#buy clothes to fill the void inside of me

[polyamorouspunk]

❤️

🖤

[hexonthepeach]

dive

pairing: f4!nct dojaejung x fem!reader (past johnny x reader mentions)

genre: hana yori dango/boys over flowers/meteor garden/f4 thailand reverse harem au (mild allusions and characterization only)

warnings: brief mentions of past bullying, dom!doyoung, hopelessromantic!jaehyun, mommykink!jungwoo, reader is a bit of a switch, smut (mmmf, double penetration, oral f & m receiving/giving, unprotected sex, anal, semi-public sex), degradation/humiliation kink (reader), pet names: baby, mommy (reader), puppy (jw)

wordcount: 10k

author's note: i wrote this as a distraction from other projects after listening to perfume on repeat and lamenting the end of promo. intended as a oneshot but i have some ideas for continuation. please let me know if you enjoy it (and more importantly, what you enjoy)

The Bangkok night is warm and thick and redolent with flowers. The expensive vacation home one of your three companions had arranged for your short stay is quietly luxurious, separated from the city bustle but still hazed with light past the high walls and thick foliage surrounding the pool. 

You'd never made a habit of asking who paid for what with your travel companions, but you guess by the mix of old world and new that it was Jaehyun's idea to stay here–perhaps even a Jeong family permanent accommodation. His family's import business had done well in the region, judging by the luxury sports cars parked in the driveway.

Everything about this trip is surreal–worse for the fact that a fourth presence lingers like a ghost in your periphery. 

He should have been here. Indeed, you've taken his place, filling the natural void like a small drop in an ocean-sized hole. 

Everything about this distraction brought you back to him: the rose petals strewn across your pristine bed, the snarling garuda statue lurking across the aquamarine oasis. 

Johnny is 8600 miles away and still very near. 

Jaehyun joins you at the pool's edge, slipping some well-concocted drink near your manicured fingers–most likely Jungwoo's contribution by the tasteful sprig of flowering basil. You'd refused multiple drinks at the club, still flagged from a day of travel and self-conscious of the eyes on your table and you’d finally agreed to one now that you were back safe in your own private enclosure.

He shucks off his sandals to dip his feet in beside yours, nudging you beneath the water to remind you that even with the grief that's hollowed you out inside, you're not alone.

Jaehyun doesn't speak–well accustomed to your need for silence when you've inevitably descended into that space again. 

Unfortunately, Doyoung isn't as accommodating. 

"What did we say about moping, Y/N?" A tall shadow stands beside you, swaying slightly. 

"I'm not moping," you say, sipping from your glass of Mekhong soothed with sugar and soda. "Just thinking."

"Wasn't the point of this vacation to get you to stop doing that?" Doyoung is touching his toe to the warm water when there's a sudden rush from behind you, a startled cry escaping the man before he hits the surface fully clothed. 

"Was he bothering you?" Jungwoo asks, looking completely unfazed about shoving the other man in.

"You bastard," Doyoung says, spluttering up and tossing his hair back as he holds his phone out of the water.

"It's waterproof."

"That's not–"

"I'll buy you a new one." 

"Now you're going to have him trying to return the favor," you say, giving him a sly smile.

"Oh I think I'll be alright," he says with a wink, backing up a few paces before cannon-balling in. If you'd been doused by Doyoung's ungraceful landing you're soaked thoroughly by the splash Jungwoo makes, finding yourself shielded by Jaehyun's torso wrapped around you. 

You hadn’t even thought to protect anything but your drink, your heart stuttering as you find yourself inches from his flushed face and rosy lips.

"You okay?" he asks, wiping water from your face with his silk sleeve. 

"Yeah," you say quietly. "Can't see the tears now, right?"

He blinks at you, believing you by the clouded expression in his dark eyes.

"I'm just kidding. Not crying, see." You smile at him as best as you can muster, hoping your carefully-applied makeup isn't running off your face. 

"Don't you want to join us?" Jungwoo has escaped Doyoung by pressing himself to your knees, shoulders well out of the water at standing level. You shake your head, suddenly shy.

"You should have let those girls come back with us," you say. "All that work wingmanning for nothing."

"Blame Doyoung for boring them talking about tariffs," Jungwoo says, ducking as the other shoves water in his direction. "Besides, we didn't want you to be alone."

"You know I don't mind, puppy." You tousle his wet hair, sipping deeply again. Through the fogged rim of your glass you catch his cheerful expression falter. It lasts only as long as he realizes Doyoung is floating on his back, swamping him with a tackle.

"I asked them to keep it just us for tonight." Jaehyun says, breaking his quiet. 

"Saving the party for Phuket!" Jungwoo shouts in the background, mispronouncing the first syllable deliberately to sound like fuck it.

"Have someone you're missing tonight, too?" Your tease lands with a thud, watching your best friend's mouth crease at the corner as he chews his lip. 

"I'm sorry, that was rude–"

"No," he says. "I know how you feel."

"How far away is Paris?" you ask, not expecting an answer.

"5 hours," Jaehyun says, grinning slightly. It's a callback to so many months of watching him stare out towards the airport from the school rooftop with you, letting you listen while he mused on what she might be doing at that hour, how long it would take to get there. 

You'd encouraged him even as your heart broke–feeling the dwindling embers of a schoolgirl crush on him turn to ash. You would never be as good as his childhood love, even if you had taken up her place as his companion seated beside him on the piano bench when he practiced, or studying beside him as he drifted off into one of his many naps.

It was better this way–more comfortable just being able to be with him without the worry that you could live up to her, your heroine in highschool. But there would always be something there.

Doyoung clambers out to sit beside you, far enough away not to dampen the fuschia Versace metal mesh minidress he'd gifted you earlier. It was the perfect costume to play the part of nouveau riche jetsetter for a girl who lived one step up from a basement apartment. 

No one would mistake you for class, or even an influencer, but in their company no one was looking at you anyway. Most people thought you were Doyoung’s assistant or Jungwoo’s sister. The nasty looks, sometimes worse, always followed when they introduced you as their friend.  

"What can we do to make this a magical night?" Doyoung asks. You find yourself unable to answer, eyes caught on the smooth definition of his chest through the barely buttoned translucent shirt he'd worn out. You note he's lost the matching loose tie, probably still wrapped around a girl's neck on the dance floor.

"It's already so nice," you say, looking up at the blink of stars through the light pollution. "Thank you for including me." 

"You think we'd leave you behind?" 

The way he says you carries all sorts of strange subtext, considering your history. It had been a long journey from being mercilessly bullied and shoved into the dirt you came from, as Johnny had called it, to here. The lap of luxury, attended to by three specimens of wealth and privilege so out of your league you may as well be batting a thousand.

"Well it’s not like I got you in the divorce," you say, knot twisting in your chest. "I guess even now it’s hard to tell if you’re just being nice to me because you feel bad for me."

"First of all, he left all of us," Doyoung corrects. His voice is a little raspy, as if he's controlling his emotions. The admission leaves you questioning. You knew how close they were but they'd never shown any sign of being affected by Johnny's sudden departure.

Maybe you'd just been too busy wallowing to notice. 

“Second, you’re special. Too special to let just anyone play with. If you hadn’t noticed, we enjoy your company.”

"And when have we ever done something nice?" Jungwoo rests his arms on your knees, almost pulling you into the water. Jaehyun pushes him back with his foot, earning a tug on his leg that does little to move his immovable weight. 

"You're a package deal, though. Like a blend," you raise your mostly empty glass to drive your horrible attempt at a metaphor to death. “Even with one ingredient missing you can’t beat the original.”

“Well I won’t deny you're a strange substitute,” Doyoung says, gracefully using your words to make his point. It reminds you of how he’d spent hours drilling you with details of tea ceremony when your ridiculous coworker had asked for a demonstration of his family’s heritage business. 

“But taste requires innovation, and it’s often the unexpected addition that changes the entire flavor profile. You’re new but you’re refreshing, and unique. Not something to be discarded because anyone demands it.”

“That’s a very poetic way of saying you still like me even if I’m an uncultured pain in the ass.”

"Poor little weed," Jungwoo says, hands splaying over your bare thighs before Jaehyun can foist him off again. “Are you insulting Doyoung’s taste? You're the first girl any of us have agreed on."

"I doubt that considering what I saw last Friday. Did all of you sleep in Doyoung's room or did you take turns–"

You catch Jungwoo's scheming look with Jaehyun right before the cocktail glass is plucked from your hand and you're picked up on both sides, Jaehyun lifting you by the waist and Jungwoo taking over once you're free of the edge.

"Let me go," you shriek, folding over his shoulder. 

"Are you sure?" Jungwoo bends his knees until your hem is submerged, not phased as you beat on his back with soft hits.

"At least toss me in so you can get a head start," you threaten. He indulges you, lifting you up out of the water like he's going to help you recreate that pivotal scene from Dirty Dancing only to throw you back and into the deep end. 

You hold yourself in a ball and sink, breath held, channeling your best hello darkness my old friend as you wait for the inevitable. It takes less than ten seconds before Jaehyun dives in after you, pulling you up.

“Got you,” you say, grinning through the trickles of warm water. Jaehyun looks less than amused, lips thinning into a tight line as water drips from his bleached blond hair.

"Don't scare us like that," Doyoung gripes, joining you a few seconds too late. You shoot him and Jungwoo a look over your perch on Jaehyun's arm, clinging to him for comfort.

“Yeah, please.” Jaehyun breathes. 

"Is my makeup coming off?" you ask. He's been staring at you funnily as you float beside him, bodies brushed up in the expansion of his clothing and the occasional contact with his frame.

"What?" Your best friend sounds dazed, water collecting in his dimples as he smiles softly.

"What?" You parrot, teasing, mirroring him in the way your eyes dart to his mouth, not surprised to find his lip trembling. His uplit face is shadowed with hidden feelings you can only guess at. 

That years-old urge to kiss him returns. It could be considered revenge for back when he'd grabbed you and given you a taste of what it would be like that day after he’d come back from his trip abroad. You'd melted into him like it was the most natural thing in the world, the illusion only broken when Johnny had slammed the rooftop door shut on the way back down, flowers for whatever apology he'd half-assed scattered across the dirty tar paper.

You'd slapped him afterwards, surprised to find him smiling. He's in love with you, isn't he? Had to be sure.

There'd been so many times after that he'd played with your feelings you'd lost count, but one constant remained: he would never pursue you fully if he believed it would hurt his best friend.

Your chest feels tight just imagining what might have been, had you changed course back then. But you've long given up dwelling on might have beens.

Jaehyun is less mercurial now that he's older so you’re the one to catch him by surprise, lips pressing to his cheek right beside his mouth–in the smile lines you know too well. It's a quick send-off before Jungwoo can grab his legs and pull him under from below. 

Doyoung takes the opportunity to capture you by the waist, keeping you from becoming a casualty of their underwater fight. He looks just as serious as always, even without his usual glasses.

"Sorry about the dress," you say, working to stay afloat.

He laughs at you, prone to condescension as always. "If you like it we can get you another. But do you really want to wear the same thing twice?"

"Some of us can't replace our wardrobe every week," you huff. 

"Are you under the impression I'm replacing a bespoke suit collection every week? All I'm saying is you should have a new dress for every occasion. Especially if you're with us."

You jab him in the side, surprised at the hardness of his ribs but also delighted by his startled wheeze. 

"I'm not your kept woman."

"Not even if we want to keep you to ourselves?" 

A little shiver runs through you, making eye contact with him as he mouths the waterline. It's said so innocently but you know better. He and Woo had been dropping double entendres since well before takeoff from Seoul.

Flirting was Jungwoo's thing, a silver lining to the dark shadow of a personality that enjoyed being subtly in control. As the future heir to a crime syndicate it was much better than experiencing his hidden anger. Doyoung though . . . as much as he dabbled in shadier scenes and pretended to be a womanizer he's old-old-old money, from a strata inaccessible to anyone who's genealogy can't be traced back to the Goryeo dynasty. 

The idea of him folding you into his life, much less keeping you, is absurd.

“Well that does seem to go against the whole idea of this being a trip to finally get over . . . everything,” you say, deflecting from his intensity. “What happened to letting me live like the F4 for one week?”

“Is this not it?” He quirks an eyebrow at you. 

“What if I want you to play wingman for me? Find me something meaningless to distract me?”

You're not expecting the dark storm that settles over his refined features.

“I think you have enough distractions here to keep you occupied.”

Your pulse picks up, hearing the hidden message loud and clear. He'd heard your laments to Jungwoo about how long it had been since you even thought about being with someone else, how you'd never really gotten to date after three brutal years of school, work, and accidentally making the worst chaebol tyrant in Seoul fall for you. 

Now that you're free for the first time in your adult life, you want to experience what it's like to be just another girl, like the ones they so frequently invited to their tables at function and club alike.

"Are you insinuating you're not going to let me bring anyone back if I find a fling? After I just spent all night singing your praises to a healthy pool of candidates? Double standard, much?"

Doyoung wraps an arm around you to keep your head from knocking against the tiled pool edge. He's backed you into it without you even noticing it. 

"You can try," he says, gripping the wall next to your cheek. "Though I would question the sanity and intelligence of anyone who took you up on it." 

There's his brand of cruelty: casual threats delivered without a hint of remorse. You'd been on the receiving end, perhaps were now, but you're not afraid of him in the slightest.

"You're not reporting all of this to him, are you?" 

Doyoung doesn't answer, nostrils flaring. 

"Or is he only texting 'Woo back?" you ask. 

"Who texted me?" Jungwoo asks with open curiosity behind him. 

Doyoung presses a single finger to your lips in warning, releasing you. 

"Didn't you get the number of that model? Miss Thailand 2016 runner-up?" You toss your head slightly to clear it, still feeling heat suffuse your cheeks from just a touch against your mouth. It really had been too long. 

"Oh she's too good for me," Jungwoo remarks, jokingly. "Besides, I already have a failed beauty queen right here." 

You snort. “In what world is second place a failure when it’s your first time?”

The contest had just been a university charity project but you'd worked hard to earn that spot after Johnny had entered you in as some kind of sick game from abroad. Jungwoo had helped you conquer it–had even got you a side gig modeling when his usual partner had dropped out at the last minute at one of his shoots. You’d just been there to deliver coffee and now you were on a cover being printed in 15 different countries. 

You always liked reminding Jungwoo of his Pygmalion moment because that's when you'd genuinely seen his kinder side–even if you suspected he may have threatened at least two of the judges to land you on the final stage. Losing had been worth it to spend time with the member of the F4 you’d never been close to in high school. 

"Maybe she doesn't deserve you," you say, swimming around him to grab him loosely around the shoulders. “Not many can appreciate having a personal rescue dog to save them from getting wrinkly fingers.”

You're immediately indulged, Jungwoo paddling you back to the shallow end where Jaehyun is lost in thought, staring at white blossoms from one of the trees in the courtyard floating in front of him. Doyoung is just as contemplative. 

It’s probably best to not let it stretch out any longer–you were always a fan of ripping the bandage off quickly even if it hurt. 

"I'm going to go take a shower and call it a night." You announce, hearing Jungwoo groan. "Unless . . ."

"Unless what?" Jungwoo perks. Jaehyun squints up at you where you stand over him. You look at Doyoung instead, as he drags himself out of the water to sit on the ledge beside the stairs.

"Unless you tell me what we really are."

The buzz of cicadas seems to die a little, soft music inside the house drifting out through the glass. 

"Friends, hopefully?" Jungwoo says.

"Well you aren't bullying me anymore, so yes. But friends don't keep their friends from moving on from past relationships."

"That's not at all—" Doyoung begins.

"Let me finish," you interrupt. He's immediately quiet, throat bobbing as he looks beside you at Jaehyun's taut shoulders.

"I'll never fit in with you or your world but we both stopped judging each other for that a long time ago, I think. I like spending time with you, I like knowing you'll still include me even if . . . " You can't bring yourself to say Johnny's name. "Even if I'm just another ghost who's outstayed her welcome."

It was their term for dropped flings and casual encounters, with a whole subset of terminology for the ones who couldn't get the hint (poltergeist), or lost their cool at their dismissal by screaming and crying (banshees). 

It hadn't been like that for you even the second or fifth time Johnny had broken up with you–always for reasons out of your control. You'd shown him the same aggression and cruelty in answer, but you’d never begged for him to take you back, ever, and you certainly had never sought out his friends. 

It had always been their prerogative to spend time with you, and you’d leaned into it your freshman year of university study and singlehood, wanting the support network denied you by being alone and poor in a city you could barely afford. You’d never take their money but you had accepted their company, and had enjoyed it far more than you could have imagined. 

Even if it kept you in Johnny Suh’s outer orbit, what you had with them meant something to you. You didn’t want to lose it when he came back. From the press releases about his recent promotion, it would seem to be soon.

Waiting for that inevitability is like attending your own funeral before you’re dead, pallbearers for company. 

"You're not a ghost," Jaehyun says. "And we won't abandon you, ever."

"You'll just keep me and this dynamic trapped in amber until Johnny changes his mind, then? It's been a year already. I don't want to lose any more of my youth to him, and I don't want to lose you when he comes back and you all act like he's done nothing wrong."

"That won't happen," Doyoung says, sighing. 

"No, because I'll leave before then." You get out of the water, brushing your face free of the hot tears. "Wouldn't want to ruin your fun."

Jaehyun pulls you back, strong enough you lose your footing and sink into his submerged lap. 

"You're not going anywhere," he says. There's no malice or anger in his tone, just quiet assurance. He cleans your face again, blue silk cuff coming away black with mascara. 

"You asked what we are. Remember when you used to come sit next to me under that stupid ad?" 

"Yeah?" you sniff. You'd spent hours with him sitting on a city bench as he stared up at a billboard for luxury clothing with her face on it. She’d been the dream he chased at your urging, the fantasy that had sadly broken with proximity.

"When I was in France, after things became clear, I would go and sit somewhere and pretend like you were there with me."

"I hope it was somewhere fun, like the Louvre," you joke. 

"Too crowded." He shakes his head, smirking. "Would look weird talking to myself."

"Oh you talked to invisible me but you couldn't pick up the phone once?"

He shakes his head again, squeezing you. 

"Anyway. The point is you're stuck with me. And them."

"And Johnny . . .?" 

"Stop bringing up our ex," Doyoung says. Not your ex, our ex. 

"It's a valid concern," you say, adjusting in Jaehyun's hold to rest your head against his damp shoulder. "I'm not going back to him. And I know you'll choose him over anyone else."

"No," Jaehyun says. 

"You're the exception." 

You lift your head to blink up at Doyoung.

"Didn't think you made those."

"Well you just haven't spent enough time with me, then."

"You planning on spending time with me?" You smile lazily, hand drifting to squeeze his leg. It's always fun to see his unflappable face twitch.

"He already blocked off half his itinerary for private tours. Jaehyun had to fight him to split it equally," Jungwoo says. Doyoung splashes water into his face with his foot.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he says sourly. 

"Like the massage tomorrow morning?" 

This time Doyoung's kick makes waves wash over you and Jaehyun, leaving you spluttering.

Jungwoo takes it, smiling once his floppy brown hair is pushed back out of his eyes again. He grins at you from the water. "You'll take your dog for a walk when you remember I exist, right?" 

"Why not just come with us?" You'd often wondered if there was an invisible tether for how often they appeared together.

Doyoung clears his throat, Jaehyun shifting uncomfortably under you. 

"What am I missing?" You laugh awkwardly, looking between them. 

"I forget the only man you've ever dated never dated anyone seriously, either." Doyoung looks somewhat pleased with himself. "Traditionally when you spend time with someone you're interested in you don't have company–"

Shock runs through you like ice dumped over your head. "You can't be serious."

Doyoung's face is incredibly serious, Jaehyun's proving only a little more relaxed about the disclosure. You turn around to Jungwoo, floating nearby with a humored expression. 

"You're not part of this are you, 'Woo?"

"Of course I am. You deserve a break from stuffy museums and romantic dinners to have some real fun."

His eyebrows lower a bit in some sinister joke, and for the first time a little fear courses through you. It's been a long time since you saw their manipulative and controlling side, but bringing you to a foreign country to date you, their best friend’s ex, without telling you . . . That's a whole new level of it.

"This isn't a competition, is it?" You hide the tremor in your voice. 

"Between us? Of course it is," Jungwoo says.

"And the terms?" You look at Jaehyun, who is unable to meet your gaze. "Let me guess, whoever fucks me first?" 

His eyes widen in genuine dismay, panicking. "No, of course not–we just wanted to give you a chance to decide if . . ."

"If what?" 

"If you liked one of us more than the others," Doyoung finishes for him. 

You find yourself breathing heavily, face flushed. 

"What if I can't choose?" You ask, gaze fixing on Jaehyun's mouth as he bites his lip, still looking guilty. 

"If you decide you don't want to be with any of us, then things stay the same. Nothing changes. We'll still be friends." He says it all slowly, deliberately, almost as if it’s rehearsed.

"And if I choose one of you? Do I get to suffer the jealousy complex of another deeply insecure and emotionally unavailable man?"

That hits them where it counts. They'd all watched Johnny take out his fears on you, masked under bravado, posturing for an audience that more often than not was just you and his friends. His peers had rarely done the same, unless you counted Jungwoo following his enforcement orders like a loyal hound or Doyoung orchestrating clean-ups. 

No, they'd skated clean through multiple horrorshows by simply being there to throw their weight. No one else had the notoriety and resources to cover up the trail of damage left in Suh's wake.

You stand up again, turning between them. "And none of you are worried about Johnny finding out?"

A lump forms in your throat, bitterness about even having to invoke your own personal demon. Yes he'd walked away, but you knew his sense of entitlement would never allow his interests to be compromised by another–especially his closest companions.

And here they are, looking between each other and discussing your fate with the deliberate calm of a business transaction.

Apparently the only consequences were for you.

"Or is that the real game you're playing here," you ask. "Degrade me so far in his eyes he'll want nothing to do with me while you write me off as disloyal trash."

Jaehyun sucks his breath in through his teeth, and you note how hurt he looks. Jungwoo seems even more upset, full bottom lip jutting out.

"I know what you've been through, and I know it will be a long time to forget," Doyoung says. "But we're not him."

You remember an old saying your father had taught you: when you're holding a hammer everything looks like a nail. Better applied to problem-solving perhaps, but you'd also been dealing with one, giant nail-shaped problem since he'd crashed into your life. It was stuck in your heart and time and healing hadn't removed it. Maybe it was permanent, but you still had to live with it. 

"I just don't understand how you think you think this will work."

"You're awfully concerned about what he thinks," Jungwoo says, rising over you. "What about moving on?" 

"I don't give a fuck what he thinks. I'm just looking out for you. You know he'll punch first and ask questions later. What if he does something reckless?"

Jungwoo is laughing at you through closed lips, eyes crescented in mirth. "We have you to protect us, right? Just roundhouse kick him in the face again."

“That was lucky,” you say. “He wasn’t trying to murder me, either. There’s probably an American hitman on his way right now to take us all out and make it look like an accident.” 

“He would definitely hire locally,” Jungwoo corrects you. 

“And here I thought you were braver than that,” Doyoung muses. “Do you think we need his permission? You certainly don't.”

That makes you pause. You look at Jaehyun. Of all the people in the world he was the closest to their former leader. They’d fought even more than he and you had, and Jaehyun had always conceded, taking it on the chin, letting Johnny drag him along in his wake. The one time he'd stood up to him had been for you and it had almost fractured everything irreparably.

His black eyes pierce into you when he looks up. 

“I think y/n can make any decision she wants to,” he says dangerously. “None of us will stand in your way, whatever you choose.” 

“You promise?” you ask, tilting your head to let your wet hair brush over your bare shoulder. 

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jungwoo says. 

You wait for the others to show visual signs of concession: Jaehyun nodding, Doyoung making the sign of the cross in what is an obvious misuse of the gesture. 

“Good. Because if Johnny finds out what I’m doing on this trip, he’s not the only one who will kill you.”

"I think we should start enacting a punishment whenever she brings him up again," Doyoung says.

"Great idea," Jungwoo says, sweeping you into his wet hold from behind. The chill you'd been feeling exposed to the air dissipates a little, his warm chest against your bare shoulders. You shiver a little at the intimacy, feeling him laugh even if he doesn’t make a sound.

“What will it be?” Doyoung defers to Jaehyun.

He leans back . “She does something to distract herself.”

You purse your lips together, affecting an air of deep thought. "My choice?"

"Always," he says, not breaking eye contact. 

"Rock, paper, scissors, then." You nod at him. He grins, Doyoung groans. Jungwoo's long arms wrap around your waist, hands already in position. 

"Surely there's a better way we could eliminate your options," Doyoung says, almost missing the cue and throwing paper to the other two's scissors. 

"Better luck next time," you tease.

"Kiss it for luck." The back of Jungwoo's hand presses to your mouth moments before Jaehyun initiates. 

Jungwoo loses the second quick round after a draw, crushed by Jaehyun's rock. 

"I should have known you were cursed." Jungwoo pouts, not letting you free until you've ducked back into the water to escape him. You give him a wink as you swim towards the stairs, emerging between Jaehyun's spread legs before he can close them. 

"What are you doing?" he asks, warily, still leaned back against the last stair.

"What I want," you say, blinking drops from your lashes. You move weightlessly on to his thighs, grabbing his soft face in your hands. He's unable to process what's happening quickly enough to respond as you tilt his face up and press a gentle kiss to his parted mouth. 

You ignore Jungwoo's wolf-whistle in the background, partially aware Doyoung has shifted nearby the moment you'd slid into your friend's lap. All that is noise as the gentle sound of the water feature drowns the startled sound you make when you're grabbed and pulled back to Jaehyun's mouth. 

This time it's real: solid and delicious as he crushes against you, tongue sliding across the seam of your lips until you let go of your held breath to softly exhale into his. Small dips of his chin coax you into opening for him, your hands threading into his hair to anticipate his movements as he kisses you like it's the last time in his life he'll ever get the chance. 

"That's enough," Doyoung says, Jungwoo booing him. 

The other two may as well not exist, your thumbs circling Jaehyun's cheekbones as you retreat to inspect the damage. He's usually so composed it feels like peering into a different universe's version of him, rapture and satisfaction warring with concern in his expression. 

"Thank you," you whisper. His eyes focus again, teeth exposed as he tongues them. 

"Any time," he says. It's funny how instantly he regrets the word choice, the pink in his ears and cheeks deepening.

"Not thinking about you-know-who now, are you?" Jungwoo asks, right behind you. 

"No," you say. "But I suspect you wish I'd say yes if only for the consequences."

"That was hot," he admits. "But I don't typically like my prospects thinking about other men." 

"Can I tell you a secret?" You crook your finger, clutching on to Jungwoo's wet patterned shirt when he leans down far enough to be in range. 

"I only made you play for it so we could find out who goes first." You say it in his ear, letting your mouth drag against the shell.

He pulls back, hesitant, nose brushing against your cheek. 

"Really?" 

"Kiss me and find out," you offer. 

He doesn't wait, lashes against his cheeks as he meets you halfway, tilting your head to the side for full exploration of your lips. He's much gentler than you expected, shy almost, tender even when your tongue meets his and you can taste the hint of sticky mango rice you'd had for dessert earlier. 

"Good boy," you say once you've broken free. He smiles in the way you're used to the most, right side of his face crooking with an edge of deviousness.

You turn to find Jaehyun watching, eyes starry with arousal but unreadable. Doyoung is on his feet as if he's preparing his exit, expression stony. 

"Is something wrong?" you ask, meeting his calculating stare.

Doyoung opens and shuts his mouth, water pooling at his feet. 

"Not enough punishment for you?" There's an edge to your voice that you recognize as the tone you'd used many times before, in your idiotic quest to tame one of his own. 

The tension breaks when Doyoung laughs softly, crouching down and crooking his finger. You wade up the steps to meet him, hyper aware of the drag of eyes on you as you emerge from the water, dress clinging to your skin. 

"I planned out such a nice trip for you, and this is what you really want?" Doyoung asks, eyes traveling down your body and back to your face in the kind of assessment that you'd seen other people wither under. 

"Why do you think I agreed to come?"

“Noted.”

He nods, slightly, but makes no move to take what you'd already given the others. You don't let it dissuade you, fingers digging into the hard line of his shoulders to press your lips to his. 

It's like kissing a statue. A challenge you're willing to meet as you delve further, rocking him back on his heels. You pry open his mouth with gentle bites and licks between each kiss, past his perfect teeth until you can explore his tongue with your own. You don't realize your hands are fisted in his wet hair until you're done, finding him collapsed on the wet cement, panting. 

"Was that sufficient punishment?" you ask.

"For you? Absolutely not," Doyoung says, the rare full smile gracing his kiss-swollen mouth. "For them? Yes."

You glance back at your other two companions, clocking that they're both nearer than you remembered. Jaehyun's hand drifts over your hip, as if he's questioning letting you go in the first place. 

"Should we set some rules? Or are you all going to take them as an excuse to break them?"

Jungwoo chuckles. 

"No competition. Equal time, equal attention. And no possessiveness," you state. Doyoung looks up from under his brows with amusement, clearly enjoying your groundless attempt to set boundaries. 

"I don't care what you throw at me as long as you don't walk back what you said about our friendship."

"I think we're something different now," Jaehyun says, voice cracking.

"I know," you say. You run a hand over his head, feeling his temple come to rest against your waist. "But you crossed that line first. I'm just saving you the trouble of playing some silly game to come on to me. I'm not a prize to win. I'm a person who knows you all better than you think."

You turn to Doyoung again, holding your ground. "You said you'd give me the true F4 experience."

"Within reason," he demures. 

"Then lose your hangups and let me have a taste of what it's like to be just one of those girls you have no problem with having fun with. No special treatment, no regrets."

The stunned silence has you feeling a twinge of embarrassment at pushing your agenda this far.

"Impossible," Jungwoo answers. 

"Why not?"

He pulls the hair away from your neck to kiss beneath your ear. Gooseflesh appears on your arms even in the warm air, anticipating his answer, but he's too occupied with trailing his mouth down, sucking lightly over your pulse. You feel dizzy, hand reaching back to hold his head to you.

Once he's had enough of watching you unravel Doyoung jerks you forward, grip tight around your wrist.

It's a familiar gesture, a reminder you are at their mercy. He cuffs his hand around your neck like he's going in for another kiss, stopping at a few inches. 

"You don't get to set all the rules. This one especially. You are not just some girl with whom we engage in forgettable, inconsequential relations."

He pauses, eyes darting to your mouth before meeting yours again. "If we go down this path you're getting the real thing. All of it."

"We know you have experience." Jungwoo adds. 

Oh you knew. They fucked around but they were careful about it, always gentlemen, always above board. NDAs in some cases, mostly for Doyoung. You didn’t know all of their specific proclivities outside of Jungwoo exclusively chasing women a generation older but you suspected whatever they enjoyed was much less wholesome. 

Like Johnny's needs once he'd finally had you. He'd bent that way and much, much more. The difference was he'd never been as precious with you as they were with their little conquests.

If they didn't want the safety of a legal cushion it didn't mean they didn't need it–they just didn't think it would be a problem.

"I'm sure you've heard a lot of things about me," you say. A whisper of rage underlies the words, colored by so many rumors foisted on you well before you'd ever accepted their company–even more when they had. 

Whore. Cockslut. Used goods.

Johnny had always been a contradiction–surprisingly prudish about sex but quick to use the grossest allusions to it when pressed for details by his friends, liberal in his name calling. They'd known him since childhood–they didn't believe him, even if everyone else had taken his words as gospel. You'd had your revenge by proving just how true those words could be in private.

"We don't know anything you don't," Jaehyun says, quickly. 

"Still, I don't think you know what you're signing up for," you say. "If anyone is using anyone in this arrangement, it's going to be me. Or I'm out."

"You worried we can't show you a good time?" Jungwoo asks. It's a funny question with him pressed into your back like he'll push your head down into the water if you answer incorrectly.

"I'm worried you'll chicken out," you say, grabbing Doyoung's wrist to keep his fingers on you, covering them with yours to increase the tension. You'd always been strong.

Doyoung's expression is matched by his lingering hold on your throat, squeezing a little and making your eyes drift shut in pleasure.

"You always did seem to enjoy the humiliation a little more than our other targets. Can't say it wasn't an encouraging factor. You like it, don't you?"

He lets you go with a slight push, registering the way your eyes haze over with reflected lust.

"Yeah. Blame a few formative years of getting my signals crossed. Just part of the damage." There's no shame in your voice, another casualty of their efforts.

"You're not damaged," Jaehyun remarks.

"Not beyond repair," you agree, gaze burning into Doyoung's. His regard is a thousand times more revealing than a kiss, most especially the tic in his cheek every time Jungwoo decides to leave a mark with his tongue and teeth on your throat and you reward him with a moan.

"Should be fun seeing which one of us can push past your comfort zone, then," Jungwoo says, breath cooling the last bruise he's left on the back of your neck. "Find out if you have one."

"You're not dropping the competition?" 

Nervous anticipation gives you butterflies, different than the ones springing up being teased by the three of them. Not one of them accepted being outclassed.

"No." Jaehyun says it well before the others. His hands drop to your legs to hold you steady as Jungwoo continues his assault on your neck. "But equal opportunity. I think we can all agree on that."

"Don't worry, we'll play fair," Jungwoo says, biting your shoulder. You jerk in his grasp, vaguely aware of fingers at your hem. Doyoung continues to watch, tongue darting over his lips.

"I hope not," you say. "I won't."

It's all the permission your captors need.

Your breath stutters as Jaehyun's hand slides up your inner thigh, circling the wet skin absent-mindedly. You whine a little, teased by the first intimate touch you've had in months.

"You better stay quiet. We do have neighbors," Doyoung says, voice pitched low.

"Think you can shut me up?"

He takes the hint, sliding his legs back over the ledge, letting you finish unbuttoning his shirt to expose his creamy skin. You spread your fingers over his firm abdomen, flicking aside the sheer fabric. He's intoxicatingly sensitive, muscles tensing as you follow the path of water down his long waist.

"You sure you want to play this game?" Doyoung asks, hand resting on your shaking fingers as you struggle to unbutton his damp jeans.

You look down at Jaehyun, smiling at him when you find he's still enraptured by your upper thighs. You wait until he looks back up, head cocked for permission.

"You alright with sharing me, tonight?"

Miles are crossed, bridges are burned as he contemplates the ask, returning to his shy efforts at warming your naked skin, lifting your hem to dangerous territory.

"Wouldn't dare stand in your way."

Jaehyun's approval is the best thing you've seen in a long time, even more so when he adjusts to be eye level with your now exposed underwear, back pressed to Doyoung's leg. 

Jungwoo tugs at the strap of your dress playfully. 

"Can puppy wait his turn?" you ask, looking up at your other torturer. 

Jungwoo kisses you over your shoulder, messily, before casually breaking one of the thin straps of your dress where it's attached to the delicate gold cherub adornment. The night air pebbles your skin, exposed nipple hardening more as he trails a fingertip lazily around it.

"As long as you need." 

He angles you down a bit towards the other man, just as Jaehyun's mouth finds you through the thin fabric of your lingerie–hot and perfect. Your knees are already weak and you have to catch yourself on Doyoung's thighs as you're touched and kissed and licked, still partially submerged and torn between warm and warmer.

There's a bit of menace in Doyoung's face, watching you unzip and find his length. He adjusts a little when you tug down the elastic waistband of his underwear, his cock already mostly erect despite the water. He's not as big as Johnny but perfectly sized, long and veined as he hardens in your hand. 

You experiment with laves of your tongue against his flushed head, watching him for a reaction through your lashes.

"Sucking me off before I can even take you on a proper date." He tsks, the sound changing when you lower your head, tongue folding around his tip to devour him whole. 

"You look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says. "Wish I could take a picture–"

You cut him short by taking him deeper, feeling him press at the back of your mouth. It's been awhile since you tested your gag reflex.

Thankfully Jaehyun has compromised on watching you while pushing your underwear into your sticky folds, Jungwoo playing with your breasts in the most maddening way possible with soft flicks and tugs. 

Both of them are sending you skyrocketing to a level of joy yet unexperienced this lifetime, much less this year. You have to concentrate on Doyoung to keep from falling apart too quickly.

Jungwoo's long fingers help clear your hair from your face so you can breathe, giving them all a better view as you choke, letting drool slip from your mouth as you take it deep and hard. 

The noises coming from your throat are nowhere near as obscene as the sounds Doyoung makes, angled back and thrusting weakly with each moan. You always thought his voice was beautiful, scratchy and breathy, but hearing him say your name in between gasps has your entire body enflamed. 

"Fuck, you're good," Doyoung says quietly, angled back on his elbows. 

Jungwoo holds your damp hair back, wrapping it in his fist to help guide you more gently. You relax your throat and take it, tears leaking from your eyes. If touch had you vibrating before, the sensation of being debased in this way has you dripping, your arousal exposed by Jaehyun's fingers slipping your panties down to the water.

"She's soaked," he says, running a single finger through your folds. You answer with a groan, other hand in his hair to hold him back before he can dip in again.

Jungwoo tests you, too, giving you a few swipes to collect your slick. He brings his fingertips to your mouth when you finally take a breath, letting you clean them.

It's delightful how Doyoung is unraveling already, arched back, eyes glassy. He drinks in the sight of you sucking two of Jungwoo's fingers until your cheeks hollow.

"You think you can finish what you started?" you ask.

"I don't think I'll ever want it to end," he admits.

"How about coming on my tongue?" You ask, pumping him slowly. You chase the taste of yourself with kitten licks of the beads of white on his head, going lower to trace his veins. 

"Only if you want to swallow everyone tonight," Doyoung says. The offer is tempting. You hesitate long enough that he reads you like an open book, adding an edge of threat. "Or do you want to be stuffed like the little whore you are?"

The affectation has you seizing up in long-withheld gratification. Jungwoo grinds against your ass as Jaehyun ignores your hold to finally lick long paths up your inner thighs, chasing trails of slippery arousal and water to dive in, fingers spreading your legs wide.

It's impossible to find a retort, sinking back into Jungwoo's embrace as you're attacked from below.

"I think you should only fuck me if you can make me come," you counter. "And it's still Jaehyun's turn–"

Your words are punctuated by a cry, Jungwoo's hand clapped over your mouth as Jaehyun pumps into you with two fingers, hooking into your g-spot.

"Ooh," Jungwoo says over your head. "Guess you'll have to wait." 

Doyoung sighs, taking over with his hand when you're bodily dragged back, Jungwoo lifting your dress to take it off. 

"Leave it on," Doyoung says. "The ravaged look suits her." 

You shoot him a look, unable to maintain your expression when Jaehyun's mouth works likes he's devouring you in turn, teeth scraping as he explores every inch of you, teasing your clit with darts of his tongue. Jungwoo frees your mouth to let you breathe, babbled words of praise spilling from you in between small cries.

"So good, so right, god, fuck–fuck." You're inarticulate as Jaehyun pumps his fingers slowly, spreading you and pressing right below his languid tongueing. Jungwoo's attention returns to your sensitive breasts, gently twisting each bud between his fingertips. 

"Keep it down," Doyoung warns, but it's impossible. 

Electric tingles spread down to your toes, tipped against the smooth pool floor. You let yourself relax in Jungwoo's hold, curling over your lover's head. Jaehyun is incredibly careful with you even as you're brought deeper, water lapping at his collarbones as he holds you spread and licks you in broad swaths. 

"Need a hand?" Jungwoo asks, somehow catching Jaehyun's nod mid-effort. You're unmoored by the hand that slips in from behind, fingers curling into you shallowly, water lapping your immersed buttocks. Jaehyun gives up control but he's still also buried in you, drawing wetness out of you with each stroke of his fingers.

Jungwoo matches his speed, knuckle to knuckle, as Jaehyun moves up to apply pressure to your clit again. 

"You two can get her ready. I want her after she's been used," Jungwoo says. 

"Of course you do," Doyoung says, dropping back in the water, demanding your attention. You indulge him with your hand, pumping him loosely beneath the surface. It's hard to coordinate as Jungwoo's hand fucks you into the pressure of Jaehyun's grip tight on your upper thighs, each circle of his tongue on your clit making your vision shimmer. 

"She's so close. Bet we can make her squirt." 

"No," you say, automatically self-conscious. 

"Did you hear that? She thinks she has a choice." The heel of Jungwoo's palm smacks wetly against your ass as he finger-fucks you, already too much before Jaehyun seems to pull you towards him, pressing hard into your walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt, completely at their mercy as Jaehyun applies suction to your clit to bring you to the brink. 

"Come for us," Doyoung says. He's pressed to your side, rutting against your waist while taking your mouth to keep the shriek building inside your throat muffled.

There's no controlling the powerful waves tearing through your core, your legs shaking and buckling as the orgasm begins and doesn't seem to end, torn from you between all three of them. A hot gush of liquid coats your thighs as you throb around their fingers, pleasure morphing into pain until you're begging for them to stop. 

Jaehyun is the first to let you go, rising to share your release with a crushing kiss that takes your breath away, Jungwoo's fingers still reaching deep inside you.

"Good girl," Jungwoo says. "Was that your first time?"

You nod, cheeks hot, forehead pressed to Jaehyun's. You cling to him, still not quite down to earth from your climax. 

"Thank you," Jaehyun says, laughing slightly. "Was that too intense?"

"No," you shake your head. "Just hold me, please."

"Forever," he says, lifting you to straddle his hips. He manages the stairs to collapse on the deck, wrapping you tight in his arms as you kiss him deeply, cleaning his face of your release with gentle swipes of your fingers.

"You sure you don't want to go inside?" he asks, when you begin to unwrap him from his shirt. 

"I need you so much," you say. "I can't wait another moment."

He grins, shyly, kissing you as you help him out of his undershirt to reveal his swimmer's frame, triangular torso buckling into visible abdominal muscles. He's breath-taking, even more beautiful when you help him out of his pants and underwear to find his thighs flexed beneath his hard cock, shorter but thicker and so perfectly full and ready for you to sink down on. 

He doesn't question taking you raw–brow furrowing in concentration as you adjust to his girth slowly.

"We'll do this without an audience soon," you whisper, hoping he can still hear you as he bottoms out in your heat and his eyes flutter shut. 

"Yeah," he says, breathily. He's not moving, soaking in the sensation of having you completely wrapped around him. "I couldn't wait, either. You feel just as perfect as I imagined."

"So good," you assure him, moving for him. The lingering effects of coming harder than you think you ever have in your life aren't stopping you from bearing down on him, taking him harder and deeper with his wide shoulders for leverage. 

"Fuck, baby," Jaehyun growls. "I'm not gonna last like this."

He takes control with a firm grasp on your waist, pumping up into you. Soon he's bouncing you mercilessly into his hips, laid back on his wet clothes.

You haven't forgotten about the other two men, not when Doyoung's kneeled behind you, straddling Jaehyun's legs to stroke himself against the swell of your ass. 

Jungwoo grabs your hand to wrap around his own exposed cock, letting you feel him before you can even take in the sight of him bobbing over your head. Your finger and thumb can barely connect around his shaft, length too much to fit half of it in your mouth before you know it will be in your throat. Now you understand why the screams you'd heard from his room always sounded on the borderline of pain. 

"Too much for you?" He asks, angling the velvety soft head to catch on your open lips. Jaehyun slows down his thrusts to let you ease into taking the other man, pumping Jungwoo's base as best as you can as you sloppily accept the suffocation.

"Must have had a lot of practice getting your throat fucked to take me so well," he says, angling your head to move past the back of your tongue. You can't answer so you squeeze his balls instead, applying just enough pressure with your nails to have him groaning in appreciation. 

You lose your rhythm when you feel spit drip down your back, Doyoung collecting your earlier release from your thighs and mixing it with his saliva to rub his fingers against your puckered hole.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for all of us?" he asks, pressing a digit into the ring of muscle, causing you to choke on the heavy weight in your mouth.  

Jungwoo pulls out, saliva trailing from your lips as he gives you a break to adjust. You press your forehead to the sheer tank separating you from his flat belly as you look over your shoulder.

"I can take it," you say, trying to relax. Doyoung inserts another slender finger, making you clench around him and Jaehyun until the other man is panting. 

"I didn't ask if you could take it. I asked if you were going to be good."

"Fuck me and find out," you taunt. He's not like the others–he denies you anything but the wedge of his fingers into your ass, adding a third to stretch you when you're not loose enough. 

Jaehyun fucks against the intrusion, holding out until you're closer as he twines his fingers with yours and watches you work Jungwoo's oversized cock in your mouth and hand. 

"Knew you were a little slut who wanted to have all her holes stuffed. One of us wasn't enough for you, you had to make us share. I'm the only one who gets to fuck this tight little ass, though."

Doyoung drops another gob of spit on the dimple at the base of your spine, letting it slide over the gape left when he slides out his fingers. You cry out at the first intrusion of his cock into your barely-lubed hole, fighting to stay on top of Jaehyun as he works in with shallow thrusts, inch by agonizing inch.

"Keep forcing me out," Doyoung says. "I'll just fuck you harder." 

As if to prove his point he grabs on to your ruined dress at the back, arching your spine for you and making you take him deeper. The burning pain blurs into delicious aching pleasure–you needed this more than you could have even imagined. Jaehyun grunts inarticulately, palming your breasts and squeezing them in time to the ecstatic shudders rolling through your body as you're filled. 

"Open up for me," Jungwoo says, cock back in your gaping mouth. You let him hold you by the hair to fuck into your mouth, spit and tears mixing to splash on your breasts. 

When they resume their individual efforts you feel yourself being pulled apart by sensation, only able to manage sharp breaths through your nose to keep from drowning as tears leak from your eyes and sobs rip from your throat. 

"No cumming until she creams herself on Jaehyun," Doyoung says, reaching around to press hard into your clit. It's a hard ask with how overstimulated you already are but you can feel your muscles tightening against your will. Doyoung and Jaehyun's uhhs and mms mix in your ears, Jungwoo softly praising you when your jaw relaxes to swallow him despite the rock of your body against the other two. 

"Fuck she's so tight," Jaehyun says. "I don't know if I can wait."

"Wait." Doyoung orders, picking up his pace. "She's close. Make sure she remembers to breathe."

Jungwoo groans, pulling out with a last slap of his head on your tongue, letting you lap at the precum leaking from him. "You two are useless." 

He kneels down beside you, wresting Doyoung's hand away from your sore folds and rubbing soft, tight circles around your nub. It's not the stimulation as much as his mouth on yours, kissing with as much care and intimacy as you'd felt before, that carries you to a peak again.

"Oh fuck," Jaehyun says, lifting you with a last upwards jerk of his hips and spilling inside you. The rush of warm heat is so good you chase it, overworked muscles unable to hold against the sensation and twitching powerfully around both of their cocks buried deep inside you. 

Just as quickly your knees give out, collapsing half on Jaehyun and Jungwoo. Doyoung's shallow movements turn violent as he no longer bothers to keep you locked on Jaehyun, thrusting a few more times into your throbbing heat before emptying himself and pulling out to rub the last few spurts onto your skin.

"Shh," Jungwoo says when you continue to whimper, sniffling from the tears sliding down your cheeks. "You're almost done."

You shake your head half-heartedly, clinging to his shirt. You're dizzy, adrenaline fading and leaving you boneless and blotted out.

"Please. Maybe just a breather?" you beg. "My legs . . ." 

Jaehyun lifts you, and you hiss at the raw pain of your abused knees, grit brushed away by someone else's hands.

"Poor baby." Doyoung says. "Should have done this in bed but you just couldn't wait."

"'S fine," you mumble, swimming in the glow of your last orgasm. "Bed sounds nice."

"Get a towel," Jungwoo says, and Jaehyun rushes to grab one for you. Instead of cleaning or drying you off Jungwoo carries you to the edge of the pool, slipping in and cramming the soft fabric under you as he lets your legs dangle over the edge and into the water.

"What are you doing, puppy?" You manage to ask, holding on to his neck.

"Don't worry. I'll be careful," he says, palming himself between your legs. "Someone want to keep her head up? I need her to watch." 

Jaehyun adjusts to embrace you from behind, spreading your limp legs so they can all see the steady leak of cum from your gaping holes. You hear the telltale click of a picture being taken, distantly aware Doyoung's phone is still–obviously–working.

"What . . . ?" You ask drowsily, acquiescencing to the pull of your dress over your head and off of you. You shiver deeply, warmed by the body heat of the man behind you as the other strips in front of you. 

"You're going to come for us one more time," Jungwoo says, rising out of the water to pump himself at your leaking core. "I'm not letting you go until I can wring every last drop out of you."

"Fuck," you protest, writhing as he pulls you almost off the hard deck and onto his ready length. Jaehyun holds you tight, arm under your breasts as Jungwoo slides into the mess of cum and slick between your thighs. 

"That's right, take it," Jungwoo says, pinning you against Jaehyun. "Breathe, baby." 

"Too much," you sob, finding he's not even fully sheathed when the familiar ache in your belly of being hit too deep whites out your brain. 

"You don't want your puppy?" Jungwoo can barely speak, ramming in deeper with each rock of his hips. "Don't want to be a good mommy and take all of me?" 

Jaehyun is already semi-hard against your back, and you catch Doyoung's approval before he replaces it with a feigned look of disgust, slipping into the water to watch you both. You can see his arm flex, jerking himself underwater, the other holding his phone up. 

"If we'd known you were such a whore we would have fucked you sooner. It looks like you'll need some more breaking in."

You cry out, stretched tight around the thicker root of Jungwoo's cock, letting him wrap your legs over his shoulders for maximum depth. Whatever pain you feel is so merged with the fullness and perfect hit of him against your walls that you don't mind it, you can't help but slip into a dreamy state of bliss. 

"You're doing so well," Jaehyun says into the hair at your temple. "Can't wait to treat you right. Make you come on my tongue again as many times as I can before the sun rises."

"No, no, no," you moan.

Jaehyun pinches your nipple to wake you up, Jungwoo gasping when you manage to clench around him. 

"You both got her pussy first. You should let me take her tonight. Keep her awake by fucking her as soon as she falls asleep." Doyoung threatens, pulling your leg aside to get the best angle of you being impaled and stretched fuller than you'd ever thought you could be. 

"No one's getting her if she doesn't come again," Jungwoo says. He meets your tear-filled gaze, eyes half-lidded. "Is that what you want? To fall asleep on my cock and let me warm you all night until you're ready to fuck me?"

"Please, come for me, puppy," you manage to bite out, touching yourself in earnest to try and fight back. "So big for me, fill me up."

He takes the bait–you're folded in half, legs bent to your chest as he drives in, balls slapping wetly against you. When you're pliant again he readjusts his strokes to press into your upper walls with each rotation of his hips, and for the first time in a long time you realize you're getting close on cock alone. 

Jaehyun seems to feel the change in you, grinding against your back as his hand holds your throat so you can't turn away. The pressure makes you practically feral, crying out for more. 

"Just like that, like that, please please please," you moan over the lap of the water.

"Feel you sucking me in," Jungwoo says, face flushed and sweaty over you, hair dripping water onto your curled belly. "Let go for me so I can come in you so deep you can taste it."

"Yes, yes, please." You buck with the sudden electric tingle of another climax, steady tempo leading you to softer spasms than before. It's fine if you can't tell where you're at or what you're feeling because Jungwoo can, one final snap of his hips dropping you into fucked out darkness. 

When you come to again you're wrapped around him in the pool, gasping at the sensation of his cock still slowly pumping the last of his release into you.

"Trust me," he says, hands under your backside, lowering you into water suspended between the night and the warmth below. 

Doyoung spreads a hand over your breasts, Jaehyun beside him to hold your neck like he's teaching you to float. You let your mouth fall open and your eyes clench shut, tasting pool water before one of them–Doyoung probably, by the sounds--releases thick, white stripes across your tongue. Jaehyun follows suit, cockhead nudging against the underside of your breast as he paints your torso with molten heat. 

"Fuck that was incredible," Jungwoo says, slipping out of you finally so you can sink into the water. You submerge as much as you can to lose the coat of stickiness, until Doyoung decides you're done, pulling you out and against his chest.

"That was . . . a lot," you admit, shaking against him. 

"You did so well." He soothes you with a hand on your head, clearing your hair from your face delicately to press a kiss to your forehead.  The gesture is so at odds with his recent persona that you can't resist burrowing into it, relaxing fully against his naked chest. "Not bad for an initiation."

"I'm one of you, now?" you murmur. 

"Always were," Jaehyun says. He doesn't dare take you from Doyoung but he does lean down to kiss you deeply, hand running broad circles over your spine.

"Just think of all those red cards as an invitation." Jungwoo jokes, sinking down to eye level to caress your cheek. 

You remember scraped knees and busted lips, cafeteria trays dumped on you by entire tables of jealous girls and sycophantic boys. Johnny humiliating you, ordering you to clean his shoe with his tongue when you'd taken the place of your weaker friend who'd spilled on it. 

But you also remember the small moments of acknowledgement–the way Jungwoo had lingered outside your work waiting to get off when you closed to walk you home at night, or how Doyoung had bought out the entire store when you'd used the shitty part-time job as an excuse to duck out of being his date to a formal dinner you had no business being at. 

And most of all, all those hours spent sitting beside Jaehyun in your rooftop retreat, silently appreciating the late afternoon sun turning the city brilliant as you shared one half of a wired headphone.

Maybe having your heart ripped out was worth it, if it meant having this.

"Which one of us do you want to take care of you tonight?" Doyoung asks. 

You smile into his cool skin, melting into the knowledge that you've earned a place very few had shared. You'll enjoy it as long as it can last.

"Play for it."

[sourmaybank]

Chapter One: New Neighbors, New Nightmares

Eddie Munson x OC!Reader || WC: 1.9K

A/N: i told myself I wasn't going to write another story yet here we are!this series has been in the works for a VERY long time, I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I loved writing it! beautiful divider by @dreamland-gallery <3

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HAWKINS 1984

“This place is such a complete shit hole!” Billy Hargrove huffed throwing himself down onto Lyra's bed completely disregarding the clothes that lay neatly organized on top of it. "Not even three seconds of being here and you're already complaining." Rolling her eyes, she shoved her brother who completely disregarded her.

"Quit pouting," To which Billy rolled his eyes. "Just sucks that we have to go to school tomorrow, figure we'd have a few days to adjust." Lyra thought aloud all while trying to redecorate her new room. "Neil doesn't care about that. Or that he completely flipped our lives upside down." Lyra shrugged.

"Max and Susan aren't that bad," She defended. "Besides, I think It's nice to have a little sister." She smiled organizing her cassettes. "I have to disagree." Billy muttered under his breath smirking, which ultimately earned him a pillow being thrown in his direction.

"Shithead." Just as Billy was going to retaliate there was a knock on Lyra's door. "This place sucks." Max muttered sitting on the chair on the opposite side of the room. "At least you two have that in common." Lyra smiled, pointing between Max and Billy who were already glaring at one another.

"You can't tell me you like it here?" Lyra shrugged. "I haven't really decided, but I know that I will not miss California's beaches." She shuddered. "Plenty of beaches here if you ask me." Billy sassed directing the statement towards his step sister who in turn flipped him off.

"Both of you, play nice." Neither of them said anything, instead occupying themselves with Lyra's surrounding items. Max reached for a snow globe on the nightstand, turning it over in her hands, watching the faux snowflakes settle over the miniature cityscape of Seattle inside. Billy fiddled with a stack of vinyl records, flipping through them without really seeing the covers.

Both their movements deliberate, a silent barrier in the already stifling room. The tension was a palpable entity, squeezing the space between them with invisible, yet forceful, hands. Neither dared to breach the silence, each moment stretching into eternity, filled only with the quiet shuffle of objects and the loud unspoken words that refused to surface.

Lyra looked between her sister and the obvious grimace on Billy's face and decided to break the awkward and rather suffocating tension. "You know what," She spoke gathering Max and Billy's attention. "I don't know about you two, but I'm starving." She emphasized her point with a hand on her stomach. "I saw a diner a couple of miles from here."

Lyra immediately nodded agreeing to Max's suggestion quickly discarding the pile of clothes that lay unsorted in the corner of her closet. Before Billy could refuse, shutting down the redhead's idea Lyra was quick to grab his wrist trying and inevitably failing to haul him off her bed. "Come on, I'll even buy you a milkshake." Lyra pouted tugging harder on Billy's forearm.

Almost as if contemplating his options Billy held Lyra's gaze, his face void of any emotions which made the blonde exaggerate the pout that decorated her face. She let out a triumphant cheer fist-bumping Max. "Can I drive?" Billy couldn't help but snort at his sister's question. "Nice try." He scoffed.

"You can only win one battle with him." Lyra muttered, swinging her arm around Max's shoulders as they followed after Billy. "Where do you three think you're going." The booming voice of Neil Hargrove questioned, which made a shiver run down all three teenager's spines. "Heading out to a diner Max pointed out on the way here." Lyra explained with an exaggerated sweet smile and added a cheery tone to her voice.

"Have fun girls," Susan Mayfield nodded approvingly. "Your sisters' will be in the car, don't you dare drive like a maniac," Neil's venomous eyes bore into Billy's. "Understood." He spat sternly in order to get his point across. "Yes sir." Billy responded curtly. "We'll be back later." Lyra's sugary voice cut in, quickly opening the front door and ushering Max and Billy through before waving at her father and stepmother.

"You can have shotgun." Max muttered as Billy unlocked his Chevrolet Camaro. As the car roared to life, Lyra nodded appreciatively at the AC/DC tape that blasted through the speakers. "Don't forget you owe me that milkshake." Billy declared, pulling out of the driveway. "A promise is a promise." She winked, grinning widely at the small smile that threatened to break out on her brother's lips. Lyra took that as another win. 

Benny's Burgers was completely swamped for a Sunday afternoon. The neon sign buzzed and flickered, casting a warm glow on the chrome exterior of the diner. As the door swung open, a bell chimed, and the scent of sizzling burgers and fries wafted out. Inside, the black and white checkered floor gleamed under the fluorescent lights, reflecting the red vinyl booths that lined the walls.

Each table was adorned with a mini jukebox, the selections filled with the hits of the decade—synth-pop, rock, and new wave tunes that would occasionally burst into life when a patron dropped a coin. Waitresses in pastel uniforms and white aprons glided across the floor, balancing trays laden with milkshakes topped with whipped cream and a cherry, club sandwiches stacked high, and blue-plate specials.

The sputter and hiss of the grill provided a comforting backdrop to the hum of conversation. At the counter, patrons sat on swivel stools, elbows resting on the Formica surface, as they chatted with the cook who flipped pancakes with a practiced flick of the wrist. The walls were adorned with memorabilia—movie posters, album covers, and neon signs advertising ice cream sundaes. The air was filled with the clinking of cutlery, the clatter of dishes being stacked, and the occasional laughter that erupted when stories were shared.

Lyra didn't hesitate to slide into the booth after Max, her gaze immediately drawn to the laminated menu propped against the condiment rack. The pages were a collage of vibrant images and bold text, each dish vying for attention. The pages were a feast for the eyes, adorned with images of juicy steaks, glistening with a perfect sear, and platters of golden-fried fish accompanied by lemon wedges and tartar sauce. She pondered over the pasta section, where spaghetti tangled with meatballs in a rich marinara sauce, and fettuccine ribbons lay draped under a creamy Alfredo.

Max wasted no time in reading the menu over her shoulder as Billy slid in across from them, peering over his menu. The fluorescent lighting overhead glinted off the glossy pages, illuminating the colorful photographs of towering burgers and milkshakes crowned with whipped cream. Max's finger paused over a picture of a blueberry waffle. Billy, on the other hand, seemed drawn to the heartier options, his attention captured by the 'Lumberjack Platter' with its promise of eggs, steak, bacon, and french fries.

Their eyes danced across the pages, occasionally darting up to the specials board that hung above the counter, chalked with today's date and the promise of homemade cherry pie. The server arrived, pad in hand, ready to take their order with a smile on her face. With a final glance at the menu, they each nodded, having made their silent selections. The server's pencil scribbled across the paper, capturing the details of their choices before she whisked away.

"Gross." Max grimaced kicking Billy under the table which he returned. "For the record, this is not behaving." Lyra scolded. "She started it, I was just finishing it." Before Lyra could intervene, Max beat her to it. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't drool over our server before she even brought out the drinks." Billy scoffed avoiding his sister's smirk from across the table.

Not even a second later, the waitress had returned balancing three drinks in her hand. "Here you folks go, two strawberry milkshakes, and one chocolate, your food should be out shortly." She assured paying extra attention to Billy who was giving her a flirty grin. "Thanks, sweetheart." Billy winked leaving the girl a giggling mess. As soon as the waitress left, Max turned to Lyra as if to prove her point.

"You should be used to this, Max." Lyra shrugged having grown accustomed to her brother flirting. Before she could take a sip of her milkshake, Billy reached across the table beating her to it. "What the hell!" Lyra huffed trying to take the glass cup back from him. "You said you'd buy me a milkshake." He stated matter-of-factly. "You have one right there." She pointed to his untouched chocolate milkshake.

"Forgot I like this one better." He shrugged plopping the cherry in his mouth. "Asshole." Lyra cursed taking his chocolate milkshake in retaliation. "Hey shit-bird," He taunted gaining Max's attention. "You know what they say if you can tie a cherry stem with your tongue, right?" He smirked, enjoying the fact that he could get a rise out of her.

Just as Lyra was about to scold him once more their waitress came around the corner of the kitchen and set their designated plates in front of them. With yet another flirty smile and wink from Billy promising that all of their orders looked correct, they finally dug into their meal. As they started eating in silence, the delicious aroma of their food filled the air.

The silence between them was broken only by the satisfying crunch of their fries. Despite the tension, the food was too good to ignore. As the last bites of their meal were finished and the plates cleared away, the tension that had built up seemed to dissipate with the satisfying end to their meal.

Lyra couldn't help but steal another sip of her strawberry milkshake, her sweet revenge for Billy's earlier comments. Billy simply just shook his head with a smirk, knowing better than to comment again. Their waitress returned, placing the bill neatly on the table, her pen tucked behind her ear and a professional smile on her face.

"No rush, whenever you're ready." She smiled, before turning to attend to another table. Billy immediately reached for his wallet. "I thought I was the one paying for the milkshakes?" Lyra teased holding back her laugh at the look of deep offense written on her brother's face. "I got it." Lyra just rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips, knowing this was just another chapter in their ongoing banter. 

Max rolled her eyes noticing Billy scribbling his number on the bill. Making it a personal mission to hand it straight to their waitress. "Y'all have a lovely rest of your night." She gushed pocketing the bill as if it were a trophy after noticing what had been scribbled at the bottom. "Thanks, doll." Billy purred, his grin morphing into a suggestive smirk upon seeing the color of the girl's cheeks redden the longer he held eye contact.

"That's our cue, Max." Lyra gagged linking her arm with the redheads. As the trio made their way out of the diner, Lyra was completely oblivious to a curly-haired boy with a pair of dark chocolate eyes sitting in the very back corner booth following her every movement, feeling quite envious of the dirty blonde's muscled arm around her shoulders leading her to a Camaro he could only dream to afford.

[bellatriestowritesometimes]

Know Me Better

Aaron Hotchner x OC - sneak peek

(can be read as x reader I suppose?¿)

Here’s a peek at my Aaron Hotchner x OC fic that I’m working on currently. It is a chapter well into the story but I wanted to share a snippet because I’m excited to get it finished and posted! It will pick up from an established relationship between Hotch (& everyone else in the bau) and my OC - Alexandra Everly. It will be a slow burn, with plenty of angst & comfort. I am still working on it but once it’s done it’ll be uploaded onto Wattpad &/or AO3, but I’m happy to post previews as I go on here! (divider cred. cafekitsune)

Hope you enjoy xx 

Hotch didn’t say anything back. He just stood there, staring at Alex with such intensity that she almost saw the emotions shift in his eyes - anger, disappointment and disgust. Alex was sure in that moment Hotch had realised exactly who he had fallen in love with. She wasn’t some damsel in distress that he could save, she was a selfish, power-hungry mess who had jeopardised everything.

The weight of her actions crushed her, each second of silence amplifying her guilt. She felt exposed, as if he could see straight through to the core of her being, and what he saw repulsed him. How could he love her after this? How could anyone?

Hotch’s eyes, usually filled with understanding and warmth, now seemed cold and distant. She could almost hear the thoughts running through his mind, condemning her for her reckless behaviour, for putting her career and ego above everything else, including their relationship.

She wanted to scream, to cry out and beg for his forgiveness, but she felt paralysed by the fear that his love for her had vanished. The realisation that she had pushed him away with her actions, that she had let her insecurities and ambitions drive a wedge between them was too much to bear.

Alex felt her throat tighten, her chest aching with the effort to hold back tears. She was desperate for him to say something, anything, that would prove her wrong, that would show her he still cared. But as the silence stretched on, her hope dwindled, replaced by a suffocating sense of despair.

After what felt like eternity Hotch opened his mouth. His voice was calm, but the words were like a dagger to her heart.

“You’re off the case,” he replied simply, his tone void of the warmth she so desperately needed to hear, even if she didn’t deserve it.

Alex nodded her head, a bitter smile covering her face. She turned to grab her things, her movements numb and mechanical. Each step felt heavy, as if she were wading through thick mud. The room seemed to close in on her, the walls pressing down with the weight of her failure.

When she finally looked up, Hotch was gone. The sight of the empty doorway hit her like a punch in the gut, and she felt the last remnants of her composure crumble. The tears she had fought so hard to contain finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.

She heard the shuffling of footsteps approaching and quickly brushed her tears away, turning around to get herself together. Part of her hoped it was Aaron, that he had come back to talk or even yell at her again. But that hope was dashed when she heard the distinctive click of heels against the floor.

“That sounded rough,” Roxy observed, her tone gentle and sympathetic.

Alex tuned to face her, forcing a weak smile. “Yeah, well, I put it all on myself.”

“You two together?” she asked, taking a seat as she undid her shoes.

“I don’t know anymore,” Alex shrugged, biting the inside of her cheek.

“Well, I’m sure the two of you will figure it out. You both seem sensible enough,” she said, trying to reassure Alex as she changed out of her work clothes into something more comfortable and less revealing.

“Since you’re not technically on the clock anymore and neither am I, how about I buy you a drink to cheer you up?” Roxy offered, with a kind smile. “They’re closing up now, so no more creeps.”

Alex let out a small laugh, wiping away the rest of her tears. “As tempting as that sounds right now, I think I’m okay.”

“Alright, well how about a cigarette? I see you’ve already made a start on my pack.” She pulled the packet out of her coat with a grin.

“Sorry about that,” Alex chuckled, taking one. “Lance was a smoker, and I was hoping he’d either ask for one or ask to use your lighter.”

“It’s alright, come on let’s get some fresh air. It’s too stuffy in here.” Roxy grabbed Alex by the hand and gently pulled her towards the door leading back to the club.

She didn’t fight Roxy and the two of them made their way outside. It was noticeably less busy than earlier. Her eyes scanned the room for any signs of Hotch but he must’ve headed back to the precinct with Emily and Morgan to meet the others and interrogate Lance.

The two of them sat down on the curb, watching the remaining people leave. Roxy lit her cigarette and then passed the lighter to Alex.

“Tough job,” Roxy hummed, taking a drag of her cigarette.

“Yours or mine?”

“Both,” Roxy replied with a wry smile.

Alex nodded her head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “I will not argue with you there. How long have you been doing this?”

“Three years now,” Roxy revealed with a shrug. “I kept telling myself that it was only temporary, that once I made enough money, I’d quit. But here I still am.”

Alex glanced at her, sensing the mix of resignation and acceptance in her voice. “It’s hard to leave, isn’t it? Once you get caught up in it all.”

“Yeah, it is. But we all do what we have to do to get by. How about you? How long have you been with the BAU?”

Alex took another drag from her cigarette, her mind briefly wandering to the events of the night. “Feels like forever sometimes. But I think it’s coming up to eight years’ now.”

“And you’ve been with suit man for that long?”

Alex laughed, shaking her head. “God no, he was married when I joined, and I was in love with my best friend. Or at least I thought I was. Who knows anymore?”

Normally, Alex kept her personal life tightly guarded, but something about Roxy’s openness made her feel unusually comfortable.

Roxy raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sounds complicated.”

“Yeah, well, I think I’ve just managed to complicate it even more by screwing everything up altogether,” Alex said, flicking her cigarette away and watching the ember spark briefly before dying out.

“Sometimes it feels like life’s just one big mess, doesn’t it? But you’re tougher than you think. You’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Alex gave Roxy a small, appreciative smile. As they sat in silence, the weight of the evening pressed heavily on her.

Alex’s mind raced, trying to figure out what to do next. Hotch had taken her off the case, and she knew there was no point in trying to force herself back on it – she had already caused enough damage. Her thoughts drifted to the moment he found out about her meeting with Strauss, the look of disappointment in his eyes. She was indeed her father’s daughter because all she could think about was a glass of wine to accompany her sorrows.

She felt a pang of regret, realising how much she had let her emotions cloud her judgement. Normally so composed and in control, Alex was unaccustomed to feeling this vulnerable, this lost, but that seemed to be her life at the moment.

Away in her thoughts, Alex didn’t realise there was a figure approaching her and Roxy until he spoke.

“You’re with the FBI right?” Jackson, the bartender from the club, asked.

“I am,” Alex nodded, pushing herself up and standing.

“We were doing our normal sweep clean and we found this,” he explained, holding up a little black book. “I think you need to see what’s inside.”

Alex took the book from him and flipped it open. Inside were various pictures of girls, some she recognised immediately as Lance’s victims. As she continued going through the pages, she saw images of girls she didn’t know, which she quickly gathered were his next potential targets.

Roxy leaned over to get a better look. “Oh my God,” she murmured, her voice trembling. “I know some of these girls. They work here.”

“This is… wow,” Alex mumbled as she made her way through the rest of the notebook. She landed on one photo near the back. It didn’t fit in with the rest, in fact it looked like it was ripped from a family photo. It was of a young boy with an older woman. Lance and his mother, if Alex had to guess. “Thank you for bringing this to me,” she said, glancing up at Jackson.

hehe that's all for now! i'll be happy to post snippets as i go if anyone is interested :P

[chimscake]

5 𝙵𝚄𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂 𝙸 𝙳𝙸𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙶𝙾𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝙰𝙽𝙸𝙵𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝙵𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝚃𝙷𝙰𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙷𝚃

Since I feel like I owe you a little update: I'm working on a big post about everything I know on the law from the scientific perspective, as I said in the last post, but since I want to make it as complete and understandable as possible, it is taking a lot of time. Since the beginning of February I've been literally re-reading a shit ton of books and taking proper notes to make this post. Today I can say it's coming along really nice and I hope it will be ready to post soonish, but I can't guarantee anything cuz I've been and will be super busy with other things as well. Since I really don't want to leave my blog empty for such a long time I thought I would make a shorter post to fill the void. I hope you like it &lt;3

DISCLAIMER: as we all know, all you really need to manifest is affirm once and believe it's done, so you don't really need to do any of these things. But if you struggle with consistency when it comes to saturating your mind, you should consider trying things that are more fun, so that you have more incentive to do it. It is your universe after all, so why not do something a little more exciting that just sitting in your house?

1) Making fake phone calls even in public: I used to do this a lot a long time ago. I would simply hang out and go to the park or to the mall or anything really and I would pretend I was on the phone with someone talking about my desires as if they came to be already. I just LOVE the looks on peoples faces when they hear me talk about my blooming business and the crazy things I bought. The only difference is now IT IS ALL TRUE

2) To manifest being rich, surround yourself in wealth: walk through a wealthy neighborhood, go into a luxury shop, hang out in a luxury hotels lobbys... this truly helps with feeling in the wish fulfilled because the more time you spend around wealth and luxury the more you will get used to it and the more it will feel and be part of your life. If you feel insecure about walking into Louis Vuitton or any other luxury shop just because you don't look like you are rich and you are afraid of being judged listen to me right now: I've worked in retail for luxury brands and I can GUARANTEE you that there are plenty of wealthy people who shop at these places and look like they don't own a cent. Shop assistants never pay too much attention to how people present themselves because it's not always a good indicator of wealth, so just relax and go inside like you own the place, even if you're wearing h&m.

3) If you want to manifest a relationship with an sp, do things that you would consider romantic for yourself. Buy yourself flowers, comfort yourself with kind words or take yourself out on dates. This is useful to get yourself used to getting pampered and to make your subconscious belive the fact that you are in a relationship even more clearly. One day I bought myself a rose and I kept affirming that my sp was the one who got it for me. This one works like a charm

4) Work on you confidence and your mindset. Being confident and believing that things are always good in your life and that nothing bad can happen to you is a state that gets you literally anything. Do things that make you feel confident and positive as much as possible. For me these are wearing clothes and makeup in the style I like, complimenting other people, listening to music, eating food I like and spending quality time with the people I love. I recommend praying if you are religious.

5) Know/affirm that capitalism ain't shit compared to you. People, and especially young ones, are afraid of the consequences of capitalism, such as global pollution and the fact that the rich are getting richer, while everyone else struggles to afford groceries and rent. The state the world is in can be reason for negative thoughts and loss of ambition. But as the conscious creator you are, you can just decide that these aren't problems anymore and that the situation is only getting better, you can decide that billionaires have to listen to everyone else and make the world a better place. Here are some of the affirmations I use:

"capitalism ain't shit compared to me"

"i am the one billionaires hate because im getting richer without playing their game"

"world leaders and billionaires do as I please because they are afraid of my power"

"the rich are getting poorer and the poor richer because i said so and thats it"

"i am an environmentally conscious and generous billionaire"

Hope this inspired you <3

Chimscake

[lamentingocean]

JAHA X READER

The dark clouds of the sky but only a memorable day of potentially dangerous rejection and love can occur into the streets of China, jaha didn't know what to do since he had always been the smartest in every situation and in every battle.

of when his clothes are bathed in the blood of powerful fighters and soldiers along his path to his goal, and to a world of bliss for rules to not be followed by such a class of martial artists,

Throwing their yuan away in such a cocky mentality, the master of the black rabbit clan knew how to take care of threats like that, even if it means having shards of a enemy's sword getting scattered in the ground of class, even if it means protecting ilyang, even if it means protecting Y/N from the dangers of this world, the dangers of China and therefore their path to power and vengeance leading to destruction and wars,even if it means the essence of insanity scraped his soul.

yuan rattled on his hand as he surveyed the remaining gifts to buy for Y/N. It was pure ruby earrings. It was a beautiful chinese dress, it was perfumes of the finest caliber of scents. there are so many options.

A flashback banged into his head. He suddenly remembered what you like, and what you like mattered to him even if he's a cold-blooded killer with an aura called the definition of danger.

"I actually like blue earrings, I like the way they shine, and they look like the ocean to me? Don't you agree?"

he came inside the shop where the earrings were stored at, there were many shades of color, blue, green, white, black, gray, orange. the blue one on the side caught his blood red eyes.

the beautiful earrings looking into his eyes were called.

The forbidden city of the ocean, it all spelled out in Chinese, and a rare Chinese ink to make it stand out more. he picked them up in slight awe. thinking: Would they look good on her? a voice interrupted his thought process. it was a man in the first desk.

with an angry look on why he dared touch a fine piece of jewelry, wearing his hands like an illuminating necklace, jaha questioned in his ordinary sass.

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

"You're touching a rich peice of jewelry? If you aren't going to pay for that, then get the hell out of my shop?"

he picked up the jewelry anyway and walked up to him. The intimidation scared the man that insulted a master terrified him to the brink. like it went through his thick skull. a large amount of yuan slammed onto the desk.

"I need to pay for this."

"First of all, you don't come up to my shop like that sir, most people treat the jewelry with respect."

It was at this point that this man was pushing him to the brim, even the vein on his forehead shown it as a sign to stop talking before death kisses him in the face into the afterlife. the man hesitated on spitting out the next words that will spill in the next second.

and if he did, then he had a 30 chance to be alive. His red eyes took his mind into a terrified panic. his words spit out orchestras of fear.

"FINE. IT'S FREE. TAKE IT. JUST DONT HURT ME.."

his sweat soak his armpits, the filling shit of his system kept pouring down out of fear of whoever this man is.

"W-who are you?"

his footsteps walked to the door, and jaha didn't want to speak to him any longer after his terrified voice almost gave him a nearing headache. He looked at the real price of the earrings.

"Hmm..50,000 yuan."

he went to a place he knew you would be at, since that's a place that stored the most memories of you inside that insane head. It was raining blossoms.

he saw you near the lake, looking beautiful as ever, with (whatever chinese outfit you like) somehow. he felt happy and a sensation of peace in his aura. like he felt like he was in heaven with you. Blossoms coated his void black hair cutely.

you turned with a bag of desserts on your arm, happy to be spending time with jaha after all the missions and drama you two have gone through.

From the demonic cult, the martial arts league, the light faction, and the dark faction.

you saw him with an existing happiness and popped a strawberry, chocolate cake that is small as a kitten in his mouth.

"COME ON♡ LETS GO TO THE QIXI FESTIVAL!"

(my comeback era for writing came back)

[midorishinji]

Disappearing act - chapter IV

Geto observed her more carefully, trying to decide whether she was being serious or not. — Killing non-sorcerers? — It's an option, but I don't take it seriously. Do you? — Yuki pressed him with a loaded question. Suguru Geto thought of them all — Shoko, Nanami, Haibara, Riko, Kuroi, his parents, Satoru — and his chest filled with an unbearable pain, but also an incredibly monumental love, so much that it felt like it would stretch and burst at the seams of his heart that could not contain it. He thought of his father again, reading him "Night on the Galactic Railroad" when he was young, and he thought of Satoru reading his own copy now during his leisure nights. He thought of Giovanni and Campanella, and of the Scorpio of the night sky, and of the nobility of sacrifice, of setting yourself on fire to warm the world.

Satosugu ｜Finalized｜Long fic｜Also being published in Portuguese and on AO3

Chapters: I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII - IX - X - XI - XII - XIII - XIV - XV - XVI - XVII

Chapter IV: I almost wish we were butterflies and lived but three summer days

The sun was shining brightly and it was hot enough to pass for summer, despite it being October. The cold seawater reached his feet as the tide rose, but Suguru didn't care. Lying under the umbrella, the shade protected his face and part of his bare torso, although his legs were exposed to the sun and salt water. His eyes slowly read each word of the book he had in his hands, “Night on the Galactic Railroad”, by Kenji Miyazawa.

A hand took the book away from him, careful not to unmark the page being read.

— Satoru, you’re so childish, you know that? — Geto complained, sighing deeply.

— The beach’s not a place to read, come on... — Gojo grumbled back, adjusting his glasses — Besides, I asked you three times if you wanted a popsicle or not, and you ignored me!

Suguru sat down, taking the book back and closing it gently with the bookmark in the right place. — Yeah, sure, my bad.

— Great, because Kuroi already went out to buy it…

The two remained silent, watching Riko play beach volleyball against some of the friends she had made at the new school. Her face was sunburned, her cheeks and the tip of her nose red from the frequent and prolonged sun exposure.

— She’s grown a lot. — Suguru commented, with an air of sadness — It doesn't even seem like everything happened only two months ago.

The dark sunglasses disguised Satoru's worried look. — I know. Kuroi told me that sometimes she wakes up scared at night, thinking they’re still after her.

— But is the new identity working?

— Pretty much. Kuroi got a job at a clothing store out of habit, but they don't have to worry about housing, food, or education, the Gojo clan takes care of that. — Satoru replied, with a sarcastic smile — But I get her, you know. It draws less attention, and besides, you can't have that much free time, nah, otherwise you’ll just spend time remembering.

They both knew this very well: missions served to pass the time and fill the void inside; it kept them from thinking too much about what had happened, or what it really meant to be a jujutsu sorcerer, or all the ways this blatant lie could go wrong and ruin the lives of everyone involved. Fatigue is what helps us sleep at night, if our conscience insists on disturbing us.

— Any news about the cult? — Suguru asked.

— Nothing after the letter I received. — the other recounted, remembering that he had also been thanked for the “collaboration”, just like Geto was — And nothing from the elders either. Absolute silence. I think that worries me more than if they were still onto us.

— Do you think they know something?

— If they do, they're pretending not to. Either that or Professor Yaga has something to do with it.

— Do you think he knows?

— I think he suspects it, at least. Sometimes I'm sure he knows exactly what we did, but maybe it’s just paranoia.

Geto sighed. — I don’t know. I think if he knew, he wouldn't turn us in. Maybe he would even help cover for us…

— Probably. But I heard rumors that the Time Vessel Association has a new leader. The point is that nobody knows anything about the person, just that they have money, because they’ve managed to buy a seat like it’s no big deal. And why on Earth would anyone want to get involved in a failing business like that?

— Maybe it's someone who was already giving orders from behind the scenes, Satoru. That explains why they lied about the bodies to cover for us, they're probably thinking about blackmailing us in the future. For what purpose, I don't know, but it's probably that, blackmail. The Gojo clan has money and influence, you have power, and it would be useful to be an ally. — Geto theorized.

— We have power. — Gojo corrected him — And if that's the case, it means it's someone from the jujutsu world. Someone who is already among us, maybe even among the elders.

The possibility was unpleasant, but it could not be ruled out. Someone who had so much money, and so much power… They were a dangerous person. Right then, Misato Kuroi arrived with the popsicles. The volleyball game was interrupted, with Riko back under the shade of the umbrella.

— You have to put on more sunscreen, your face is so red… — Kuroi told her, looking for sunscreen in her beach bag.

Riko Amanai didn't worry about it, greedily biting into her popsicle. — Later… We’re about to win the game, I'll put it on later, I promise!

Misato didn't insist. Noticing the book next to Suguru, Riko commented on it, looking interested: — What book is that?

— It’s “Night on the Galactic Railroad”, by Kenji Miyazawa. — Suguru said.

— I've never heard of it. What is it about?

— Never? It is a Japanese literature classic. — Geto replied, surprised — It's the story of two boys, Giovanni and Campanella, who embark on an intergalactic journey on a magical train.

— Boys? Weren't they cats? — Satoru asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

This got a laugh of pure amusement from Suguru. — Riko-chan, promise me that you’re gonna study, so you don't end up like this idiot here, okay?

Outraged, Gojo gestured furiously with his long arms. — But they were cats! Or weren't they?

— I think they were cats in the cartoon, I watched it when I was a kid… — Kuroi rambled, encouraging his musings.

That little push was just what was needed to fill him with confidence again: — Told ya, I'm right!

Despite this, Riko Amanai was not impressed: — That's okay, I'm gonna study really, really hard... So I won’t stay a dumbass like that. — she said, standing up and brushing the sand off her clothes before returning to play, placing a baseball cap over her head. Kuroi ran after her with a sunscreen bottle on her hands, the same way a worried mother runs after a scatterbrained child. The two boys smiled, feeling for the first time a sense of normalcy in their adolescence: for a little while, the entire jujutsu world, the elders, cults, curses and spirits could disappear; all that mattered was Riko's birthday, and how she liked the bracelet she got as a gift from them, a symbol of an eternal bond.

— Hey, Suguru. — Gojo murmured, his eyes fixed on the game — One of the cats dies in the end, right? I remember this.

Geto confirmed, with a nod. — Yeah.

The confirmation did not discourage him from asking for what he wanted. — When you finish reading it, can I borrow it? I wanna read it. I’m curious.

— You can borrow it if you promise to take good care of it. It was a gift from my dad.

— I promise you.

Satoru opened his mouth again, thinking about saying something else, but he fell silent, feeling the weight of his words stuck in the back of his throat. Geto pretended not to notice this.

[freddy-ryland]

“Remember you’re the one who can fill the world with sunshine.”— Snow White (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs)

Mom was staring her down, examining her backpack and rolled-up overalls, picking at the flyaways not quite pressed down, pursing her lips over the scuffed Converse.

"We can buy you better clothes than these Freddy," the short form of 'we are a powerful House you don't need to dress like a gardener'.

"I'm just going to Diagon Alley, it can get so dusty in the summer." the short form of 'I'm going to meet Q then we're tramping to Li's then finding wherever T is and going for drinks and I don't want to spill liquor on my nice dresses'.

"I'm not so sure Diagon Alley is such a good place to run off too...alone." short form from 'wait for your brother to babysit you, he's off work, he can protect you from your little friends and your little plans and your little adventures'.

"I won't be alone! We're just going to the bookshop!" the long form for 'fuck off'.

"We can buy books from the catalog." short form for 'don't leave this house. we can keep you safe here. there is no reason to leave for no reason nor without protection or to meet your ridiculous friends and we are rich enough to build you a library - just stay home, stay where you're safe.'

"I'm leaving." 'I'm trapped'.

Freddy marched out the door, her puffy spacebuns stirring in the breeze, onto the broad porch and into the front garden. Their house was the largest on the wizarding block, enough home for two families, enough space that a bedridden girl could find solace and peace and solitude. But Freddy couldn't help but feel that a few thousand square feet of various four corners was stifling.

"Patronus me when you get there!" the long form of 'I'll call the Calvery if it pleases me'.

Her parents couldn't do much since she was 17 now, couldn't tell her no, legally an adult, but if they called an Auror to bring her home, they'd get her home. No one could tell a member of the Shacklebolt family 'no' even if their married name was Ryland. Hell, even just the name Ryland would get the Aurors moving.

"Yes, Mom." Because she was dutiful and careful and hated to worry them more than usual. Because she woke up at night with her Mom touching her chest, ensuring she was breathing. Because she found her Dad tapping her awake from naps, so sure she was unconscious. Because Micah and Q and T and Li and everyone else had found Freddy bleeding from head trauma from a fall, curled up into stone corridors, and splayed out on busy streets when the magic decided to poison her own body and send her flying through time and memories and the future. Freddy is just a passenger in her body for a magic rooting and rotting her from the inside out.

But she smiled and waved from the sidewalk, the street built for wizards, apparition points set up in front of homes and in public spaces. A necessity of bygone War days, now the public knew who was coming, had wards set against random entry points, and the Rylands were stringent about watching the comings and goings.

"Just be careful!"

Freddy pointed at herself, "Who me? I'm always careful!" Carefully plotting the days until Graduation, plotting the days until she could escape, find a curse-breaking program willing to take on a girl with counted days and worse chances of survival past 25. Somewhere that wouldn't sneer at the wasted spot could give her all the adventure her fragile body could handle and let her chart her own course. Freddy's life was a map to a swift end, but that didn't mean she couldn't attempt to enjoy every second she breathed - living in fear meant not living at all. Living within the four walls and four corners and four streets and the four sets of eyes following her every move and watching her very steps making sure she didn't so much step on a crack - it was suffocating, and as Freddy spun in place, she couldn't help but feel a choked up relief at seeing her Mom's face fading away, warping and disappearing into the void of her house.

Landing just outside of Knockturn Alley, Freddy let out a huff of air, her magic rocking her body with a deluge of images - monsters and criminals, grimy shadow children stalking the alleys with white teethed smiles, cackles of war and shrieks of laughter. A life lived, and living and living long after Freddy died. Her moments here were short, her rattled lungs sucking in an expanse of air as she stepped from the apparition point.

There, across the way, leaning against the wall, sharing a bottle of butterbeer, they waited. Freddy took in the scent of piss, magic, and cigarette smoke and bounded forward, clenching the straps of her backpack every two seconds getting a bombardment of visions until she was wrapped up in cosmos and ink, nestling her nose into her Beloved's hair and letting the weight of Falmouth fall from her shoulders. Q already chattering away, and the sound fell like rainfall on Freddy's ears, calming and kind in the wall all summer showers were, and they parted, pinkies locked together.

"Hey Nightmare," Linden greeted, Freddy offered them a shoulder bump before whipping out her wand.

"I learned a really fun hex this week!"

A shine of sun bounced off a grimy window as the trio set off, Freddy bouncing along, shifting between past-present-future, her head spiking with pain.

But life moves quickly, and Freddy's would move quicker than the ones at her side. It was her right to experience the sunshine, so she wiped away a bit of blood dripping from her ear and continued forward.

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 55

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is the product of my limited knowledge of Chinese characters as I attempt to learn the language. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Buy me a Ko-fi ☕

Chapter 55

Light rain hit the window pane. The world was dark and gloomy, the greyness extending into the room. There was a smell of musk around them, mixed with the smell of old mould. Their clothes were scattered all over the floor. The two of them were entangled, burning with desire, stuck together like glue.

It was rare for them to be so close, and the two of them were unconsciously indulging each other. Lin Yan straddled Xiao Yu's thighs, heaving up and down half-accommodatingly and half-initiating. His whole body spasmed, hands grasping at him like a life-saving straw. He didn't know why he was so urgent. The ghost couldn't control himself. He wanted nothing more than to penetrate him, to crush him into his arms after thirsting for so long.

The abstinence and clarity that filled the place where a scholar studied hard were replaced with what seemed to be an aphrodisiac fragrance in the air, which ground his whole body to ashes and filled up every square inch of space. Books surrounded the places he placed his hands and feet. The Confucian classics, history, philosophy and literature, Zhu Xi's Neo Confucianism, the monarch and his subjects, the father and son, the way to become an official, all solemn and dignified, scrutinizing these two people proclaiming their lust in the daytime. The more he says he can't, the more he wants it, and it's difficult to control himself.

Suddenly remembering that Xiao Yu said that the house's master was still there, he hurriedly suppressed his whimpers and groans, not daring to make a sound. He gritted his teeth and endured the sweet suffering. Xiao Yu wrapped his arms around his waist and said softly: "This is our home. . . "

There was a throbbing in his heart, and he slid across Xiao Yu, as if secretly stealing this love under the gaze of his old lover, a thrilling sense of revenge.

"Xiao Lang. . ." he murmured. Xiao Yu shook his head and cupped his chin: "Lin Yan. Look at me, Lin Yan."

Their eyes meet. The softness in his heart made his eyes inexplicably moist. He hugged him, wanting this to last forever, a most extravagant, absurd and unrealistic wish.

Under the gentleness of the ghost, he turned into a guqin that stopped on the highest note, and whose strings were about to break. Finally, he couldn't bear the friction behind him, and he came into Xiao Yu's hands. The ghost then retreated from his body. Because he hadn't been satisfied, he hugged Lin Yan and couldn't stop struggling.

"What's wrong?" Lin Yan caressed his face, "Just cum inside."

Xiao Yu half-opened his eyes and smiled with difficulty: "With this yang fire covering your body, if we continue, do you want to become a ghost with me?"

Embracing him with his hand, his black hair fell down, and only the straight bridge of his nose could be seen from the side. When he climbed up on him, he slightly tilted his face. He called out to Lin Yan almost inaudibly, tilted his head and kissed his lips, contentedly sighing.

The ghost cleaned the clothes all over the floor and carried Lin Yan across the long deserted courtyard. He brought him back to the bedroom and carefully placed him on the bed. He fetched a basin of clean water and carefully wiped the evidence of their lovemaking with a towel.

Lin Yan stared at him and suddenly realized Xiao Yu didn't care about him. He suspected that he would definitely be reluctant even if he begged him. But so what? He will always bear the shadow of someone else. No one can defeat a lost love, his rival in love, which exists in the void. The biggest weight in his hands is "lose," and this alone can push him into a desperate situation, and he will lose.

Pretending to be calm, he put on his clothes and looked out the window: "Has the rain stopped?"

Xiao Yu didn't answer. The wet handkerchief suddenly fell to the ground. The ghost squatted down, rubbing his fingers against his brow as if he had a headache: "Lin Yan, I remembered something. . ."

Lin Yan struggled to help him. Xiao Yu suddenly raised his head, stared blankly at his face, and murmured: "Yihan. . ."

"What did you say?"

Xiao Yu covered his face with his hands. His slender fingers trembled slightly as he struggled: "The person I'm looking for is Duan Yihan, the young head of the Duan family in Jinyang."

"We're now in the Duan family's ancestral house. This is Yihan's bedroom."

Lin Yan jumped up from the bed. It was an extremely delicate rosewood canopy bed with pillars at the four corners and barriers at the left and right ends. The small wooden tenon was assembled into a hollowed-out square along the two columns in front, with a cover on the top called the "ceiling." The lake-green curtain was hung with silver hooks and tied to the carved floral patterns. It was so expensive that it made people nauseous, but it also brought a sense of déjà vu.

". . . He used to call me Xiao Lang."

Lin Yan staggered backwards a step.

The room was silent, but then the window pane was suddenly blown open by the wind, knocking against the wall, and the lake-coloured curtain was blown by the wind, bulging like a sail.

". . . I see." Lin Yan slowly stepped forward to help Xiao Yu up, his head muddled and his thoughts unconscious. "Let's go back. We'll talk when we go back."

Xiao Yu nodded silently and picked up the paper lantern that fell on the ground. He pinched off the burnt wick, struck it with a flint, and handed it to Lin Yan, "This is a ghost lantern. It can lead people out of the ghost realm. Take it with you and follow me. Don't look back on the road. We've been delayed for too long."

"Does it still hurt? I'll carry you." He put his hand on Lin Yan's pulse and sighed when he saw that he was trying to squirm away. "You just don't listen. If you keep tossing and turning like this, what am I going to do to pay for your life?"

Xiao Yu supported Lin Yan and he limped out of the house, following his instructions. He didn't dare turn his head and went back the same way he had come with the lantern. The rain had stopped, and the streets were filled with thick fog. He could only see the overlapping eaves and brickwork, covered in hanging red lanterns, swaying in the wind.

The pagoda he had come from was close at hand. It was strange to say, but when he stepped through the pagoda, the surrounding fog had disappeared. Even the sun had poked its head out from behind the clouds, and the puddles on the ground reflected the sun's golden light. Tourists complained about the torrential rain just now, shaking off the rain from their umbrellas.

Yin Zhou, A-Yan and the fox were waiting anxiously by the side of the road, and when they saw Lin Yan, they hurriedly stood up.

"There they are!" Yin Zhou yelled, seeing the two approach. A-Che made a seal on his palm and touched Xiao Yu's forehead. The ghost appeared out of thin air, but the others surrounded him in a circle to block him so no passers-by noticed.

"There were too many roads in there. I didn't know where to turn. Fortunately, I met Xiao Yu." Lin Yan blew out the lantern, balled it up and threw it into a trash can.

"Too many roads? What roads?"

"Here, there's a big area in the back. I'll show you around later. There are many old houses." Lin Yan pointed back and was frozen for a moment. He saw that the pagoda was only half repaired, and a yellow sign said, "Under construction, temporarily closed." Following the direction of his finger was a large area of ruins, collapsed houses, sections of dilapidated walls covered with waist-deep weeds, and several graves stood crookedly. It looked unspeakably treacherous.

Where did the ancient city go just now? Could it be that they walked into a rift of time, a mirage wrapped in thick fog? Recalling the scene in the city, he was infinitely surprised.

A-Che circled around Lin Yan, sniffing hard: "You smell like foxes, snakes, weasels, rats and wandering wild souls. Empty old houses and cemeteries are most attracted to these things."

"Forget it, let's just leave. This place is weird. Let's get out of here before it gets dark." Yin Zhou didn't care, and raised his chin at Xiao Yu, "Thank you, buddy."

Just now, he had been so vigorous that he felt uneasy walking, A-Yan looked at the two leaning on each other with a slight chill in his eyes and deliberately bumped into Xiao Yu when he passed by him: "Stay away from him if you can't afford to give him anything in return. I'll let you off just this once."

A group of people got on a tourist bus and left the ancient city as if they were fleeing. Looking back, he saw that the ruins of the ancient city were lit up with colourful lights, with performances being sung while the wild slopes in the northwest corner sank in a strange black mist. It was a gloomy and bleak place like a huge mouth wishing to swallow everything bright in one gulp.

A-Yan went out early the next morning, saying that he was going to buy clothes for the ghost marriage, leaving everyone else to recuperate in the hotel and check the information. There was a tea restaurant on the second floor of the hotel. With a room card, free snacks were provided every day from 10:00 am to 3:00 pm. A-Che was still in bed, but when he heard the news, he jumped up and pulled Lin Yan with one hand and Xiao Yu with the other. After opening the door, he stood at the door and waited, gulping strongly.

There was a seat by the window. The sun was warm, the stainless steel plate full of chocolate snacks reflecting some of the bright sunlight. Next to it was a thick stack of reprinted ancient books. The TV was broadcasting the Bundesliga*, and a table of middle-aged uncles is watching TV while playing cards. Lin Yan rested his chin in one hand and propped his tablet in front of him, trying to find clues from endless academic papers.

*(T/N: A professional association football league in Germany)

The elevator door opened with a ding. Yin Zhou appeared in the foyer with a messy head of hair and greeted the three of them hurriedly. He pulled out his chair and sat down: "Is there any progress?"

"There's plenty of information, but it's useless." Lin Yan sighed, pointing to the screen. "The heyday of Shanxi merchants was in the Qing Dynasty. They were only getting started during the Ming Dynasty. The records on this subject mainly discuss the impact of the Ming government's implementation of the emerging Chinese law on merchants and traders, and there is little information on named families."

"But there was a Duan family who exchanged grain and cloth with troops from northern towns for salt in the early Ming Dynasty. The salt merchant business started, and the founder was Duan Ruyang. But the Duan Yihan that Xiao Yu mentioned lived in the middle of the Ming Dynasty. It's hard to know how many generations he had, and besides, the best-preserved Shanxi merchant compound in the vicinity can only be traced back to the late Ming and early Qing Dynasties, and it's not easy to find a starting point from the ruins."

Yin Zhou opened a Coke and gulped a sip: "There's no kind of outstanding achievement? It's like that show on TV, the Qiao family pioneered the tea road which resulted in starting a national financing business. How impressive."

Lin Yan said innocently: "If this Duan Yihan really is me, do you think there's hope for him to start a business?"

"That's right, he's probably just as scatterbrained." Yin Zhou muttered.

"It's all so difficult." Lin Yan sighed.

"Tch, professionals have such spirit. If there's a difficulty, we try and solve it. If there are no difficulties, we will create some!" Yin Zhou smugly rolled up his sleeves, "I'll do it instead. You go and rest."

"Can you read the historical materials?"

Yin Zhou waved his hand: "You don't understand this. We have to combine various knowledge to dig deep and accumulate grain. It's better to kill thousands of people by mistake than let the wrong one go. Just watch!*"

*(T/N: Basically it's better to come up with a dozen bad ideas to find a good one than pass up on something that sounds bad but might be what works)

Lin Yan gave up his seat to Yin Zhou, rubbed his temples and went to the bathroom. He washed his face vigorously and looked up at himself in the mirror. His eyes were covered with a misty layer, and he couldn't see anything clearly. He couldn't stop himself from punching the water and scolded himself: "What the hell are you trying to do!"

Suddenly there was an extra shadow in the mirror, standing silently behind him.

Lin Yan barely squeezed out a smile: "You don't move at all. Do yu get to be scary just because you're a ghost?"

Xiao Yu wiped away the drops of water on his face and said softly, "I'm sorry."

"Don't. It sounds weird." Lin Yan turned off the tap. He turned around and leaned against the marble table, lost in thought. "It's not just for you now. I'm also a little curious. What kind of person was I?”

"It's a terrible feeling to think of something but not remember it clearly." Lin Yan smiled wryly.

Yin Zhou was staring at the screen in a daze when he returned. When he saw Lin Yan coming back, he fixed his eyes on his face. Lin Yan shook his head, and Yin Zhou followed like a sunflower fluttering in the wind.

"Is there grass on my face?" Lin Yan touched his chin.

"Tch, god, it's so similar." Yin Zhou looked at him, then at the screen, and waved at Lin Yan vigorously, "Look for yourself. Does this person look like you?"

"Like me? Is it mummy or a coffin. . ."

Before he finished speaking, he suddenly stopped. On the screen was a smoky antique painting with fine brushwork and light colour with the characteristics of that era, like those hanging in the ancestral hall in the old house. Although the characters were not realistic, their facial expressions were captured very delicately. A young man with delicate features, with a bun on his head, wearing a round-collared and large-sleeved shirt, sat upright, with the corners of his mouth raised, seemingly smiling. The inscription had been scratched off by something, and its space was empty, lighter in colour than the surrounding area.

Lin Yan drew in a cold breath. The screen was turned in his direction, and he was so startled that he couldn't speak. Yin Zhou was right. The person in the painting resembled him too much. If there was a difference, it was probably in comparison to his kindness. The character in the painting had a more charming expression. He by no means looked like someone who was cold and dettached. The attitude was like he was gazing at his lover, sitting upright, but his clothes were very casual, stone green folds overlapping, that had been spread on the ground.

Xiao Yu's expression also changed, and he stretched out his hand in a daze to touch the painting on the screen, but Lin Yan blocked him: "Hey, don't touch it. It's not real."

"Is this the Duan Yihan you were talking about?"

"It's him." Xiao Yu said straightforwardly. "There's no doubt about it."

Lin Yan cast his gaze to the lower left corner: "It's a pity that there's no inscription and seal. Why would someone destroy the inscription?" He was suddenly shocked, the black tablet with no words flashed, and turned to look at the ghost: "Could it be you. . ."

"I did it." Xiao Yu turned his face away, staring out the window in a daze.

The mud-gold ancient painting on the screen appeared out of nowhere like a time-travelling ghost, like a deliberate reminder of what they once were.

It was probably a March springtime in the painting. One of them was sitting in a black lacquered chair, and the other was standing in front of the canvas with a brush, fanning out on a piece of rice paper. The two of them looked at each other and smiled. The young head of the Duan family put aside all the ledgers and tools, charming eyes like silk, gazing at his lover's obsessed expression, staring at him for so long he forgot to write, and a round drop of ink bled on the rice paper. . . Perhaps done in the study they were in today. Lin Yan deliberately asked Yin Zhou: "What are you doing?" Where did you find this? Was it in the doctoral thesis I just gave you?"

"I'm too lazy to look at that stuff." Yin Zhou disagreed. "I found it when I searched directly with keywords. The original source seems to be from a book that teaches painting, "A Closer Study of Folk Landscapes and Figures in the Ming and Qing Dynasties." It has nothing to do with what you said about their history. "

"Hey, here's the author's contact information. Do you want to ask them?" Yin Zhou rubbed his hands excitedly. "Maybe it's a descendant of the Duan family."

Just as I was talking, there was a clanging sound in the hallway. The little Daoist priest was sweating profusely and dragged two meter-long snakeskin bags. The back of his blue robe was wet with sweat. An attendant stood at the elevator entrance to welcome the guests, and, seeing his appearance, her mouth fell open for a moment, but she still asked, "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

Yin Zhou hurriedly put down the coke can to greet him: "Two dead men are getting married, not you. Why are you bringing so much?!"

The little Daoist priest glared at him: "K-Keep your voice down. Aren't you afraid of someone hearing us?!"

The two smiled at the female attendant with guilty grins and brushed it off: "We're fine by ourselves."

Lin Yan didn't care to listen to the two of them chatting. He held his phone in one hand, while Xiao Yu tightly held the other. His heart was pounding.

"Ring-ring-"

"Hello?"

The phone call connected, and Lin Yan patiently exchanged a few pleasantries. The man on the other end of the phone was a man with a Southern accent, speaking a Mandarin dialect. Maybe because he kept putting "la" at the end of his sentences, trying to make himself sound smart, he was pretty shrewd.

"Which painting are you talking about? I've published a lot of paintings and collected several ancient paintings. How do I know which one it is. . . Oh, the book about landscapes and figures in the Ming and Qing dynasties. I remember that one. It took a lot of effort. Yes, let me tell you, it took two full years, from collecting materials to organizing them and publishing the book. Hey, are you a reporter? You have to make an appointment with my secretary for an interview. . ."

Lin Yan silently raised his middle finger at Yin Zhou.

Hearing Lin Yan describe the title of the book, the number of pages and the contents of the painting several times, the talkative painter suddenly realized: "Ah, that one, you say. The person who sold that painting to me was called Duan, and I visited I made a special trip to their home in a small shitty village. Let me tell you, there are no major families in China now. They all had their homes ransacked after the founding of the People’s Republic of China. . ."

"Oh, you asked about the painting. The family said that their family was very rich in the Ming Dynasty. In the late Qing Dynasty, the opium industry collapsed, and all their things and ancestral houses that had been passed down to his generation were sold. There were only a few paintings left in the ancestral hall. I paid over five thousand yuan for each of the ancestral portraits, so it was a good deed.”

Lin Yan couldn't care less about his business dealings, so he glanced at Xiao Yu and blurted out, "Are you willing to sell it? I study history, and I've been collecting similar paintings recently."

"I'm a painter, so I don't resell pieces, but. . ." There was a long silence. Lin Yan could almost hear the other party rolling his eyes, "But if you really want to buy it, I could consider reselling it as part of a personal collection since I've finished writing my book anyways."

Lin Yan asked about the price. Yin Zhou, A-Yan and Xiao Yu all stared at him. Even A-Che put down his snacks and huddled around him. Yin Zhou kept mouthing, "Lower the price." Lin Yan picked up a piece of cheesecake to shove in his mouth only to hear the caller say: "As you know, good quality paintings from this time period are rare. I wouldn't offer it if I didn't have a large collection. Because of this, and because there is some damage to the inscription, the price should not be less than 300,000. The specifics need to be discussed in detail.”

". . . You paid 5,000 yuan, yet you're trying to sell it to me for 300,000?" Lin Yan asked in surprise, "Forget it, then. Can you give me the contact information of the seller? It's a personal matter. Yes, it's very important. "

As soon as the painter heard that he wouldn't buy it, his tone immediately turned cold. He said that he had no information about the client. Lin Yan suppressed his anger and asked, "Are you afraid I'll expose you as a low-balling cheat? I'm the one in the painting. You took my painting to print in your book so you should be prepared for a lawsuit for copyright infringement."

The man grunted and rudely hung up the phone.

They all looked at each other.

"What should we do?" Lin Yan looked at the phone. "Should we try and call again, or should we each sell a kidney first?"

Yin Zhou swallowed the cake and tapped his finger on the table: "I have an idea."

"Aren't you the person in the painting?" Yin Zhou grabbed the phone and pushed Lin Yan into the chair, "Let's make our own!"

Yin Zhou transferred Lin Yan's headshot into Photoshop. Everyone gathered around to provide opinions on colour correction, contrast adjustment, and darkening, keeping very busy. After a while, a ghostly half-body photo appeared on the desktop, like a zombie that had lived for hundreds of years. His eyes were dull, his face was grey-green and swollen, and his arms were covered with bruises. Yin Zhou overlayed this photo and Duan Yihan's portrait, transferred it to his phone and pressed the send key.

"How's this?"

"We've tried everything we could. This person must have cheated others out of lots of money. As the saying goes, he who never wrongs others does not fear the knock in the night, so the painter should. Tsk tsk."

As soon as Yin Zhou finished speaking, a text message rang out, and a message popped up, which was an address. Looking carefully, it was a village not far from there.

[angel-zerocal]

ate 2 nuggets with some cheese

gonna be honest i only manage to restrict now bc of major depression. i used to binge out of anxiety trying to fill the void inside. around three years ago i was super anxious bc of exams and when i finally passed i didn’t feel any relief. like as if that one exam never took place then a break started and gradually my anxiety vanished

next winter during exams i wasn’t anxious at all and bc of that i couldn’t prepare for exams. i knew like i needed to but yeah…

i’m not interested in food now at all. like sometimes i think about smth i want to buy to binge as i did years before but whenever i see food i just think, ‘it won’t make me happy, it won’t feel the void’

overall nothing is able to feel the void now i’m so empty i used to watch films every day and every one knew me as a true cinephile. i used to buy a lot of make up, clothes, books and unnecessary little things now nothing NOTHING is able to distract me from my senseless existence. i even don’t like coffee anymore

i liked losing weight and stuff but my mom makes it super hard emotionally controlling me also i still don’t see the point in reaching my ugw. nothing will happen i won’t magically become better achieve my goals and find peace

[rhythmelia]

Thinking bout laundry

@prismatic-bell has a nifty post up about the technique of laundry stripping (with some discussion of the history of it, what it's for, the fact that Arizona has very hard water. Sorry you're dealing with a lot of shitty people in the notes prismatic-bell :/) here:

And I was just thinking about how, while laundry stripping is a kind of heavy-duty option you might do every so often, there's something that I do on a more regular basis that might also help.

Caveats apply of course, depending on your level of strength and mobility and spoons, and while my area has hard water, it's probably not quite as full of minerals as Arizona, and I don't have a water softener machine that my water passes through (my grandparents' house down the block that was built in the 70s does, and we have to periodically buy salt for it, and replace the dang thing every decade or so).

So I and probably many folks like me have a sideways loading HE (high efficiency) washing machine. Doesn't use a ton of water, doesn't really have a soaking option the way the older upright top-loading washing machines do.

I like to do this with my laundry before I toss it in that machine:

[ID: a shower stall with a large basin full of soaking laundry resting on the floor of it, some fabric being spot-treated for stains sitting outside the basin, and a smaller basin full of a few items of clothing that's had the water somewhat squeezed out of it. Plus a bar of laundry soap. /end ID]

I'm depending on the power of osmosis, lol. I plop a large basin into my shower, fill it with water and a little bit of the regular liquid laundry detergent that I use in the washing machine (we buy the hypoallergenic no scents kind), and then put my laundry in to soak for at least an hour, longer if I get busy because executive function? what's that lol.

(just don't soak it too long or you start getting a musty smell, but tbh I. uh. have had that happen to me too many times, and having it hang outside to dry for a day or so will deal with it. :P I'll soak a load of stuff at night to deal with in the morning and it's fine? The time I didn't have it in me to deal with for a few days was. Not great :P)

I know everyone says use cool water because hot sets stains, I've used warm water because I have poor circulation and I haven't noticed a difference personally? idk

For my clothes that have things like blood or grease stains, I'll spot treat with Oxyclean stain remover first and let it sit out of the basin for about 10 minutes per instructions, then dunk it in with the rest.

Back when I had a top-loader washing machine, I would use that soaking setting. Now I have to do it manually. And the soaking with the soap and water allows for my sweat and "the smell of youth" per my mom [wails Smells Like Teen Spirit into the void] to leach out into the water. And I might do some extra scrubbing with the laundry bar (laundry soap from Chinese or Korean brands bought from my local Chinese or Korean grocery, less slimy and disintegrate-y compared to body soap) for any items that need a bit more attention, like socks or underwear, or the underarms of tops that show antiperspirant residue.

Wet clothes are heavy, so I'll squeeze or gently wring out the water I can and take multiple trips to my washing machine with a smaller basin. Also now is the time to stick the more delicate stuff (like my cloth masks or some of the shirts with nice iron on designs) in the mesh laundry cylinders or bags. And make sure clothes are turned inside out to protect the nice side from the friction of clothes rubbing against each other.

I don't use fabric softener, typically wash all my clothes on cold-cold water cycle, and I generally hang my clothes out to dry when weather allows (and indoors when it doesn't), and I feel like my clothing has stayed in decent condition for a long (long) time, without too much fading or the fabric feeling icky.

I'm curious what other people do with their laundry? I deal with a lot of executive dysfunction, so I'm usually about 70% of the time managing to get my soaked laundry into the machine before too much time has passed lol.

[adrainesworld]

A/N: I couldn't resist this prompt.

"You still smell like him. Go wash again," my husband says, with an apologetic smile and a pitiful look in his eyes.

I keep my lips together as I finish tying his tie. Then, I step back and let out a deep breath. My husband grabs his suitcase from the couch and runs his fingers through his hair, all the while keeping his gaze fixed on me.

"I didn't know," I reply, trying to hide the sadness in my voice, "I'm sorry, I-"

He sighs, "There's no need to apologize, love."

I take a deep breath, noticing that the stench still lingers. It's a mix of perfume and something rotten, an overpowering and nauseating smell that makes me feel sick. The putrid odor of decay has suffocated the sweet scent of flowers, creating a sickly-sweet aroma that clings to my clothes. The smell is thick and heavy, like a miasma of rot that makes me want to retch.

"My love, are you okay?" my husband asks, looking concerned, "You don't look-"

I nod and wrap my arms around my body, "I'm fine. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

Overwhelmed by the scent I will never forget, by the mix of beauty and terror, of life and death.

I look up and smile, "Have a nice day at work."

He seems uncertain, but then he moves closer to me and smiles, before kissing me deeply. "I'll be back tonight, okay?"

"Promise?" I ask.

"I promise. I love you," he smiles.

"I love you too," I reply.

And with that, he leaves.

Once the door shuts, the house is filled with an oppressive silence. It's as if all the noise in the world has been sucked away, leaving behind an eerie emptiness that feels like it's closing in on me.

It wasn’t always like this. It didn’t always feel like the quiet was a presence all on its own. I walk towards the basement, ignoring the deafening hush that seems to swallow everything in its path. Every footstep, every breath, and every rustle of my clothing is amplified, making me feel like I'm the only one left in a world devoid of life and noise.

Once I reach the basement, I notice the door is slightly ajar, the putrid stench even stronger as it wafts out from the darkness. I don’t hesitate to push it open and step inside. Then I close the door behind me, finally finding peace from the haunting silence.

The air is thick with the smell of rot, a never-ending symphony of decay that plays in my mind. A big smile makes it’s way to my face when I see him, lying on his bed, still as beautiful as ever.

I walk towards him slowly. Flowers and toys that once brought him joy surround the bed, untouched. I begin to wonder if he has gotten tired of them. Does he not like them anymore? I want to ask. I want to know. But he doesn’t respond when I speak to him anymore.

He looks different. His skin is pale and his eyes were hollow. He is a grotesque masterpiece of decay. His once-vibrant flesh is now mottled with green and black, dotted with puss-filled sores. A thick, cloying scent seeps from his body and maggots crawl over his flesh, feasting on the remains, their tiny bodies writhing in a disgusting dance.

I brush the cobwebs from his hair and look into his eyes. They were once bright and full of life, but now they are empty, sunken orbs that seem to stare into the void. His lips are pulled back in a final, silent scream, exposing his yellowed teeth in a twisted smile.

I dip my hand into my pocket and take out my phone. Then I call my husband. He picks up immediately.

“My love, are you okay?” he asks.

I nod, before realizing he can’t see me. Tears fill my eyes, and I bite my bottom lip to hold back from crying. "Yes, but I was just wondering if you could buy some new toys on your way back. Our son isn't playing with these ones, and I don't know what to do. I can't... I'm..."

"Calm down, breathe," my husband says softly. "I'll get the best ones I can find. He'll love them. I promise."

I wipe away my tears and sniff, "Okay, thank you."

"I'll text you when I get to work, okay?" he says.

"Okay, I have to go too," I murmur, mindlessly straightening my son's clothes. "I still smell like him. I'll go wash again."

[hawkinshighdropout]

Waiting For The Snake.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x (female) Reader

Summary: Eddie has a crush on the girl who works in the pet store, so he visits daily just to admire her and try and work up the courage to speak to her. You've noticed him around, so you take the chance to surprise him, and well? He's surprised!

Warnings: No warnings, this is pure and silly fluff content. Unless you count a couple of curse words as needing a warning? Idk, I haven’t written fanfics in like 8 years so I’m a little rusty…

Note/Request: Requested by @boomhauer. “Hmm…🤔🤔 a request, eh? Eddie ends up adopting a snake/Guinea pig/ferret just because he likes to go to the local pet store to see the cashier but has not earthly idea how to take care of one? Idk 😅?”

Word Count: 1.3k

Send me prompts to write about!

Saturday afternoons were the busiest days for you at work, your shop was overflowing with families looking for a pet to fill the void, nothing but the sound of birds chirping, cats meowing, Guinea pigs squeaking and children screaming cutting through the chaos. Usually, you would work at the front desk, checking out the customers or answering any questions that beady eyed children had, but due to it being the weekend, you were constantly running around in circles fetching things or helping people or even comforting animals who were traumatised by heavy handed thumb suckers.

You were currently in the open display enclosure with the rabbits that you had for sale, tidying up the mess that the crotch goblins had made and making sure to give the animals extra love as you apologised on behalf of the unruly customers for how the animals got manhandled. Animals? You loved. Children? Not so much. Darkness catches the corner of your eye, glancing up from where you were to see the handsome guy that comes in here daily. He never bought anything, he just looked around before leaving, your brows scrunching a little as he seemed sadder than usual.

Putting the rabbit down to let it continue hopping around, you dust off your work pants and climb out of the enclosure, deciding that today would be the day that you spoke to the lonely stranger, you felt the urge to turn his frown upside down as he was far prettier when he smiled.

“Welcome to PetSmart!” you announce to the back of the stranger, clapping your hands just once to gather his attention, a snort escaping you as the poor guy jumps out of his skin and shrieks whilst stumbling back from you in surprise.

“Holy shit, you scared me!” he groans, looking apologetically at a nearby family for the interruption and foul language, narrowing his eyes at you as you couldn’t contain your cackle of laughter.

“Easy, Tiger. I’m just seeing if you need any assistance.” You counter, hands up in the air in defence to try and make yourself appear less scary.

“N-no, I’m good… thank you.” He mumbled, voice a little wobbly as his cheeks turned pink and he became a little flustered.

“Are you sure? You come in here every single day without buying a thing, either you’re a shitty thief or you are a little lost” you joke, folding your arms together over your chest as you smirk in his direction.

It took him a second or two to gather himself before he cleared his throat and flipped a switch inside of him, fake confidence oozing from him as he pointed behind him mindlessly.

“Actually, I know what I want. Just had to be sure, you know? I want one of these..” he gestured to one of the Corn Snakes behind him, smug grin on his face.

“Corn Snake, hm? I would have taken you for more of a black cat kinda guy…” you chuckle, playfully mocking his dark and gothic choice of clothing. You thought he was cute, so there was no malice behind your words whatsoever.

“S-snake?!” he stuttered, whipping his head around to see the small snake slithering about inside of the cage, gulping nervously before trying to play it cool, “Uh.. yes, one of them…”

Stepping aside, you take the key from your belt loop and unlock the enclosure door with a smile, being careful to encourage the snake to come out. Patiently watching as the orange reptile wrapping itself around your palm as your free hand shuts and locks the door so the other snakes don’t escape. You hold your hand out towards the taller man but sense his tense and uncomfortable disposition.

“If you hold out your hand, I can let him wrap around you and you can see him better for yourself…” you smile, trying to soothe him as he was on edge.

“I, I’m good—I’m good actually, yeah.” He’s stumbling over his words as his head shakes quickly in disagreement, it was clear that he had no intention to hold the snake, let alone purchase one.

“Alright, show’s over, big boy.” You whisper to the tiny snake in your hand, unlocking the door and making sure it was safely in its bed before you lock the enclosure again.

“How about we try something a little… fluffier?” you suggest, he nodded his head quickly in agreement whilst tripping over his feet to follow as you lead him towards the Guinea Pigs. Climbing over the barrier and taking a seat amongst the adorable squeaking animals, you watch as he nervously sits down close to you, the animals soon scurrying over to him and giving him attention. He seems to relax in this pen, causing the corners of your lips to tug up into a fond smile.

“So, tough guy. What’s your name?” you ask, passing him a handful of spinach that he can feed them, watching fondly as he is doing well with them.

“I’m Eddie, sorry, I didn’t think to introduce myself..” he mumbles whilst stroking a guinea pig and cooing over how it munches down on the green.

“I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you,” you sigh softly, welcoming the break of hanging with someone your age as opposed to the screaming children you normally have to talk down to, “So, which one of these guys are you gonna take home with you?”

“Uh… I’m not sure, I have no fucking clue how to take care of these things and I don’t wanna get them killed just ‘cause I’m a dumbass..” he pouts, scratching the fur of the ginger in his lap.

“Don’t worry, I can get you setup. We can go through all of the things you’ll need, and we send you home with a bunch of flyers and cheat sheets on how to take care of them. Plus, our phone number is on the back so you can call us if you’re unsure of something,” you reassure him, lightly bumping your shoulder to his own to comfort him.

“I dunno, I live in a trailer with my uncle so I’m not even sure that we’ve got the space, might have to wait until I move out and find an apartment after I graduate.” He confesses.

“That’s not a problem, you’re already making good decisions if you’re willing to pass on one of these sweethearts because you can’t provide them with their ideal living conditions. You’re already steps ahead of half the families that come in here, they’re so reckless” you groan in annoyance, wishing people had more respect and love for animals. They were part of the family, not just some toy they can get bored of.

“Munson and good decision making in the same sentence? Well, I’ll be damned.” He snorts, tilting his head up a little to grin over at you, which you respond with a simple fond eye roll.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan playfully, “I’m sure you’re far better than you even give yourself credit for!”

“You’d be surprised…” he smirks, focusing his attention back down on the pet in his arms, seeming to have taken a liking to this little guy in particular.

“You know… We have a part time job going at the minute? You could fill out an application and I could put in a good word for you? It would give you the experience and responsibility of taking care of animals without the fear of having to do it alone at home?” you suggest.

“Wait, really?!” he seemed surprised that you would go out of your way to do something for someone you had just met.

“Totally! You’d have to learn to deal with the snakes and lizards, though… You’ve gotta learn to take care of all the animals we sell, not just the cute ones. But don’t worry, I’ll hold your hand and keep you safe…” you giggle, loving how flustered he became.

“Where do I sign up?!” he blushes.

[carlosfruitsnacks]

"a little bet"

summary:

— Camilo finds himself drawn to your impassive personality. He plans to propose a bet in hopes it will get you to notice him, luckily, you do. You two grow closer all because of a little bet

genre:

— fluff & modern au

notes:

— gender-neutral reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me.

warning/s:

— none

a/n:

— a cute request from anon, kinda late but hope you guys enjoy <3

A pair of hazel eyes glimmering and solely focused on one subject in a form of a human. A sigh was emitted into the air, mixing with all the other ambiance in the surroundings. The atmosphere present at the library was filled with busy sounds and hushed noises, merely relaxing.

"Pst, primo, are you even reading at all?"

A girl with rounded green glasses rolled her eyes at the curly-haired boy sitting beside her. She puts down her book to exhale and notices his fixated gaze on a certain somebody.

"Really, Camilo?"

She gave him an unamused look. The boy beside him, who happens to be her cousin named Camilo, snaps out of the trance and furrowed his eyebrows at her.

"Do you mind? I'm busy here, Mirabel"

"Oh wow, and what exactly are you busy with, primo?"

"Art homework, I'm supposed to look for a beauty that catches the eye"

Camilo explains, seemingly trying to make an excuse for his staring. Mirbel was not buying it so she punches his shoulder.

"Tonto, staring at them doesn't count as art homework!"

"¿Por que? Our teacher said to look for a beauty that catches the eye and make a sketch!"

"You barely even started! You're just making an excuse to stare at [Name] again!"

"Mind your own business, Mirabel!"

"SHHHH!"

The two stopped bickering at the sound of the librarian shushing them for their loud voices, they muttered an apology and proceeded to go about what they were currently doing. Mirabel sighs and gets on with her review while Camilo continues to stare into the distance, eyes purely stuck on a singular person sitting alone at one of the desks in the library. Your hair was neat, your clothes were tidy, and the impassive expression on your face made Camilo's heart skip beats. He observes your [Eye Color] eyes scanning the book in hand, laser-focused on the contents within, he watches you flip a page and continue reading.

Every now and then you'll tuck a hair behind your ear or put down your book for a second to stretch, Camilo's breath would hitch in his throat because every minor movement of yours made him so besotted by you. He knows you've been always collected, calm, and chill. He knows you never look for conflict for the thrill, that's why he's so drawn to you. Camilo was attracted to you because you were the exact opposite of him.

Everyone knows in school how much of a ball full of energy he was, he was often seen bouncing through the hallways and talking to a lot of people. Always socializing and never late when it comes to fun. Camilo was the beloved social butterfly while you were the beautiful wallflower.

Unbeknownst to him, you quickly noticed his stares. He visibly freezes in his seat when you looked at him. Your face was void of emotion, he grows tense. Ultimately, you shrugged and picked up your book as you resumed reading. Camilo wipes the sweat off his forehead. Jeez, he barely hasn't studied or started any of his homework. He blows a raspberry and rests his chin on the palm of his hand.

For a long time, Camilo wanted to make a move. He wanted to impress you or do anything that will get your attention so you can finally talk to him. For an extrovert, he feels incredibly shy when you're near. Camilo needed an idea, a perfect plan. It seemed like the heavens heard his prayer because an idea pops inside his mind.

Mirabel furrowed her eyebrows as she watches her cousin rise from his seat, collect his things, and walk over to where you were at. She watches Camilo approach you.

"Hey, [Name], right?"

You hear someone say, you lower your book and realized it was Camilo Madrigal who has called you.

"Yes? Do you need something?"

"We share the same classes, right? I was wondering if you could help me with something"

"Hm, sorry, I can't. I'm very busy, right now"

Camilo was momentarily baffled when his plan doesn't work, but he doesn't dare back down. So, he goes to the vacant seat beside you and happily sits down. You tilt your head at him.

"That's cool, I'm just gonna sit here and study"

He says but you don't utter a word. You simply shut your book and tucked it inside your bag before pulling out your notes and examining them. Camilo was shamelessly staring at you to the point that it distracts you.

"Excuse me, but is there a problem?"

"Oh, no, no. Nothing at all, you just look pretty"

"You're Camilo, right?"

"Yep, the one and only"

"Can you kindly go study somewhere else, Camilo?"

He pouts though he doesn't back down. You realize that he wasn't leaving his spot, you let out a sigh and decided to put away your things into your bag. You don't understand why Camilo was suddenly flirting with you but you have priorities. But as you were about to rise from your seat, Camilo stops you by grabbing your arm.

"How about a little bet, [Name]?"

He asks. You give him a puzzled look, and you think about his proposal. Normally, you weren't the type to make or take bets but in Camilo's case, you're intrigued. He lets go of your arm, you glance at him up and down.

"And what bet do you have in mind?"

"I bet you to go out to an amusement park with me"

Camilo says. Your eyes were unblinking, evidently surprised by what he said. An amusement park, huh? You raised a brow at him.

"Like on a date?"

"Sure, why not?"

He gives you a smirk, something about it made you emit a light chuckle. Camilo tried his best to hide his nervousness with a confident stance.

"Fine, I'll go with you. And if I don't enjoy it, you'll stop bothering me"

"Deal, here's my number"

Camilo holds out his phone for you as you swiftly typed and saved his number in your contacts. He sends you a wink before he turns his heel to leave. You hummed, that was interesting.

"Oh my god, they said yes!"

Camilo squealed as he sprinted all over his room like an energizer bunny on crack. He couldn't believe that it was finally happening, he was finally going on a date with you! Immediately, he goes to prepare the perfect outfit. His entire family all shook their head in amusement when he busied himself getting ready for tomorrow.

When tomorrow arrived, Camilo jolts out of bed, full of energy despite barely getting any sleep due to his excitement. He takes a quick shower, taking his sweet time to make sure he smells fresh. He puts on his yellow sweatshirt and black jeans, he finished the outfit with a pair of checkered Vans. Camilo practically drowns himself in his best perfume before fixing his hair.

You felt your phone vibrate just in time after you finished dressing up. Camilo texted and told you that he was already in front of your house. It gave you a quick surprise as you head towards the door and saw him holding a bouquet of sunflowers.

"Hi, for you, [Name]"

Camilo gives you the flowers, you blink at him and at the bouquet before slowly taking it. The sunflowers smelled and looked great, you decided to place them away in the house.

"Thanks"

"Shall we go?"

"Okay"

You say, calmly following him out the door. It didn't take long for you two to get to the nearest amusement park, Camilo was bursting with energy when he grabs your hand and leads you through the crowd. He insisted on riding the rollercoaster first out of all things, you shook your head.

"Come on! I bet you can't ride the rollercoaster with me"

"Fine..."

Both of you got into the ride. The moment the rollercoaster began moving towards the big drop, you looked at Camilo who had the brightest smile on his face. You were distracted by it for a while until the rollercoaster dropped with enormous speed, merely sending your heart flying out of your chest. Eventually, the ride ended with Camilo cheering and saying you two should ride again. You hide a shiver with a deadpan face.

"...No thanks. Let's go find a different ride"

Camilo shrugs and takes you to the bumping cars. Of course, he'd take you to the most exhilarating rides first. You got into one of the cars and immediately Camilo bumps against you, it doesn't bother you until he does it several times. You groaned and decided to bump against him, nearly sending him toppling off. Needless to say, you had a little bit of fun after that.

The two of you stopped to get snacks, midway eating your cotton candy, you notice the tall drop tower in the distance. You grin to yourself before looking at Camilo, expressionless.

"I bet you to go try the drop tower"

"Only if you ride it with me"

"Okay, fine"

You blankly said as he leads you towards the drop tower. You were quite nervous after being strapped unto one of the seats. As you glance at Camilo, the nervousness leaves your body when his face goes pale.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Camilo?"

"Ye-yeah!"

He gulped when the platform began rising, it rose high enough that you can see the view of the entire amusement park. To you, it was a beautiful view but to Camilo, it nearly gives him a heart attack. So, imagine his horror when the platform began to drop all the way to the floor before rising and falling a few times. You let out a tiny laugh and smile, you check on Camilo and the poor guy literally fainted in his seat. After the ride was over he gained consciousness, you softly grabbed his arm.

"Camilo? Are you doing okay?"

"Sí, estoy bien"

He replied and gave you a smile, but his face told you a different story. For Camilo's sake, you chose to bring him to one of the booths that offered games with prizes. Quickly, his cheery mood returns when he spots the games.

"Tell me what you want, I'll win it"

"I bet you can't even win, Camilo"

"See that cat plushie? I'm gonna win it, just watch"

You rolled your eyes and watched him walk towards the booth, if he throws a dart at the center, he wins. You crossed your arms as he goes to play, he misses four times until the last dart magically lands in the center. You watched with bewilderment as he does bring you the cat plushie, winning the bet with flying colors.

"See, told you I can win"

"That was sheer luck, Camilo"

You told him, and he laughs it off. Both of you go on a walk, talking and getting to know each other. The entire time you were mindlessly clutching the cat plushie close to you. It was getting dark when Camilo spotted the colorful Ferris wheel, he tugs on your hand and pointed at it.

"I bet you to go ride the Ferris wheel with me, [Name]"

"No"

"Pretty pleaseeee?"

He gives you a pair of puppy dog eyes as you finally give in. You both get on the ride, he takes the seat next to yours. A childish chime played as the Ferris wheel started moving, you steal a look at Camilo only to find him already staring at you. With a small blush on your cheeks, you steer your eyes away, quietly waiting for the ride to be over.

"Sooooo, did you enjoy today, [Name]?"

"It was okay"

You said with a deadpan expression. Camilo wasn't buying it after what he has witnessed the entire day, unbeknownst to you, he noticed all the tiny smiles that appeared on your face during the day. The sight really made him fall harder for you.

"I saw you smiling every once in a while, I know it wasn't just okay"

"Admittedly, it was fun at some parts"

You confess. The entire day observing Camilo, you find yourself interested in him. Something about his welcoming and warm aura pulled you towards him. Throughout the day, he always made sure you were having fun and it tugged on your heartstrings. Camilo chuckles.

"So, I win the bet"

"No you don't, I only said it was fun at some parts"

"But still! You enjoyed it!"

Camilo pointed out. You sighed, you began giving him excuses why he didn't win the bet and he'd disagree. Both of you bickered for a while until you decided to stop him.

"You know, you could've bet me to kiss you"

You watch him freeze, suddenly, you regretted saying that to him. Camilo's heart banged against his ribcage, and the thought of kissing you plagued his mind.

"Really? Can I change my bet?"

"No"

He pouts at your answer. You find the defeated expression on his face adorable, so you decided to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek. Camilo goes rigid, he stares at you owlishly with glimmering eyes. There was a soft look on your face.

"Thanks...for today, I really enjoyed it, Camilo"

"...You're welcome"

Finally, a smile rises on your impassive face and it sends Camilo clutching his heart, silently thanking the gods above. You watch a devilish expression spawn on his face.

"How about another bet, [Name]?"

You scoffed, it was unbelievable that he decided to propose another bet. A small smirk makes its way to your lips.

"Let's see what you got"

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty , @nort0616 , @megs2world ...join here

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[yourdeepestfathoms]

a little unconventional (part one)

[foster au]

this is set in America because i don't know how Romania works

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rapture rising

“Alcina, my beloved sister, are you sure all of this is necessary?”

Alcina shot a glare over her shoulder at her toddling younger brother, who she was making carry in several boxes full of various items into one of the many rooms in her mansion. This one wasn’t one of the bedrooms, but rather a temporary storage room for all the things she had recently bought. She was going to have everything set up for the children to choose from when they eventually arrived. Just thinking about them getting to pick out their bedsheets and paint for their new rooms made a smile come to her lips, excitement rushing through her like dozens of butterflies flying for the first time.

…And then her idiot brother bumped into the doorframe and caused an avalanche of boxes to come down on top of him.

“Be careful!” Alcina barked, whirling around to him. She bent down to start picking the boxes up. “You’re lucky there was nothing fragile in here.”

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Heisenberg grunted, rubbing his head.

“And to answer your questions, dearest brother, yes, this is all very necessary,” Alcina said. “I need this to be perfect for them. This may be the first time those little girls get a real home.”

“Inflating your ego, aren’t you?”

Alcina stepped on his foot.

“I have the paints.” Moreau, Alcina’s other brother, shuffled inside, holding several cans of paint on his arms. If they were hurting him, he didn’t say anything. He seemed pleased with himself for being so useful.

“Thank you, Sal,” Alcina said. She took the cans from him and placed them against the wall. “Yellow, green, red, blue, pink, purple… Do you think that’s enough? What if they want, like, a mauve room?”

“Mauve?” Heisenberg echoed as he was crow hopping on one foot, still recovering from being stomped on.

“It’s a shade of purple,” Moreau supplied.

“I know what mauve is, asshole,” Heisenberg hissed. “I was just saying.”

“And I’m just saying, what if they want a lighter-colored room?” Alcina said. “This purple is dark. Should I go buy more?”

“You could mix white into the paint?” Moreau suggested.

Alcina thought it over, then nodded. “Yes, I could do that. Good idea.”

“Who wants a mauve bedroom, anyway?” Heisenberg muttered.

“Alcina!” A fourth voice echoed throughout the house, and Alcina’s sister entered the room. Donna looked uncharacteristically bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She was clutching something in her hands. “Alcina, I have finished them!”

“When did you get here?” Heisenberg looked at her.

“Just now,” Donna said. “It doesn’t matter. Look!”

A beautiful doll was presented to Alcina. It was hand-stitched and dressed with great care. All the little details, down to the freckles and shiny eyes, were incredibly-made, and Alcina couldn’t help but pick it up tentatively, as though she were afraid of accidentally destroying it.

“Oh, Donna,” she said. “It’s beautiful! Thank you.”

Donna beamed. “I have also made stuffed animals and toy clothes for them. An entire wardrobe, in fact. Many selections.”

“Damn,” Heisenberg looked impressed. “Toys dress better than I do.”

“We know,” the other three said in sync, eyeing his ratty trenchcoat and old cowboy hat that he insisted on wearing everywhere.

“You weren’t supposed to agree!” Heisenberg barked like one of his dogs.

“Shouldn’t have said anything,” Alcina shrugged daintily. She looked back at Donna and smiled. “Thank you, Donna. I really appreciate your support. I appreciate all of your support. Even yours, Karl.”

“Sure, sure…” Heisenberg said, though Alcina didn’t miss the glint of fondness in his eyes.

“This is so exciting,” Donna said. “It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, Alcina. Do you remember when we were all adopted by Mother?”

Heisenberg snorted. “I remember being kidnapped as a child and held for ransom, and then being one of the abduction victims to be actually found alive, only to discover that my parents had been killed while trying to get me back, to which I was then thrown into a home with you three.”

Donna winced. “Not…quite what I had in mind.”

“And you say ‘you three’ like we weren’t your best friends growing up,” Moreau pointed out idly, not looking at Heisenberg as he was helping unload some of the boxes. That one in particular held a wide selection of different bed sheets, ranging from leopard print to floral to plain blue.

Heisenberg raised his nose and huffed. “Well. Still.”

Alcina shook her head with a warm smile.

She vividly remembered life with her adoptive mother, Miranda, and her three other siblings. She was reborn from ash and flame after her old family estate burned down to the ground, smoldering the life she used to have and taking her parents with it. Yes, she could still smell the smoke, taste the embers on her tongue, even now, thirty-five years later. She was so small back then, only nine years old when the fire started, and she watched her home crumble to pieces right before her teary eyes. She thought it was over, that she had nothing, that she was going to be alone forever without her mother and father, but then a woman in a black cowl whisked her up into tender arms and took her under her wing as though she were the chicken to a nurturing mother bird.

She was the first of Miranda’s ragtag rascal children with harsh upbringings. For two years, it was just the both of them, reading books and watching movies in a beautiful countryside manor that quickly became her new home. Though the wounds had still been raw, the burns were very fresh, Miranda filled the void in her heart that her parents’ death left behind, extinguishing that eternal fire of survivor guilt and mourning.

And then the others came along.

At the time, Alcina had been rather indignant at the idea of having siblings. She was an only child with her birth family and she preferred to stay an only child with her new one, too, but she never voiced this opinion to Miranda. She grinned and bore it, even if it meant losing the attention of her mother.

Though, they didn’t end up being that bad…

The first of the “intruders” as she used to call them was Salvatore Moreau, a boy her age, though three months younger, and with a story similar to her own. He had been in a car crash after his drunken father got into a pretty nasty collision. The engine caught fire and it wasn’t long until the rest of the car followed. Moreau was trapped in the inferno, but managed to get out, running towards a nearby lake to extinguish the flames that were trying to make him its newest pyre. Unfortunately, the event left him badly burned, the scar still lingering all these years later, and nobody wanted to take in such a “disfigured child.” Miranda, however, stepped up to the challenge and fostered the boy, eventually adopting him fully later on.

Alcina was, admittedly, rather uneased by her new brother’s appearance at first, but she quickly got accustomed to him, even protective. There were several moments in school where she verbally (and sometimes even physically) pummeled any kids who dared to make fun of him, drilling into the bullies that he was not to be messed with while she was around. Some of her best retributions were when she threatened to leak unwarranted dick pics to the entire school, as it wasn’t uncommon for horny teenage boys to try to get into her pants, and that always shut them up quickly, especially when she loudly proclaimed details on their pathetic excuse for a penis, like the size and shape.

She and Moreau grew close rather quickly, much quicker than Miranda had been expecting. They both enjoyed more mellow things, like reading books and going on walks through the forest. Moreau was the sole reason she passed any English assignments done on Shakespearean literature, as he actually knew how to discern the confusing text, while she had to reread the same page over and over again to simply get a loose grasp on the grammar. He enjoyed cheesy romcoms, birdwatching, and swimming, the last of which he had a strong affinity for because of how the lake beside the car wreck very well could have been the only reason he survived. Now, he owned that very lake and made it into a popular fishing and boating destination for locals and tourists alike.

The second to arrive was Donna Beneviento, when Alcina and Moreau were both twelve. She was a full five years younger than the two of them and didn’t talk very often, at least for a good chunk of the first year she was there. She was put into the foster program after her parents commit suicide, leaving her with nothing but anxiety, trauma-induced selective muteness, and a doll named Angie.

It took time, but Donna eventually started opening up. First to Miranda, and then to Alcina and Moreau. Alcina strongly remembered a time when her little sister came to her room during a thunderstorm, lips quivering, tears glistening in her eyes, Angie clutched in a vice from her thin arms. She didn’t say anything, just stared from the doorway, whimpering and shivering.

“Alright,” Alcina had sighed. She flipped open her comforter, welcoming Donna. “Come on.”

Donna had brightened and skittered into the bed, snuggling right up against Alcina’s side. Alcina didn’t mind and resumed the book she had been reading before--Animal Farm, she believed. Donna pointed at the pages and then looked up at her curiously.

“Oh, this?” Alcina had said. “It’s called Animal Farm. It’s about these talking farm animals overthrowing their farmer to gain freedom, only to then be ruled by a communist pig.”

Donna blinked. “What’s a communist?”

“Well, you see…”

Her late-night explanation was certainly aided by the fact that they were in the middle of the Cold War at the time.

Overtime, Donna slowly grew out of her shell. Though she was still soft-spoken and reserved, she was also very kind-hearted and incredibly creative, which she showed through paintings, arts and crafts, and doll making. She would make dolls out of anything she could find--wood, thread, clay--so it made sense when she eventually became a toymaker once she grew up.

Finally, there was Karl Heisenberg when Alcina and Moreau were thirteen and Donna was eight. Right from the start, he was a loud, spitfire ten-year-old that broke the serene silence that used to hang over Miranda’s estate. He caused a great amount of mischief and mayhem, though Alcina would later discover it was to hide the fact that he was deeply traumatized by what exactly had happened to make him a foster child.

Even now, so many years later, Alcina still didn’t know the full story. Miranda said it wasn’t her tale to share and Heisenberg simply didn’t like talking about it very much. But from what she did know, Heisenberg used to belong to an incredibly wealthy business owner that ruled over their company with an iron fist. Due to the harshness his parents inflicted on their employees, it caused the workers to revolt against the abuse. A certain group took this way too far and kidnapped Heisenberg, holding him for ransom so they could get better treatment and pay at their work. Something ended up happening during the time between Heisenberg being held hostage and his parents paying up, and it left his mother and father in a way that he could never bring himself to explain. She only got snippets of the brutality of their deaths through brief moments when he would come to after vicious nightmares, one of which she actually stepped in to stop when she heard him struggling one night.

“Their heads, Alci,” Heisenberg had gasped, clawing manically for a desperate grasp on her arms, his body jerking and spasming in terror as his nightmare was still releasing his small, twelve-year-old body. “Their heads-- their brains were--” And then he stopped and keeled into her chest, sobbing in a way Alcina had never seen him do before in the two years he was living with her before that moment. Despite her occasional vex towards the boy, he was still her little brother and she was still his big sister, so she had wrapped her arms around him and held him close while he trembled and cried.

She never did find out what Heisenberg meant by “their heads,” but she had a hunch. Still, she never asked.

Nowadays, Heisenberg ran his own factory, where he treated his employees the way his parents should have treated theirs, learning from their mistakes. He also fostered all different kinds of dog breeds until they found their forever homes and rescued the more ‘vicious’ ones, like pit bulls and rottweilers, all of which he treated like royalty.

A freakishly tall girl, a burned boy, a selective mute, and a dog lover… They certainly weren’t the epitome of the stereotypical nuclear family, but they were family through and through, if not by blood, then by bloodshed.

“Do you guys remember the time Karl tried to clean the dishwasher with Kool-Aid?” Donna reminisced with a giggle.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” Heisenberg said.

“Absolutely not,” Donna grinned at him.

“I still don’t know how you came to the conclusion that that would work,” Alcina shook her head.

Heisenberg threw his arms up into the air. “John said it did!”

“John also tried to steal a school urinal.”

“Also, you’re supposed to take all of the dishes out before you try to clean it with Kool-Aid,” Moreau spoke up. “You left all of the pots and plates and silverware in it.”

“And he didn’t even put it in the right spot!” Alcina joined, cackling. “You’re supposed to put the powder in the detergent dispenser. Karl, you just poured it out all over the dishes!”

“It wasn’t even the right powder,” Donna put in. “You’re supposed to strictly use unsweetened lemonade only. You used tropical punch!”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all burst into laughter, while Heisenberg crossed his arms and glared at them.

“John never specified any of that!” he blustered.

“Never trust John, dear,” Alcina tittered.

“Well, it happened!” Heisenberg said. “It’s over! What other boxes do you need to move!”

More laughter.

“I’m serious! I’ll get the boxes! Also WHAT IS THAT.”

They all turned to see a patchy tortoiseshell cat lazily strolling into the room with them. It looked like it had been run over, dismembered, run over again, and then put back together by a blind surgeon, but it held itself like it was the most pristine lion to ever walk the earth. It glanced over at the four siblings, meowed at them, then continued on its stroll to one of the empty boxes, which it jumped into and made itself comfortable inside.

“It’s a cat,” Donna said as if it should have been obvious, earning a snort from Moreau and then a glare from Heisenberg.

“It’s not funny,” Moreau said quickly after Heisenberg glared at him, too, but it was obvious Heisenberg’s leer was all in good fun.

“No, no. Tom from Tom and Jerry is a cat,” Heisenberg said. “THAT is an overgrown street rat.”

“Well, one could assume the same about you, but you don’t see us pointing it out,” Donna said breezily.

Another bout of laughter, this time with Heisenberg included.

“Okay, okay, you got me there,” Heisenberg said.

“Must you insist on reacting the same way every single time you see Tea Cake?” Alcina finally spoke up through the playful bickering. She crouched down next to the cat and stroked its back, which caused it to purr in content.

“It’s my trademark,” Heisenberg said with a shrug. “That old woman is still alive?”

“And kicking,” Alcina smiled fondly at her pet.

Tea Cake had been with her for a long fourteen years, witnessing more than a few existential crises and drunken concerts put on to chase off her lurking PTSD. That cat came during the worst part of her life, and Alcina owed everything to that little beast. She learned how to laugh and smile and genuinely feel again, not hide behind the facade that she was a strong, powerful woman who could take on everything and come out without a scratch.

And, yes, Alcina had known- still knew, that she had Miranda and her siblings, but sometimes they were not enough, not back then, not when she was filled with so much shame and self-hatred and disgust. Animals were different in a way people couldn’t be. Animals didn’t lie, they didn’t judge or think about how messed up you were in their heads. They didn’t share your secrets or give you false hope. They just--be there. They listened and lent their presence and, sometimes, that was all that was needed, and some people didn’t seem to understand that.

Tea Cake’s fur had dried more of Alcina’s tears than anyone else ever had because she never let them fall in front of others. Tea Cake didn’t get upset when Alcina touched her; she didn’t understand the concept of emotional trauma and sexual harassment and body image issues. She just cared, even if she didn’t quite get it.

Alcina would probably be dead if it weren’t for her.

Yes, she remembered that fateful night… The wind in her shaggy hair she hadn’t washed in days, the moonglow on her ashen skin, the tears burning in her eyes--all of it was so clear, even now. She remembered how horribly, hopelessly depressed she had been and how she drove out to a field with a note on the dashboard and a gun in the passenger seat.

At the time, nothing had helped her. Her antidepressants weren’t working, going out only made her feel unsafe, and her family’s presence no longer brought her comfort and happiness, rather guilt and shame. The only thing that ever helped was when she drowned herself in the alcohol she made for a living, drinking away her despair and trauma until her body tingled and the phantom hands went away. She was surprised her liver never exploded inside of her during those awful few months.

She had sat in her car for a while, leaning her head on the steering wheel and wallowing in silence and darkness. Then, she got out, made sure the note was visible, and grabbed the gun.

She considered calling or texting her mother and siblings, but that would make it hurt worse. It was better to leave them with their last memories of her than to have this sudden news of a goodbye that they wouldn’t be able to stop.

She placed the pistol’s barrel in her mouth and rested her finger on the trigger. Her life didn’t flash before her eyes like some movies or books say it did, and she was quite thankful for it. She didn’t want to relive the agony she had been put through that led her up to that point. She just shut her eyes as tight as possible in preparation for the bullet to pass through her brain…

Then, there was a rustling from the grass nearby.

Alcina hesitated. The metallic taste of the gun left her tongue and she looked in the direction of the noise.

“Hello?” she had called out in her best possible not-about-to-kill-herself voice.

A tiny meow answered her.

“Your roadkill wants you,” Heisenberg’s voice cut through the daze that had momentarily descended upon Alcina’s mind.

Blinking, Alcina realized that Tea Cake was gnawing on her finger and meowing. She smiled.

“It’s probably dinner time,” Alcina said. She stood up straight. “Come on, children. I have news to share.”

Curious, her three younger siblings followed her out of the room and to her kitchen, Tea Cake padding after them eagerly. Her house was a beautiful creation of the finest wood and the most luxurious stonework. Top-of-the-line appliances filled the space and every little detail, down to the hanging droplets on the chandelier and the grooves in the staircase railing, were customized to her preference. 6 bedrooms, 9 bathrooms, 17,182 square feet, 14.99 acres filled by lush vineyards, and $5,500,000 later, and you had the Dimitrescu Estate.

And it was a barren prison.

It had always been there, ever since she moved in: that lingering loneliness that seemed to shroud every hallway. She had so much space, but nobody to fill it. Nobody except herself, Tea Cake, and her maids, of course. Lying awake one night, thinking about this issue as she often did, a solution had finally come to her.

After pouring some wet food into Tea Cake’s food bowl, Alcina grabbed a bottle of sweet butter wine out of her wine fridge and poured a glass for herself and each of her siblings, all of which were staring at her curiously. After taking a long sip, she finally began: “As you all know, I have plans to foster a child. And I greatly appreciate all of the support you three have provided me up until now.”

“Is this an award ceremony or something?” Heisenberg joked light-heartedly. “Can I have the award for most boxes carried? I think I deserve that one.”

“You mean most boxes dropped?” Donna giggled, earning her a playful poke in the side.

“No, it is not an award ceremony,” Alcina glared at Heisenberg without any fire in her gaze. She opened up a drawer in the stainless kitchen island they were gathered around. “Though, this may very well be an award…” She pulled out a blue folder packed full of papers and set it on the marble countertop, grinning brightly. “I just wanted to let you all know first that my training is done. I’ve completed all the classes.” Her heart swelled in her heart as she spoke her next words: “I’m a foster mom now.”

All at once, her younger siblings lit up brighter than the sun’s supernova, throwing their arms up into the air and letting out a celebratory shout. Donna and Moreau even raced around the island to hug Alcina, which she returned with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so wonderful, Alcina!” Donna said, squeezing her with surprising strength. “I’m so happy for you!”

“Me too,” Moreau agreed.

“Sal, are you crying?”

“No!” Moreau yelped, then sniffled. “I just have something in my eye, that’s all.”

“You mean tears?” Heisenberg teased. He then looked at Alcina. “That’s amazing, Alcina. I’m really happy for you. You deserve this.”

“Aww,” Alcina crooned. “Is my little brother going soft?”

Heisenberg instantly steeled himself. “Me? No way! I was just saying what you would want to hear.”

Still being embraced on either side by her other brother and sister, Alcina chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know your placement yet?” Donna asked, looking up at Alcina as though she were a child again.

“Placements,” Alcina corrected. She couldn’t help but grin again as she spoke of her future children. “Two. I’m getting two little girls.”

“Aww!” Donna and Moreau both cooed.

Heisenberg was nodding. “Girls. Yes. I can do girls.” He looked up at Alcina. “I’m getting them a puppy.”

“Oh, you don’t have--”

“I’m getting them a puppy,” Heisenberg said again, and it was clear he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Alcina chuckled. “Alright. A puppy it is.”

Donna and Moreau began to join in on plans for being the greatest aunt and uncle, with Moreau saying that they needed to come to his lake for a swim and Donna listing off all the toys she would make for them. Alcina listened to them with a fond smile, happy to have such a supportive family. This was exactly what her daughters were going to need.

Daughters.

Just thinking about that word made her heart flutter in her chest. Her grin turned giddy. She was going to be a mother soon.

As she sipped from her wine glass, she thought about her placements. She had gotten the call four days ago and was scheduled to meet the little ones in the next two weeks. She could still hear her caseworker’s words in her ears during the conversation as she recalled it to her siblings.

“The first is named Daniela,” Duke had said. He was a studious, patient man with a warm smile and hands like chipmunk paws, keen on helping Alcina ever since she started her training to become a foster parent six months ago. “She’s a little girl and eleven years old. Her parents have, unfortunately, recently died due to a car crash. Her living relatives are unfit to take care of her, so she’s been placed into the foster system. Right now, she’s staying with her aunt and uncle, but she cannot be kept there much longer because of, ah…jealousy issues with their actual child.

The second is named Cassandra. Another girl, this one twelve years old. She’s been in the foster program ever since she was a baby when she was given up, as she was born from a teenager who couldn’t take care of her. She’s had…quite a few foster homes, all of which had given her up to someone else due to…issues. I understand if you don’t want to take this child. She’s been known to cause problems in her houses and pick fights. There is-- woo, that’s a lot of complaints… There are some notes on her left by her former families and-- Goddamn. They’re writing of her like she’s a monster or something…”

“Of course, I couldn’t turn down either of them,” Alcina concluded her retelling. “Especially the second one. Cassandra. The poor thing sounds like she needs a good home.”

“You’re so sweet, Alci,” Donna said, smiling at her.

“Think you can handle it?” Heisenberg asked. “I’m not doubting your abilities, but from what you said about the kid… Well, she just sounds difficult.”

“You were difficult,” Alcina said, grinning at him. “And everything turned out just fine, didn’t it?”

Her youngest brother’s concern didn’t diminish. “Yes, but… I don’t want anything to happen to you or my niece.”

Alcina, Donna, and Moreau all cooed. Heisenberg huffed.

“Oh, shut it! I have a heart!”

“You do,” Alcina’s smile lightened slightly. “But don’t worry: everything will be okay. I can do this. I need to do this. Those two little girls need a mother.”

Heisenberg considered her for a moment, then nodded. He smiled at her. “You’ve got a good heart, Alcina,” he said. “If you ever need any help, I’m here.”

“Me too!” Donna joined in.

“Me three!” Moreau piped up.

Alcina laughed. “Thank you. Really. This means a lot to me. Now…” She raised her glass. “Let’s drink before we have to cut back because there will be children around!”

Her siblings laughed and mimicked her gesture.

Alcina couldn’t wait.

[thesmokingguns]

Thrift Store

Word Count 1916

Fluff

You rolled your eyes watching the man walk into the thrift shop you owned. The bell had rung drawing your attention to the tall man with teased hair and leather from head to toe.

This was the type of person you were used to seeing duck into the shop on The Strip looking to score some piece of cool clothing for their stage outfit. All of them loved chatting you up about what night their band was going to play and how you should totally check them out because they were going to make it. The only place they were going to make it was to third base with some bottle blonde.

You flipped your magazine, eyes looking up to the man who was dragging the metals hangers to the side looking through the leather jackets. Typical of him to be in that section. He didn’t look like the type to steal so you didn’t really pay that much attention to him until he was right in front of you a few minutes later.

“Excuse me.” You dragged your eyes up looking at him. He was holding up a black jacket you had found at a yard sale last weekend, “This doesn’t have a price on it. Could you tell me how much it is?” The jacket would look good on him and it would definitely fit better than the one he was wearing that didn’t even cover his wrists.

“Ten dollars and the jacket you’re wearing.” You replied to him. You could redo his jacket and sell it for triple the price. He seemed surprised but was tugging off his jacket and sliding the new one on already.

You were right, it did fit him perfectly. It took away the little boy playing dress up and made him look like a man.  He looked in the mirror and you watched this small smile, confidence slipping into his face. That’s when you really took him in and appreciated the way he was built. He had a strong jawline and these olive eyes that were the kind that got girls into trouble.

“Listen, I know you’re cutting me a huge deal. Can I buy you a drink tonight? My band is playing at the Whisky at midnight. You can meet me before or if you want to stick around after I’m sure there will be a party at our apartment.” There it was. The line where he invited you out because he needed more chicks in the audience.

“I’m really busy tonight. I’m sorry.” You actually felt sorry when you lied. But there was no way you, you were going to get sucked into going to see some shitty club band when you could stay in bed and not be annoyed with people. You held out your hand taking the crumpled bills he handed you.

“That was a shitty line, wasn’t  it?” He rubbed the back of his neck and you watched the leather stretch over his bicep. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t like one of the thin chicken boys who came in. He had muscles and was filled out.

“Look, I’m sure your band is great but I’m not going to go see them because you bought a jacket from me.” He nodded understandingly, “But you do look good in the jacket so at least you have that.” You teased him, loving how he smiled from the corner of his mouth, he had to be older than you by a few years and there was this mystery about him that had you wanting to ask more questions but instead you took the jacket he had been wearing, throwing it on your bag for home and went back to flipping through your magazine.

He was still standing in front of the register as if he hadn’t quite worked out that you weren’t going to go out with him. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked back up at him.

“It’s past lunch time but maybe we can grab a beer and a burger now?” Your eyebrow shot up at his offer. A beer and a burger was much better than seeing a shitty band play. You looked around the shop, it was 1:30pm on a Friday. Soon the place would be mobbed with kids from the Valley looking for new clothes to wear for their weekend nights in Hollywood. This was one of your busy days and you knew that you couldn’t leave.

“I can’t leave. It’s busy here Friday afternoon but if you wear that jacket tonight I’m sure that you’ll find a great girl for beer and burgers on Saturday afternoon.” You smiled. He seemed confused about why you kept turning down your advances.

“Well, if you won’t go out with me can I at least have your name?” You heard the bell ring and looked past him to the two young teens walking in.

“It’s Y/N. Now you need to get out of here because I have customers.” You moved around the counter slightly grazing against him as you moved down the aisles to check on the kids who seemed like they wouldn’t have a problem stuffing things into their bags. You watched the man walk out of the shop, smiling at the whole encounter.

The night was steady. People crammed into the small store and it turned out to be a great day for business. You locked the safe at the end of the night and jumped out of your skin when you heard a knock on the glass door. Your eyes narrowed seeing a man shifting outside and you grabbed the baseball bat next to the register.

It was dark outside but you could hear people laughing as they passed outside, which just heightened your senses as you got closer. It suddenly dawned on you that it was the guy from earlier. He noticed you finally at the door and held up his hands. One hand was holding a six pack and the other a brown paper bag with grease stains on the bottom.

“It doesn’t seem busy now.” he yelled through the door. The way he was standing there made you shake your head, turning the lock as you opened up and let him inside the shop. His eyes took in the bat you were holding as you locked up the door, “Are you in a late night baseball league?” You roll your eyes, locking the door up.

“I thought you had a show.” He tosses you a beer and you’re taking him in wondering what angle this man is trying to come at you from.

“We play at midnight. I have an hour to have burgers and beers with you, Y/N.” The crinkle of the bag makes you watch his movements, “There’s this little hole in the wall joint that makes the best burgers around the corner from here.” The stranger is handing you a wrapped red and white checkered burger.

“I don’t know your name and you expect me to just have dinner with you.” The suspicious nature you have makes it hard to tell if this guy is usually this spontaneous or if he wants something from you. Knowing how the men in this area are, you're sure that he is going to try and get something.

“I’m Nikki Sixx.” The name makes your eyes roll. Another boy with a fake stage name and dreams of being a rock and roll superstar but he brought beer and burgers so you can’t just kick him out.

It’s a quick hour and after the initial eye rolling over his name and the slight boredom when he talks about his band you find yourself listening to him talk. Actually listening and caring about what he says. The way he describes his dreams isn’t with the youthful nativity you have come across from your time in Hollywood. No, Nikki has a plan to achieve his dream and it includes a lot of hard work. He isn’t afraid to work for his dreams because he knows that is how he will get them.

He’s easy to talk to and you find yourself laughing so hard you’re covering your mouth at the stories he tells you. From the way his band does maniac things to funny stories of schemes he’s done to survive. You don’t know why it’s so easy to laugh with him. But what you like the most about him is how he asks questions about you that would get lost with other people. He doesn’t make the hour you have together all about his rockstar dreams but he turns the conversation to what your goals are. His eyes are thoughtful, watching you as you speak about fashion design and how the store is a stepping stone for you. He even gets you to show him some of the things you altered and designed. The usual embarrassment you might feel void because of how comfortable he makes you feel.

Eyes keep darting to the clock and you know he’s stayed past the hour he had told you he had before his show. Until finally he’s pushed his time back as far as he could and he’s getting up to leave, knowing that he’s going to have to run from the store right onto stage..

“I’m glad that you let me in tonight. I had a great time getting to know you, Y/N. The band doesn't play tomorrow night so if you’re around Sunday I’d like to tag along to your yard sales you were talking about.” He’s saying it because he wants to spend time with you and the fact he’s willing to hang out on a Sunday afternoon to see something you like has you softening to his charms. He is a lot different from the usual clientele of the store with a self centered nature and a rock n roll attitude without the fame.

“Well, you know where I work. My apartment’s above here. If you’re serious, meet me at 11am Sunday and we can go explore together.” Nikki nods at your words and you wish he’d invite you to the show again but even in the short time you’ve talked to him you know he won’t. He doesn’t want to be rejected twice for something that he cares about. But he has shown such a sincere interest in your passions and you find that you want to see him play. “Do you mind if I walk to the Whisky with you to see the show? I heard there’s a pretty good band playing tonight.” His eyes flash up and it’s nice to see you’ve surprised him by changing your mind. He doesn’t seem like the type that is surprised too often

As you’re walking, chattering nonstop with the stranger you met in the shop this morning your mind wanders to the leather jacket he’s wearing. That jacket was made for him to wear. As soon as you saw him holding it you knew that he was going to go home with it. If he hadn’t come looking for that jacket your day would have been a lot different. Now you were with the bassist of a band going to the Whisky to see another band try to make it off the Strip and into the stars. But the usual apathetic feeling you had about these bands were gone and you were thinking that this person would really make it. And you were rooting for him.