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anyroads · 2 years

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OK you know what, if we're gonna talk about Bake Off then fuck it, let's do this.

It used to be this wholesome, lovely show! We used to watch it for the bakers! And the learning! And the light banter and occasional bit of coy innuendo! What happened?

Channel 4 happened. When they bought the show they made a number of changes, most of them Not Good™️. Not just in the sense of them resulting in a lot of 😬 and 🫠 moments, but in the sense of how they changed the show's purpose, atmosphere, and brand.

Look, I know most people are just like, "whatever, it's just a baking show," and yeah, sure. But it's one of the UK's most successful TV exports, and where it once shifted the tone of reality competition to being wholesome and supportive of contestants, it's since moved towards creating tension at the contestants' cost. So aside from the fact that most people watching it signed up to watch a nice show, it has also shifted the goalposts of what that even means. And that, lovelies and gentlefolk, is some bullshit.

I decided to break my rant analysis into four main parts: theme weeks, the hosts, the judges, and the bakers. Let's get to it!

Theme Weeks:

If you watch Bake Off, you know the show's always had a specific theme for each week. The staples that come up in most seasons are:

cake

biscuit

bread

pudding/dessert

pastry

patisserie

Less common but consistent are things like caramel and chocolate week.

Then there are the fun episodes! When GBBO was on the BBC, this started out with things tea week, tarts, pies, tray bakes, basically little tangents still focused on emphasizing specific baking skills. In Series 6 (still on the BBC) they had their first nation-focused theme week with French week -- fairly innocuous given that a lot of patisserie is French, France and England share much more culture than either cares to admit [Norman Flag dot gif], and it was a nice change from watching Paul make the bakers do recipes that involved boiling things while talking about how wonderful boiled doughs are (are they, Paul? Are they?).

The show kept mixing it up with innocuous themes like advanced dough and alternative ingredients weeks, European cakes, Victorian week, batter week, and botanical week. And while it was frustrating to watch Paul Hollywood mispronounce things like the Hungarian Dobos Torta and lecture bakers on babka when he clearly knew nothing about it (or about Jewish baking in general, go off Past Me), the show's general attitude was that the judges had their own opinions, which were separate from the immutable facts around the chemistry of baking (more on this later) and shouldn't affect how bakers are judged.

After the show moved to Channel 4, the number of themed weeks increased and more of them focused on specific countries. In 6 seasons on the BBC, there were only two country-focused theme weeks, and in 5 seasons on Channel 4 there have been five. And while they've also had themes like vegan baking, roaring 20s, the 1980s, spice week, etc. the show has really started to go hard on exoticizing other cultures in outright disrespectful and racist ways. There's been Italian and Danish week, German, Japanese (it wasn't, it was East Asian week), and now Mexican week (which doesn't touch on interspersed Jewish bakes that didn't get a theme week, like versions of bagels and babka set as technical challenges that were borderline hate crimes and mansplained by a guy who has no idea how to make either and once wrote in a cookbook that challah was traditionally eaten during Passover). Each time the hosts played up the theme with racist bits and jokes that can be used as evidence in court if your case is "why should shows with scripted content have a professional writing staff."

Which touches on other issues the show has now...

The Hosts:

When GBBO was on the BBC, the show was hosted by ✨Mel Giedroyc✨ and ✨Sue Perkins✨. They encouraged the bakers! They'd hold stuff for them sometimes! They were interested in them! If a baker had a breakdown, they would start singing copyrighted material to render the footage unusable! When the show moved to Channel 4, they left, though I'm not unconvinced that Channel 4 offered them impossible to accept contracts to force them out so they could rebrand the show. They replaced them with Sandy Toksvig and Noel Fielding. Sandy was a lovely host in the vein of Mel and Sue, and she and Noel had a relatively sweet rapport, but she left a few seasons ago and was replaced by Matt Lucas.

Noel Fielding is mostly known for his quirky brand of comedy, a sort of British Zooey Deschanel who's goth from the neck up, an upperclass British gay divorcee from the neck down, and basically an early 60s Beatle re: trousers. Matt Lucas has almost definitely never watched a single episode of GBBO and his most redeeming quality is his thinly veiled contempt for Paul Hollywood.

The two treat the baking tent as their personal playground. Far from the supportive attitude of Mel and Sue, they tend to get in the bakers' way during the most stressful moments, especially when they try to do hilarious "comedy" bits (I can't not put that in quotes) like Noel's talking wooden spoon thing, or Matt talking over Noel to do time calls. During theme weeks like Japanese and Mexican week, they do culture-specific bits that are both racist ("just Juan joke" and "is Mexico a real place?") and unsurprising, given that both Matt and Noel did blackface on their respective sketch shows and absolutely could and should have known better because it was already the current fucking century.

All this to say, there's now a separation between the bakers and the hosts, as if they're on different shows. The hosts are doing their own thing and the bakers are doing GBBO. The show has gotten meaner to the bakers, and the hosts aren't there to support them anymore, they're just there to be comic relief. Because when you refocus your show on stressing the bakers the fuck out, you need a forced laugh I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

The Judges:

First of all, a sincere congratulations to Paul Hollywood who managed to squeeze I jUsT cAmE bAcK fRoM mExIcO aNd YeT sTiLL pRoNoUnCe PiCo De GaLLo As 'PiKa De KaLLa' and I aM aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS wHiCh aRe MaDe WiTh DiGeStiVe BiScUiTs AcCoRdiNg tO mE, aN eXpErT oN s'MoReS, just two in a giant pile of astoundingly wrong hot takes, into a short enough time span that they all aired within Liz Truss's term as Prime Minister. A true man of accomplishments.

In the interest of fairness, I need to preface this with a disclaimer that, due to the fact that I've been watching Bake Off for most of its run, I'm biased. Specifically, I can't stand Paul Hollywood's smarmy, classist, egomaniac ass because he's proven time and again he's more interested in looking smart than actually knowing what he's talking about. Since the show moved to Channel 4, they've changed the occasional handshake Paul would give bakers to the HoLlYwOoD hAnDsHaKe™️. It's gone from being an emphasis of someone's skill to a goal, a reward, and one that emphasizes the judges' place above the bakers.

The judges used to function as teachers, imparting their skills and insights to the bakers. When the show was on the BBC, the voiceover leading to a judging would focus on the bakers' work being finished, saying how it will now be evaluated based on their skill and how well they met the brief. The voiceovers now, on Channel 4, focus on the judging (literally saying something along the lines of, "the bakers will now be judged by Prue and Paul"). There is a clear distinction Channel 4's producers have made, to mark that the show is now about whether or not the judges approve, not whether the brief was understood and executed well. On the BBC, it was irrelevant whether the judges liked a particular flavor, as long as the bake was well-made. Now, the bakers are expected to know the judges tastes and cater to them, which is frankly bullshit. A judge doesn't have to like a flavor to know whether or not it was executed well, ie. is it carrying a bake and was it meant to etc.

The judges have been turned into a brand. Cynically, Channel 4 knows that by building them up and focusing the show more on them, they can exploit their image more for profit. In the process, they've become much more biased and their own biases have come out as well. Most recently in the flaming dumpster fire that was Mexican Week, Paul Hollywood tried to intimidate a baker by telling them he had just gotten back from Mexico (which must have been a fruitful learning trip if he couldn't even learn how to pronounce pico de gallo correctly). Where do I even start with this? Here's an amateur baker from England (the show specifically casts middle and lower middle class bakers for the most part??) who likely can't afford trips to Mexico, who lives in a country with incredibly limited access to Mexican cuisine, who is expected not only to understand the cooking and baking traditions of a completely different culture but to do so well enough to play with it and do something creative with it. On top of which, one of the judges is now using his privilege of traveling halfway around the world as some kind of leverage, as if this were a bar that any amateur British baker could clear.

Prue, meanwhile, has openly asserted her biases against cultural flavors and textures, prioritizing her own personal preferences over them, as if they were in any way relevant to the skills and knowledge necessary to execute the tasks she sets to the bakers. She has also been consistently elitist, criticizing bakers for choices they made that were clearly informed by their experiences within income brackets that are too low and foreign for Prue to comprehend. She once had a go at a baker on a Christmas special because his Christmas dinner themed bake didn't have a turkey, even though it was clear from the stories he shared of his own Christmases that his family likely couldn't afford one. "It's not really Christmas dinner without a turkey," Prue said into the camera angrily while sitting on a chair made of live orphans and telling the ghost of Christmas Future to come back when he had another museum gift shop necklace for her to round out her collection.

The show is no longer about which baker has the best skills. It's become about which mortal can appease the gods of Mount Olympus, ie. the judges.

The Bakers:

Remember when the show was about them? Channel 4 doesn't! Because this is a reality competition show, the bakers are chosen both based on their skills, as well as cast-ability. They're cast as characters, distinct from each other, from different areas, age groups, ethnicities. All of them are amateurs. All of them are middle or lower middle class. They've ranged from college students to supermarket cashiers to prison wardens to scientists.

Something I noticed when the show moved to Channel 4 is that the baker who goes home in the first week is always wildly behind the rest in skills. I have no proof of this other than my eyeballs and deductive reasoning skills, but I think that Channel 4 deliberately casts a ringer each season who they think will be an easy send-off in the first week, just to get the audience's feet wet.

Anyway, like I said, this show used to be about the bakers - about them building skills and learning, and having walked into the tent with a self-taught foundation and understanding of the processes and chemical reactions involved in baking. When the show was on the BBC, the end of each round had some (often brief) moments of tension - will they finish in time? Will they get their bakes on the plate before time is up? Did they forget to add sugar to their batter and only remember at the last minute? In the end, they usually managed to finish and we'd all breathe a sigh of relief and think, yeah! You go, Bakers Who I'm Rooting For!

Now, on Channel 4, the end of round drama has been stretched to be so much longer that they've composed extra music for it. The bakers often seem out of their depth, whether because the instructions for the technical challenge are too vague (bake a lemon meringue pie??? As if anyone in the UK under the age of 60 has had one in the last decade???), or because they were expected to bake something that required a more than a basic foundation they weren't told of. Often it seems like they just aren't given enough time, a tactic used by reality competition shows to manipulate contestants into giving the cameras more dramatic content. On top of all this, the hosts get in their way, instead of helping them plate their bakes. As has been pointed out before, when everyone fails the challenge, the real failure lies with whoever set it.

In conclusion:

The show no longer exists to teach the bakers - and the audience - skills or knowledge. It now manipulates contestants for dramatic effect and prioritizes showing conflict over wholesome content. Channel 4 sees the bakers as social media content they can churn out season after season, and don't care about them because in a few months there'll be a new batch to exploit. Meanwhile, the judges are also out of their depth, co-opting recipes from other cultures and butchering them horrendously, while the camera gives them nothing but status as they hold bakers to the expectation that they learn how to make things very much the wrong way. If you saw any of the tweets about Mexican or Japanese week, or read my post on how Paul Hollywood isn't allowed to go near babka ever again, you'll understand.

So what would fix all this? Scrap the current judges and the hosts altogether. Bring back Mel and Sue, and replace the judges with expert bakers who have a love of their craft and want to share it with others. The draw of GBBO used to be its warmth and comfort - if Channel 4 isn't going to start its own version of Master Chef For Bakers, then it needs to stop trying to find a balance of how it can insert that vibe into GBBO. It can't. That's not a thing. Stop trying.

#GBBO #paul hollywood #prue leith #the great british bake off

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seananmcguire · 11 months

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That Xiran Jay Zhao video about the amount of time it takes to get paid by the publisher, a couple of time she says "that's just the way it is." Are there actual, legitimate business reasons for holding off paying someone 6 or 8 or more months what they've earned for their book? Or is it the publisher basically going "We'll pay you when we pay you. What are you gonna do about it?" because they're essentially the one in charge?

And is it the same for all authors? Or is there an unofficial "tier" system based on your name? Are they telling people like Stephen King or James Patterson or Neil Gaiman "you'll see your money in 8 months" or are they more likely to be getting monthly checks just because of who they are?

There are some legitimate business reasons, yes.

Okay, so let's look at the way a book is sold to a publisher. I'm going to use very round numbers, because I don't want to do a lot of math right now. So say I sell a book for $15,000 under the traditional three installment contract--signing, delivery/acceptance, and publication. What this means is I sign the contract, I get a $5,000 check! Yay! I will also get checks when the book is turned in and accepted, emphasis because it means I can't just give them a word jumble and claim I turned the book in, and then again when the book comes out. We're ignoring side situations like "book is never turned in" and "book is never published."

But wait! My agent gets 15% off the top of each of those checks, which isn't a whole lot at $5,000--$750--but means I'm receiving effectively a $4,250 check, and then waiting maybe a year for the next one.

In the US, 1/3rd of that check goes automatically to taxes, and I cannot math that very well, but it's about $1,416. So I'm left with $2,834 as my payment for the year. This is why most authors will have day jobs.

This structure makes sense. They pay you to call dibs on your book: they pay you when the dibs pan out: they pay you when they can start making money. Now, recently, some publishers have started going to a four stage advance payment, and I can't see any real justification for that. Maybe someone will give me one. I'd be fascinated to know what it is.

So here's the thing: until the book is out, there is no more money. You've been paid for the book, but it's not making money for the publisher yet, and so of course you're not getting more money. It used to be the expectation that your advance would pay your bills while you wrote the next book; that is clearly no longer the case. I live in Seattle. A single check from a three-stage advance isn't paying my mortgage for a month. But.

Once the book is out, it can start making money, and that's when things get complicated. Say a bookstore places an order for 10 copies of AWESOME NEW BESTSELLER. Yay! That should be ten sales, and ten units of whatever your royalty is, right? Only these are physical items, and bookstores can return them, so your publisher marks it down as "ten sales, five reserve against returns," meaning you're only getting credit for five sales until the return window (usually a year) runs out. Where it gets a little hinky is when the bookstore sells all ten and orders ten more, and the publisher still has it marked as "five (now ten) reserve against returns." Basically, you're only getting credit for half your sales until that reserve window closes.

Sadly, thanks to certain retailer policies, this has been grandfathered into applying to electronic sales as well.

TL,DR: The delay in royalty payments is to give bookstores time to sell the books, and mean that your publisher doesn't pay you for a hundred sales, only to ask for the money from fifty to be given back when books are returned. This could happen faster in the modern world, but that would involve publishers paying us faster, and they like to keep the money in their hands as long as possible.

To the best of my knowledge, no one is A Big Enough Author that they can demand their money now, right now. And this is why trad publishing continues to self-select for the wealthy and the young.

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dilatorywriting · 9 months

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: Fish are friends (?). You are not food.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3]

The Siren wasn’t leaving.

Which a part of you had been expecting. Because surely if there had been a snowball’s chance in Hell of him making it out into the open ocean alive before you’d cut through the ropes, he would have taken it and left you stranded without a second thought. And his odds weren’t that much better now—his fins were still a mangled mess and the wounds all along his scales and dainty featherings were still raw and oozing. It only made sense that he’d take at least a few days to try and recover.

But… But still.

Did he have to make it so obvious that he was sticking around?

The glint of the light off his tail was a constant distraction—always bright and eye-catching even at the cloudiest points of the day. Always flashing just out of the corner of your eye as a perpetual reminder that there was something in the water that would very happily gobble you up if you bothered making a swim for safety.

He’d also taken to sunning himself. Like some kind of overgrown mer-cat. Stretched out languidly on a flat rock with the tips of his violet fins hanging over the edge—just enough for the gauzy edges to play along the surf and avoid drying out entirely. His pale hair splayed out in a halo around him as he snoozed softly in the heat of the afternoon.

Which! No fair! This wasn’t a vacation! This was a stranding! An SOS! A Rose Queen Procedural Rule Four-Hundred-and-Four! And him taking up the whole of the cove to, I don’t know, tan, felt like another intentional slap in the face. The sun rose over the bay, which meant this stretch of shore was facing East. Which was the direction your vessel had been coming from. Which meant that this was the place on the little islet where you needed to be. Subsection Three of Procedural Four-O’-Four. ‘In the case of Crew Overboard, we will always travel the same route as planned. In order to give the Strandee a chance to map out a reconnection point.’ Riddle always had been so smart about these kinds of things.

‘It’s just until he’s better,’ you reassured yourself for the umpteenth time that morning. ‘Then he’ll leave and I can get rescued or die here alone and in peace.’

A fin flicked up from the shallows to spray you with saltwater splatters and you spluttered indignantly when it ran down into your eyes. You glared at the Siren’s retreating back, musing bitterly about how you’d never thought it was possible for someone to make the tuck of their shoulders look smug.

‘Alone and in peace,’ you repeated hopefully. And it sounded like such far off dream.

On the second day post-rope-removal, the Siren waved you down with a sharp flick of his wrist.

You approached the waterline hesitantly, still mostly waiting for him to turn on you and make toothpicks out of your bones. But instead of murdering you and getting crafty with your corpse, he just pointed to some scribbles in the sand. You squinted at the loop-de-loops suspiciously. It almost looked like an illustration of dancing bubbles—the lot of them curling and popping along the ground in a line like a limerick.

“Uhm, very nice,” you tried, and the fins flattened pissilly all along the side of his head.

He jabbed his claw towards the mess again. Then firmly at your eyes (hopefully not as a threat that he’d be happy to take them right out of your head if you continued to be obtuse). And then back again. He made a point to move the tip of his sharp nail from one swirl to the next in a little hop-hop-hop. It reminded you a bit deliriously of Riddle trying to teach some of the more socially bereft members of the crew their letters, and—

“You want me to read that?” you gaped, staring at the elegant curls of nonsense in the sand.

The Siren crossed his arms across his lean chest with a scoff that puffed past his lips hard enough to fluff out some of the paler, purple-tipped, hair hanging by his chin. He rolled his eyes at you and muttered something thin and spicy under his breath that you just knew had to be some sort of insult.

“I can read!” you defended, because it felt like it needed defending.

He leveled you with an entirely unimpressed ‘Oh, I’m sure you can’ sneer and you dropped to your knees, incensed. You dug your fingers into the sand and started sculpting out your own very cheery message into the muck.

When you were done, you waved a hand towards your proclamation and watched his brows pull together at the center into a teeny, pinched sort of expression. He let himself roll forward with the seafoam to lay more fully on the shore, and stared down at the mess you’d made like it was some strange code. Even reaching out to poke softly at the straight edge of a ‘T’ with one of his knife-sharp talons.

After a long moment of contemplation, he looked back up at you with an arched brow that was so unintentionally poised and not full of spite that it almost took your breath away. Who knew how pretty an already stunning face could become when it wasn’t twisted up in absolute vitriol? You shook away that absolutely damning thought in horror. That’s exactly what he’d want you to think. Siren, and all. Using his hotness to lure people onto his dinner table. Not you, baby. Because you were smart. And so gross from being stranded under island sunshine for a week that surely you’d taste like some absolutely rancid jerky at this point.

“Oh no,” you droned, and immediately that subtle curiosity of his ticked right back into irritation. “Two creatures from entirely different species and ecosystems have somehow managed to develop unique alphabets. What a completely unpredictable complication.”

The Siren puffed up like an angry lionfish and turned with a snarl to dive back into the shallows—making sure to whip his tail in your face and slam into the water with a huge splash as he went. The salt spray pelted down like rain and you snickered as it sloughed off your cheeks in rivulets, content to sit merrily in the wet sand beside your hastily scribbled: ‘Mermen Are Vicious Bitches. Hit Me if You Agree :)’

The next morning, there were more fish on the shoreline. Though these ones looked a bit less like they’d been dragged up by their souls and left to writhe in the wake of Siren-Screaming-Agony and more just like the unfortunate victims of a pair of too sharp claws.

You frowned down at a brown, sad-looking flounder that had clearly found itself at the very wrong end of a certain merman still swanning about in the bay not fifty feet away. It was mostly intact, and pleasantly plump for a flat, pancake-looking blob of muck. Your stomach gurgled and the thought of a nice, coal-charred, fillet really seemed quite nice. You chanced another peek at your resident Asshole, debating if it was worth swiping his snack. Another ominous rumble from your abdomen and you reached down to steal your prize and scuttle off deeper inland like a troll returning to its layer.

It didn’t take very long to get a small fire going, and within the hour you’d been fed and were more than ready for a cozy, full-bellied nap in the soft sand.

By the time you began to make your way back to the cove, the sun was high in the sky and you were already dreading sitting beneath its weighted rays for another afternoon. So you slowed your pace to a near snail crawl, dragging your feet as you went.

The little octopus from earlier was still swaying contentedly around the tide pool you’d shoved it into. It probably needed to be carried back out to the bay at some point so that it could swim back into the depths of the ocean, but the poor thing was just so small and round. Surely it’d get devoured by the first sharp-toothed thing that caught sight of it. Especially with your merman apparently being out for the blood of whatever other scaly things were swimming about in his temporary home. So for now you slipped it some small bits of leftover fish instead. You sat, crouched at the pool’s edge, and watched raptly as it grabbed the shredded bits of pale meat with its chubby tentacles to shove towards an eager beak.

“You’re the only friend I have left in the whole world,” you told the octopus miserably, wiping the greasy remnants of your lunch off your chin with a sigh.

The traitor hurriedly moved to snatch up the treat you’d offered it and hide itself away between some rocky crevices. You sighed louder. Rejected. What a time to be alive.

The next morning, the Siren was singing again.

That familiar prickle danced its way up your arms, leaving pinpricks of goosebumps in its wake. Some pirates told tales of storms leaving their mark in such a way—that seasoned sailors could feel the tickle of thunder against their skin long before they could spot dark clouds on the horizon. You’d have to amend that little legend whenever you found your way back to The Rose Queen. Siren Sense was a lot cooler, anyways. Any idiot with arthritis could tell you when rain was due.

But either way, Mister Merman was back to idly circling the bay and calling into the distance. At least it wasn’t as miserable as it had been the other day—more of a leisurely pacing than the frantic, near-feral caterwauling that had soured your gut so terribly.

There was another fat fish on the shore. A bright, red snapper so brilliantly crimson that it was almost impossible to make out the garish wounds in its side. Almost. And even if it hadn’t been, the drooping, rust colored, rivulets dug into the sand would have been enough of a clue.

Why the Siren was bothering to leave his clawed-up kills at your feet like some overgrown cat dragging in mice, you had no idea. Maybe he was poisoning them, and subsequently you. Maybe he was bored and it was some sort of fishy enrichment. Maybe he just didn’t want to bother leaving dead things around to contaminate his favorite sunning spots, and tossing his leftovers in your vicinity was as close to a reliable dumpster as he could find on a remote island. Who’s to say.

Either way, you dutifully ignored the magical tingles racing up your shoulders and brought the newest fish back to your makeshift firepit. You grilled the snapper in silence, debating. Then you fed your octopus friend and returned to the beach, cooked fillets in tow.

You waited in awkward silence for a few moments, fish burning your palms, before raising your fingers to your lips and whistling loud enough to make your teeth ache. The mystical static faded from the air and you watched in pleasant (?) surprise as the Siren made his way back to where you’d set up camp. He rolled in with the tide, cresting on a gentle bit of surf and coming to rest neatly in the shallows—fins splayed out beneath him like a lord lying amidst his many silken robes. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked at you with an arched brow and slanted frown.

You awkwardly extended a hand—roasted snapper still resting in your open palm and burning the absolute fuck out of your fingers.

“Uhm,” you said, feeling a bit too much like the local idiot trying to feed one of the rabid, wandering, strays around town. “Food?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you.

“Do you want food?” you tried.

The other brow joined the first, nearly rising all the way into his hairline. It wasn’t a pleasant sort of surprise.

“It’s better cooked?” you coaxed in the face of his outright constipated scowl. Be fed and full, you thought hopefully. Maybe then you won’t fucking look at me like I’m a boxed lunch.

He jabbed a sharpened, black talon in your direction, and then pointedly again angled up towards your mouth. Then back to the fish still roasting your poor cuticles straight off your fingers.

You blinked, a bit thrown.

“What? It’s supposed to be for me?”

He nodded, throwing in another one of those bombastically snarky eyerolls for good measure. ‘Obviously,’ that sneer said.

“Well,” you huffed, plopping down to sit cross-legged in the sand and offering up one of the fillets. “There’s plenty for both of us.” When he stared at you like you were attempting to serve him up a choice pile of literal dog shit, you wiggled your hand and entreated, “Please just take it before my skin melts off.”

The Siren huffed and reached out, plucking up the fish with the tips of his claws. He observed your meager meal as one might a particularly unappealing cockroach, and after a long moment, his nose scrunched (cute, you thought absently before immediately suffocating every wayward braincell that would dare call your murderous shore-neighbor anything of the sort) and he leaned forward to nip at a crisped, pink corner with the barest edge of one canine.

When your culinary creation didn’t immediately strike him dead on the spot, he took another, equally dainty bite. And then another. The tight pucker of his mouth eased as he chewed, and you watched as the harsh cut of his purple irises warmed with that same intrigue as they had when you’d first scribbled your foreign letters into the sand.

He readjusted his grip on the fish between his claws to get a better angle and took a proper bite, chewing thoughtfully. Before you knew it, you were watching him nip at the pads of his fingers, his gaze going a bit round and shocked when he realized that he’d devoured the entirety of it.

“See?” you hummed, tucking into your own portion with gusto. “Not all things humans come up with are terrible.” He harumphed and turned to glare back out over the bay, slouching into the surf with an expression that was most certainly not a pout. “But maybe you’d know that if you bothered to do anything other than murder and devour us on sight,” you chirped.

To which you were immediately doused with an armful of water for your troubles. The Siren glowered petulantly from where he’d just wave-bombed you, and then dove back into the deeper waters of the sandbar. He immediately started up his stupid singing all over again—pointedly keeping his chin high above the surface and splashing brine into your face anytime he looped close enough to shore.

“I don’t know why I bother,” you huffed, and ate your sopping snapper in grumpy silence.

There was a ship wrecked off the coast.

Nothing overly cool, and definitely only a small chunk of what had probably at one point been a rather impressive vessel. But it was something. The first change in pace you’d had in days and oozing with possibilities.

The only problem was that the great, rotting, hull of the thing was dug up into a jagged skerry about a hundred yards off the shore—wedged into the pointed rocks with no chance of any wave or breeze sending it adrift. You could swim perfectly well. I mean, living your life on a ship surrounded by tumultuous, depthless, ocean would have been a hugely stupid career move otherwise. The issue, naturally, was the thing currently making its home in these waters. Sharks and barracudas, blablabla. They were just animals, no matter how many teeth they had. The Siren had a grudge. And just as many teeth.

Right now, said spiky pain in your ass was lounging in the shallows like the froth was an elegant daybed made just for him—shredded fins swaying in the soft tides and his hair floating about him that same, white-gold halo that made him look far too peaceful for anyone’s good sense. He wasn’t singing today, which was great for the local wildlife population but terrible for your Siren Sense. Once you waded into the waves, you’d have no real way to keep track of him. Hope, maybe, that he didn’t think fucking with you was worth messing up whatever tan-line he had going on. But nothing concrete that you’d be willing to bet the safety of your limbs on.

You wiggled your toes in the sand and stared longingly out at the stupid, wrecked ship that was so stupidly close. If you swam your fastest you could probably make it there in under two minutes—less than that, even. But that was still more than enough time for the Siren to rake those dark claws of his across your throat and drag you down into the depths to drown.

Riddle’s angry, red face swam through your thoughts, and you could practically see him shoving that beloved law tome of his under your nose for the umpteenth time.

‘Rule 32, never make dangerous bets that you’re certain you won’t win, particularly if you are betting against a Blue Nosed Beetle.’

‘Rule 15, do not needlessly sacrifice your life in the name of curiosity, excluding—of course—if you hail from Cheshire or are a Cat.’

‘It’s only a dumb shipwreck,’ you thought miserably, if rationally. ‘It’s probably not even that cool.’

Your captain would be so proud.

The next morning you were rolling up the cuffs on your pants and wading into the cool shallows, silently lighting a candle in your heart for your beloved, steam-faced leader and promising that you would at the very least cover the costs of your own funeral so as not to inconvenience him further.

The waves lapped against your ankles and the waters themselves were shockingly clear and blue. You could practically see each grain of sand beneath your heels—make out each pointy rock and the little, red crabs that scuttled away from your tromping like civilians fleeing from the shadow of a leviathan. The Siren was back to singing today. Perhaps his poor, overworked throat simply needed a break every now and again. But either way, your Merman Magic Missive was working in full force. The hairs on your arms stood at full attention and you liked to imagine you could see them twitching in circles to follow his long, looping arcs through the bay.

You made it up to your knees and waited, eyes scanning the open water and nose twitching like maybe you could smell the fucker. There was nothing but a familiar prickle along your shoulders and that deep sense of ‘tug tug tug’ with no answer, so you took a deep breath and pushed further, the water sloshing up to your hips, your chest, and finally you were floating—paddling slow and cautious towards the wreckage.

It really was insanely close. Even moving at your most cautious, sneakiest crawl, you’d made it nearly three-quarters of the way there within perhaps five minutes. And no signs of a vengeful, hungry Siren circling the waters beneath you either. More rules that perhaps that you’d have to tell Riddle might need some amending once you finally made it back home to your crew. ‘Dangerous bets,’ who? ‘Needless sacrifice,’ what? You might as well have outsmarted the whole ocean.

As you moved closer, you could make out a strange coat of arms on the side of the hull that you didn’t recognize. Twining, silver songbirds soaring against the sparkly backdrop of an otherwise plain faced crest, which honestly looked far too delicate to be heading the broken remains of what was no doubt at one point an absolute monster of a vessel. You reached out to brush your fingers against the shining plaque and then you were underwater.

You fought the immediate impulse to gasp in surprise, because expediting the process of your inevitable drowning just seemed stupid even by your standards. There was a clawed hand wrapped around your calf yanking you down, and you squinted through a stream of panicked bubbles to see your terrible, horrible, completely thankless co-strandee snarling up at you with sharp teeth and a sharper flail of his delicate gills. Thankfully the water wasn’t all that deep, so by the time you’d been dragged to the bottom you were maybe only ten feet under. But still. It was the goddamn principle! And besides, you’d heard about enough drunks drowning in puddles to know that this was more than enough Liquid Death to put you in an early grave.

The Siren looped around you in tight circles, and you could feel the brush of his tattered fins against your skin like the ghostly fingers of a reaper trailing down your spine. You’d known he was big—giant, even. Long, and impressive, and built to rule the very depths he’d dragged you into. Large enough to wrestle with sharks and capsize lifeboats. Big enough, no doubt, to eat you whole and still be hungry enough for seconds.

The salt stung your eyes and you blinked hard to keep his vibrant, amethyst tail in focus. Would he strike from the back, where you couldn’t see? Or would he go right for your throat—a direct, full frontal, ‘fuck you, human’ if there ever was one. And honestly, what were you expecting? That a good deed and a few pieces of cooked fish would sway him from devouring you whole? Maybe the island sun had fried whatever remained of your rattled brain.

He stopped in front of you and hissed—a stream of tight, tiny, bubbles jetting past his canines. You glared in petulant confusion, absolutely refusing to give your would-be murderer whatever reaction he was hoping for. His brow pinched into a tight, angry, v and he snarled again. You snarled back, and with that, the last breath in your lungs swooped out of you in a tight squeak. You choked, and struggled, and kicked at the claws holding you down. The Siren reared back, eyes widening in something that looked insultingly like genuine surprise, and you used his moment of hesitation to propel yourself off the sandbar and back to the choppy surface.

You gasped in a hasty breath, expecting to immediately be dragged back under. But when you weren’t pulled back down to your watery grave, you took in another and another. Gasping, and hacking, and spitting up seafoam. The Siren’s head crested the surface beside you and you flailed away, nearly pushing yourself under all over again. You paddled frantically, trying to keep your nose above the tide, and then suddenly there was something under you. You squawked and kicked it on instinct. The Siren snapped his pointy teeth in your face and you realized with a start that oh. That was him, wasn’t it? The long, winding, scaled muscles of his tail curled beneath your toes in what almost seemed like an attempt to keep you upright.

He stared at you with those unnervingly bright eyes of his—blonde hair curling softly at the edges where it plastered elegantly along his finned ears, and those too-long lashes dripping with small, sparkly, drops of salt water.

“What the hell is this bullshit?” you choked, coughing up more bubbly froth. “You don’t get to look so—so put together after trying to murder me!”

The Siren huffed out something that the delusional, still half-drowned, part of you wanted to classify as a laugh. And then he organized that bemused expression back into its usual, haughty, iciness and began to carefully make his way back towards the shore—towing you along like a poor, little, lost buoy with nowhere else to go.

You let him drag you up into the sand and only flopped around a little. He flicked his tail at you and your dramatics and you turned on him with a fierce, waterlogged scowl—a bit more confident now that he didn’t have the home field advantage.

“What was that for! I just wanted to look at the ship! I wasn’t even doing anything to you!” you wailed. “I haven’t done anything to you at all! Ever! Why do you keep—" you collapsed back into the sand with a miserable whine that rattled all the teeth in your head, and ground the heels of your palms into your eyes until you saw stars.

After a long moment of nothing, you felt a gentle tap at your shoulder.

You looked back up with a start to see Mister Merman looking nearly sheepish.Or as much of an equivalent that his aloof mask of a face was capable of pulling off. The clawed finger resting at your collarbone dropped to the sand by your hip, and he carefully began to draw more of those squiggles. No, scratch that. Not the dancing, popping, ones from the other day. These actually looked sort of like the silver songbirds from that shipwreck. More jagged, certainly. But similar enough that you felt something a bit too coldly cautious to be confusion seep through your guts.

Once he was finished, he looked up and met your gaze—sharp, pointed. And then he reached back out and smeared the birds into nothing and shook his head, firm. His red lips moved slowly, exaggerated, again and again. And you could make out the vague shape of words you’d had shouted at you a hundred times over.

‘Not safe.’

That same, shivery, nervous feeling bit at your limbs.

“…okay,” you said after a moment. And then leaned forward to dig your own fingers into the sand, dutifully ignoring how your elbows knocked against his own.

‘Not safe,’ you wrote, and watched his eyes trace each letter like a treasure map.

There was another tap at your shoulder. And then he pointed to the words in the muck, then to himself.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, yes. You’re not safe either.”

He sighed dramatically enough to ruffle the ends of your still soaked hair. And then pointed to the words again, tapping at the ‘N’ with the curved tip of a claw.

“Nnnn?” you mouthed, confused.

He moved to the ‘o’ next and it clicked.

“You want me to teach you how to read my letters?” you asked, flabbergasted. Another sigh, like you’d dropped the weight of all the world on his pale shoulders. Or perhaps that your idiocy was enough to put that hearty mass to shame. You decided that you were still feeling a bit too much like you’d only just barely escaped a brush with death, dismemberment, and dinner plans to push your luck with sassing him back too harshly, and just blinked owlishly in dazed surprise. “But why?”

His purple eyes trailed in the direction of the shipwreck and something cutting and poisonous clouded his expression. He pointed to the words again.

‘Not safe.’

“Alright,” you said, looking out over the water with a strange sort of sinking feeling in your gut. You leaned forward and began to draw the alphabet at your feet. His tail twitched by your fingers and you ignored the soft brush of his still-healing fins. “This one’s an ‘A’, like in ‘Asshole’—"

Whomp went the tail as he cracked it across your knuckles like a school matron with a ruler. And you couldn’t help the startled burst of genuine, tinkling laughter that bubbled past your lips for the first time since you’d been dragged overboard.

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

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@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl, @warmsmilesandhugs, @01paige01

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 2

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

Text

L "Lawliet"

rewatched Death Note and just couldn't resist...

TW: strict schooling ig, orphan reader, creepy behavior

gn reader

You were placed in Wammy’s House at an age you don’t remember. To you and most of the orphans here, it’s been your entire lives. Birthdays aren’t celebrated. The days are cold, the residents even colder. There was a time when you’d consider them brothers and sisters, but that’s also long ago now. No one is close to each other in this house.

It’s a rather stale existence with boring conditions unfit for normal children – the solitude, the competition, the games, always a ploy to make each other feel worthless. And for what… more riddles to solve?

You’d long lost interest in proving yourself among the prodigies. When you were given puzzles, you always played with them differently than the rest. They’d tell you to fill out the sheets, and you ended up making origami swans instead.

Looking around at the others, you knew you would never understand them – all blank faces staring into space. They all make you uneasy. You don’t know if it’s you or them that’s missing something, but you recognize it’s a rather pointless question to be begged.

So you leave your paper flock on the floor and walk away.

You’d started putting the chisel of a black marker to the library books in your spare time – trying to make something else out of the boring pages. Something more palatable than the droning of law and policy you’d already read ten times over.

You had blacked out the word doppelganger when there came a disturbance.

“You had 84% of them right.”

You peeked up from the book, lowering your knees from where you had them tucked close for privacy – sitting on the floor between two bookshelves – a little nook you’d discovered to hide yourself from the rest of the busy readers in the usually crowded library.

It was empty now. Everyone was otherwise busy with the test still.

And yet, a mess of black hair was crouched down in front of you, shadowing his equally dark eyes. He held your swans unfolded in his hands. It was a disturbing sight for some reason – as though he’d dissected their guts.

“You left 16% unanswered. Most people would test their luck and guess.”

L must have been the least creative alias born in the dull walls of Wammy’s House, and yet, he’s supposed to be the brightest of all those living there. He always finishes your tests early and leaves in favor of his own devices. Much like you, you suppose. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak before.

Suppose it’s only courtesy you pay him the same effort even when what you really want is to tell him to leave you alone…

You narrowed your eyes a bit, looking at him.

You sensed foul play in a game you had no wish to partake in but moved across the board like a sacrificial pawn anyway. That’s how you play these things, after all – never show your cards.

“There’s nothing to guess.” You sigh – despite knowing he already knows all this. “The blanks are trick questions.”

“So you noticed, too?” His eyes are like inkblots – much like those spills you’ve made in your book when you let the marker rest too long. He dropped your papers between you in favor of gripping his knees, leaning forward. “We’re the only ones.”

You purse your lips at his eagerness. You should have played dumb from the start – should have said you swiped the answer sheet from the headmaster’s office. He’d only spoken all but four sentences, and you were already exhausted. Any conversation with any one of your peers was like an interrogation.

“You started folding paper cranes when I was 94% done. Easy logistics would put you 6% ahead of me. But, unlike me, it didn’t seem you were filling out the answer sheets in any hurry. In fact… you seemed bored. And in that case, I’d put you around 16%, no... 18% ahead of me.”

You allowed the following silence to inform him that his ramblings were boring you. But it didn't seem he took the hint – showing no signs he planned on leaving.

Your eyes grew more jaded.

“Paper swans.” You corrected blandly. “You know my alias is Swan.”

You clapped your book together and sighed again.

“And we both know you were finished long before I started folding them.”

He had a small smile on his face. It looked as if you’d drawn it on with your marker.

“You can state all the percentages in the world to try and confuse me, but your mind games won’t get under my skin for one single simple reason, L…” You got up and brushed off the dust, then walked away while saying, “I’m not interested in playing – not with you or anyone else in this miserable place. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

L watches you leave and taps his lips with his pointer.

Puzzles and answer sheets have bored him for a while. Maybe he ought to play with you instead…

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yancore #yandere L #yandere death note #yandere dn #yandere l lawliet #l lawliet #death note

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reasonsforhope · 10 months

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No-paywall version.

"You can never really see the future, only imagine it, then try to make sense of the new world when it arrives.

Just a few years ago, climate projections for this century looked quite apocalyptic, with most scientists warning that continuing “business as usual” would bring the world four or even five degrees Celsius of warming — a change disruptive enough to call forth not only predictions of food crises and heat stress, state conflict and economic strife, but, from some corners, warnings of civilizational collapse and even a sort of human endgame. (Perhaps you’ve had nightmares about each of these and seen premonitions of them in your newsfeed.)

Now, with the world already 1.2 degrees hotter, scientists believe that warming this century will most likely fall between two or three degrees. (A United Nations report released this week ahead of the COP27 climate conference in Sharm el Sheikh, Egypt, confirmed that range.) A little lower is possible, with much more concerted action; a little higher, too, with slower action and bad climate luck. Those numbers may sound abstract, but what they suggest is this: Thanks to astonishing declines in the price of renewables, a truly global political mobilization, a clearer picture of the energy future and serious policy focus from world leaders,

we have cut expected warming almost in half in just five years.

...Conventional wisdom has dictated that meeting the most ambitious goals of the Paris agreement by limiting warming to 1.5 degrees could allow for some continuing normal, but failing to take rapid action on emissions, and allowing warming above three or even four degrees, spelled doom.

Neither of those futures looks all that likely now, with the most terrifying predictions made improbable by decarbonization and the most hopeful ones practically foreclosed by tragic delay. The window of possible climate futures is narrowing, and as a result, we are getting a clearer sense of what’s to come: a new world, full of disruption but also billions of people, well past climate normal and yet mercifully short of true climate apocalypse.

Over the last several months, I’ve had dozens of conversations — with climate scientists and economists and policymakers, advocates and activists and novelists and philosophers — about that new world and the ways we might conceptualize it. Perhaps the most capacious and galvanizing account is one I heard from Kate Marvel of NASA, a lead chapter author on the fifth National Climate Assessment: “The world will be what we make it.” Personally, I find myself returning to three sets of guideposts, which help map the landscape of possibility.

First, worst-case temperature scenarios that recently seemed plausible now look much less so, which is inarguably good news and, in a time of climate panic and despair, a truly underappreciated sign of genuine and world-shaping progress...

[I cut number two for being focused on negatives. This is a reasons for hope blog.]

Third, humanity retains an enormous amount of control — over just how hot it will get and how much we will do to protect one another through those assaults and disruptions. Acknowledging that truly apocalyptic warming now looks considerably less likely than it did just a few years ago pulls the future out of the realm of myth and returns it to the plane of history: contested, combative, combining suffering and flourishing — though not in equal measure for every group...

“We live in a terrible world, and we live in a wonderful world,” Marvel says. “It’s a terrible world that’s more than a degree Celsius warmer. But also a wonderful world in which we have so many ways to generate electricity that are cheaper and more cost-effective and easier to deploy than I would’ve ever imagined. People are writing credible papers in scientific journals making the case that switching rapidly to renewable energy isn’t a net cost; it will be a net financial benefit,” she says with a head-shake of near-disbelief. “If you had told me five years ago that that would be the case, I would’ve thought, wow, that’s a miracle.”"

-via The New York Times Magazine, October 26, 2022

#climate change #global warming #renewable energy #climate anxiety #climate crisis #humanity #green energy #green future #apocalypse #natural disasters #good news #hope #research #hope posting

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strawberrysands · 11 months

Text

Pretty hot - Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: nothing tbh, just tooth rotting fluff and sum kissy kissy

You shivered for the umpteenth time that day while your breath formed little clouds in the cold air. You hadn't been able to get warm again ever since JJ announced you'd be going to Alaska.The case was over and everything went well, but the plane couldn't take off until tomorrow morning due to the snow.

"God, why Alaska?" You murmured to no one in particular. A small smile formed on Spencer's lips at that.

"You're not a fan of the cold?" He asked. The glare you gave him was enough to make him chuckle. Looking at you, he felt completely warm inside. He thought your red nose and rosy cheeks were absolutely adorable.

"We're here." Hotch said. Looking up from the snow, you see a rusty looking building in front of you.

"That's supposed to keep me warm tonight?" You sigh. Morgan laughs and ruffles your hair.

"Awww, poor baby." He mocks you before you give him a playful shove.

"Bad news." Hotch announced once you were all settled in the hotel lobby. "There's only four rooms left, and six of us. Some are gonna have to double up."

"I'm not sleeping with Reid." Derek said almost immediately.

"Dibs." Garcia said while grabbing Derek's hand.

"I'll sleep with you." You say to Reid before realizing how creepy you just sounded. Even Rossi was almost laughing at the way you worded that.

"I- I mean, I'll room with you." You cough awkwardly, your face now red from something completely else than the cold.

"Wanna play?" Spencer asked you as he gestured to the chess board in the lobby. It was still early to go to sleep, and the room was probably gonna be way colder than the lobby was.

"Sure." You smiled and Spencer moved to set up the game.

It was your turn to start, but your hands were shaking so hard from the cold that clumisly moved a pawn forward. Spencer frowned at that; he didn't know you were THAT cold.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, continuing the game. And for the first time that evening you felt a little warm insinde from his concern.

"Yeah." You shrugged. "Just cold, you know."

Spencer snorted and took your knight from the board. You silently cursed yourself for not seeing that earlier before looking at Spencer again.

"What?"

"Just cold. In my memory, the definition of 'just cold' isn't teeth chatter, hands shaking and purple lips." Spencer looked up from the board and your breath hitched in your throat. The utter adoration and warmth in his eyes was enough to even make the snow outside melt. Their caramel color gave you a sense of belonging, of home. Oh, how you could get lost in those eyes.

"It's also your turn, by the way." He added with a small grin.

"Right." You coughed and moved one of your pieces. "Check." You said proudly.

"Impressive," he complimented you, "but," He moved his queen and suddenly, "checkmate."

"Wha-" you started, but immediately gave up. It was too cold to actually attempt to understand what you had done wrong. The game was nice though, for a minute, you had actually forgotten about the temperature.

"One day, I'll beat you."

"In your dreams." He said playfully.

You yawn loudly and rub your hands together to try and warm them up a little.

"Sleep?" Spencer offered and you nodded gladly.

What a typical cliché, was the first thing you thought when you entered the room. You guessed it, there was only one bed. For a moment, you found yourself imagining Spencer and yourself in those typical romantic scenarios where this happens. You shook your head to clear the thoughts and opened your mouth to say something you almost felt bad about. "You're taking the floor."

To your surprise, Reid was smiling. "I didn't expect anything else."

You settled down in the room while Spencer showered, slipping into your pj's and pulling the covers of the bed as high as possible. You had turned the heater in the room all the way up, but it didn't seem to do much. Shaking like a leaf, you waited for Spencer to come back in order to turn off the lights.

You looked up when you heard the bathroom door and were met with a mouthwatering sight: Spencer, with only a towel around his waist, curls still wet and water dripping down his chest.

"Forgot my clothes." He apologized with a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"Please," you huffed quietly when the door closed again, "don't apologize."

It was the middle of the night when you woke up again from the sheer cold. Your started shivering and your teeth clattered against each other. This continued for roughly 20 minutes before Spencer sighed.

"Alright, I can't sleep with the teeth chatter." You heard him move and before you could process what he was doing, you felt the bed behind you dip.

"What the hell are you doing?" You hissed at him. He ignored your question and instead continued to climb into the bed with you.

"Body heat is the most effective way to get warn quickly." He said and you could detect something odd in his voice. Was he nervous?

You blew into your numb hands before sighing and turning around to face Spencer.

"Fine." You grumbled stubbornly. "Get over here."

He gladly accepted your offer and scooted closer to you, smoothly wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you as close as possible. You immediately blushed from his close proximity. "Uhm-" you started.

"What? Did I do something wrong?" Spencer asked concerned, loosening his grip on you a little to look at you.

"No, no-" you said, looking up at him. Your breath hitched in your throat when you realized his face was mere inches from yours. You couldn't help it; your eyes flickered down to his lips and back up to his caramel eyes again.

One of Spencer's hands moved to your cheek, all the while looking for any signs that you were uncomfortable. At this point, his soft pink lips were the only thing your eyes could focus on.

"We should probably get some rest." You whispered, making no move to actually go to sleep.

Spencer leaned closer to you. "Probably." He whispered back. You could feel his breath on your own lips and you forgot to breathe.

"Spence," you said softly.

"Yeah?"

"just kiss me already."

He wasted no time after that; he connected your lips with a fiery passion but still with an unimaginable softness also.

His tongue softly prodded your lips which you gladly accepted, opening up your mouth. He let his tongue dance with yours before retracting it and leaning away from you.

You were breathing heavily and so was he.

Your eyes still closed from the kiss, you took your hand back from his curls and let it rest on your side.

"You warm yet?" He asked, making you laugh.

"Pretty hot, actually."

BONUS:

"What's got you two all smiley?" Derek asked the next morning at breakfast. "You sleep THAT good?" He smirked.

"You wish, Derek." You replied.

"I slept on the floor, just like you." Spencer said.

Hotch and Rossi, who were watching from a little distance, were both already sevretly profiling you.

"They definitely kissed, didn't they?" Rossi said.

"Most definitely." Hotch replied.

Rossi smiled big. "Excuse my cursing, but fucking finally."

#fanfiction #fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fluff #spencer reid fluff

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tainsan · 1 year

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misfits (college!ateez x reader)

When your world comes crashing down, the only people who are able to comfort you are the notorious group, Ateez. You’ve heard rumour after rumour about the eight males who are ice cold, yet for some reason, they are the warmest people you know.

Please read me: {hello! so finally i have wrote enough for me to release the first chapter and i really hope it is good enough for the lovely people who have been patiently waiting. there will be more chapters to come in the future so please do look forward to them! just so you all know there is a few trigger warnings i have to go through so just in case you are uncomfortable with certain subjects to read with caution and with your own comfort in mind. at the start of every chapter i will put the warnings that correlate with the said chapter. in this story there are topics of swearing, depression, anxiety, ptsd, suicide, negelection and mental abuse. so if you are not comfortable reading these please either avoid this story or read with extreme caution. your wellbeing is more important than anything.

Now like i said in my previous post, this is going to be a poly!ateez story so hence there will be future smut and suggestive themes (which i will also put in the warnings before the chapter starts) but the message in the story is very much about past trauma and finding people who can help, heal and love you despite your imperfections.

With that all said! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of ‘Misfits’ and thank you kindly for waiting.

do not steal my work or repost on places other than tumblr.

with thanks to @musicdork and @moraxology for the help and ideas shared with me. thank you <3

-----THIS IS AN 18+ FANFICTION MINORS DO NOT INTERACT-----

Misfits, Chapter 1

⇢ masterlist ⇠

⇢ next chapter

warnings: anxiety attack, swearing, mentions of a house fire.

word count: 8.8k

Heart dropping to your stomach, you attempt to make sense of the words that are displayed on the small illuminating screen sat in front of you. Devastation hits you like a ton of bricks as you realise once again, it feels like the world is trying to punish you. Reading over the email once again, you let out an exasperated groan and let your head fall down onto your arms relaxing on the table.

“You’re homeless?” Your best friend almost screeches, scanning over the email present on your small laptop screen.

“Okay a little louder Jisung and the aliens on the Saturn will fucking hear you,” You react, your voice muffled by your clothes.

“What happened? I thought your place was in one of the nicer areas?”

Looking up from the desk, you see Jisung peering at you with a concerned expression.

“Do you remember those new tenants that moved in below me?” you ask, causing Jisung to nod his head, "Well they accidentally started a fire, and it burnt down half of the place because the owners weren’t smart enough to install fire hydrants around the residence.

“Isn’t it illegal to not have designated fire hydrants in a building?”

“Probably, I mean that’s what I get for going for the cheapest available housing I could find, they say it's going to take at least a year to repair the damage.”

"Are all of your belongings okay?"

"Not really, I managed to save most things like my books and some clothes but everything else is burnt. They say they are going to give me some money back for the damage, but I doubt it’ll be much."

"Then where are you staying now?"

"Yeji said I could stay with her for a few days, but she has a roommate moving in soon, so I have to get out before the end of this week."

"You have to start looking for a place to live __, I wish I could help you,"

Jisung lives with his boyfriend and friends in great student accommodation, there are only four rooms, yet they manage to fit eight grown men in there. Sadly, there's simply not enough space for another person.

“I’m aware of that, but all the school properties are full, and I’ve seen no flyers from people searching for roommates. There’s no way I'm looking for housing outside of the area, I would have to sell both my kidneys to afford a month's worth of rent. This apartment was the only place that was in my budget if I didn't want a roommate. At this point, I should probably start looking for a nice cosy bridge to live under.”

Jisung lets out a stifled laugh before quickly covering his mouth realising the two of you are residing in a library. Being in a secluded area, noise isn’t really a problem, yet three other people are sitting near you, resting on the opposite side of the large wooden table. Two huddled next to each other, sharing a laptop, likely watching YouTube and one with striking blonde hair resting his head on his arms, undoubtedly sleeping.

“How many days until you have to move out?” Jisung inquires, laying his head on his hand and gazing at you.

“Uh, I think like a week,”

“Oh, so it’s not like you have to move out right now,” your best friend replies, a calm smile covering his features.

“Yeah, but I doubt that somebody is abruptly going to need a roommate out of nowhere,”

Then, you hear rustling, then suddenly the guy who was sleeping on your table abruptly stands up, grabs his things, and rushes out of the library.

“Probably had a nightmare or something,” Jisung chuckles, lighting up your mood.

“When’s your next lesson?” You ask, hoping he doesn't have to leave too soon.

Observing as Jisung whips out his phone and looks at the time, he lets out a sigh.

“Starts in seven minutes, it takes like five minutes to walk there. I better get going,” Jisung replies, grabbing his books and laptop.

“Must you leave so soon? You can’t leave me here to tutor for three hours straight.” You let out a fake cry and hang onto his arm, pleading for him to stay.

“You're the one who wanted the extra credit, don't blame me!”

Bickering for a minute more, you eventually let Jisung get to his class, the two others across the table departing as well, leaving you alone.

Grumbling to yourself, you wonder why you even offered to tutor people, the extra credit is little to nothing. Alas, it’s too late to back out now as you have two people arriving soon. Typically, you only take people who you know personally, but Jisung’s boyfriend, Minho, said two of his classmates requested him to ask you to tutor, telling him they really needed assistance in maths. You hope they are pleasant because you are not about to be spending the next three hours with two arseholes.

You also typically only take one person at a time but due to your current tight schedule, you decided to just do two at once. You need the time later to look for new places to live anyway. The unknown two needed teaching in the same subject at least, works out fine.

Returning to your laptop you start typing, trying to finish as much of your lab report as you can before they show up.

“No Yeosang said she was around this corner.”

A hushed voice breaks you out of your concentration, yet you pay no interest and hurriedly get back to typing.

“You’re __ right?” A monotone voice speaks out from your left.

You turn upon hearing your name and see a guy standing next to where you are sitting. Quickly you scan over his face, noticing the way his cheeks display small dimples as his face shifts and the slit in one of his eyebrows.

“I’m San, Minho told you about us, right?”

Noting the way he said ‘us’, you turn fully backwards and see a noticeably built man standing by San, his face holding little to no emotion as he stares blankly towards you. In your mind, you hope these aren’t the two you are tutoring, noticing how intimidating their presence is.

“We are here for tutoring lessons,” the unnamed person speaks, and you curse upon your luck.

“Oh right, you can take a seat where you’d like.”

You mentally cuss out Minho for not informing you about how intense and handsome his classmates were, you let out a scoff under your breath as you start to pull out your maths textbooks.

“So, what were your guy's names, I’m not too good with names so if I forget, please don't take it personally,” you shyly confess, hoping they are not going to take it the wrong way. You detect the way some sort of stunned expression goes across their faces, but it disappears as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m Choi San, good to meet you.” San nods in your direction, his emotions still unreadable, a subtle glare still present along his features.

“San, I see. You too,” You mumble, slightly scared by his strong character. You attempt a small smile and shake his hand, trying to ignore the way you feel his eyes boring into your skull. Moving your attention to the man sitting next to him, you smile gently, noticing the way his cheeks are dusted with a light pink colour.

“Choi Jongho,” He reaches out his hand and you gladly take it, feeling slightly less intimidated by the seemingly kinder man.

Replying with your own name, you realise they already knew it, making you curse yourself for the sheer awkwardness emitting from your body as you notice Jongho and San are neither looking at you.

Slightly glancing up at you, San notices your flustered state and a faint smile ghosts his face.

Shaking off your clumsiness rapidly, you start to focus on the task at hand.

“So, what are you two looking to go over today?” you ask, opening your notebook that was conveniently placed in front of you. What you don’t expect is Jongho and San immediately look at each other with wide eyes, almost as if they are taken aback by the question.

“You guys don’t know what you want to go over?”

“No, sorry, we have been having problems with our two recent algebra assignments.” Jongho replies, his tough exterior cracking ever so slightly as he ruffles his black hair.

“Okay then,” you answer, a little puzzled at the two's sudden and strange gestures, yet you pay no mind to it as you reach into your backpack to grab your mathematics textbook. You’ve seen much stranger things in this college anyway.

When you proceed with the session you are surprised by the two men sitting in front of you. Although being very intimidating, the two are very good listeners and attentive to everything you say or do. Writing notes and nodding at almost every word you say. After an extensive explanation, you let Jongho and San try to solve a practice question. During this time, you take the time to admire the two in front of you. You can see they are extremely close by the way their bodies face each other naturally, and the way they look at each other. Meanwhile, you can’t help but wonder why you haven't seen them on campus before. Certainly, you would've heard or seen something about these two very good-looking men, knowing how much the people here like to gossip. Well after all, you have never been one for gossip and fangirling over the popular campus heartthrobs. Brushing your thoughts to the side, you start to read over the same page for the fifth time.

After the second hour, it intrigues you how smart they are, only needing you to once go over something and they already have the answer or even occasionally you swear you see one of them write an answer without you describing how to find it. Perhaps they are fast learners? Due to the fact, they are so quick, it only takes two of the three hours for you to cover everything they wished to go over, and their assignments are almost finished, just needing the final touches.

"There we go,” you exclaim, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a content groan as you let your back straighten up, "if you need future help, you can always call me." Even though it’s perhaps pretentious to offer this to such tough guys, you’re happy to be able to have such good students who actually listen. Unlike your last session which you spent way too many hours on.

Jongho looks up from his laptop with a wide eye look, "that’d be helpful,"

"Can you take my number?" San holds his hand open, expecting your phone and you are shocked at his utter forwardness. Even though you know it’s not intended in a flirtatious way, your heart quickens at the gesture, never having been asked for your number before.

Passing your phone to the male in front of you, you notice San observing the Sanrio stickers stuck to the back of it. The male lets out a short burst of air through his nose, and you don’t know whether he’s mocking you or scoffing. As you look at him to analyse his reaction, you see a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, but it doesn’t seem in a taunting way. You continue staring at him as he puts his number into your phone.

Unexpectedly he looks up and straight into your investigating eyes, catching you by surprise, immediately looking away from him and at the open book in front of you pretending to read it, even though you know he knows you have already read over the page multiple times in the past ten minutes.

“Wait, what time is it?" Jongho asks San. Watching San pull out his phone, you see a glimpse of his phone case, it looks something like a character, but you can’t see it as he places his phone face up on the table.

"Quarter to twelve," San responds, his phone screen lighting up for a split second, you manage to catch a quick sight of his lock screen. It appears to be a group photo, with numerous faces smiling brightly at the camera. So, they have more friends.

"We have about thirty minutes till ecology, do you want to go to the canteen?" Jongho questions as he begins to put his belongings into his bag.

"I could use a snack,” San answers, stretching back into the chair, his arms above his head just as you did earlier.

"Coming with us?" Jongho asks as he stands up from his chair and pushes it back beneath the table.

Bewildered by the question, you wonder as to why they want you to come when they have been nothing but distant this entire time. Glancing back at your unfinished lab report displayed on your laptop, you feel conflicted. Yet a break from the tedious work would be rather nice. There's no harm in pulling another all-nighter.

"I could also do with something to eat," Your smile is bright as you stuff your laptop into your bag, happy to have a reason to escape the tedious work on the small screen of your laptop.

It is a rather fast walk to the canteen; it is conveniently on the same wing as the library. Expecting the canteen to be full to the brim of students getting lunch, you’re surprised to see the canteen completely empty. You are rather pleased with the serenity of the canteen, feeling at ease that there are no judging eyes watching your every move. Pacing over to the cooled section of food, your footsteps echo in the large room, then you notice San and Jongho trailing after you, looking quite lost.

"Have you guys never been to the canteen before or something?" You inquire, chuckling at their antics before grabbing a carton of banana milk and an apple.

"It's not particularly our scene, we eat our meals at our place." San answers, staring down at the banana milk in your hand. So, they live together, it makes sense seeing how close they are.

“You guys don't live in student buildings?” You question, that does explain why you've never seen them around, knowing most people who reside in the student dorms. You resume walking towards a table to sit, you grab two more banana milk before sitting down and popping a straw into your drink.

"No, we live near the new park, Eastwood Drive," Jongho replies.

This information almost makes you spit out your drink. Eastwood is not only part of a huge real estate area but one of the richest areas near our school. Absolutely no students would be able to afford that. It's an area full of houses like mansions or condos bigger than a regular house.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asks, hurriedly rushing to your side and patting your back, San chuckles at the scene and passes you a bottle of water from his seat.

"Yes, I'm fine," You say between coughs, "thank you," you take a gulp of water from the bottle before handing it back to him.

"Sorry it's just, how on earth do you afford that house there's no way you guys just have it. Did you have to sell your soul to the devil or something?"

Both males let out soft laughs and for the first time you see something other than scowls on their faces, instead replaced by gentle amusement.

"No, we didn't, one of our roommates' mothers is the owner of the real estate and she lets us live there," San answers your question.

"We do still have to pay rent, which is above average, but it's not anything like the rent we would have to pay if we were actually living there," Jongho adds, "plus we have quite a few roommates, so it's spread out pretty evenly." So, they have multiple roommates.

"I see," you hum as you let the information in. Of course, they have several roommates, the house is big enough for ten people, most likely.

"And you?" Jongho questions looking at you. His expression is back to his resting face, until he realises his question, eyes going wide he continues, “not in a creepy, I'm sorry please don't take it the wrong way!" he rambles on.

Laughing out, you wave your hands in a friendly way to dismiss his thoughts.

"No no, it's okay," you chuckle, not really sure how to explain to them that your house was recently made into a fresh stock of charcoal.

“It's kind of complicated I'll be honest," you start, San and Jongho’s expressions twitch in curiosity, "Well I was living at Coast Lane,"

"Oh, the one near the shopping centre?" Jongho inquires. You nod your head back in confirmation.

"Wait but wasn't that place burnt down a few days ago?" San asks, looking at Jongho and then back at you with a worried look. Their hearts fill with worry for you.

"Yep," you say, popping the p at the end, "that's why I said I was living," you say looking down, chucking dryly.

"Where are you living now then?" San asks, his voice laced with something similar to worry.

"I'm staying at a friend's house, but they are getting a new roommate at the end of this week, so I need to move out by then."

"Have you found anywhere to live yet?" Jongho questions, looking sorrowful. You are surprised by the amount of worry you suddenly feel from San and Jongho. However, you shake your head as 'no' and proceed to take another sip of your drink.

"I have an idea." San abruptly says standing up from his chair, catching your and Jongho's attention, "Excuse me I have to talk to someone, Jongho. Joong."

Jongho's eyes light up with some sort of awareness and he also rapidly stands from his chair, leaving you even more confused, unsure where the sudden energy comes from, you also wonder who the fuck 'Joong' is and why do they need to see him so suddenly.

"See you soon, __.” Jongho’s smile is warm and contagious, he then turns to leave with the taller man.

"Wait, guys!” You exclaim, "here," you hand them both a cartoon of banana milk that you grabbed earlier. "Drink these, you can't focus if you're dehydrated, " you say, heat rising up from your chest.

Both of the men look at you shocked at the kind gesture, surprised someone actually cares about their well-being. Giving you a thank you, the two men leave with red subtly covering their cheeks, both trying to immediately force it away before someone sees them with a giddy expression.

----

"Then they just stood up and left," You replay the events from earlier today to Jisung, who is sipping on a mojito. After the busy day you both shared, Jisung and you decided to go to a bar that recently opened not too far from campus. It is small and cosy, not too full of people, mostly students from your school rewinding from the day, just like you.

"Psycho behaviour," Jisung jokes whilst you take a sip of your drink. Laughing, you push Jisung's arm gently.

"I don't know, they were certainly intimidating but I could tell they were okay people," you exclaim truthfully. If you said that the three hours you spent with the two weren't pleasant you’d be lying.

"Do you have a crush on them or something?" Jisung inquires, rather loudly, getting far too excited. Hoping that no one heard him through the low jazz music resounding in the small bar, you quieten down your best friend quickly by covering his mouth with your free hand.

"Ji the entire bar does not need to know about my personal endeavours, and no I do not have a crush on them, they are just simply cute," you say exasperated.

“So, you do find them cute! The last time you had a crush as back in high school, this is big news,”

“There is no news dumbass, they are just cute. I find kittens cute, and I don’t want to date them.”

Jisung’s face contorts into a mixture of disgust and humour.

"Wait, what are their names?" Jisung questions his voice back to a reasonable volume.

"Choi San and Choi Jongho, I've never even heard of them, to be honest. You'd think I would've seen these handsome men bef, what is with that look on your face?" you stop your ramble as you see the very obviously shocked look on Jisung's face.

"Are you fucking serious?" Jisung says slowly.

Confused, you simply answer, "yeah they needed help with maths. it was your boyfriend who set the tutor session up."

"Yeah, because they probably threatened him?" Jisung says tensing up.

"What do you mean threatened, they were huge sweethearts," you say amused at Jisung. Your laughing momentarily halts when you see the serious look on Jisung's small face.

"What is it?"

"___, Choi San and Choi Jongho are part of that group."

Your baffled expression remains on your features, clearly unfazed by this information.

"What is that like a cult or something?" you joke.

"Girl, are you living under a fucking rock? Ateez, the group called Ateez. The super scary ones practically haunt this school. I'm surprised they talked to Minho. I'm pretty sure he's going to be scarred now."

Slowly but surely, your brain starts to put things into place.

"Wait, that group Sola told us about?”

As Jisung confirms your question, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. A few months ago, you had been told by some classmates about them briefly, they were talking rather loudly about them. Apparently, they had done some terrible things when they were in high school then just disappeared for a few years. Most people thought they dropped out or moved abroad. The year they returned, they started this university out of nowhere together and have been a notorious group ever since, being known for staying foul and bitter towards everyone except themselves. Yet, nobody seems to know the reason for their ice-cold hearts. You never really bothered to keep up with the rumours or gossip, it wasn’t necessary for you to know, however you start to think maybe you should pay more attention due to your recent interaction with two of the people in the group.

"But they were nice?" your question, more to yourself than to Jisung.

"I don't know about you, but you probably got the wrong people."

You don't believe Jisung is lying but at the same time… The two men you had tutored earlier today were definitely not members of the notorious group.

Surely not.

Yes, they were intimidating, but nowhere near as bad as anything people say about them. From what you've heard about the group, they are cold, heartless, selfish, and miserable. Staying only in the group of eight, others not even daring to look them in the eyes as they pass them.

"If they were the people that you were tutoring yesterday, you may have gotten yourself into something you can't get out of. They have hundreds of fangirls, who are very possessive over them and people who want them dead. I don’t know of a single person who is fond of them. It’s best if you stay far away from them." Jisung says with a nervous expression.

Unexpectedly, his phone lights up and you see Minho's caller ID appear. Jisung glances back up at you with a questioning look, requesting if he can take it.

"Go ahead," you push your smile and watch as he leaves to find a quiet place.

Your heart beats heavily against your chest and you feel your throat tighten. ‘Come on’ you think, this isn't the best place for you to have an anxiety attack. Possibly, it's that the new information is far too overwhelming. You are barely keeping up with your classes, your apartment just burnt down, and now you’re somewhat engaged with an apparently dangerous group that has no good stories. Feeling your breathing getting jagged and your heart getting heavier by the second, you attempt to focus on your breathing. Trying to remember the breathing exercises your mother taught you when you were younger, you attempt breathing in deeply, but it doesn't work, leaving you to breathe in and out in a fast manner. It's okay, it's okay. You repeat yourself, in an attempt to comfort yourself, but your brain is yelling 'it's not okay, look how stupid you've been and got yourself into a senseless situation again. Fucking idiot'. You put your head in your hands and start gently rocking on the barstool, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes. Unexpectedly, a presence appears next to you and before you know it, their warm hand is rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner.

"Shh it's okay, it's all going to be okay." a deep voice speaks from your right. You don't care to look up, only basking in the way the figure's hand caresses your back in a comforting way. To your surprise, it works miracles. Your breathing is back to a reasonable state within the next minute. Only then do you look up from your hands, your eyes lock with a beautiful man. He wears a comforting smile, his eyes full of sympathy and something else you can't quite put your finger on, his hand not slowing on your back. Trying to smile back at him, you wipe the tears you didn't even know had fallen, with the sleeves of your sweatshirt before regaining the words to speak.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you say, abruptly embarrassed that a very handsome man just had to see a small breakdown of yours.

"It's perfectly okay. I've had enough anxiety attacks to know you can't control where you have them." the man admits, scratching the back of his neck with an awkward smile on his face. The voice of the man is deep, yet soft, making you feel awfully relaxed.

"You have anxiety?" you ask, sniffling your nose.

The man chuckles and looks down at his hands, "longer than I can remember, yeah," he looks back up at you, "rubbing my back is how my friends comfort me, so I hope it somewhat worked for you too."

"It worked amazingly, it's actually how my mother used to comfort me," you express, still slightly ashamed to be sharing this information with a stranger, let alone such a good-looking one. Yet knowing he goes through the same things as you, comforts you more than you realise. The male looks around him, almost as if he’s worried someone will see him, he then looks back down to your smaller figure which is closer to him than he remembered. Clearing his throat, he steps away a little bit, concerned you would feel uncomfortable with the closeness of your bodies.

“I do need to go now, but it was nice to meet you," The man says whilst leaving the barstool to your right. Not sure why, but you feel sad that he has to leave so soon. Feeling so relaxed around a stranger has you shocked, wishing you could stay with this unknown feeling.

"Thank you," you say, grateful to have him there for you.

"Anytime.”

"I’ll see you around." You return his smile.

Nodding his head, he gives one last smile before departing the bar's exit, a growing smile adorning his features as he exits the bar.

“Hey I’m back.”

Whipping your head to the left, you see Jisung sitting back in his stool. Opening your mouth to tell him about what just happened, you attempt to get the words out but for some reason, you are unable to find the words. Not wanting to worry your best friend with your sudden onset anxiety attack, you decide to stay quiet.

What are these unexplainable encounters you've been having with handsome men recently?

----

Climbing over bags and coats, you find a seat in a calmer area of the stadium you just arrived at. Spotting Minho in the field doing some warm-ups with his team, you feel relaxed to see someone you know. When he sees you, he waves happily. Smiling, you reach for your phone to quickly text Jisung asking where he is. All of a sudden, a rush of cold air gets swept in by the wind, causing you to freeze up. Never liking the cold, you debate heavily at this moment whether you should just leave. However, you travelled all the way from Yeji’s to here in the cold. It seems like a waste to just go back, even if it freezes you to death to stay. After all, you need to support Minho, him being one of your only friends, for the football game. Jisung is supposed to be joining you but you’re sure he's busy picking out a cute outfit to swoon Minho.

Over the past few days Jisung has been trying to teach you the names of Ateez so you know to run if they approach you. Seemingly stupid, but you do need fewer distractions in the hope to graduate with honours. From what Jisung has told you, there are eight members, and they are all of similar age, the youngest being in the same classes as he managed to skip a year due to him exceeding the level of people his age. However, Jisung teaching you their names doesn’t really stick to you, never being good at names it doesn’t help that you don’t know what they look like. It would be much easier learning their names if you actually had photos so you can put a name to a face, but of course they don’t have Instagram accounts, and if they saw people taking photos of them, they’d likely murder you on the spot. Or that’s what Jisung says.

You are suddenly brought out of your thoughts when a voice sounds in your ears.

“Could I sit here?” a soft, yet deep captivating voice speaks out.

Curiously, you look to your left to see who the owner of the voice is. Surprisingly, you see a blonde male with a mask covering his face. He is standing next to the seat where you have placed your bag, and you realise he is asking for the seat.

“Oh yes, of course, sorry,” you hurriedly grab your bag and place it between your legs, allowing the male to take a place next to you.

“Thank you,” he says, a very small smile on his lips. When he sits down, he takes off his mask, and you glance at him one more time, taking in his visuals. With his fluffy hair and red tinted cheeks and a small mark of pink next to one of his eyes, he is truly a work of art. Yet, for some reason, you can't help but feel like you've seen him before.

“I'm sorry have I met you before, you seem really familiar?” you ask inquisitively, not being able to match a name to a face.

“We may have run into each other once or twice,” the blonde male puts his hand out for a handshake.

Gladly taking his hand in yours, you shake with a small smile on your face.

“It is a small world, I'm __.”

The male takes his hand away and back into his coat pocket, shivering in the icy air.

“Are you Jisung's girlfriend?” he questions.

Rolling your eyes, slightly annoyed at the question, you go to answer. It has been thousands of times that people have asked about your and Jisung's relationship, mistaking you for a couple and not just a couple of friends. After a while it gets rather irritating, the question being asked countless amounts of times.

"No, we aren't, we are just best friends, I'm pretty sure Jisung came out as gay like two years ago. Plus, he's literally dating the quarterback, Lee Minho." you chuckle slightly.

"Oh sorry! I didn't mean to offend you in any way."

"No! It's really okay, it's just I get asked a lot, so it becomes annoying after a while. I mean look at Jisung, he has baby girl written all over him."

“Cold?” he questions.

The blondie next to you lets out a small chuckle acknowledging the man you are always with isn’t your boyfriend.

Sensing a gaze on you, you turn back to the blonde male whose eyes are looking at the goosebumps on your exposed arms.

“I probably should’ve brought at least a jumper. I've been so wrapped up with exams and tutoring I’ve been forgetting everything,” you say, laughing slightly, embarrassed that you went outside wearing just a t-shirt in the middle of November.

The male lets out a laugh before speaking, “it’s okay, I understand. If I’m being honest, I've also been having so much struggle with studying, my stress is all over the place.” He wonders for a second why he even shared this with you, concerned for a second you will see him in a bad light.

“I'm sorry to hear that.” you contemplate for a moment, “Look I have these if you want,” reaching into your pocket, you grab some rescue drops. “These help me a lot,”

You place the small bottle in his hand, and a giant smile covers his face. “What? I’ve actually been looking for these everywhere and I can never find them! They’ve been sold out in every shop.” Blondie looks back up at you, “but you have anxiety you need these more than me,”

Pausing for a second, you wonder how he knows you have anxiety, nonetheless, you continue “It’s perfectly fine, Jisung’s parents work at a pharmacy back in my hometown and they send me a few of these whenever they are in stock, you can keep them.” you inform him, his smile brightening your cold mood shockingly fast. You’re not even sure why you gave him them, it was your last bottle. You guess that’s what happens when you are a people pleaser. The smile on the male’s face only grows wider, his heart jumping at your kind action.

“Thank you so much __,”

“It’s no worries, if you ever need some more, look for the loud group of small guys acting like four-year-olds.” you laugh, and he chuckles along with you, making a mental note, even though he knows he will likely never approach the group.

Before you can focus back on the starting game, you feel a soft material cover your shivering body. It is a large zip-up that smells of rich, sweet perfume. Turning quickly to the blonde guy with confusion covering your features, you hurriedly dismiss the action, seeing his arms exposed to the winter air.

“I can’t take this; you’ll get too cold.” you stop your words as he pulls out another sweater from his bag.

“I've got my friend’s sweater, you keep mine until you’re warm.” he turns to face the game, "or until Jisung sees and freaks out and tells everyone you have a secret boyfriend." he jokes.

“You seem to know Jisung?” you ask, wondering how he knows Jisung’s personality quite well.

“Well, we know each other, but we aren’t particularly friends,” blondie turns fully towards you, “are you sure you don’t know me at all?”

“I'm sorry but I really only have like two friends, I don't really go out.”

“But Jisung is super popular, aren't you in his huge partying friend group?”

“Not really, his friends are lovely but I’m only close with him and his boyfriend, I'm not too good at making friends.” you quietly mumble the last part. You look over at the blondie and see he has slight confusion on his face.

“You are so kind, I’m sure anyone would want to be your friend."

"You’d be the first to think that" you dryly admit, which causes the male to feel a twinge of pain and guilt in his heart, "I would rather stay inside all-day binge-watching television whilst eating away my stress,"

"Well, that’s one thing we have in common."

Sharing a warm smile with him, you start to get lost in your thoughts again, but then you realise a question you never returned.

“I’m so sorry I never got your name.”

“No worries, I’m Yeosang.” he has the same smile on his face, making you feel warm despite the bitter winter air. Then his familiarity dawns on you.

“Kang?” you inquire, your voice rising ever so slightly.

“That’s me,” he smiles at me, and you don't know if your heart rises because of how beautiful his smile is or because you recognise the name from Jisung’s teaching session with the members of Ateez.

“Like from Ateez,” you question, watching your words, if Ateez is as bad as Jisung is saying then you definitely need to watch your words.

Yeosang turns to you, almost looking baffled.

“I thought you didn't know about Ateez?” he questions, shocked.

“What made you think that?”

“Just a guess I suppose, being that you don't really go out I assumed you weren’t really interested in the groups and stuff.”

“Ah well not particularly, but recently I suppose I’ve gotten to know about it better.”

“You're not scared, are you?” you see Yeosang tense up a little, his eyebrows furrowed. He hopes for the best, not knowing how you will react. Surprisingly, your heart softens at this question, he seems upset for some reason, as if he doesn't want to be seen this way. You feel bad for ever acting stressed towards him.

“Don't worry, the only person that scares me is Jisung when he's hungry.” you joke out, relaxing the tension and calming him. From what you can see, Yeosang is just kind and calm. The only thing that's menacing about him is the fact he’s drop-dead gorgeous.

Yeosang lets out a small chuckle, “well I guess now I know I need to avoid Jisung if he’s hungry,”

You agree with the blonde man, whilst lightly laughing.

“Wait, but why are you watching? Aren’t you supposed to be on the pitch?” You ask him, confused, remembering Jisung informing you that Yeosang is a part of one of the school's football teams, along with someone else whose name you can’t remember at the moment. For a moment Yeosang’s chest fills with pride, knowing you know something about him.

“Someone is taking my spot today, I was told to analyse the opposing team to find out their habits and stuff, hence the notepad.”

Looking down, you notice the small notepad with doodles all over the cover, making your heart swell. Yeosang continues to talk,

“Don’t tell my tactics to Minho,” he jokes with a grin on his face, knowing Minho is on the other team.

“I would never betray you like that,” you place your hand over your chest acting offended.

Both cracking up, you speak up again, “don't worry, your secrets are safe with me.”

“Sang!” You hear a voice call from the left, and your eyes lay on another attractive man, “Coach told us to sit with him,” this male also has a notepad in his grip.

You know this guy. He works in a small café not too far from campus, it is down a narrow alleyway, covered by vines and moss. It was a very hidden spot and only locals really knew the place. Only knowing it because you walked past it every day for a year as the alleyway was a shortcut to your housing from the campus. Barely anyone goes there, the regulars being either old women or businesspeople quickly rushing in to get a coffee before work starts. Back at the beginning of the semester, you used to go to the café a lot because of the raspberry muffins, yet they stopped selling them thus forth you stopped going as much. It was also due to the fact you had barely any time to sleep, so you cut it out of your morning schedule to be able to sleep in a little. You think the guy’s name was Wooyoung if you can remember his name tag correctly. You notice he sees you sitting next to Yeosang, with his friend’s hoodie over your shoulders and a smile consumes his entire face.

“Muffin?” he looks confused, yet somewhat glad to see you once again. The nickname extremely takes you aback. “Why did you stop coming to the café?”

As far as you can recall, back when you visited the café, this server was rather distant and limited to saying little to no words whilst waiting. Seeing him like this confuses you severely. Alas, you let out a giggle and both of the boys' grins widen visibly.

“You two better get going, I'm not sure your coach wants to wait any longer.”

Yeosang stands up and straightens out his pants before turning to you,

“Hopefully I’ll see you around.” he smiles warmly. Smiling back at him, you nod. Yeosang starts to leave with Wooyoung before he turns around.

“I better see you at the café tomorrow! Plus, that sweater looks good on you, Muffin.” he winks and Yeosang slaps the back of his head. You can’t help but giggle yet feel flustered.

Yeosang and Wooyoung walk towards the coach’s section, Yeosang slightly more affected than the male next to him. Hopefully he will get his hoodie back, and hopefully it will smell like you. After this interaction, your mind was even more confused. If you remember correctly, Yeosang and Wooyoung have a very big reputation for being some of the rudest and coldest towards people. Yet they were so friendly when you were with them. Is everything all these people are saying about them true or maybe the group of eight is just deeply misunderstood?

Whatever it is, you need to talk to Jisung about this, but you will wait until the game is over.

----

The night of the interaction between Yeosang and Wooyoung, Jisung, Minho and you reside at their apartment, eating chicken and watching a shitty romcom for background noise. The rest of his roommates are out celebrating the start of the football season. You have no idea why it started mid-way through November but okay.

“I said I would come; they were too sweet to say no to!” You exclaim, throwing your head back against the couch, regretting saying yes.

“It was definitely Yeosang and Wooyoung?” Minho questions, not believing any part of my story.

“Yes! Yeosang has the birthmark next to his eye like Ji described and Wooyoung was the guy who works at that one café I used to go to all the time,”

“Well, I never knew Wooyoung worked at a café, that doesn't really match the hardcore scary image they are going for, are you sure you’re not going delusional?” Jisung admits, chuckling.

“What are you going to do?” Minho questions, passing you a drumstick.

You take a big bite, before speaking, “I should just go, if I don't show up, they might murder me as you two say. Which is very unbelievable seeing how fucking cheerful they’ve all been.”

“Well, you’ve only met four, the rest are probably a nightmare,” Jisung says, his mouth full of chicken, Minho humming in agreement next to him.

“You two are supposed to be comforting me.” you groan, throwing your head into your hands.

“Okay, don't worry __, if they have been as nice as you’ve been saying then just show up and if they aren't nice then call Chan and Changbin and I’m sure they will gladly sort them out for you.” Minho laughs.

----

Keeping your promise, you showed up at the café the next day.

Opening the painted door, the bell rings notifying your entrance. Immediately you spot Wooyoung relaxing against the counter, scrolling through his phone, visibly bored. There are only a few people in the café, mostly reading books or typing on laptops. You see a flash of pink hair in the corner, yet you lose focus as quickly as you had it as you continue to walk further in.

“Welcome to Veranda Café,” Wooyoung says unbothered, still staring at his phone as you walk closer to where all the cakes were on display. Much to your dismay, you fail to see a raspberry muffin on display.

“I see you still don’t have any raspberry muffins.” You speak out in front of where Wooyoung is standing, making his head immediately snap up.

“__! I was starting to worry you weren't going to show up.” He exclaims, a contagious smile wide on his face. Immediately putting his phone in his pocket, giving his attention to you. He leans on the counter. Extremely happy you showed up.

“I never break my promises,” you grin at the black-haired man.

“Oh, one moment.” He speaks out excitedly, like a puppy, and turns to where he was sitting. Opening up a small fridge, he brings out the biggest, most beautiful raspberry muffin you have ever seen.

“Yeosang and I made this morning for you.” he gestures over to the corner, and you see the blonde male from yesterday, he is sitting next to someone, yet you can’t see them from where you’re standing. Yeosang shyly waves and you smile and wave back. Heart beating faster and cheeks warming up, you take the muffin happily. Wooyoung smiles brightly at you, feeling prideful at the way your eyes light up from the muffin.

“We stopped making these muffins because the owner didn’t think anyone was buying them, it made me upset because I knew you liked them,” Wooyoung says, making direct eye contact with you, making you weak at the knees. Wondering how he even remembered you, you still feel thankful he thought of you, even if it was a long time ago.

“It’s a shame but I'm sure there are lots of other tasty things here too. Anyways, thank you so much, you guys are the best.” you say, sincerity dripping in your words. Wooyoung just shrugs like he doesn't care, but the big smile on his face and the redness dusting his ears tells a different story.

“How much do I owe you?” you ask, getting out your purse.

Swiftly, Wooyoung grabs your hand halting its actions, “it’s on us, for being so kind, Yeosang and one of our friends really needed those rescue drops.” He lowers his voice, “between us, their anxiety has been really bad recently, and the stuff works wonders. Plus, you were always my favourite customer anyways.” Wooyoung admits, smiling, his cheeks get a deeper colour of red. Your heart warms up once again, which is strange to you. You haven't felt this happiness in a very long time. Maybe things are starting to get better. Happily taking the muffin, you make your way to Yeosang who is reading a book.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” you inquire, repeating his words from yesterday, yet when your eyes meet the figure sitting next to him, they light up as you recognise him.

“I know you!” You exclaim, a little too loudly, causing people around you to glare in your direction. Feeling overwhelmed by the sudden attention, you quickly sit down in a shielded area, away from all the glares.

“You two know each other?” Yeosang asks, intrigued by your sudden remark.

“It is you, right?” you ask just in case you’re mistaking him for another pink-haired male.

The tall male smiles widely, “Yeah, it’s me. I’m Mingi,” he turns to Yeosang, who is visibly confused, “we met briefly in a bar the other day,”

Yeosang lets out an ‘ah’ in realisation, yet you fail to see the jealous look he points at the pink haired man as he turns back to his book. Reaching for a dessert fork placed in the middle of the table, Mingi quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Quietly thanking him, you start to cut your muffin into four pieces. You acknowledge a gaze on you, so you halt your movements and look up, noticing Yeosang and Mingi’s eyes on you. Suddenly feeling awfully small, you start to feel your heartbeat rise and your breath deepen, never really liking people watching you eat, the stares from the two make you anxious. Luckily, they seem to immediately notice your change in behaviour and start apologising.

“I’m sorry, we will look away. We were just wondering whether you were going to like the muffin,” Mingi explains, his voice stumbling over words.

“It’s okay! I’m sorry, I’ve always been kind of awkward when people watch me eat.” you confess, your cheeks heating up. The two males nod trying to remember this information for the future. Instantly, the two men completely look away and focus on their own things, not paying any attention to you. Their antics make you giggle slightly, and you look back down at your muffin. Slowly, you pick up a quarter and place it on Mingi’s empty plate in front of him. You then do the same for Yeosang. They both look up at you with wide eyes.

“This is your favourite, we can't take it,” Yeosang says hurriedly, trying to put the cake back on your plate.

“Stop, stop! I want to. I want to share it with my friends!” You blurt out before you can control your mouth. The wide eyes on both Yeosang and Mingi, make you realise what you said. You have to remember that even though they seem normal they are very clearly part of a group who apparently can kill people with their stare. What the hell are you doing? Of course, they aren’t your friends, you met them both once for less than ten minutes.

“Wait, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to say that I didn't intend to push your boundaries, we have only met like twice I didn't just assume we are friends!” You start to ramble, scared they will take it the wrong way, trying to fix your words as quickly as possible so you don’t get on their bad sides.

Before you can say anything more, Yeosang cuts you off by taking a bite of the muffin, “it tastes amazing! Thank you,”

“Woo!” Mingi’s voice calls out, ignoring the angry glares of people around him, “come get some cake!” Watching Wooyoung jump over the counter towards the three of you, you smile to yourself, glad you haven't done something that would cause future problems. Yeosang feeds Wooyoung the cake and makes an over-exaggerated reaction, “the flavours are melting on my tongue!” he exclaims in a funny voice, making Yeosang and Mingi cringe but you just laugh at his amusing antics. You can’t help but imagine how the whole group is when they are together.

For the remainder of the hour, you are just conversing with Wooyoung and Mingi, sometimes Yeosang if he wants to add to the conversation, but more focusing on his book, yet looking up intently whenever you speak. You are broken out of your conversation as you hear the bell of the entrance ring, notifying the entrance of new customers. Wooyoung groans and stands up from his chair next to you. It seems to be three girls from our school. You recognise one of them from your calculus class.

Then the next thing that happens confuses you more than any other thing that has happened. As Wooyoung reaches the counter to take their order, his demeanour changes almost immediately, you would've missed it if you had blinked.

Mingi and Yeosang seem to notice your confusion but blatantly ignore it, their smiles quickly disappearing from their faces. The atmosphere turns from warm and friendly to cold and foreign.

“What do you want?” Wooyoung asks bluntly. You furrow your eyebrows, confused out of your mind as to where the sweet friendly Wooyoung disappeared to.

“You know you should be nicer to your customers, it would help with business,” one of the girls speaks out, looking smug as if she has immensely hurt the man’s feelings.

“You should probably focus on your studies rather than going to cafes, sitting with a random document open and pretending to study when we all know you are miserably failing all your classes.” Wooyoung says monotone, whilst scrolling through his phone, not even looking at the three girls who now have shocked and offended looks on their faces. Some curses are thrown before the girls end up storming out of the café without even beginning to look at the menu. As soon as the girls leave, Wooyoung returns to the table nonchalantly, acting as if nothing had happened. Opening your mouth to say something, it gets caught in your throat before you get the words out.

Are you going insane?

{feedback is always appreciated and i love hearing from all of you. remember you are loved.}

part two is out now!!!

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txttletale · 1 year

Note

My question about growth/the venture capitalist mindset is like … how have venture capitalists and the like not figured this out already? It’s been a decade, give or take a few years, since the internet started being monetized to hell and back, and if we all know they’re not really making a profit (bc no one clicks on ads, obviously) then why are the structures still in place?im looking at all this and I feel like a dunce bc I just don’t get how ppl can keep ofunelling money into something that we all know doesn’t work lol ! :0

there's a couple reasons for this, but the tldr of it is that if you're wile e. coyote and you're running in the air over the edge of a cliff, it's in your material interests not to look down

let's say you're a venture capitalist and you've put $10 million into hypnospace, the hot new social media site. when you invest into a company, you invest at a certain price--the company has an idea of how much it's worth, and that determines what price they'll sell their shares at. let's say you buy at $10 a share, so you have a million shares in hypnospace. that $10-a-share-valuation was based on hypnospace telling you (in, say, 2012, when this was still believable and even seemed self-evident) that becuse they were seeing huge growth in daily active users, they'd eventually become insanely profitable.

now usually even you, a venture capitalist, a lifeform mostly resembling a parasitic flatworm, might be a little cautious about this investment. will they really become profitable? it seems risky. however because it's 2012, the US federal reserve has been giving out loans at their ZIRP (zero interest rate policy) for four years in a response to the 2008 financial crisis. what that means is that it's incredibly cheap for banks to borrow money, which in turn means it's incredibly cheap for you, a venture capitalist, to borrow that money from banks. when money is cheap, risky investments make a lot of sense--when you can get an extremely low-interest-rate loan, throwing that money down the toilet is unfortunate but no longer catastrophic. so you put your $10 million into hypnospace because the risk is artificially lowered by the ZIRP, making it well worth the reward.

now it's five years later and it's 2017 and it's becoming increasingly clear that hypnospace.horse is probably not going to became the new facebook and that perhaps there will in fact only be one facebook. bummer. but you've still got a million shares in it. this means that you're directly invested--not in the company becoming profitable, but in the valuation of that company going up. if people can be convinced to buy hypnospace shares at $12-a-share, you can make off with a cool $2 million even though the website never did anything useful or made any money. on the other hand, if people start thinking 'hey, this website has never made any money and it's obviously never going to, why would we buy shares in it'--shares plummet to $1 a share, and you're out $9 million! worst case scenario!

so even if you, the venture capitalist, realize that the website's a boondoggle, it's in your best interest to convince everyone around you that no, it really will become profitable, and its shares (that you hold some of!) are really valuable and you should want to buy them. and this doesn't just mean lying to other venture capitalists (although they love doing this)--capitalists pay close attention to sales of stocks. if you realize that hypnospace is never going to make money and decide to cut your losses and abruptly offload all million shares, other capitalists will interpret that for what it means--that you've totally lost confidence in seeing return on your investment--and many of them will panic and also start selling their shares, while capitalists with no hypnospace shares will think 'boy, this hypnospace thing seems like a real wash, i don't want to buy shares in that'.

so what do you do? you keep putting money in. if the company's increasing in valuation the more it grows, then even if you're crystal-clear aware that growth has no path to profitability, you still gain wealth for every month that the business stays afloat by burning money, because the valuation goes up and your shares are worth more. the ideal outcome for a venture capitalist investing into a tech company is to make a big investment, let the company bleed money while it grows for several years, then sell--not all at once, not abruptly, and not while the price is in stagnation or decline. it's one big game of hot potato for when the gig is finally up. not every venture capitalist has to be a totally credulous dipshit--just the last one in the line.

#ask #now a lot of the calculus on this has changed with interest rates on the rise again #but this explains basically the last decade of the tech sector

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unseededtoast · 23 days

Text

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Part Three

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

"I don't care what it takes or what it costs, I'm going to find who is doing this and I will make sure they never see the light of day again."

Spencer gets to the office unusually early after receiving an ominous text from Derek the previous night asking if Spencer could come in before anyone else gets there.

Ever since that text Spencer has been trying to think of things Derek would need to speak to him so privately about. He went back through his memories with a fine-tooth comb and came up short. He sits his bag on his desk and looks around, seeing nothing but an empty office.

His eyes drift to your desk where he sees both bouquets of flowers and he frowns. Part of him wants to get rid of them for you, but the profiler part tells him to leave them be for now. If the stalker is someone who has building access the removal of the flowers could easily upset him.

A little voice in the back of Spencer's mind scoffs at the idea. He's tiptoeing around a stalker's feelings while you're so obviously torn up about all of this. In a twisted way Spencer feels like the stalker's feelings are being placed above your own and that makes him feel guilty; but he knows in stalking cases that they must be handled very meticulously.

His hand find his phone in his pocket and he debates whether he should text you or not. But before he can decide, Derek steps into the office from the break room with a somber look on his face. Whatever he called Spencer here for is no light matter. Spencer's stomach drops and his chest fills with anxiety as Derek walks over to him.

"Why don't we sit down over here?" Derek says with a sigh, gesturing with a nod to his desk. Spencer follows him wordlessly and pulls over a seat.

"What's going on?" Spencer is able to break through his anxiety to ask the obvious question. Derek picks at the lid of his coffee for a few seconds before he looks up to Spencer.

"What I'm about to tell you is in full confidence, okay?" Derek asks and suddenly Spencer's mouth feels like the Sahara desert.

"Okay." Spencer agrees, his heart pounding in his chest. Derek licks his lips and sighs.

"I found something yesterday, something that implicates her." Derek's eyes sweep to your desk. Spencer's eyebrows furrow, he doesn't quite follow what Derek's saying.

"What do you mean?" Spencer's palms start to feel sweaty, the anxiety lingers heavily in his chest.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself?" Derek says and hands Spencer a folder from his top desk drawer.

Spencer's eyes scan the documents inside and his stomach turns. It doesn't make sense. No, surely it can't be? There's no way.

Spencer closes the folder after looking at every page and hands it back to Derek. His mind is racing at a million miles per second and for the first time in a long time, Spencer is speechless.

"Don't say anything to her I'm still collecting evidence. The others only know a little bit, so let's just keep this between us for now." Derek says as he places the folder back in his desk. Spencer abruptly stands from the seat and nods. He has to get out of here, the air is suffocating.

After Spencer excuses himself he finds a secluded room and takes some deep breaths. He feels like he's stuck between a rock and a hard place; between the truth and a mountain of lies. The only issue is that he can't distinguish truth from lie.

His mind tells him that you can't possibly have done what Derek is accusing you of. There's just no way. But then again, if Spencer disregards your friendship, it makes some sense.

Determined to get to the bottom of this, Spencer walks out to find evidence of his own; though he's slightly afraid of what he might find.

———

After a night of little sleep you drag your feet as you get ready for the day. On one hand you're eager to do some digging but on the other hand you're almost terrified of why your teammates think you're responsible for the altered documents. What could they have possibly found?

When you arrive to the office you don't go to the sixth floor right away. Instead you take a detour to the main reception desk where the usual desk worker sits. You had meant to speak with her on Monday but things quickly spiraled and you had forgotten. She greets you with a sweet smile that you try to reciprocate, but you fear yours is more reminiscent of a grimace.

"How can I help you?" She asks, taking a break from typing.

"Were you here when some flowers got delivered on Monday?" You try not to sound too desperate. The receptionist taps her fingers on the desk as she speaks, her eyes lighting up when she finds an answer.

"I was! They were beautiful." She compliments and you try to swallow the sickness.

"Do you remember who brought them in? Did they work here?" You lean in closer as you ask, eager to hear her response. But your heart sinks when you hear her answer.

"I do, it was an employee from the shop down the street." Her smile reruns to her face while your hope shrivels.

"Thank you. If anyone delivers any more to the sixth floor could you ask who is sending them?" You ask and she nods.

"Absolutely." You give her one more thanks before heading to the elevator. You had hopes that she would give you better information, that the stalker himself would have delivered the flowers. But you realize that all hope is not entirely lost; the flower shop should have record of who ordered.

Your stomach twists as you enter the office, still feeling the effect of the team's attitude towards you. As you walk to your desk you wish any of them would even spare you a glance, or even glare, but it seems they're actively ignoring you. And the one person you can always depend on is nowhere to be found, but he's obviously been here as his bag is slung over the back of his chair.

Hating the silence you pick up the phone and call the florist down the street. This is the most solid lead you have and you figure you may as well track it down. The phone rings a few times before a lady picks up.

"Blooming Bouquets this is Noelle speaking, how may I help you?" Her voice is sickly sweet and you can't help but to imagine a kind older lady on the other end.

"Hi, yes I'm just calling to inquire about two orders placed this previous week. I think my boyfriend might have sent them but I just want to be sure. I'm hoping you can help me with that?" You fabricate your story with ease. People are more willing to help if they think you know the sender.

"Sure thing, was there a card attached?" She asks and you hear her typing.

"Yes, one said something about each flower being a chapter of our story. Does that sound familiar?" You focus on making your voice sound casual, you don't want any sense of apprehension to poke through. The woman types some more.

"Hmm, yes that does sound familiar. But it looks like they paid cash and hand-wrote the note themselves. I'm sorry but we don't keep track of cash orders like that." She says and you want to slam your head against the desk. Of course they don't keep electronic records of cash orders.

"No worries thank you!" You force a happy tone and then hang up the phone.

Of course the stalker would take enough care to cover their tracks every step of the way. If they're smart enough to work for the FBI then it makes sense that they would know to take extreme care like that; especially considering they know you work in the BAU.

You look around and notice that the rest of the team is seemingly working on their own tasks but you suspect they were all eavesdropping on you. They're all likely profiling you right now, even though the team swore to never profile each other.

The feeling of your own teammates turning against you is suffocating and you can't stand it anymore. You're out of leads and your team seems to think you're fabricating everything. With Spencer still nowhere in sight, you go back to Penelope's office and hope that she doesn't think you're making this up too.

You knock on her door and she opens quickly. And you don't have to be a profiler to see the slight change in her facial expression. It seems she thinks you're guilty of something as well. But you know that you're more likely to get answers from her than anyone else. So, you invite yourself in.

"You busy?" You ask softly, stepping into her office. A million different expressions cross her face in a millisecond before she answers back.

"Not at the moment, no." Her lack of questioning and calm demeanor further proves your theory; she thinks you're guilty of something as well.

Or maybe she doesn't and you're reading too far into things. Maybe you're becoming paranoid and making yourself look more suspicious. A thousand different thoughts race through your mind as you take your usual spot in Penelope's office.

She returns to her work without another word and you observe her hand trembling ever so slightly as she types. Knowing her well enough by now, you decide to wait it out and see if she breaks. It's not unusual for her to crack under the pressure and give up some information; no matter how tiny the secret. So you sit, and you wait. But she never breaks. With a sigh, you decide to try one last idea.

"Pen, what's going on?" Your genuine sadness leaks into your words. It's not all some elaborate interrogation, she really is your friend and you really are torn up about everything. Her fingers stop typing and it's like she's a deer in headlights.

"I don't- I can't- I promised-" she stammers and you can see the hint of tears begin welling up in her eyes. Your heart sinks and your stomach churns. Whatever she knows, it's gravely serious if she still isn't cracking.

With pleading eyes and a cracking voice you fight to keep your composure.

"Please. What's going on?" You ask, hoping that she gives you even the slightest hint. But to your dismay, she looks away from you and shakes her head.

"I really can't. I'm so sorry." She wipes her eyes and you stand from the seat. Without saying another word, you exit.

Your throat is tight with emotion, your nerves shot with the mystery of the unknown. And you know that if you're ever going to figure this out that you need to find Spencer. He may be the last ally you have in this office.

———

Spencer spends the majority of the day tucked away in a secluded room where he's free to delve into the information at his fingertips. A mix of paper and electronic records litter the table in front of him, his mind working overtime to put the pieces together. He thinks he might have a good start on the timeline of things and he feels hopeful that the truth will be exposed soon.

He knows you'll come looking for him sooner rather than later, but he's hoping that by the time you find him that he will know for certain whether you're guilty as sin, or if you're being framed.

The watch on his wrist glistens in the light as he checks the time. Knowing that you're likely hunting him down at the very moment, he gathers his things and puts them into his bag. If you did find him here, the last thing he would want you to see is what he's doing.

You're his best friend after all, have been for years. And he doesn't want you to think that he's suspicious of you in the slightest. Truthfully, he feels guilty for even considering that you're some deceptive mastermind; but in this line of work he knows he has to prove it.

By now most of the team should have left for the day. But Spencer is confident that you're still here. He walks back out to his desk and his suspicions are confirmed. There you are, sitting at your desk, hands gripping your head as if you're about to pull out your hair.

You must have heard him entering the space because you turn around. He sees your bloodshot eyes and knows that you've had a hard day. The little voice in the back of his mind is screaming that guilty people can't fake distress like this; but the logical part tells him that it's not impossible for a skilled profiler like yourself to be able to do so.

But he knows you, he's known you for years; and so for the first time in a long time, he wrestles with his logic.

He sighs and walks over to you. Despite his conflicting thoughts about the situation, you're still his friend and he can clearly see that you need someone. Your tired, tear-stained eyes seem to stare into his soul.

It makes his heart break just a little more and he knows for certain then and there that you have nothing to do with this. He would be willing to put his career on it.

———

"Spencer." Your voice is hoarse but you don't care. You keep your bottom lip from trembling as he offers a small, sympathetic smile.

"I'm here." Is all he says, and you're thankful.

"What's going on? Where were you?" You ask him, hoping to hear that he found whoever is doing this. But instead of answering any of your questions, he avoids them completely.

"Listen, you didn't hear this from me, but there might be a file in Morgan's top drawer you might be interested in. Take pictures so you can read them later, be quick about it." His voice is low and serious, far more serious than you've ever seen him and it seems to sober you up from your downward spiral.

You nod, hanging onto every word he says. Your eyes dart over to Morgan's empty desk.

"I understand." Is all you say before he nods and leaves without another word. You watch as he leaves the office, his shoulders tense.

You wait for him to board the elevator before you go to Morgan's desk. Luckily the top drawer isn't locked and you find a single folder in there. Heeding Spencer's advice, you quickly take pictures of the documents inside so you can review them all later. And in under two minutes, the folder is put back exactly how you found it.

Your shaking hand puts your phone into your back pocket and you stroll out of the office as if it's any other day. The office is entirely empty at this point, your footsteps echo in the hall on your way to the elevator. Adrenaline courses through your veins and you can't wait to get home and look over those documents.

But whatever they may say, you know for sure that you still have Spencer on your side. If the rest of the team has turned against you, he's the only one you can count on right now.

The thought of him being the only one in your corner warms your heart. Even after everything the two of you had been through together over the years, this in particular feels like a defining moment.

———

Unknown POV

Looking at the watch around my wrist, I realize I only have a few minutes before I need to leave. The soft material in my hand seems to radiate its warmth throughout my whole body, and I inhale its scent deeply.

It's even more heavenly than I could have imagined.

As I unlock my car door I can't bear to let go of my most prized possession. It took a lot of meticulous planning but it has all paid off. Everything went according to plan.

Her coworkers are divided amongst themselves and think that she is responsible for something she did not do. And while I regret having to essentially set her up, it provides me the perfect opportunity to swoop in and save the day. All I have to do is wait for the call that I know is sure to come soon.

However, I can't say as though I'll be happy to undo what I've done, as I believe it more accurately reflects the BAU's team dynamic and took an immense amount of planning and caution. But I digress, she is worth the struggle.

I drive off into the night, material clutched in my hand, dreaming of what our life will look like together one day.

———

You sit at your dining table in disbelief, phone clutched tightly in your hand. Your eyes quickly read and reread the documents you took photos of and come to understand why your entire team is ignoring you.

Several previous case reports have been altered, under your name. They've been altered in a way that gives yourself credit for finding and apprehending the unsubs, while the other team members appear to essentially be background characters.

You feel sick to your stomach as you read report after report that's been replaced with false information. If this gets out to Hotch you could lose your job for falsifying documents. Though you never touched them after submitting them, the electronic records clearly show that your credentials were used to make the changes.

With sweating palms and a churning stomach you put your phone down and try to make sense of it all. What would someone possibly stand to gain from doing this? Is it to disparage your character? Make your team not trust you? The possibilities feel endless.

Unable to look at the altered reports anymore, you focus back on your apartment. Not having cleaned in days, the place is messy; an organized mess you like to call it. And you need a distraction from everything anyways, so why not tidy up a bit?

You go about picking up clutter and throwing it away, and when you reach the entry area, a small piece of paper catches your attention. Picking it up you read what's been written on it. It's the same note Spencer left you on the table the night he brought you home from the bar. But you could have sworn you left it on the dining table across the apartment.

Too tired to put a lot of thought into it, you simply ball the note up in your hand and toss it away with everything else. It was probably just the wind that carried it over there anyways.

Your next task is to straighten out the furniture from where Spencer had stayed. The couch had been moved a few inches over from his tossing and turning, as it usually does. With ease you scoot the couch back to its designated spot, but realize that the lamp had also been moved.

The lamp is typically beside the window, next to the couch, but instead it's been moved away from the window. With scrunched eyebrows you stare at the lamp, trying to figure out how it could have been moved; it wouldn't have been moved by Spencer on the couch, and you're left dumbfounded.

You move it back to its intended spot, fingers lingering on the cool metal as you try to figure it out. Maybe you accidentally moved it previously while vacuuming and forgot to put it back? You figure that's probably what happened, you've been too tired and busy lately, so it's entirely possible you just simply forgot to move the lamp back.

Feeling something weird in the air, you draw the curtains shut and your body suddenly shivers with a chill. The atmosphere suddenly feels different, heavier almost. And the tiny voice of paranoia begins whispering in the corners of your mind.

Is it just a coincidence the note was found by the front door? And did you really forget to move the lamp back? After all, you can't exactly remember the last time you vacuumed.

These concerning thoughts flood your mind as you operate on autopilot, folding the pile of laundry on your bed. You had meant to fold all of these earlier, but with everything going on, it's fallen to the wayside.

Your fingers tremble with every fold and your knees feel like they could give out. You count on your fingers how many days worth of laundry you had in that pile and realize that you're short one sweater. And you know for a fact you hadn't worn it again since it had been washed.

The note, the lamp, the sweater. Individually each incident can be chalked up to a coincidence or some sort of tired mistake. But when you consider all three elements together, paired with the other weird happenings, you come to one grave conclusion. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and echoes in your head, your mouth is as dry as the desert, bile rises in your throat.

Someone has been inside your apartment.

———

Every second that passes feels like its own small eternity. Your eyes burn from being awake so long, but the adrenaline pumping throughout you prevents you from going to sleep. Sweat won't stop making your palms slick.

The moonlight that trickles through your curtains makes the metal of your gun shine dimly. It hasn't left your side since you figured out someone broke into your home.

You had taken refuge in your bedroom, fearing that being in the living area would make you too exposed to whoever may be watching. Tears had slid their way down your cheeks without you really even noticing, it was like your whole system was going into shock. Sure, you had seen several cases of stalking on the job, but it's a whole different game when you're the one on the receiving end.

Now, sitting alone in your apartment, you understand how all of the other victims must have felt. Isolated. Scared. Sick. Full of dread and impending doom. You saw it over and over again, and you knew what usually comes next. It's at this point when the stalkers usually make themselves fully known.

The thought of someone walking around your home while you were away makes you nauseous. Who knows what they found, what they touched, and what else they may have decided to keep for themselves. Your body involuntarily trembles as you struggle to keep your composure.

This is entirely unlike you. You had never been the one to shrink from a challenge, never once had you backed down from a case when your instincts told you it was dangerous. But here you sit, feeling like a coward.

You sit as still as a statue until the sun comes up.

———

Hours later you find the courage to move from your bedroom. You had your ear pressed to the door listening for movement on the other side for a solid half hour before you decided it was safe to go, but only after tucking your gun into your waistband. Feeling like prey inside your own home is a foreign feeling, and one you'd never like to feel again.

You tiptoe to the kitchen, desperate for some water. With shaky hands you down three glasses and let the empty cup sit on the counter; you simply can't be bothered with putting it away right now, even if you did just clean last night.

Your eyes scan with great intensity to see if you can find anything else out of place, and it's in front of your door where you see a manila folder laying just inside, as if someone slid it underneath the door.

The folder is heavy and stuffed full of pages. You take it to your dining table and open it and immediately wish you hadn't.

There are several printed photos of yourself inside. They're from press publications, your official FBI identification photo, and some look like they had been taken by the stalker themselves. Behind the photos are printed news articles and highlighted are the sentences that speak to your contribution to the case. But it's the annotations in the margins that really catch your eye. For each highlighted sentence there's a note accompanying it. Each note says something to the effect of you deserving more credit.

Hastily, you flip through each page, eyes scanning over the stalker's handwritten notes until you reach the last one. The last page is a simple piece of lined paper, the words look like they were written with a pen. Your stomach drops as you read the last line and your body moves on its own accord, picking up your phone and calling Spencer.

———

Your foot anxiously taps on the floor as you watch Spencer look over the folder. His eyes are intensely focused, his eyebrows scrunched together as he reads, and rereads, every single word. He's organized the photos and pages in a way he understands and you let him do his thing. After all, he's the most intelligent man you've ever met, and the only real ally you have at the moment.

He arrived not even twenty minutes after you had called him. You hadn't even been able to get the words out properly before he told you he was on his way. As soon as he walked through your door, you hugged him as if you'd never see him again.

"Hey, hey it's okay, I'm here now." His voice was soft, tender, and understanding. You took a few moments to take in his scent, face buried in his chest to ground yourself to reality. Eventually, you let go of his shirt and stepped away, looking up to see his concerned eyes.

You told him what happened last night and he was quick to tell you that you should've called him immediately.

"I know Spencer, but I just, I just froze. I never freeze." Your voice betrayed you and you worked hard to keep from crying again. Worry clearly shown on his face, Spencer guided you to the living room for a moment to allow you to relax before you eventually moved into the dining area so he could look at the folder.

And now, here you sit, watching him with tired eyes. But somehow, you only feel relieved that he's here, the exhaustion doesn't seem to phase you as you watch Spencer. He had shown up in his pajamas, his hair not even brushed and his glasses on instead of contacts. It didn't matter though, you already had spare everything for him because he stays over so often.

You admire the way he always looks effortlessly good, and you appreciate how safe he makes you feel. Your eyes linger on his face, where his glasses rest on his nose. Every few minutes he reaches up and pushes them back and you can't help but to smile just a little. You won't ever admit it to anyone, but you like the way he looks in glasses more than when he doesn't use them.

However, you admiration is cut short as he reads aloud the words written on the last page. Even just hearing them makes your skin crawl.

"Don't worry darling, soon enough we will be together, and you will see how much I adore you."

Your eyes lock with Spencer's. His holds an intensity you've never seen before, like a fire had been ignited within them. His jaw tightens and he sets the paper down. You watch as he scowls at the page, his hands clenching and unclenching before he leans forward and grabs the edge of the table. He looks towards you, his face close to yours, and with the most calm voice ever he simply states,

"I don't care what it takes or what it costs, I'm going to find who is doing this and I will make sure they never see the light of day again."

Part Four

-----------------------------

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saiidahyunie · 6 months

Text

daydreaming

minatozaki sana x soccerplayer!reader (pt.1)

synopsis: you seem to have a really bad habit of spacing out. it’s even worse when you’re spacing out while staring at your best friend sana, but that shouldn’t be the case when you and her are flirting with each other already anyway.

wc: 6k

warnings: mostly fluff ; a sprinkle of angst ; slightly suggestive (?) ; mentions of food

a/n: hi hi hiii, new blog, new account, and first post? feel free to leave any comments, asks, or even feedback, i hope you guys will like this!

had this idea brewing in my head for a while now after playing fifa myplayer career mode. so this is my own little twist to the prompt inspired by @spidergirlanon with jihyo, but swap her out with sana instead for mine! i do intend to make this into a mini series so the next parts will be on the way eventually (if college doesn’t kill me by then) so please enjoy and also show some love to her as well!!! :))

you knew it was gonna be a good day with a hit on the crossbar at the end of morning practice.

sure, you would’ve wished to hit it on the first try and be done with it, but going overboard and hitting five out of five attempts left you with some scattered cheers from your teammates watching as they cleaned up the surrounding area of cones and soccer balls.

you also chipped in a small contribution by putting the remaining balls in the last two bags near the goalpost. making your way towards the bench with four sets of bleachers behind it, you set your eyes on one person sitting on the first row of seats.

now sana didn’t really mind coming along with you to your practice sessions no matter if it was early, late, rain, or shine; heck, she even offered to drive you at times just to change things up despite her questionable driving skills that made you wonder if her passing the drivers test was entirely a fluke. but instead of sleeping in on saturday mornings, she decided to spend them with you.

you walk up to the set of bleachers without her knowing as she was hunched over watching one of her numerous netflix shows that she changes every other week because she could never fully commit to watching one series entirely. waving your set of shin pads over her phone causes her to look up with a scrunched look on her face in a slight annoyance.

“you seem pretty invested with that new show now.” you said, smiling at your antic as sana paused her show, slapping your thigh lightly. “I already told you that I'll try sticking to one a week yesterday.” sana playfully said, getting up with her small handbag on her shoulder. “you finished?”

you simply nodded, “yeah, I also bring good news.” sana tilts her head in with a quizzical look on her face on top of her lips set in a slight pout.

“no training next week.” you said. “coach rain said that he’ll be out of town running some trials for a second division team out of state.” sana’s eyes shot slightly wider than usual, raising her eyebrow after your little announcement. “are you sure you’re not pranking me? you said that last time!” sana asks, checking her phone after for a quick second before giving back her attention to you.

“it’s not a prank this time.” you respond giggling as you turn to grab your bag from the bench, quickly fishing through for your car keys. you turn back soon after to see sana fixing her hair tying it in a messy bun. you sort of pause any movement for a small second.

a second for everything that’s happening around you, but an eternity in your head when you laid eyes on sana again.

the appearance of sana was always breathtaking to look at regardless of what she was doing. her sense of style didn’t go to disarray as she perfectly pulled off your oversized gray hoodie that you let her borrow along with her flared yoga pants that would one-up the models wearing it on the website when buying in addition to the small white prada handbag that you picked for her when you went designer brand shopping two weeks ago. her fair skin that seemed to illuminate in the sunlight close to being angelic. her light brown hair which looked seemingly perfect even if she put it up or down. the way her face contoured in angles you didn’t even think it was possible for one to have. in your opinion, she had the ideal side profile in addition to her nose being flawless. there was no denying the fact that she was pretty, (wait not pretty- beautiful) and you were left in wonder sometimes how you managed to have someone like her as your best friend.

“is something wrong y/n?” sana asks, breaking your trance as you shook your head in response.

“yea- no, i’m good, i thought i forgot-”

“looks like y/n’s daydreaming again.”

“you know you’re unbelievable sometimes y/n?”

keeping your eyes on sana she smiled at you after hearing the pair of voices’ remarks. you mirrored her lovely smile as you turned around to see the duo of maki and mia watching you two from a short distance.

“don’t you two have cleaning responsibilities?” you quickly ask the pair, pointing to the last pile of ball bags placed to the left of them. “you don’t want coach to get mad at you guys let alone run laps again do ya?”

maki scoffed, “yeah, but you’re not denying the fact that you were daydreaming right in front of us weren’t ya?” mia quietly snickered behind you, noticing a faint hint of red spread out on your face. you shoulder your bag over your right side, lightly raising your fist in response to their little inside joke against you.

“i could give both of you guys red ass right now if i wanted to.” you declared, eyeing a ball set next to the bench. maki picked up on your sentence and was quick to put hands behind his butt; reminiscing the flashbacks of what unfolded last time he pulled a quick joke about you and sana. “Han was lucky he was sick that time, but i’m sure that he would love to see it happen-”

“okay okay, you win this time captain.”mia replied quickly to admit his defeat as he and Han both turned around heading towards the last pile of ball bags placed next to the goal. after internalizing your small victory, you then turned back to sana with a subtle smirk on her face.

“what?”

“oh nothing. i know it’s just regular banter between the three of you. im still shocked that you’re the youngest between them. crazy to think about, but cute nonetheless.”

“so you’re saying that my age is apparently more important than my contrasting appearance? don’t even get me started about my first impression of your dad.”

sana taps your shoulder, “hey! you should be glad my mom convinced him that you weren’t the cliche jock type you see in high school movies.” you place your hand over your shoulder that sana hit, raising both your hands as you gave in to her argument. “alright, you made your point. now lets go before the morning rush starts at chae’s,” you said as you both began walking towards the parking lot.

—

meeting sana could’ve gone differently looking back at it now. the last thing you expected to happen was an attempted knuckleball skyrocketing over your small goal followed by a broken window and an ear piercing screech at your neighbor's house from your front yard. what made it even worse was the fact that sana and her family had moved in just next door at the time. after getting an earful from her dad while also getting another tangent from your dad, it eventually led to both your parents meeting sana’s parents properly. at first, you were reluctant about coming along to meet, especially following what you did, but your mom convinced you that it’ll be fine and how there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

“just think of it as getting off on the wrong foot! besides, you already apologized to mr and mrs. minatozaki!” your mom said to you, rubbing your shoulders to ease the nervousness from your body.

“mom, how do you expect me to be fine after blasting a ball into our new neighbor’s window?” you look up while asking, putting both of your hands in the pockets of your stained sweatpants.

“i already told you, there’s nothing to worry about sweetie, your dad already said that he’ll fix the window.” your mom glanced over at you, placing her hand on your cheek.

you sighed as the three of you stood in front of the minatozakis’ new home. a few quick rings of the doorbell followed by the door opening, you see the quick exchanges of “hellos” and handshakes as you made your way inside the house. your mom taps your shoulder, pointing to her feet to signify taking off your shoes. simply nodding at your mother’s request, you sat yourself down on the steps of the two story house, untying your shoes while adjusting your socks in the process.

while you were doing that, you overheard a third voice near the dining room as well as your mother’s remark whenever she sees something nice and cute like a pet. thinking nothing of it, you continue to fix up the worn socks you had as you hear the rush of steps on the wooden floor. your eyes catch something moving on your right side and as you turn your head to the left, a girl who looked to be about your age was sitting next to you.

“sorry, did i scare you?” the girl questions, setting herself on the stairs placing her gaze towards you.

“n-no, it’s just that i didn’t know that you were here in this house too.” you responded, covering your startled state by fake coughing while turning away from her stare.

“so you actually thought that screech was from my mom?” the girl asks, straightening her legs on the stair steps; putting more of her undivided attention to you.

“well…yeah, but i couldn’t really tell exactly whose scream it was.” you mumble sitting upright slightly turning your body towards the girl next to you.

the dark haired girl makes eye contact with you, also slightly turning inward to face you; mirroring your seated posture as well. you slightly suck in a quick breath through your parted lips, never breaking the innocent gaze you and her were sharing together. your mind ran a quick analysis of her features: her dark brown eyes, the subtle chubbiness of her cheeks almost mimicking a hamster, the way her lips were flatlined with both corners angling up to give a derpy smile. you couldn’t understand it back then, but this girl had an aura early on, almost entrancing you entirely at any given moment.

“you’re not as shy as you look.” the girl says. “anyway, your face was so funny when my dad was talking to you yesterday about our window.”

you furrowed your brows together following her statement. “wha- wait you saw?”

she hummed, nodding her head in response.

“my dad isn’t the type of person to get mad, but you looked so scared.” she answered. “i was at the top of the stairs when the whole thing happened.”

“i- i guess i was too caught up getting a lesson from your da-”

she lightly laughs at your explanation. “it’s ok. he knows that it was an accident so there’s no need for you to get scared.”

“i wasn’t scared!” you counter, trying to come up with a good reason why you looked liked that. the girl leans a little bit closer trying to hear your poorly constructed alibi, but your mind couldn’t come up with anything to pass.

you sigh, slouching your body forward in defeat as the girl beside you simply smiled at your distressed state. you return eye contact with her soon after.

“i’m sana by the way.” she says.

“i’m y/n.” you reply back as you quickly look down at your mismatched socks.

“y/n? that’s a cute name.” she notes, her voice beaming with a bright tone.

you scoff at her observation. “my name isn’t all that, but i’ll take your compliment.” you say cracking a quick exchange of soft smiles.

“kids! dinner is ready!” your mom yells from the dining room behind the stairs.

“coming!” you and sana both say in unison as you and her made a break to the kitchen.

—

what followed after that fateful dinner would become a six year friendship between you and sana. to say that you two were inseparable would be one hell of an understatement. you and her were basically attached at the hip all throughout the school years.

there was never a dull moment between you and sana, the days were always filled with random antics, laughs, impulsive decisions to procrastinate on homework by getting something to eat, or even doing anything and everything in her house or yours. aside from your parents in addition to Dex, who was practically your day one since kindergarten, sana was always there for you no matter if it was about school, soccer, or whatever crazy adventure life decided to throw at you. she was there with you through it all.

sana knew everything about you. from the ideal snacks you’d like to eat, what your skincare routine items consisted of, the music you would listen to on the way to tournaments, your favorite player’s top 10 essentials, study habits, the inconsistent sleep schedule; she’s seen it all. you also have the same case when it came to learning more and more of sana’s habits and lifestyle. what she prefers on a rainy day, the fact that she likes to take pictures of things that were cute or intriguing; her go-to order of coffee she would usually get when cramming school work together, and even the way she celebrates even the smallest accomplishments jumping up and down in elation.

what first started as differences between you and her turned into common interests, the bond that was shared grew even stronger. those post game meals, watching a show together through one pair of earbuds, walking and eventually driving to school - even sleeping over at each other’s houses just to keep company. the priceless moments you spent with her didn’t have to be special, it was already enough that you were willing to do anything with her and sana definitely felt the same way with you.

you and sana always appeared to have a bubble encapsulating you two at school. most classmates and friends would usually give space to ensure that they weren’t interrupting something. not that you or her cared anyway, but from an outsiders’ perspective, it's a different story - and it gets the people going in conversation:

“sana and y/n would make a good couple.”

“they’re always together...”

“y/n is so lucky to have sana!”

“what a perfect match.”

blah blah blah blah you’ve heard the lot of it.

so let’s set the record straight, you and sana never actually dated each other during high school. despite that shocking revelation, the situation itself seems too good to be true. you’ve spent a significant amount of time together, know every detail about each other’s lives, and no secrets are harbored between you two; but this is midway through your last fall break in high school, and surely something must’ve clicked by now right? wrong.

most of the guys and girls at school would kill to be in your position with sana. it was already accepted that she was leagues above anyone else and it wasn’t even a close race with the other popular girls at school as well. you a similar set of criteria with sana: top of the class, you were the best player and captain of the soccer team, well known with the various teachers, good with other students, and just the ideal model that most people should aspire to be on and off the soccer pitch. too bad much can’t be said about your love life since it’s virtually nonexistent.

however, that all changed when you started to see sana a little bit differently. the realization didn’t come to you right away - eventually, you start to see small signals going off in your mind in both the physical and internal aspects of sana’s being.

you didn’t notice it at first glance because of how natural it was to see sana being clingy or touchy with momo and nayeon; come to think of it, now even dahyun from econ class was now the latest addition to her list of victims in physical affection. she had that effect on others that made them feel like they have known sana for ages. none of them come close to you though. your classmates have only seen the superficial version of sana, the version that everyone was naturally accustomed to seeing on a daily basis during class. despite that, it was a much different story at home.

the real sana, your sana, you’ve seen the emotions she held in behind closed doors and its just you two. even for a girl like her who’s always seen as an overpowering ray of sunshine, she too has her moments of despair. that was apparent during the time when she lost her cousin to a tragic drunk driver accident roughly about two years ago. you were nearly forced to drag her to the service, but she eventually came around. the loss was already tough on her as it is since she got sick soon after that. since her mom was busy with nursing and her dad usually working the graveyard shift, she was always home alone if you were also backed up with soccer practice or school work.

but in that week when she got really sick, you thought it’d be a good idea for you to stay over at her house to keep her company; not that your parents really minded nevertheless; for her sake and wellbeing, you dedicated yourself to care for your longtime friend.

the first night was probably the roughest part of that week. you immediately bolted to her house after practice when you received a text from her mom to see how she was doing. when you arrived at her house and stepped into her room since the funeral, it was difficult to see her in that bedridden state; she was a wreck, slightly malnourished, almost pale. it pained you to see her like this - despite that, she still had that little sense of bubbliness to her that made the situation a little more bearable to handle as she flashed a faint smile,

“i guess this is what i get for not eating and sleeping?” sana mumbles, her voice coarse that was almost ineligible to hear.

“everyone handles their grief differently, so in a way yes.” you sigh as you set the tray of warm soup on her nightstand.

you got a closer look at her face when you sat next to her on the bed, adjusting yourself as sana propped herself up after turning on the lamp. your heart ached at the sight your mind was registering. her eyes that were once beaming with light were no longer there; instead, they were half-lidded, almost lifeless. the eyebags right under were very apparent with her hair clearly disheveled from being in bed.

“thank you for the soup y/n.” sana says with a faint glee in her expression.

“don’t, sana,” you quickly say, patting her head, “it already hurts me to see you like this.”

sana pouts at your statement.

“the least that i can do is just be here for you.” you utter, “i won’t ask for anything in return.” you flash a smirk only for her to return the same look.

“well, i should probably get going.” you say in a lowered tone. “i still have to finish up my project with Jackson and i-”

as you got up from sana’s bed, you felt a hand grasp your wrist. looking back, you see sana facing down with a sense of loss translated through her body. your heart rate spiked for an instant as you tried to conjure up any sort of thoughts possible to help determine what was unfolding in front of you.

a very small sniffle could be heard, breaking the tension and silence that was filling up the room.

“stay…” sana murmurs softly, “please.”

your mind freezes at her sudden request. this was the first time you’ve seen sana in this state before, and there was one thing that was certain your heart was telling you: this was really bad. you were one choice away from either making her overall condition worse - but this potential choice was also an unforeseen opportunity for something that you had never thought of doing with the girl living next door to you.

in a prolonged second, the next set of actions that transpired would eventually be the set of seeds planted for your true intentions down the line.

you shift sana’s hand from your wrist to your hand as you sat back down on the bed, facing her again, meeting with her eyes as they were on the verge of tears once more.

“okay.” you whisper softly as you grasp her hand slightly tighter, “i’ll stay.” you say, leaning forward so that your forehead could meet hers.

sana let out a small breath of relief through her nose, delighted at the words you said which eased the pain a whole lot more than she initially thought. after placing her forehead against yours, she lightly closed her eyes as a single tear fell down from the left side of her face. her face became warm all of a sudden when you put your hand on her left cheek, wiping the tear away, melting at your loving touch for a slight second.

“thank you…” sana whispers to you.

soon after she said that, you wrap your arms around her, hugging her tightly. sana pauses at your action for a brief millisecond, thrown off with what you were doing; instead of pondering about it, she fully gives into your embrace as she slotted herself into your chest. her arms coating your clothed back with her hands placed perfectly on the crook of your neck, allowing herself to be fully comfortable with showing these emotions to you for the first time.

—

intimacy was something that sana had no shame in showing, she had that knack for being affectionate to her loved ones in any way possible. even when hanging out with friends, it would always end up with her being all over someone for the most part; and even when watching from afar, she would give small glances to you as if she’s trying to make you jealous. but in the end, you would tilt your head and give a small smirk back at her, acknowledging the fact that what she’s doing is indeed working, except you won’t yield to her that easily.

you were a different case for sana. the understanding that you two had was way past the verbal aspect to a point where you or her could say so much just by looking in each other’s eyes. sana just felt right at home with you, a perfect compliment to her energy and vibes. the yin to her yang. you had no problem with reciprocating the things that she does whenever its just you two. from hand-holding, her grip on your arm, your arm wrapped around her waist, and pressing both of your faces together when taking pictures just to name a few.

all of those sweet moments were special to you, and surely sana thought the same. they could be called dates, they could be called hangouts, it didn’t matter at all because you’d be spending them with the person who’s had your heart for the longest time now.

“you’re staring off into space again.”

a voice breaks your daze into the distance as you’re brought back to reality, sitting along a set of tables outside of chaeyoung’s family owned cafe. you blink and look over to your right side of you, seeing sana sitting next to you staring, her head on her fist with a puzzled expression on her face.

“that matcha latte isn’t gonna finish itself ya know.” she says. you look down and smile, realizing you embarrassed yourself for the third time today.

“sorry.” you say as you finish the last of your latte in one swig. sana mirrors your action, drinking her cinnamon scented macchiato. both of you gulp down the last of your tasty beverages and place your cups on the table.

“you do have something on your mind don’t you? sana asks playfully. you shake your head in response to her question, “well not exactly.”

“yes you do.”

“no i don’t.”

“y/n, we both know how this goes.” sana declares, knowing that it was pointless to hide something especially if you’re keeping it from sana of all people.

you sigh in defeat, looking at the rows of cherry blossom trees set outside of chaeyoung’s cafe before focusing on sana again.

“it’s about the youth academy, and the exit trial…” you started off, “even though it’s been two weeks already, i’m not sure how well i-”

“stop y/n.” sana demands, shaking her head, “that wasn’t how you felt when you came back from the facility; i know you did great so act like it.”

“i know, i know. ” you sigh softly, placing your hands on the table. clasping your fingers together to stop them from shaking. “but you gotta remember sana, this trial is for a potential contract; on an actual team. i’m within touching distance of my lifelong dream, but what if it doesn’t work out?”

sana shakes her head in disagreement, grabbing your hands with her own. you shift your left hand and place it over hers, gently rubbing the top of her thumb as she did the same for your right hand.

“you supported my dream of becoming a cosmetologist, now let me do the same for you.” sana declares, “all of those practices and games will finally be worth it in the end. the best and only thing that we can do is just wait.” sana has seen the highs and lows of your soccer journey and while she didn’t fully grasp the sport until a year after she met you all those years ago, she knew how much this meant for you to go pro.

“i want to be there for you every step of the way.”

“you’ll always be my first fan….”

those words echoed in the back of sana’s mind as she kept her eyes fixated on you, while you were still rubbing your thumb on her hand. you chuckled softly as you grabbed her left hand, setting a kiss atop of her middle knuckle. she blushes at your sudden action of affection as you look back at her and smiled.

“you’re the best sometimes you know that?”

sana lets out a cute giggle, one that was reserved for you and only you, “i know i am. what else is new?”

“nothing much really if i were to be honest with you.” you reply, still lightly grasping her hand as you stare at sana’s face once more.

sana leans her head over to the right side, hand still latched onto yours. “your overwhelming sincerity never ceases to amaze me.” she says, gazing into your eyes before trailing off into the dazzling features of your face for a few seconds.

you pull your hand away from her as you cross your arms together, not convinced with her genuine complement. sana dips her head down laughing at your amusing action as she tries to pull your arm off. before she could even break your crossed arms, you pull away slightly while also diverting your attention away from her intentionally, making her slightly annoyed.

“are you saying that my lovely appeal doesn’t work on you anymore?” you ask looking back at her with a moped face.

“i never said that it didn’t.” sana responds instantly. “i should ask the same about you?”

“we both know that you’d beat me in a flirting competition anyway.”

“you wanna try again pretty?” sana teases.

“i think everyone knows that i’m the only one that can withstand your tempting charms.” you argue as you place your elbow on the table with your head on your fist, smirking at sana who was slightly baffled at your statement as you felt a faint blush tap your cheeks.

“that i can confirm.” sana replies, surrendering to your reasons. the moment between you two is interrupted as you see your phone vibrate on the table. you look over to see the notification of a missed call, it was your mom. it followed up with a text that you looked at closely to read, your eyes widened at the message.

“mom just called, she said to come home right now.” you said to sana who nodded at what was happening. the both of you stood up as you grabbed sana’s hand after you set the chairs back with the table exiting the cafe together.

—-

sana knew that you always had a gentle side to you. behind that sturdy, hardened exterior was someone that defined the epitome of sweet and so much more, all bundled up into one person. she was aware of how ambitious you were about your studies and athletics, and a little bit of that mentality of yours rubbed off on her as you both leaned on each other for support when times got tough. the way you spoke to her, how you acted, even the actions that you did was everything that she ever dreamed about having was with you. she wanted more and even that wasn’t enough for her.

you both were already mindful of the idea of crushing on each other. even if you two didn’t admit that there was something, nothing ever came to fruition because of how platonic everything was between you two so far.

the car ride home was always a smooth breeze. aside from the fact that sana is your passenger princess, it was always a good time in your matte black tesla. sana would always take off her shoes or sandals, placing both feet on the dashboard and setting the seat all the way back only for her to forget to reset it every time she leaves the car. you didn’t think much of it however since you took every opportunity to place your hand with hers or even on her thigh, and she didn’t mind either. sana found you attractive with playing soccer already, but with everyday activities such as driving, sometimes she couldn’t function properly.

you end up backing into the driveway of your house not long after seven minutes. sana gets out first and waits for you at the fence that connects her house to yours while you grab your soccer bag from the hood, humming out loud while looking at the sky. you get something from the driver's seat real quick before you walk over to sana again who was on her phone.

“texting your long distance pen-pal again? wasn’t the username kim somet-”

“it’s kimchouzaki.” sana answers. “she just sent me a care package from japan so it should be coming in a little bit.”

“i wish i had a pen-pal who did that for me, but with soccer related stuff.”

“aw don’t be sad, its ok.” sana purses her lips together at your remark. “you should go inside, i don’t want to keep your mom waiting.”

“i’m sure it’s nothing bad, but i’ll-”

“let you know if something happens?” sana asks finishing your sentence. “you know me so well.” you gleam as the both of you laugh together. another long pause of tension consumes you and her for the twentieth time today.

neither of you were complaining however as you stared into each other's eyes, conversing in silence to the point where it could be the ending moment of a k-drama episode.

“so…see you later?” sana asks as you inhale sharply, looking down at your feet before returning back to her face. “yeah. i’ll talk to you later sana.” you say as she begins to take a step away from you, fleeting moments of opportunity sleeping away right in front of you. before your heart takes another ache, you take another quick breath of air.

“wait…” you started off saying, sana stopping in her tracks as she faced you again, tilting her head in question. “before you go,” you grab her wrist and pull her in for a quick hug, arms wrapping around her back as her arms find themselves on your waist.

“thank you for listening earlier.” your voice getting quieter. “i really needed that reassurance from you.” you finish off saying as you place your head on top of hers. you hear sana’s breath shudder against your chest, relieving the little stress you two had combined together. few seconds pass as you unwrap your hands from sana and give her a couple small inches of space between you two.

“i do care about you y/n…it’d be crazy of me to say that i didn’t…” sana muttered in a small millisecond of sadness. “this is as scary for me as it is for you.” she said looking up at you, her face just inches away from yours. you pout your lips into a small smile, “i’m sure everything will work out, so don’t worry too much okay?” you softly ask as you place both hands on her shoulders, massaging them to ease the anxiety away from sana’s body.

“alright i’ll leave you now, i’ll text you if something comes up.” you say as you adjust the soccer bag on your back.

“sounds good!” sana beams returning to her normal state of bubbliness as she tiptoes to plant a kiss on your cheek. you cutely smile at her sudden action, “if what’s inside is what i think it is about, that kiss was for good luck!.” she yells as she makes her way towards her house.

you kept your eyes on sana, waving at her as she got further and further away, eventually going past the door to her house and closing it. soon after, you look down in content, smiling at what just took place a few moments ago.

“that girl really is something.” you say to yourself as you make your way up the steps to the front door. a quick movement of opening the door and heading inside, you take off your shoes and place your bag down on the floor and walk towards the kitchen.

“ma! i'm home!.” you yell out as you turn to the dining table to see both of your parents and your best friend dex, who also was your personal agent managing the business and logistical end with the soccer teams. sitting across from them was a woman in a well-fitted dress layered with a blazer, holding a small card in her hand. you eyed the card the woman was holding a little more closely as it resembled a club badge facing towards you. it didn’t take that long for you to put two and two together and the first words you heard from dex all but confirmed everything that you assumed.

“hey y/n, i have some really good news for you.” dex began saying. your eyes shot open at the thought that was processing in your mind at an instant.

you couldn’t wait to tell sana about this after.

#sana x reader #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice #twice fluff #sana imagines #minatozaki sana #first work go easy on me #kpop x reader

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angiesmagicspace · 7 months

Text

Only look, don't touch

Pairing: Seonghwa x reader x Mingi x San

Genre: smut, fluff

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: name-calling, threesome, grinding, toys, degradation, praise, oral (male receiving), squirt, orgasm denial…….

Summary: You belong to him, everyone knows that you like that. But something about testing his patience and subtly offering yourself to his friends seems more thrilling. Sadly for you, he already knows how to fix that.

Masterlist

Authors note: Here I am back from the dead, uni is killing my will to live, so yeah. Also, here's the toy that is used in the fic.

Seonghwa wasn't obsessive but possessive, sure. He liked for people to respect and take care of his belongings. That especially applied to you, he was fine with members taking care of you when you weren't well and on similar occasions. But he had limits to that, one wrong look from any of them, and your neck would be full of his marks the next day. You liked that mentality, you knew that you were his, and he would do anything to protect you from anyone. However, that also gave you a lot of space to test his patience. Wearing promiscuous outfits around the members and in the dorms was one of your favorite forms of entertainment. Seonghwa would stare them down, shooting arrows by looking at them, and that would be enough for all of them to feel threatened.

The boys just came back from the tour and that meant a lot of time spent catching up with everyone. Especially with your boyfriend and his dorm mates, San and Mingi. After a few days of just chilling around and listening to their stories, you thought that it was the perfect time to test Seonghwa's patience again. You two haven't had a lot of time for intimate moments, so your plan made sense. By provoking him, you would ensure that he blows your mind the moment you two are alone at the apartment.

Day one of your devious plans consisted of you just walking around in the tiniest top and tightest sweats you had. Making breakfast for all four of you, while three of them sat at the counter behind you. This was already driving Seonghwa crazy, every time San or Mingi looked up he would stare at them like he had lasers in his eyes. They felt his eyes on them very well, so they tried their best to keep looking at the pattern of marble on the counter. After breakfast, all of you sat in the living room, either watching the movie that was on or just scrolling on your phones. But that didn't mean that your plan stops at your outfit. You talked to San about some clothes while making sure that you were touching him very innocently, but your boyfriend knew that those touches weren't innocent at all. After lunch, it was apparent that your plan already made Seonghwa see red. So that's where you stopped but only for today.

Day two meant that you needed to get more progressive. Usually, you would be wobbling after just one day of provoking him, but that wasn't the case this time. So today your outfit consisted of the smallest pajamas you could find, coincidentally those pajamas were bought by your lovely boyfriend with your promise that he could rip them off you. As soon as he saw you in them, he knew that this would be a long day. Neither San nor Mingi could contain themselves, even though they knew that Seonghwa would probably kill them if it wasn't for their friendship and job. You made sure to make as much contact with both boys today. Chatting with them while they played some games in the living room, putting your legs over theirs while they played, encouraging them to stroke your soft thighs in the short breaks between the matches. Even when Seonghwa wasn't in your sight, you knew that he was clenching his fists to the point where his nails were making small bruises on his hands. But unbeknownst to you, he already made a plan how to get back at you for acting like a brat. He already knew that you were fine with being watched and that you were fine with someone joining your sexual experience. So he had a perfect plan involving one more thing, but you will find out about it tomorrow.

You were sure that yesterday would make Seonghwa lose his mind enough, so he would fuck you, but you were very wrong. Being separated for a long time probably taught him to control himself better. But your plan wasn't over, today should be the final straw for him. Entering the kitchen with only a silk bathrobe on should do the trick. All three of them were talking before you entered, taking their attention away from the conversation. As soon as they saw you, Mingi and San looked back down at the table, Seonghwa on the other hand just smirked. Sadly for you, there were some errands you needed to run today, so there wasn't much space for you to tempt the boys. But Seonghwa used that time wisely. He proposes to his dear friends that they join you two in some very sinful acts. He also used that time to clean the tentacle-like grinder that he bought for you. Then he strapped it on one of the coffee table books that you had in the living room, arranging everything to be perfect for when you came back.

You didn't know what were you expecting to see when you came back to the dorms, but the setting before you wasn't anywhere in your mind. There they were, all three of them shirtless, on the couch with their legs spread, the coffee table pushed back with something pink on top of the books. Seonghwa looked at you, and you gave him a very puzzled look. “Oh, honey, you are home,” he commented, bringing the attention of the other two. You just stood there frozen, this whole picture was too much to process. Three half-naked men right in front of you seem more like porn than your living room. “Hi princess,” San smiled, which brought you out of your trans a little. “H-hi guys, what is all of this?” you questioned while slowly moving toward the middle of the living room. “Oh well, Seonghwa told us that he needs some help dealing with you, so we were glad to help him,” Mingi explains, but none of it made sense. You looked at Seonghwa, but he just sat there, legs spread, his lips spread in a smirk. “Well, baby, I saw how needy you are for some attention. So I figured the three of us could satisfy your needy cunt,” his words echoed around the room and went straight to your pussy instead of your brain. “So baby, take off your clothes and start the show,” your boyfriend ordered, but you just stood there frozen again.

“What is it, baby? Shocked that you finally got what you wanted,” Seonghwa asked again, but still no words left your mouth. He leaned over and whispered something to San. “No worries' princess. I will help you to undress yourself. Seonghwa wants to see it,” San said, slowly approaching you. When he was right in front of you, first, he kissed your neck while unbuttoning your pants. His kisses made you relax a bit, closing your eyes, you threw your head back to give him more space for sloppy kisses. “Look at my little slut, as soon as someone even kisses her, she is gone stupid. Nothing but dick inside her little mind,” your boyfriend's words rang through your ears as San took off your shirt and bra, leaving you only in your panties. “She is so beautiful Seonghwa, I can't believe that you are letting us see her like this,” Mingi was already breathless, stroking his long dick over his sweats. “Well, that is what she wants. I got to make my sluts wish come true,” Seonghwa shot back, equally breathless.

San kissed you one last time before pulling away and going back to his seat on the couch. You let out a little whine, already feeling neglected. “Now, slut, no need to whine so early. Take off those nasty wet panties and straddle your new toy that's on the table,” Seonghwas ordered, his voice powerful enough to make you do anything without questioning it for a second. After taking off your panties, you went to the table, observing the toy that was strapped to the book. That's when you realized that it was the tentacle grinder that you showed Seonghwa. “Well slut, I guess you are getting a gift even though you were acting like a brat for the past three days,” Seonghwa commented, while you were struggling to straddle the toy. When you finally positioned yourself on the toy, you looked up, realizing the position you were in. Three of them stroking their dicks, while you just sat there naked and horny out of your mind. “Princess, don't make us wait anymore. I can't wait to see you play with yourself and hear you moan for us,” San's voice was desperate, he wanted to witness your pleasure. “Start grinding slut or there will be no cumming for you tonight,” Seonghwa was stern. With slow movement of your hips, you started grinding on the toy. Feeling every ridge on it, you went faster with every passing second. “Oh Seonghwa, she is a slut for you. Make her play with her boobs please,” Mingi begged, already edging himself, not wanting to cum too soon. “You heard the man, slut,” the moment you heard his voice you grabbed both of your boobs, massaging them. Your moans were louder with every move of your hips, chasing your pleasure, that felt like it ran every time you got close. “Princess, you are so beautiful like this, all whiny and desperate to cum,” San already pulled his dick out squeezing it, making your mouth water when you saw it.

When your moans started being more erotic, it was a cue for Seonghwa to stop you there. “Stop slut,” he yelled almost, making you stop immediately in fear that he will make you suffer if you don't. “Oh, look who suddenly decided to be a good girl,” he approached you, grabbing you by your chin, and making you stand up from the position you were in. “So desperate for some cock that you would whore yourself out to my friends,” he spat, making your whole body shiver while shaking your head. “Don't deny it, princess. Both of us saw you, and it was very hard to resist you,” you heard San whine behind Seonghwas's back. “Hear that slut, no one is oblivious to your little slut show,” Seonghwa cocked his head. “I'm sorry sir, I was so desperate for you. I wanted you to fuck me so hard that I can't think anymore,” apologizing won't work now but at least you tried like you do every time. “Oh slut, you know that I don't care about your apologies. Now go down on your knees in front of my friends and show them how sorry you are,” he let go of your chin, and you ran towards the couch.

Dropping to your knees, opening your mouth, and offering it to both boys to use. Mingi was first to p let you suck him, while San stroked your boobs with the tip of his dick. Mingi didn't let you do anything, he grabbed your hair and started fucking your mouth at a vigorous pace. Only choking sounds were heard in the room. Not long after, he came down your throat, moaning in a high pitch in contrast to his low voice. He moved so San could have a taste of your mouth. He let you do your thing for a change, and you made sure to take all of him. Sucking his whole dick inside your mouth, while giving small licks to his tip. While you were focused on pleasuring San, Seonghwa took the opportunity to bring your hips up and slam his big, hard cock inside your wet pussy. “Let me help you with that slut,” he said before rocking his hips, making your body rock forward, so you took even more of Sans's dick. He continued the rough pace, bringing you closer to the one thing you craved the most, your orgasm. With Seonghwas's help, you made San cum even faster than he intended. That's when Seonghwa pulled you back by your hair, your back hitting his chest. “That's right slut, moan for me, scream my name,” every word brought you closer to the edge. Your final straw was when you felt his long fingers on your sensitive clit. Body spasming, thighs shaking, you squirted all over the floor and the front of the couch. That sight alone made Seonghwa cum so deep inside of you. He grabbed you by your hips and brought you to lie down on the couch. The other two boys were too far gone to notice what was going on between you two. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” Seonghwa asked while carefully cleaning you up. You just nodded, not able to form any words. “I'm glad you are satisfied. You did so good for us,” his praise being the last thing you heard before drifting off to sleep.

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sweetlyskz · 8 months

Text

Emerald Gem||Chapter 2

Pairing: Hybrid!OT7 x fem!reader

Overview: Living away from society has its perks. All natural food from your thoroughly cultivated farm, no nosy neighbors, and peace and security with your animals. But sometimes you did get lonely, having no one the talk to but the pigs. However, when 7 extremely wanted hybrids stable upon your deserted farm, everything changes.

Genre: Hybrid Au, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, fluff

Warnings: Suggestive themes, language

Word count: 2.6k

Unedited

The next morning you wake like any other morning. When the roosters crow, you absentmindedly make your way downstairs, partially unaware of the mess you had made yesterday. The first floor was empty, not a single hybrid in sight. The house was quiet- a little too quiet. You began to make breakfast, cooking a meal for a family instead of just one. After searching the fridge, you grab about 10 eggs instead of just one and use all of your fresh bacon from the butcher shop in town. You also scrummaged through your cabinets for some flour. Maybe they'll like pancakes?

The first of the pack to wake up was the bunny hybrid. He told you his name was Jungkook. Sleepy-eyed, he tiptoes his way to the kitchen, following the aroma of bacon and eggs.

"Mm, smells good", he mumbled, sneaking a piece of bacon off of one of the plates. You smacked his hand lightly.

"Not so fast", you warned him. "Go wake the others and tell them to come to the dining table. I wanna talk about something while we eat breakfast."

He gulped. The last time someone just wanted to talk, they were put on the streets and being hunted like rabid animals. He was praying to whoever above that this was not the case.

"It's nothing bad", you promised him, as if you could sense his nervousness. "I meant what I said the other day. You all can stay as long as you please. I just want to go over some ground rules and make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible."

He nodded, making his way back to the room to wake up his pack mates. While he gathered up the crew, you set the table, laying out two plates of bacon, two stacks of pancakes, a plate of eggs, and a glass bottle of homemade maple syrup. You placed a fork and knife at each chair and a pile of napkins on the center of the table, close enough for everyone to reach.

One by one, everyone made their way to their seats. First was Jungkook who rushed to the table after informing the other breakfast was served. Next was timid Fox, Hoseok. He took the seat closest to you. Trailing after him was a panther hybrid, Yoongi. You haven't had the chance to talk to him yet, but it seemed like he wished to keep it that way. He took the seat furthest away from you. The pack leader, Namjoon, came out last with two other wolves and a sugar glider.

"Thank you for the hospitality", said Namjoon. He sat directly across from you, speaking with his head hanging low. Now that you think about it, none of them made eye contact when speaking to you, head always in their lap fiddling with thier fingers.

"No need to thank me", You replied, scraping some scrambled eggs onto their plates. The bunny looked at them with disgust, picking up his fork and picking through it, not ever putting the fork to his lips.

"Is it not up to par?" You asked him. Maybe the eggs went bad. Sometimes you don't get to the eggs fast enough. He shook his head.

"No! I bet there great... I just don't really like eggs", He whispered, as if he said something he shouldn't. However, The pack omega, Jin, was quick to scold him.

"Don't be a brat", he reprimanded. "Eat the food that miss y/n took her time to cook for us. She's been gracious enough to let us stay here. Don't give her a reason to kick us out!"

You interrupted his scolding. "It's okay! there's plenty more for you to eat here, as long as you still get your protein."

They looked at you in confusion, and you returned the same look. If you were being honest, it scared you, listening to Jin talk to him that way. Did they actually believe that you would put them out over something so trivial? Everyone went silent, slow to touch their plates.

"Just to be clear, I would never kick you guys out. This is your home now, if you so choose to stay. You don't have to walk on eggshells around me. Tell me if you do or don't like something. I want to get to know you guys more, now that we're roommates and everything."

"T-thank you miss y/n", Jin uttered. "We've never been treated like..."

Like people, he wanted to say.

"And another thing", you continued with your speech. "You don't have to call me that. I would actually prefer you just call me by my name. Just y/n will do just fine." You showed your bright smile to let them know you weren't upset.

"okay... y/n" he hesitated. You could see a slight smile sneak up on his face, but he quickly pushed it away. You took it as some progress. Instead of putting everything on their plate, you let them choose what they wanted. It made it easier to see what you should cook next time, knowing what foods they craved the most.

"Also, I have to go in town and get you guys some new clothes, but in the meantime you guys can wear some of my brother's old clothes. I probably won't get any until next week. I don't like going in town." It's true, you dreaded going into town. That's why you preferred the rural setting. Your brother however, wanted to experience more, leaving you and your parents to take care of the farm. And when your parents took their final breath, you inherited it all, and he wanted nothing to do the family farm or you.

The guys looked like they had questions, but they didn't dare ask them. Instead, they thank you for the meal and go wash up, putting on the clothes you gave them, giving you enough time to clean up and wash the dishes.

"I can help with that, if you want", you heard a voice behind you whisper. You turned around to see who was speaking, only to see no one there.

"Uh, sure?" You spoke into the air, hoping whoever asked could hear who. Then a head peaked around the corner with perked ears, followed by the rest of his body.

"H-hello", the wolf whispered. "I'm Taehyung. Jimin wanted to come too but he's a little more shy." He spoke whilst looking at the ground, face as red as a cherry tomato. "I'm good at washing dishes!"

"Really? I would love that", you smiled, lightly ruffling his hair with your slightly wet hands. He hid his face in his hands, making you smile even harder. If he is this shy, you can't imagine how Jimin must be.

After a while he gained enough courage to grab the sponge from your grasp, washing each plate carefully. While he washed the dishes you dried them and put them away, creating a system for the both of you.

"So, where are you guys from?" You tried to make small talk, hopefully lightening the mood. Sadly it did the exact opposite. his head tilted at your question, like he was trying to remember.

"You mean where we were born?" He asked you.

"Yeah, like your birthplace. For example, I was born right in this very house. My mother had a home birth." You don't think he understood what that was, but you decided to just leave it alone for now.

"Well, I was born in a lab, I think. The lab is all I remember. I never met my parents. Jin was made in a test tube, so he doesn't have any parents. I think the only one who grew up with parents is Hoseok."

"Oh, that's unfortunate", is all you could bring yourself to say. You can't imagine it, your whole life being used as some project, some new invention, being given away as pets or fighters. Life must've not been too kind to this pack of hybrids.

Taehyung shrugged. "It's nothing we're not used to. That's why this is so important to me. I really don't want to mess this up again."

"I would never. There's nothing you guys can do that would make me do such a thing."

"That's what the last one said", he sighed. "That's why Joon is so cautious. The last time he let someone in, he was being hauled to a research facility."

"I'm so sorry", you sympathized. "But I promise you will never have to deal with that as long as you guys are here. Let me prove it to you." After hearing all that these guys have gone through, you made it your personal agenda to make them feel as loved and wanted as possible, starting with the oldest.

***

In order to understand your new roommate's better, you began to do some research on their breeds in your study. Panther hybrids, like Yoongi, sleep for almost have of the day and prefer dark spaces. A bunny hybrids favorite snack is carrots, of course. Luckily you have plenty of them in your garden. Honeydew is a very important part of a sugar glider hybrids diet. Wolves and foxes need a large grassy area to call their own and shift into their animal form more often.

"Y/n?" A voice called on the other side of the door, breaking you away from your research.

"You can come in, Tae", you knew that smooth deep voice by memory now. "I was just finishing up but you can sit down, if you want."

The wolf opened the door, observing the decor in your office. He was mesmerized by all of the books you kept on the shelves, probably covered in a white, dusty film. It's been a while since you dusted. You pointed to the comfy navy blue couch in the corner of the room, suggesting he take a seat.

"Are you busy? I don't want to interrupt..." he slowly sat down on the couch, finding the comfiest spot.

"Not at all! I actually need your help with something, if you're up for it."

He shook his head, a little too eager. "Anything."

"I want to know what Jimin and Yoongi like. Out of all of you, they're the ones I interact with the least, and I really want everyone to feel welcomed here", you stated. "I want to respect their space, but also let them know I want them here."

Taehyung thought about it for a second, looking up as if there was a thought bubble above his head. "Well, Yoongi is a domesticated panther, so he likes cat trees and anything he can scratch or lay on... But Jimin is a little more difficult."

You made a mental note to add that to your shopping list.

"Wait!" He blurted, as if the thought bubble above his head turned into a light bulb. "There is one thing that Jimin loves, but you might not be ready for it."

Your mind automatically went to another place, somewhere Tae was not trying to go. "Nothing like that!" The look on your faced must've been too obvious. Embarrassed, you put your head in your hands to cover the red that crept up your cheeks.

"Jimin really loves scenting", He said plainly, as if you knew what that meant. After a minute of silence he realized you probably needed a definition. Stupid humans, he thought.

"Scenting is really a comfort thing. He's a little more territorial than the others, and I bet he would be pleased if you let him scent you. It's just rubbing scents glands, like your neck or your wrist."

You nodded, taking in all of the notes Taehyung gave you. Maybe this will work, you thought. Can't get any worse, right?

***

That same night, Jimin was in the living room, watching some silly cartoons on the old television. You took it as an opportunity to go and socialize, get to know him better.

"Can I sit?" you asked him, pointing to the spot next to him on the couch. He nodded, scooting over some to give you a little more space.

"You don't have to move, Jimin", you told him. "There's plenty of room here for both of us."

"I just didn't want to make you uncomfortable", he whispered, never breaking eye contact with the tv. You scoot closer to him, gently overlapping your leg with his.

"Is this okay?" He nodded quickly. You could feel his heart start to race. You could see his mind racing. Something in you made you want to go further, to see how far you could go. You laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping both of your arms around his arm.

"W-what are you doing?" He stuttered.

"Trying to get comfortable", you shrugged nonchalantly. Even though you played it off, your heart was also racing. You hadn't been close to anyone this way in such a long time. You felt rusty. "Are you comfortable?"

"N-not really... n-nervous."

You pouted. "Oh... well, Tae told me that scenting helps calm you down. You can scent me, if you want." You kept your attention on the cartoons, but you could see him looking at you startled.

"How do you know what that is?" He questioned. Maybe she doesn't know what she's asking for... this must be too good to be true.

"Taehyung explained it to me briefly. He said it would make you more at ease." You swung your hair to the other side, tilting your neck, as if giving him permission to do as he pleases. "You can scent me if you want to. I don't mind it, really."

You could tell he was contemplating it, his hand easing its way to your waist. "Are you sure? This isn't something I take lightly. Once, you do this, you're mine." Your eyes widen at his choice of words. His darkened.

"O-okay", you whispered. You couldn't speak any louder, for fear that the tremble stuck in your throat would escape. His? You can't possibly become his, not when he already has plenty.

In a sudden haste, he lifted you from the couch and onto his lap. You gasped, clinging onto his shoulders to balance yourself. He then slid his hand behind your neck, forcing you to tilt your head back, giving him perfect access to your sent glands. Taking advantage of this opportunity, he licks a wet stripe down your neck.

"Holy shit, Jimin", you moaned. it was honestly an accident. Tae told you this was supposed to be comforting for him. He didn't say you would enjoy it. Maybe you should've done your own research.

Instinctively, you try and pull away from him, but it seemed that his reflexes were much faster. He continued peppering you in sloppy kisses, mind in a haze. Jimin couldn't think even think clearly. If he could, he would realize that you were now slowing grinding on his lap, subconsciously trying to relieve the tension between your legs.

"What the hell am I doing?" He whispered to himself. he couldn't stop repeating it. And no matter how many times he said it, he still couldn't find the answer.

Then, as if suddenly finding the answer, he shot up from the couch, tossing you from his lap to the seat cushion. His eyes were wide, obviously in distress.

"Jimin, what-"

"I... I c-cant", he stuttered, backing away from you slowly. You tried to reach for him but it only made him more apprehensive. "This was a mistake... I'm so sorry..."

And with that he ran to his sleeping quarters, leaving you sitting in the living room dumbfounded. Guess things could get worse...

Tags! (still open but filling up fast!)

@yoongicatcat @wifflepuff1344 @unwillingly-oblivious @shycreationdreamland @emer-syn @rinkud @amimami1991 @singukieee @nikkiordonez12 @xicanacorpse @cestlabellemort @whipwhoops @spider-thot0115 @ddaeng-angmoh @silscintilla @readerofallthingss @welcometomyworld13 @danielle143 @kookiesbunny @yoongiigolden

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solarissun · 1 month

Text

Bad Idea, right?

afab!reader x Derek Danforth

Summary: You drunkenly bump into Derek at one of his parties.

WC: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, alcohol, drunk sex, oral (m receiving), choking, cheating, porn with (some?) plot, hard dom Derek, afab reader, p in v, P piercing, fingering, degradation, praise

A/N: I know I said I'd write a Sean fic but I just got severe Derek brain rot...

Enjoy!

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You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for. You just know you need alcohol. Well, you’ve already had… two? Four drinks. But, what’s the harm in a few more?

As you stumble your way to one of the bars, you run headfirst into someone’s back. The stranger turns around, looking down at you. You immediately recognize him. Derek Danforth, billionaire playboy. You had worked for one of his many companies before, and your sorry excuse of a boyfriend was the reason you were even at this party in the first place. Derek and him used to know each other a while back but they haven’t spoken in years. He still dragged you to every single one of Derek’s insane parties, only to abandon you halfway through.

When the parties died down and you got too tired to keep your eyes open, you’d find him trying to sneak around with one of Derek’s hookers.

Derek pulls a vape from his pocket, his eyes fluttering as he wraps his lips around it and inhales. While he speaks, sickly sweet vapor blows into your face. “What’s a girl like you doing here alone?” His head tilts to the side as he takes another puff of the vape.

“I’m not alone.” You cross your arms, your eyes not leaving his. A smile creeps down onto his face as he makes a big show of looking around you. “I don’t see anyone, sweetheart.” His voice is low and gravely, a telltale sign that he’s a bit tipsy too. The smell of whiskey on his breath mixes with the artificial vapor, making you dizzy.

You take a step back, looking around for the man you came here with. Your eyes land on him sitting on a velvet couch, women with scandalous dresses surround him and run their hands through his over-gelled hair. Derek follows your line of sight, his eyes squinting as he sees him. “Really? That fuckin’ loser?” He laughs, throwing out more insults. “Are you really here with him?”

You look back over to Derek, your hands finding their way to your hips. “Why is that so shocking, Danforth?” He laughs, scratching the scruff on his chin. “I’ve scammed that bastard hundreds of times. He’s just a dumbass. He’s got no business being here with a beauty like you.” You know you should turn around and bolt through the front door. You also know it’s definitely a bad idea to tease someone a part of a family as powerful as the Danforths, but something entices you.

Fuck it, it’ll be fine. “Huh. In that case, I guess I’m not here with anyone then. Are you interested?” You give him a sly smile. “Oh, that’s cute.” He smirks, his calloused hands finding their way to your chin. He tilts your head up, bending down to put his face inches from yours. “Sorry, Honey. You’re drunk.” You shuffle closer to him, your noses just barely touching. His eyes flicker down to your lips, his tongue swiping over his own. “So are you.”

He laughs, taking his hand away from your face and straightening back up. “Not enough.” He takes one last look over you, his eyes lingering on your breasts. He mutters something incoherent to himself when he turns to walk away. “Hey- Wait.”

Your hand wraps around his wrist and you pull him back into you. His breath hitches in his throat as you press yourself against his crotch, already feeling his bulge. “You sure?” You slur, the alcohol taking over your senses and filling you with a burning desire you’ve never felt before. There was just something about the way his eyes undressed you, shamelessly focused on each curve of your hips. You want him, and you know he wants you too.

What you don’t know, however, is he’s almost ready to rip your tight little dress off and take you right there in the middle of the room. His frankly perverted thoughts are interrupted as you slowly grind against him, his pants getting tighter by the minute. He groans and doubles over, his hands gripping your waist. His fingers dig into the skin, making you whimper.

He groans with clenched teeth in your ear, “Fuck.. You’re just a slut, aren’t you?” His degradation does nothing but make the fire inside of your core burn brighter. You feel like you’re going to explode if he turns you down again.

“Please…” You whine into his chest as your hips slowly begin moving against his again. You glance around, noticing people begin to stare and whisper. Derek doesn’t even seem bothered as he grips you tighter. He curses again, every amount of hesitation pulled out of him. He grabs your arm roughly, finding the closest bedroom.

He quickly pulls you both in, pushing you against the door with one hand and locking it with the other. He pushes you further against the wall, his thigh riding up into your crotch, spreading your legs further apart. He yanks up your dress to your hips, your panties and legs exposed.

His lips quickly find yours, his hands sliding down to your wrists. He pins them to the wall behind you, kissing you harder. You shiver as his tongue slides out and drags across your lips. Your lips part, inviting his tongue to slip inside. You whimper against him as you feel his tongue brush yours.

The rough fabric of his suit pants grinds against the thin cloth of your underwear. You buck your hips against his thigh harder, your panties soaking through and turning the light green fabric of his pants dark. He bounces his leg against your core. You whimper into his mouth as his thigh continues to hit your clit.

Derek’s lips wander to the skin of your neck, sucking the sensitive skin. You start grinding against his leg harder, feeling your stomach tightening. You moan louder as your back arches against the door. By the noises you’re making and the way your back is arching, Derek can tell you’re close.

He whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling your neck. “You wanna cum? Hm? You gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” You nod and groan louder as his leg quickens and his grip on your wrists tightens. Just as you feel yourself slipping away, his thigh leaves your clit. You whine, feeling the euphoria quickly get ripped away. “You’re going to have to earn it, Love.”

His hands leave your wrists and grab your shoulders, pushing you to your knees. The rough carpet scrapes against your knees. You look up at him through your eyelashes, his crotch inches away. Without a second thought, your hands find the cool metal of his belt buckle. You quickly undo it, his pants falling to his ankles.

His tight boxers leave next to nothing to the imagination, the outline of his erection is very visible, begging to be free. You notice something sticking through the fabric. You quickly pull down his boxers, interested to see what it is. His dick springs up, slapping his stomach. He’s pretty girthy and he’s already leaking with pre-cum. The most striking thing, however, is the frenum piercing right below his tip.

You look up, raising your eyebrow. “Really?” He laughs, his hands tangling in your hair, gripping it. “Never seen a dick piercing before, honey?” You shake your head, millions of fantasies filling your brain. All you can think about is how the cool metal will feel sliding in and out of you as he stretches you out. He pulls your head closer to his erection, daring you to do something. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

Your tongue pushes past your lips, dragging it from the base of his cock to the piercing. The cool metal drags across your tongue. Your hand finds his shaft and you slowly drag it up and down his length, keeping eye contact the whole time. He looks down at you, biting his lip and grunting as your pace increases.

He throws his head back as he feels your tongue swirl around his tip, taking it into the warmth of your mouth. You slowly bob your head up and down, only going as far as the piercing. It drags across your mouth, the metallic taste overwhelming you. Derek’s hand drags you forward, your head pushing down further. The tip repeatedly slams against the back of your throat as his hips begin thrusting forward.

You gag, your eyes filling with tears. You scrunch them shut, your hands reaching out and digging into his thighs as he continues his assault on your throat. With every thrust, he tests you by pushing further and further. Spit drips out, dripping down your chin and running down the front of your chest.

The sounds of your gagging and choking fill the room as Derek begins groaning louder. His movements quicken, his grip on the back of your head tightening. Blackened tears from your smeared mascara roll down your cheeks, mixing with the spit and pre-cum.

Derek pulls your head back, pulling completely out of your throat. You begin to gasp, trying to catch your breath. Before you’re able to, he pulls you back forward, slamming into you again. No one has ever done such a thing to you before, and it overwhelms you. At the same time, you can’t deny you love it. The feeling of his fingers tangled in your hair and the feeling of him pounding into your throat fills you with nothing but pure lust and need. You buck your hips against nothing, your ruined orgasm from earlier begging to catch up to you.

After a few times of Derek pulling out of your mouth and slamming back in, his movements get more sloppy. “God- Fuckk…” He groans loudly, not caring about the partygoers dancing right outside down the hallway. “I’m- I’m gonna…” His deep, gravely moans from earlier dissipate as whimpers leave his mouth. His lewd, almost pathetic noises flip a switch in you. You start bobbing your head faster, trying to match his rhythm.

His hips stutter, and he slams back into your throat one last time. Hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat, filling your mouth with a salty-sweet taste. He doesn’t pull out until you swallow every last drop. Once he’s finished completely, he yanks you up, pulling you over to the bed. “You’re such a fucking slut…” He says as he gets on top of you, kissing down your collarbone.

He reaches behind you, unzipping your dress. He yanks it off of you, throwing it across the room. He quickly does the same with your panties, throwing them behind him as well. His eyes engulf your naked figure, not leaving a single part unseen. He resumes his earlier actions, this time kissing down to your bare chest. His lips find one of your nipples, taking it into his mouth. You moan as he swirls his tongue around it, pinching the other one between his fingers. He takes it between his teeth, gently pulling on it. You whimper, your arousal getting almost too much to handle.

To your dismay, he pulls away, removing his hand as well. He glances up at you through his long eyelashes, his big brown eyes shooting through you. You grind your hips up against his, desperate for any friction you can get “You want more? Hm? Use your words, sweetheart.” He pins your hips against the bed, not letting you have any relief.

“Please.. Please.” You whine. “What? Please what?” You throw your arm over your eyes, your face lighting on fire. You hate how much he’s toying with you, but at the same time, it just makes you want him so much more. “Please, please fuck me.” He smiles, a satisfied laugh leaving his lips. “Good girl…”

He spreads your legs open, his middle finger dragging through your folds. “You’re so wet for me already..” He gasps out, his eyes widening. His finger slowly slides into your pussy. You gasp as he adds another thick finger. Both fingers curl further up, pushing against all the right spots.

You feel him lining yourself up with your entrance, his dick rubbing against your clit. His fingers leave you, quickly being replaced with his tip. You slap your hand over your mouth as he slowly inches in. You feel his calloused hand roughly yank your wrist down, pinning it to the bed. “I want to hear your pretty moans.”

Your hips involuntarily arch up as he pushes you further. You do as he says, your moans getting louder. Your head begins feeling fuzzy as you feel a slight burning. You don’t know how much more of him you can take. Finally, after what feels like centuries, his hips meet yours. The feeling of his piercing sliding against your walls is something you’ve never felt before. But you definitely don’t hate it.

He leans down, his lips capturing yours. He slowly begins thrusting his hips, groaning into your lips. He continues to thrust slowly, making sure you’re comfortable. “More... Please, Derek.” You plead, getting exhausted from his painstakingly slow pace. He pulls his lips away from yours, looking down at you. A smirk creeps onto his face, his eyebrows furrowing. “You sure you can take it?” You pull him back down on top of you, only whimpering out his name.

He immediately pulls out, slamming back into you, hitting your G-spot. You scream as he begins to relentlessly pound into you. His teeth find your neck, biting the skin beneath your pulse You dig your fingers onto his bicep, your fingernails leaving divots in his skin. Your back arches off of the bed as he continues to mindlessly ram into you.

He hoists your legs up over his shoulders, his hands gripping your thighs. He mumbles out praises as he watches you squirm under him. You feel yourself climbing closer and closer to the end, your legs already beginning to shake. His hand shoots out, gently squeezing your throat. You start getting dizzy, your vision blurring.

Skin slapping skin fills the room, loud music still blaring from outside. Sweat rolls down your neck, your fingers digging even deeper into his arm. He starts groaning even louder as his thrusts start to have no rhythm. He tenses up, gripping onto you harder. He slams into your G-spot one last time before cumming into you. The feeling of his warm cum coating your walls throws you over the edge, nothing but bliss spreading through your veins. Your whole body shakes as you come down from your high.

He pulls out of you, laying down next to you. You sigh, his cum dripping out of you and running down your leg. You're sweaty and hot, but you don’t regret a thing. If you could, you’d do that a hundred times over. You look over at him and he gives you a suggestive grin.

“You should let your boyfriend drag you to my parties more often…”

#jhutch #josh hutcherson #derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth smut #smut #fanfic #the beekeeper #no use of y/n #josh hutcherson x reader

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