it, although you didn't identify particular names. She was already occupied during training, anyway, and your manager duties aren’t always needed during it. You decide to give it another go – perhaps they were simply genuinely curious and didn't mean to pry into your relationship with Minyoung and the Sevens.

“So, Minyoung, huh?” She starts off and you give her a questioning look.

Suddenly?

"Uhm," you cough awkwardly, "Why’d you bring her up suddenly?"

She shrugs, but you catch a glimpse of mischief in her eyes. "Nothing. It's just.." she shrugs innocently. "Must be hard to be friends with the golden girl, huh? Don’t you ever feel insecure? That you’re always being compared to her?"

I am?

In retrospect, you should have known better. The warning lights should have flashed the instant she opened her lips. You've dug yourself a hole with this one, but you were not aware of it.

“She – no, she’s nothing but nice to me. It’s not..” you trail off because you couldn't bring yourself to lie. It is hard. You can’t deny that. It’s hard being blinded by Minyoung’s light when you know you can never compare to her.

Jinah lets out a triumphant smile that you don’t see. Bingo, She thinks. The moment she caught news of the girl that’s hovering over Minyoung whom she hasn’t seen with her the years before, she knew it could be an opening to rip that girl apart. And now that she’s hooked you in, she’s going straight for it.

That bitch. What’s so special about her? She’s not even all that, yet people are always all over her.

She looked at you, seeing you chew on your lip. This is too easy, she’s obviously insecure, she thinks. It looks like it wouldn’t be hard to poke on her wounds.

“Come on, you can tell us. We understand you.” Minji coaxes. “We know how she can be, we’ve been her classmates before.”

You knitted your brows. They know how Minyoung can be?

You recall all the times you've spent with Minyoung. You recall her scared eyes when she felt the stares from that very first day, as well as the desperate look in her eyes when she tried to keep you close. She always looked at you with warm eyes and made you feel included in her own way. She was the reason you were finally, slowly coming out of your shell.

But then you remember how you merely stood beside her and felt like you couldn't breathe, with intrusive thoughts about your own anxieties nagging you. You recollect the moments when you couldn't even be considered your own person since you were nothing without her in this world.

You look up to meet their eyes and see them look expectantly at you.

"I..." you said instinctively beneath their stare, and you could feel their excitement grow. You narrow your eyes at them, thinking Jinah let her guard down too much since you noticed a wicked glimmer flash in her eyes. The realization hits you, and your blood runs cold, as if you've been doused with ice water.

They're using you. They’re using you to dig dirt on Minyoung.

And you almost gave in.

You felt sick, felt the bile threaten to rise up from your throat. You abruptly stood up from your seat, never minding that the chair almost toppled over.

They think you were an easy target to get to her.

You felt tears prick your eyes from the anger.

You straightened up and gave them the coldest stare you could muster, and you swear you almost saw Ayeong flinch.

"Don't ever talk to me again," you muttered in a low growl as you grabbed your bag and walked away, but Minji grabbed your forearm in her grasp.

“Wait! Do you know the phone numbers of the seven princes?”

You return her look with one of horror, astonished at her audacity, and scoffed loudly before ripping your arm away from her.

“You stupid bitch! You drove her away!” You hear Jinah yell at her friend as you walked away.

You stormed out of the establishment, furiously brushing away tears you hadn't realized were falling from your eyes. You despise the fact that you were played only because of your affiliation with them. You wanted to blame them, to believe it was their fault.

You were so naïve to think that someone else would want to be friends with you just as you are.

#bts au #ot7 x reader #bts fluff #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #yoongi fanfic #namjoon fanfic #jhope fanfic #hoseok fanfic #oc reader #isekai #jimin fanfic #seokjin fanfic #alternate universe #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bangtan x oc

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

Claiming Ones Own

Ok so, sorry for such a slow update on this. I had an attack of brain worm ideas which distracted/refused to let me focus on the chapter for a while. Have destroyed/dealt with most of the new ideas and have finally finished the chapter 🎉

Masterlist

[Chapter 1] [Previous]

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Chapter 5 - Playtime Chaos

Cass was going to kill Jason. That is, if Marie didn’t do it first by accident. He needed to go back to Gotham ASAP and get out of her hair! He may have been helpful to begin with, but now he was a menace and needed to go!

Jason had created a ‘new game’, well he said it was one he and Alfred used to play when he first moved into the manor, but it was still new to Cass. Only Jason had not really thought through the consequences of said game. He hadn’t thought that this game was with Cass and him rather than with Alfred who had obviously thought the game through properly.

The game, of which Jason thought was an amazing idea, was to redirect Marie's pickpocketing habit. If she pickpocketed strangers chocolate rights were reduced. Marie figured this rule out quickly which resulted in one horrific drama due reduced chocolate for the day. It was painful with lots of tears for all involved. Then there was a chocolate reward/increase rule when she pickpocketed Cass or Jason.

Cass might have agreed with his logic. It was a good game to bond with her, ensure she felt her skills remained and reduce the thieving, but this… THIS… result should have been expected!

What they hadn't considered is that the pair often carried weapons on them ALL the time. In and out the house. The pair were paranoid. Marie had observed the pair and quickly worked out what and where they stored these weapons.

Marie was also good at being light fingered to begin with. They knew that. THEY HAD EXPERIENCED IT. This wasn't new territory for her.

Training Marie further was a bad idea.

Cass so wanted to kill Jason for this game.

Cass’s heart couldn’t cope with it anymore. When the knives were taken it was anxiety inducing. Watching her daughter dance around with a knife, playing with it and watching it slice through the air caused so much panic in Cass.

The positive of that event was that Cass had started to train her daughter in basic swordplay. She observed, much like Damian, that going through basic positions and movements grounded and calmed her daughters chaotic energy. Marie was picking the skill up quickly so official 'safe fencing lessons' will be added to the girls learning activities.

Jason though, Jason her ‘delightful brother’ (if he survived her wrath), carried guns. He had ‘hidden’ guns around her apartment. So coming home from shopping to find her precious, innocent, sticky fingered Marie, inspecting and playing a gun was petrifying.

And Jason who was meant to be watching her daughter was missing! It was the last straw for Cass.

…………………………………………..

Jason admits that this may have been a mistake. Thinking back with a more analytical perspective than fond memories. Alfred had set it up that Jason would nearly always win the game. Alfred knew where weapons were but didn’t carry them around on his person.

Marie was a natural. Jason was super proud of his niece, she was getting swifter and lighter at each attempt. Her playing with the finds aka knives was maybe a little oversight. Cass’s reaction to it all was even less fun. Her subtle disgruntledness was made known to him unpleasantly. Swapping the sugar for salt in his morning coffee was revolting! But it at least was just basic pranks Cass was retaliating with… not Wayne Manor declarations of war…. He hoped...

He had popped out the room briefly (ok maybe not briefly but not for a really long time) as Roy had rang and wanted his assistance for a mission. Coming back into the room he found Pixie with his latest new toy *cough* gun and an irrate Cass looking like she would murder with the batglare she throw at him.

"Hi Cass.... Pixie… Roy just called asking for my assistance. I'll," he gulped as his sister levelled him with a laser beam stare and his niece turned to him, pointing the gun in a way he was showing her earlier, with curiosity showing on her face. "I'll be leaving in a few days… umm Pixie could you be a sweetheart and aim the gun downwards please?"

His niece frowned at him looking at it and him "Chocolate?" Jason quickly glanced at Cass and could feel the icy waves wafting off her. "Errr... Yeah sure thing sweetie. But to get it you will need to put the gun down first please."

Marie broke into a grin and put the gun in the coffee table skipping over to Jason to grab his hand leading him to her treasure. "Your stance then was much better, Pixie, and I didn't even feel you take the gun this time. You've improved loads this week."

He felt Cass's anger pour off her. Maybe he should have asked if he could teach Pixie about guns....

When the pair returned to the living room, Cass handed Jason his suitcase. "Go! Be Roy's issue now"

…………………………………………..

With Jason gone Cass found that the apartment was much quieter with just the pair of them, especially as sign language seemed to be both of their preferred communication method. Cass turned to playing music in the background to remind her of her siblings back in Gotham (not Jason though), this caused her to dance absentmindedly. Marie was often caught trying to mimicking her dance moves with light footwork, her grace and form yet to be perfected.

Cass saw this as another class to sign her daughter up to along with fencing to burn the chaotic energy up. Especially now Jason wasn't around playing rough and tumble with her.

................................................................

It was one afternoon about a month after Jason had left that Cass had a break through. While Marie was setting up a tea ceremony (a post swordplay practice ritual she'd got into), Cass had stumbled on her first actual clue in finding out about Marie's past. Her search had finally unearthed similar symbols, used centuries ago by some Tibetan monks, to the ones that were on her back. What this meant Cass was unsure. To progress further she probably needed to talk to Babs or Tim, but if she did that she'd have to tell them why. Which everyone finding about Marie and she wasn't ready for that.

She still fretted over what Marie must have gone though and to unleash the Wayne's on her seemed daunting.

Cass was about to look further into what she had gathered when her phone went off. It Alfred calling which was unusual.

"Alfred"

"Hello Miss Cassandra. I hope you are well and have settled into motherhood comfortably."

Cass paled. Alfred knew!! Damn it Jason!!! He was dead meat when she saw him next.

"Adapting. Marie, your great granddaughter, is sweet. Both learning about being together"

"I see. I am assuming that that is going well. Master Jason has mentioned that you found her on the streets in a similar manner to how he was found."

Jason guns were going to go missing and be replaced with water pistols.

"Yes. Much better now. Learning sign to talk to each other. Eating better too."

"That is good news to hear Miss Cassandra."

It was a set up. Jason had triggered in and Alfred was waiting to pounce. There was no way to escape but to make it easier for her self.

"We visit you soon. Wanted Marie settled first."

"I'll arrange a flight for you in a fortnight's time. Is there anything young Miss Marie will require."

Completely trapped now she'd taken the bait. Alfred knew it, she knew it. And everyone will know about Marie in no time. Maybe she would be able to get Babs and Tims help after all.

"Thank you Alfred. Bunk bed, milk chocolate and chocolate spread please." Cass paused for a second as Marie looked over to her signing 'tea time Mama'

"Loose green tea leaves too, for tea ceremony, please."

Cass finally could hear a smile in Alfred's voice and relaxed slightly. She may have escaped some of Alfred's disappointment.

"I will ensure I meet those requirements Miss Cassandra. I will send you your flight details when I have finished arranging them. I look forward to seeing you again Miss Cassandra, and to meeting Miss Marie. I will now take my leave for you to spend time with you daughter."

Looks like she will be needing to prepare Maire for a flight and meeting the family. She would have to up her parenting game to ensure she completely beat Bruce.

Moments after she had hung up Alfred had sent flight details across. Complete evidence that the whole call as a ruse and he got what he wanted. Well played Alfred well played. Cass responded to Alfred, thanking him for his efficiency and to arrange some face time calls to occur in the next fortnight. Alfred deserved to get to know her precious Marie first so at least she had an ally in the Manor when they visited. Someone other than Jason. That reminded Cass to shoot a text to Jason

*You.are.dead.betrayer.*

He replied quickly to her message

*Adventure with Roy went sideways. Alfred wasn't happy. I needed something to soften the blow!!! I'm sorry!!! Don't kill me!!*

Pah! He sold her out that's what. He was in Alfred's book of disappointment and didn't want to be there alone so dragged her to hell too. Jokes on him, she'll work her and Marie magic to make it work for them. Her phone buzzed again as Jason messaged her again. Ignoring it she went to join Marie for tea and tell her the 'fun news'.

In her head she had a fortnight to prepare her revenge.

Tag List:

@boldlyanxious @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo

@too0bsessedformyowngood @lady-bee-fechin @solangelo252 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @arty-shadow-morningstar @macncheesemonster @purplegeekypanda @corporeal-terrestrial @maribat-shenanigans

#maribat #maribat au #claiming ones own #marinette x cass #plantonic #found family #marinette x jason #ml x dc #dc x ml #mlb x dc #dc x mlb

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

Note

Hey! Could I please request a fluffy Levihan fic please? (Even better if it has lots of Levihan banter). Preferably one of them training together because I rarely ever see that concept yet I feel like it would be really cool! Thank you so much. Love your fics as always <3 <3

Title: Gentler

Summary:

“Yeah, you did a better job with the titan out there." Hange raised one eyebrow at Levi, a knowing expression on her face. “You were much gentler than I was.”

“Maybe it's second nature,” Levi said.

“Then show me how you do it then," Hange said. "Show me how to be more gentle."

Was that permission? Was that an invitation? Or was it just a cold hard demonstration? Either way, it was many things at once. And Levi understood them all, at the moment Hange had pulled him closer again, in the way her own fingers had scampered over his arm and down to the tips of his fingers."

Levi helps Hange with her experiments and it turns out, there are a lot of things Hange still has to learn from Levi.

Link: AO3

Notes: Sorry if it's kinda smutty? But not too explicit... ish? I'll just tag it as NSFW just in case. Also, feedback is very much appreciated!

“You seem angrier than usual.” It was an anticlimactic start to a much awaited conversation.

Levi could only be grateful that despite her deep concentration, Hange still tried to make conversation. “This is my usual face,” he responded.

Hange raised one eyebrow. “Really? You seem colder today.”

“This is how I usually am.”

“No it isn’t,” Hange said. By that point, she was on the other side of the laboratory, pulling on another pair of gloves.

“How long do you plan on working?” Levi asked.

“Until I get this part of the research done. It’s time sensitive.”

Levi made his way closer to her, positioning himself right next to her. “Time sensitive enough that you can’t even bother to take a day off on a Sunday?” He had a good view of her side profile and he was certain he had a good position at her peripherals. Every now and then, that subtle movement worked at getting her attention.

Levi wasn’t holding his breath. He had gotten used to it already. Ever since he started working towards capturing titans, Hange had started to become a little more occupied. Those Sundays that used to consist of trips to the market were suddenly a luxury more than routine. And time and acceptance hadn’t done much to pacify the seething sensation every time he did catch her early morning in the lab.

“That kind of time sensitive,” Hange answered confidently. She continued to work efficiently as she spoke and it didn’t look like she would be backing down any time soon.

It only annoyed Levi even more. He opened his mouth to exhale. Somewhere along the way, it got caught in his throat and it came out more as a grumble. Levi froze and tensed up, looking out the window, trying to find something else outside, maybe the branches or the trees or the two birds perched outside, which could have explained that slip of vulnerability.

“So you are angry,” Hange said. That was the only time that morning she had even spared a glance at him.

“If that’s what will make you happy, then call me angry,” Levi retorted. He was never good at mimicking Hange’s smug smile and at that point, he never even bothered to try.

Hange shrugged. “Well, I’d rather you weren’t angry.” She smiled at Levi. “Are you doing anything today?”

“Training in the afternoon,” Levi answered coldly.

“What kind of training?”

“Self training.”

“What kind of self training?” Hange pressed.

In fact, Levi never thought past the word self training so he would have preferred if Hange had left the questions at that. He stayed mum for a few seconds long enough for Hange to speak up.

“I’m gonna need some help with a little experiment today, if you have nothing else to do?” she started.

“I could be doing other things.” In truth, Levi could have been doing other things, like going to the market with Hange or cleaning her room.

“Anything urgent?”

Yes. The word died at his lips and he found himself staring. For the first time that day, Hange’s attention was on him and Levi was finding it harder and harder to feign busy-ness. “Maybe.”

“Okay, well whatever I need to do is urgent.” Her tone overpowered his own and Levi couldn’t help but listen. She continued. “There is some research I need to do on the two titans we captured and I’m going to need someone flexible.”

Moblit. Petra. Oluo. There were so many people Levi could have suggested but he was completely aware of his own skill. He was completely aware he wanted to spend time with her, even if it meant having to adjust to whatever bullshit she had in mind.

“If you have some plans to train today… I think this will be a good alternative.”

Levi didn’t have an opening to respond. And Hange continued to lecture, as if she knew the whole time, he wouldn’t have said no.

***

“There is a small hole around here…” Hange had used herself as a model for the location.

Levi lost control of himself for a second when he realized what the hell Hange had been referring to. And it didn’t look like she was attempting to make it anymore subtle.

It was for science after all.

Hange’s finger was pointing to that area, right between her legs, her finger pointing too far inward, and she made a subtle yet very accurate show of it as they were walking towards the tents where the titans were kept.

“Didn’t you say titans don’t shit?” Levi said.

“They don’t,” Hange said matter-of-factly. “When Lily bent down though, I noticed some marks, which could have been holes… and there was one right in the middle which was large and deep enough to hold…”

“Hold…” Levi’s mind sprung into action. It was racing, spinning and doing jumping jacks all at once in search of a right answer.

Hange fell silent for just a second, her eyes travelling elsewhere, not at all in a hurry to meet his stare. Eventually she spoke up. “Well, the point is… I inserted something inside and it looks like a few twigs get caught in there and I can’t help but think… we might be able to find something inside of the titan that could explain where they come from.”

“Okay…” Levi attempted to brush away the discomfort by looking straight ahead, pretending to be distracted by the clear sky. “What do you want me to do?”

Hange paused for a second, staring at nothing, seeming deep in thought. It was as if eventually, something invisible had pulled her out of that trance. She turned to Levi, gave him a lopsided smile. “So that’s where things get a little more complicated…”

***

Titans were hideous.

They were large flesh like creatures with disgusting faces, faces almost unrecognizable in humans. At the same time though, they looked so much like humans, that it seemed almost like a mockery to the human species as a whole. Or maybe Levi was just convincing himself of that to pass the time and to distract himself as Hange led him into the tent.

Time had been unbearably slow as they walked to the tent, most likely due to the tension that came with what the hell Hange had been explaining to him until that moment. Time passed more quickly when they entered the tent when Levi could more effectively occupy himself by getting used to the small room and the sleeping face of the creepy titan they had captured a while back. Within seconds, Hange had guided him to the ass end of a sleeping titan and waved her hands in flourish, as if presenting something of importance.

An asshole. A titan asshole.

“But titans don’t shit,” Hange added with that same rehashed novelty as every single day before that, as if she hadn’t mentioned that point to Levi countless times in passing. “Right?”

Levi could only nod, and feign disconnect. He couldn’t even tell at that point if he was still interested or if he had just been too busy channeling all his energy into ignoring the gaping hole in front of him.

He was at least thankful the room was dim and if he didn’t squint, he could pretend everything in front of him was just mere darkness.

“And look at this,” Hange said, only making it more difficult for Levi to ignore the hole. Hell, every single movement after that was only making it more and more difficult to back away and ignore it altogether.

Hange reached for the rod, on the side of the wall. She positioned it, with the front facing the hole. Then she bent over, putting the iron rod at a perfect angle from the hole. She pushed it in, heaved a few times and the titan had made a few unsettling groans in return.

Levi used that moment to look away, stare at the walls of the dim tent, follow the orange light of the lamp and really, just look at anything that could get him to recover from the mental scar of watching such a scene. “Hange, I think you made your point.”

“No, I didn’t. I told you Levi, I needed someone, who is a little more flexible... a little stronger.”

Levi sighed. “To do what?”

In demonstration, Hange bent her legs a little further down and raised the iron rod up. “Maybe it goes up? Or maybe it goes down there? The thing is… when I push forward… I feel nothing.”

“And you think I can do a better job?”

“You’re more flexible. You can bend lower,” Hange said matter-of-factly.

Levi had to admit, that was the first time Hange had made eye contact with him for longer than a second. That was the first time, they were actually in sync and that was the first time her attention had been completely on him.

He could say no. He could maybe ask for more. He might even be able to put some conditions, convince Hange to think over it over some tea, or coffee.

But at that moment, he had let a softer part of him take control, and it gladly took over. Before Levi even knew it, he had given in to a little study he barely even understood.

***

There was something special yet terribly annoying about Hange’s research.

Suddenly, it was demanding Hange’s time, attention and investment by the ton. And Hange was gladly giving it. Despite Levi’s involvement, Hange was surprisingly more difficult to reach than before.

Strangely, while present and while working more closely with Levi, she was very much out of reach. With more time with her, Levi was sneaking glances more often and Levi was starting to notice something, in the way Hange positioned her fingers over her desk, in the way she seemed to mimic inserting something between her two fingers, pressing them together.

Somehow, she seemed to be particularly thinking and practicing it right after visits with the titan.

Every single fucking day.

And Levi wondered how he had gotten invested in Hange’s little experiment when he barely even understood it.

“Levi.” Hange broke the silence one lazy day in the office in between those busier days heaving some iron rods into the asses of titans.

“What.”

“This may sound weird,” Hange started, maintaining that same inquisitive tone and wide eyed expression.

Levi’s mind was racing. Hange’s threshold for weirdness was much higher than Levi’s and the fact that she thought it was weird, must mean it could be something even Levi couldn’t fathom.

Almost instinctively, Levi braced himself. He leaned on the wall, arms crossed then turned to her, an attempt to plant his two feet on the ground, his head at a level place. “Go on.”

Hange stuck her pointer finger and middle finger together, and made a gesture. “I was trying something on my own… Just to get some practice before I try again…”

Try something on my own. Hange had said those words as she made that same gesture, so casually that Levi had instinctively escaped to happier thoughts, more innocent thoughts.

A cup, a jug, a faucet.

But Hange seemed to be determined to let him know, whether he wanted to know or not. It was at that moment when their eyes met, when Hange stared for one second, then two seconds and in a flash, she had looked down and Levi found himself looking down too, right between her legs.

He looked back at Hange’s face as soon as he sensed that untimely invasion of privacy. The moment their eyes met again, he was particularly more perceptive of the pink on the apple of her cheeks.

And whatever had blood rushing into Hange’s cheeks must have been contagious. “Why are you telling me this?” Levi asked.

“It’s research,” Hange said calmly. Her arm movements were telling another story. She crossed her arms, leaned back on the chair, and closed her legs, uncharacteristically slowly. “I had nowhere else to test.”

A faucet? A cup? A jug? Levi was listing them all in his head again, and maybe Hange could have noticed the slight twitch in his brow or the wrinkle of his nose.

"And besides…" Hange continued. "I had another theory…"

"What?" At that point, his voice had deadened to a hiss.

"Lily had three holes too. And there was one, which was just a little deeper and some of the others didn't have it…”

“And…” Levi trailed off, as his brain travelled elsewhere. If he let his tongue loose, he may not be able to control it without biting back.

“And I was thinking… what if…”

“What if…” Levi nodded his head, slowing down as the view opened up in front of him.

It wasn’t too bad a view. It wasn’t even supposed to be a strange view.

When it was just the two of them, Hange would plop on her desk, in one swift and flexible motion. And every single time, Hange would open her legs. She had just never been the type to keep them closed, she had never been the type to follow those pedantic social expectations which came with being squad leader.

Levi had always been capable of brushing it all off, accepting Hange’s quirks, their own mini transgressions as just something worth one glance and nothing more than that.

Somehow though, a conversation about holes… Hange’s own fixation on what had been down there and just the implication of everything around him had Levi just feeling more obliged to look away.

“Are you okay?” Hange asked, a look of concern flashed across her face, something still very much visible at Levi’s peripherals.

Before, he even knew it, Levi was sneaking glances again. “I’m just concerned.”

“Why?” Hange cocked her head to her side. How the hell that simple movement had just been connected with the widening of her legs on the desk, Levi could never understand.

“You know it’s dangerous to test on yourself right?” He kept his expression deadpan, his tone oozing with just a hint of admonishment.

“You don’t trust me?” Hange leaned back, shifting the weight to the palms of her hands just behind her. By some instinct, or just some natural sequence of movements, Hange’s legs widened.

Levi instinctively bent over, his eyes flying over her in that little opening. Then he turned away again. “You’re not a very gentle person,” Levi admitted, and maybe his voice had quavered slightly, too much energy had been spent on just looking away.

“I’m not?” Hange slammed her hands back down on the table, a little more softly that time, she leaned back, a deliberate attempt maybe to seem more gentle than she actually was.

But Levi knew better. He had known Hange for too long to pick out for himself what natural was.He shook his head, in an attempt to tame that smile on his face into something subtler. "it's just not you," he commented. He reached for her wrist, noting the weight, the stiffness and Hange seemed to be cooperating. She sat up again and eyes locked, Levi noticed she seemed smaller sitting down right in front of him.

"What do you mean, not me?" Hange didn't seem at all self conscious of it.

"You just told me a while ago, you put the rod in too hard. You're too harsh on the titan. " Levi said.

"So what?"

"You can be more gentle."

It could have been a pull on his side or a push from Hange's. Before he knew it, her head had fallen on his shoulders, her hands gripped at his back for balance, and her chest was touching his. And for a while, her breasts were pressed on his chest. “Sorry, I lost my balance there,” Hange whispered.

It was a whisper, he was sure. But when the breath tickled, when his body seemed to shake, that whisper seemed to be pulling him out of that trance of utter surprise.

Hange at that moment was hard, stiff, clumsy. But her body was warm, it tickled, and the curls that framed Hange’s cheeks brushed his collar in some coaxing manner. Levi tucked her hair past her ears with one hand, noting the scent of day old shampoo. One hand scurried up her back in lithe motions, and Hange felt like a limp rag to touch.

She was a limp rag for just a second before she gripped harder on him.

Levi didn't pull away, suddenly brought back to the conversation at hand. 'You can be kinder to yourself,” he said, gritting his teeth, folding his tongue back as Hange’s grip on him seemed to tighten. Levi was tempted to give into the almost natural response of just gripping back.

Gently. Levi thought to himself as he attempted to wriggle out of her grasp.

“I can stand on my own now,” Hange said.

And just like that, the minute or so of tension had dissipated into nothing, Levi had kept his eyes trained on her hand. As Hange looked up, ready to straighten her back, their eyes met.

Hange’s own were bright, inquisitive and as she opened her mouth to speak, Levi had expected a question, some musing about the origins of titans, some invite to a next training session.

Anything else aside from what he had received then. “How are you gentler?” Hange asked. It was an innocent question, peppered with too many looks just below them that Levi’s view seemed to naturally follow.

“I don’t grip too hard,” Levi answered, only realizing then, that her hand had fallen to her side, yet were only inches from his. He reached for hers, then started with a light touch and Hange didn’t pull away. So he propped his hand for a while longer, then as he moved his fingers slowly over her hand, the movement evolved to a light caress, until Hange gripped back.

“So I should be gentler with titans?” Hange suggested, a wry smile on her face.

Gentler with yourself, with everyone else. An answer crossed his mind in the few seconds after she asked.

Hange had the tendency of taking chaos with her everywhere she went. Her footsteps were characteristically thunderous, and even from a mile away, Levi could pick them out of a hoard of soldiers. Hange’s every moment seemed to cut through the air.

At that moment, her voice drummed, then echoed across even the most open spaces. “Gentler with titans?” Hange repeated with that same voice Levi had heard many times before.

Levi didn’t respond. At the least, maybe he would have let out a ‘no’ or shook his head. Hange had taken the initiative though, and soon, Levi found it hard to speak.

How had Levi found himself backed to the corner of the office by careful touch alone, Levi could never be too sure but one thing was for sure, the hazel in Hange’s eyes, Hange had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the potential too.

The few seconds had be hypnotizing and maybe if Hange had let him, he would have slipped back on the wall, and let her take control.

“I have one question…” Hange started. She backed him onto a wall, her eyes were on him but one long look later and Levi noticed, her attention was divided. “About the research…” She looked down, and one second passed, then two. Soon time had sped up, and before Levi knew it, he was figuring out whether a minute had passed or an eternity.

“What about?” Levi prompted.

“Being gentle.”

“Being gentler on the titans...” One quick confirmation, just to placate whatever seething curiosity and seething jealousy that seemed to settle in his chest. It’s a question about research. He reminded himself.

“How do you be gentler?” Hange asked. Her voice was softer and self awareness seemed to have some magical properties. She leaned back on the wall and stared up at the ceiling.

By some instinct, Levi grabbed her by the wrist, keeping her up. “Be more careful. Have respect for what you’re doing,” he answered.

Hange seemed to be listening closely, her head bent a little to the side in some expression of pure curiosity.

Have more respect. And Levi did have a lot of respect for Hange, enough to gripped her hands lightly, caress the palms that seemed to be littered with a little too many scars and healed burns, then the hardened skin that came with gripping the iron bar a little too hard every time.

Levi had his own fair share of sandpaper skin at the lower part of his palms. Hange held his hand in return, pressing where the sandpaper was harder and a little rougher. “Even if I have the respect, so what? How do you do it?” She had pulled his hand closer to herself and eventually she had pulled further inward enough and hard enough for Levi to stumble just a bit, fall forward close enough to have the swells of her breasts less than an inch away from his face.

In surprise, Levi had lost his footing again, and what started as a light grip in her hand, evolved into an awkward hold of her waist and an attempt to keep his balance as she let out an amused laugh.

“This is my first time actually noticing you know.” she said. “For one of the best titan slayers in the survey corps, you’re surprisingly a very gentle person. It looks like there really is a lot of stuff I need to learn from you.” Hange admitted.

She slid down the wall and in that split second, had taken Levi with her.

Levi fell forward willingly. And a gentle fall felt like a falling leaf even in the stuffy indoors. As he scrambled for the wall behind Hange for some balance, he started to notice it himself. Hange was more a titan than a human at times, with the way she navigated the world, the way she constantly left chaos in her wake.

But Hange had a gentle side, wide brown eyes, wavy hair that framed her face, and lips turned up in a small grin.

And when you respect someone, it’s easy to be gentle. Respect? Respect seemed too cold. It seemed like something else. Either way, that ‘something else’ had Levi scrambling for balance, then catching himself by the hands, yet still very much on top of her.

“Be careful,” Levi managed to say. Still, he wondered if it came out like he intended it too. If Hange’s eyes right on his, if their noses and their mouths almost touching, hadn’t been too much of a distraction. “You could learn to be gentler,” Levi repeated slowly, taking each movement one step at a time as he inched away from Hange.

“Maybe gentleness is a talent… or a personality…” Hange suggested. “I wouldn’t have been able to burrow into the titan as well as you did.”

“And it’s fine if you don’t,” Levi said. “It’s my job anyway to do the other parts of the research. Erwin made us work together for a reason.”

Hange raised her chin up, only fixing her gaze on him. “Can you just show me a bit more?”

“How?” And it was more difficult to look away.

Hange opened her legs a little wider, her hand suddenly right in front. “I tested it down there,” Hange said.

“Tested…”

“Tested…” Hange put her two fingers together and pointed inwards in one motion. “The titan had three holes. I had three holes…. And for a while I realized, maybe a human could be a good model for a titan. I just didn’t want to ask anyone else…”

“Fucking hell.” Levi let out those words like a curse, a sigh and some strange release. Of course, he had noticed. “You could have asked for help.”

“How?”

“You’re not gentle with yourself, of course it would hurt.” Levi grabbed Hange’s two fingers between his, then mimicked that same position pushing his middle and pointer close too each other. “How do you do it?”

“Now?” Hange asked, her eyes wide with surprise.

“I told you, I’d help with your research right?” Research. Research was the keyword that seemed to brushed away the tension, the hesitations in the split second they would need it gone.

Hange burrowed her finger under her pants, then deeper than that. Then deeper...

Burrowed. “There. You’re too harsh,” Levi said, looking pointedly at her fingers.

"Yeah, you did a better job with the titan out there." Hange raised one eyebrow at Levi, a knowing expression on her face. “You were much gentler than I was.”

“Maybe it's second nature,” Levi said.

“Then show me how you do it then," Hange said. "Show me how to be more gentle."

Was that permission? Was that an invitation? Or was it just a cold hard demonstration? Either way, it was many things at once. And Levi understood them all, at the moment Hange had pulled him closer again, the way her fingers had scampered over his arm and down to the tips of his fingers.

Making it through her pants required a little wriggling but Levi wouldn’t have called it burrowing at all, one swift flick, one push inwards and he was there.

The titan had three holes and he knew enough human anatomy to know, Hange would have three holes too. The way inside Hange was a little more complex, a flap, and a hole underneath and when he wriggled in, it started to feel like he was navigating an endless maze, gently and carefully. It wasn’t too difficult after all. Hange had leaned back, Hange had let out exhaustion, heat in ragged breaths, and huffs of weak laughter.

“Are you okay?” Levi asked.

“Surprisingly…” Hange’s voice had started loud at first, before deadening to a thick whisper. “it actually feels good.”

And for a few seconds, she had fallen forward. A soft whisper, a soft breath, tickled the back of his ear, then exhaled at the back of his neck. A lot of exhales, right after the other.

“Are you laughing?” Levi asked.

“Well, you're enjoying it right?” Hange murmured.

Levi was suddenly aware of the prickling at the back of his neck, the blood that rushed through his face and more importantly, the light pressure just underneath.

“It’s hard,” Hange commented. Her hand had barely grazed the surface, but her hand had been very much between the legs, just close enough to feel it, but still far enough to chalk it up as some light and accidental caress.

Levi didn’t brush it away. Instead, he pressed himself deeper on her and Hange may have understood. Her own hand cupped between his legs, notably more gently that time. “I wondered about the three holes of the titan… and I looked at my own, tried testing it myself like you suggested a while ago,” Hange admitted between huffs. “But I noticed something, it hurts... when I was doing it… and it hurt when we did it to the titan… and I thought…”

“You’re still thinking about your fucking research?” Now? And Levi couldn’t help but be just a little disappointed. What the hell were those last few minutes for?

“What if…” Hange continued, as if Levi hadn’t cursed her just a second ago. “What if… titans are humans?”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“You put the iron rod in, right? You were gentle with it… You wriggled the same way… Tell me, did it feel the same way with the titan.”

What the hell type of god forsaken question is this? “I can’t tell,” Levi responded.

“You know, I can’t seem to get it in,” Hange fell back on the wall. The pink in her cheeks did nothing to mask her disappointment.

Levi dropped his shoulders and leaned back on the wall right next to her. “You can find out for yourself right?” he suggested.

“Any suggestions?” Hange asked with an exasperated tone.

”And I can't help but think… the reason why you’re not gentle is because you get too excited, you’re too impulsive---”

“And?”

“Maybe you just have to keep trying to be gentler?”

“You said that already.”

“Then maybe it’s better done than said,” Levi responded. His right hand was conveniently next to Hange’s nad Hange’s hand had conveniently or deliberately slipped right under his. In one opportunity for emphasis, Levi held her hand close to his. “If you want me too, I’ll teach you for a while longer than this.”

“But you're just repeating the same thing again and again. You're not very good at explaining it…”

“I think I can,” Levi said. He took a deep breath, an attempt to buy time but even as he opened his mouth, he realized he didn’t know what else to say either. “Respect,” Levi started, rehashing the same term as a while ago. “Or whatever you feel with titans… If you respect them, you want them to be comfortable and suddenly, you just want to be gentle with them right?”

“Is that how you feel with everyone?” Hange asked. She turned to him and Levi started to feel a soft caress at his fingertips.

“Maybe…” Levi responded. He looked to Hange then, he traced the brown in her eyes, the shape her eye lashes seemed to make as they framed her eyes. Then with one look, he looked down at her hands, caressing his finger tips.

Graceful, elegant, smooth, despite the lines and the burns that seemed to dot them. He never answered her and in that moment of silence, Hange didn’t press for more. When Hange had fallen over, propped her head on his shoulder in exhaustion and when Levi had instinctively propped his own hand over her head, pulling her closer, Levi started to reflect.

Maybe he had only ever been that gentle with Hange. And at that point, he probably wouldn't mind if it would only ever be Hange.

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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kamosweasley · 3 years

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Won’t you pull me through ? (Fred and George Weasley)

Description : Amber meet her friend Emily to take a tea and they talk about the war and the twins. It’s inspired by the song Trouble by Cage The Elephant.

Word count : 2.2K

Warning : angst, mention of death, torture, scars, death and mental illness.

Lyrics from Trouble by Cage The Elephant are in italics.

Tag list : @memekingofwwiii

After knocking at the door, Emily entered with her brighter smile. It's been a while since she's had the opportunity to see her friend, the last few months have been a mess in the wizarding world with the death of Voldemort and the end of the war. She's doing her best but she's still overwhelmed, although the smile of Amber makes it all go away within a second.

-Hey love.

-Emily ! It's been a long time since the last time I saw you around ! How are you ?

-Pretty good, things are exhausting lately but we have to deal with it. We're in the middle of reconstruction, it's normal that things are moving fast.

-This is a good thing, this terrible year is finally behind us. Do you know how well the reconstruction is progressing at Hogwarts?

-McGonagall supervises, so it's efficient and almost done. She must be a great principal, she is what the students need after the trauma of war.

-I don't even want to imagine the condition that some people must be in, a whole year being tortured by sadistic deatheaters when they were only children …

The two friends sat down at a table to drink the tea Amber had prepared in advance. There is a silence following Amber's sentence, Emily looking at her with a hint of concern. Rare are the people who have not suffered from war and who do not continue to suffer from it today. Some have experienced more painful things than others, such as Amber who was imprisoned and tortured during the war at the Malfoy mansion. It was in the last month before the Battle of Hogwarts, she was able to escape thanks to Dobby, with Luna and Ollivander. Emily hadn't been able to see her before the Battle of Hogwarts a month later, she didn't seem to have experienced all the horrors she told her afterwards. On the battlefield she looked like a warrior determined to win, even at the risk of her life. She was unstoppable, and she survived. They both survived, not everyone was so lucky.

-Now all these assholes are either in jail or dead. My only regret is not being able to get revenge on Bellatrix before Molly killed her. That bitch left awful scars on me, and since they were made with black magic it can't be removed.

-You talk about it like it's nothing, so you feel better ?

-It was hard at first, the first few weeks after the battle I felt like I didn't recognize myself. When I looked in the mirror, I saw a stranger. But it's been getting better for a while, I feel good.

-I’m glad to hear it. You know that everyone is worried about you, you haven't had an easy time of it.

-There are some who have been through worse, I keep breathing and I have resumed a normal life. I think I’m doing well. Doesn't it look like it ?

-You seem peaceful … After what happened

-Can we talk about something else ? This war has already hurt us enough, don’t you think so ?

-Obviously.

A little annoyed, Amber finished her cup of tea, her hands slightly shaking. Nothing impressive, but Emily notices it, which awakens the worry inside her. She doesn't know what to do, maybe she should apologize for bringing it up. Obviously the blonde didn't want to talk too long about it. With a fleeting look in her eyes, Amber tucks a strand of her long hair behind her ear. The room suddenly seems to her empty and hostile, she loves Emily but talking about the war remains something that makes her uncomfortable. She much prefers to talk about the future and all the joyful things that await them. This is what helps her get better, telling herself tomorrow will be better and she always has the people she loves with her. She will be able to live that future with them. A smile appears on her face, speaking of joy she immediately thinks of them. Her two rays of sunshine.

-I have received the new catalog from George and Fred's store. Have you seen it ? It's still so colorful, it's good to see all these colors in this sad world. Wait, I'll show it to you, I think I put it over there.

The blonde leaves the table to rummage through the drawers of her dresser as Emily looks at her. We had talked to her about it but she wasn't expecting it, how is it possible ?

-Oh Amber …

-What ? You already saw it ? You can tell me, I'm just trying to talk about my best friends. Maybe you went to the store not long ago, it's still fantastic isn’t it ? This place exudes a good mood, if I could I would spend all of my days there.

-Did you go back ?

-Of course ! George and Fred wouldn't talk to me anymore if I wasn't their best customer. I love them so much, I'm glad the war doesn't change them. They are still funny and malicious, they always have been. You know, I think people don't realize how wonderful they are.

-I have never laughed so much as with them, they have always been very funny.

-You see ? That's what I said. I grew up with them, we did so many silly things together but we had so much fun !

-I know, you had few problems because of them. They always took you in their pranks, you were driving the professors crazy. They found you calm and studious, they didn't understand why you were doing this.

-Do you know this song ? It says “trouble on my left, trouble on my right, I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life.” That’s on growing with George and Fred. You learn to like problems and to be clever enough to make it good.

-I can imagine. Which song is it ?

-Trouble by Cage The Elephant. You should listen to it one day, it’s really great. It reminds me of my friendship with George and Fred.

-Because they always put you in trouble ?

-Not only that, and to be honest I’ve always loved it. These are the best moments of my life, the three of us always had fun as kids. It's not really the same anymore …

The silence remains, for a moment you can see a shadow on Amber's face, revealing suffering. The mask falls, she has not moved on as she claims, she is still haunted by what happened. We can not say that she is an exceptional case, it was war, but Amber is a special case.

-I miss them, they don’t come often but they’re busy with their shop. Business is running for them, they deserve it. They work so hard for their shop.

-Amber, you know very well that their store has not reopened.

-What the hell are you talking about ? Of course it reopened ! I went there, I helped them put everything back in place.

-It's not possible Amber. The store is still closed, and there is no new catalog.

-But I was there! I know it better than you do, I didn't imagine it ! Were you there to help them with the store ? I don't remember seeing you there, so how can you say it's impossible ? You didn't go back to Diagon Alley ? How can you say the store is closed ? It is not closed !

-Amber …

-IT’S NOT CLOSED ! Damn it, where is this damn catalog !

Now she’s crying, all her body is shaking. Her hands are clenched to the chest of drawers, the white knuckles, she’s so tense. It seems as if the slightest word or gesture could make her explode. Unsure of what to do, Emily gets up and starts walking towards her friend. She wants to comfort her, to tell her that everything will be okay, but that would be lying. It’s been a while now and it's not going to get any better visibly. Yet seeing her like this tears her heart out, she wishes there was something she could do to make her feel better.

-I’m sorry Amber.

-Don’t … Don’t say this, you have nothing to be sorry about.

-We both know isn’t true.

-Why did you come ? I thought you wanted to talk like in the good old days, not that you wanted to bring up all the pain. The war has taken something from all of us, it's time to stop it and take it back.

-Unfortunately it doesn't work like that, we can't take back what it took from us. The dead cannot be brought back to life.

-No one should have died.

They can only agree on this point, this war should not have taken place and it should not have taken so many lives. Emily is standing in the middle of the room, Amber still in front of the dresser but she is almost shaking. The tears are already drying on her cheeks but she doesn't seem to care, she keeps scratching the inside of her right hand with her index. Worries fill Emily's thoughts, she feels like she's screwed up all over the place. She was hoping that she could make things better, make Amber feel better, but she's not worried that she's robbed her even more.

-Please leave, I need some quiet.

The blonde takes a cassette from one of the drawers of the chest of drawers, with red eyes she inserts it into a cassette player. The music begins as she leaves the room with a heavy heart. How did her friend get there ? After closing the door, Emily lets out a sigh. Things are worse than she expected, Amber is still in denial. The real version of the story is much sadder than Amber's version. She really escaped the Malfoy mansion in April after being tortured, she wasn’t that good but it’s the Battle of Hogwarts who makes her fall. She was on a fine line, fighting for her survival and to save her loved ones. She was fighting against her own sanity during the battle, every second, every move, every thought was a step forward. She was winning, seeing a glimmer of hope when Voldemort died. Her first reaction was to laugh at having a hard time breathing, it was over, they had won, she had won. So she ran through the castle to find her two best friends, she had seen them during the battle but was unable to join them at that time. They were finally going to be reunited, to be again the trio they always have been. No matter what they had gone through, they had survived and they will be able to rebuild themself together.

Nobody can imagine the pain that hit her when she saw the two dead bodies on the ground. It was like the blast of an explosion, in less than a second her world collapsed. They were all she had, she has been an orphan for years, an only child, Fred and George were all that mattered to her. Thus broke the spirit of the young woman

-She hasn't progressed since May …

-It can take a long time before she may feel ready to accept the truth. She knows it but she needs to do it all again.

-But how much longer ? She's not going to stay locked up here all her life !

-When she accepts reality and gets over it, she can return to live with her family.

-She has no family left, her parents died years ago and she had no one else. And the twins died too ... I'm afraid she has no family left.

The lyrics of the song can be heard through the door, from what she hears, Emily understands how this music speaks so much to Amber. “My sweet love, won’t you pull me through ? Everywhere I look I catch a glimpse of you.” It must be horrible to lose your two best friends, even more when you think of them as your brothers, your last family. She really lost everything that day, even her sanity.

~~~~

“God don’t let me lose my mind.” She sings with this whole heart, eyes closed and serenity filling the room. She knows the lyrics by heart, it became her favorite song because it reminds her of them. When she opens her eyes she faces the twins, sitting at the table. They exchange a mischievous look before looking at her, it's like when they were young. A blink of an eye and they are three children facing each other, mischievous and innocent. Then teenagers, running through Hogwarts to escape Filch, out of breath but having fun. It's only onto the common room they can relax, out of danger. Fred told Amber that it's her turn to do it, so she takes his wand and puts it on the map. Surrounded by his two best friends, Amber open her eyes and as a tear falls, she whispers :

-Mischief managed.

#george weasley #george weasley fic #george weasley imagine #george weasley angst #fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley angst #weasley twins

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