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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

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Maid-up problems (Konig x maid!Reader)

Konig goes to a maid cafe. Billions must perish. Tags and CW: yandere Konig, obsessive and creepy behaviour, Konig is a bit of a perv, colonel loser Konig, maids and maid cafes, general fluff, slight age difference, slight size difference, mostly from Konig's pov. AO3

— Welcome home, master. What your maid I get for you today, hm? König just died and went to heaven. Heaven consists of pretty girls running around in fluffy skirts, little aprons and putting on adorable headbands with white ruffles. Heaven filled with the smell of reheated pastries and pre-made snacks, with neutral sweet perfume and the stench of sweat from the customers. Heaven is filled with angels who run around in maid costumes and call him master – and all of this without going through the hassle of finding a cosplay-friendly prostitute in Vienna.

He honestly rolled his eyes the first time he saw the post about a new maid cafe opening in town. Horangi was the one to show him - the bastard didn’t even live in Austria and yet had followed all the news, maybe to only make fun of his colonel. He knows that the tiger has his dirty secrets too – ido girls, idol boys, some new band every week that he’d spend his paycheck to get all possible merch. Changing his gambling addiction to a k-pop one – all while his glorious commander is going crazy from the new maid hentai he just watched. Honestly embarrassing at his age…but he doesn’t care. He has money for the exclusive translations and elite figures – and he has some time on leave to visit the damn maid cafe. Then König meets you. He died, went to heaven and was greeted with an angel…no, a goddess. In a frilly apron, short skirt and adorable, albeit a bit embarrassed smile. You had your persona on – dorky and clumsy, useless little maid that customers liked to scold when you’d almost drop their drinks and then fake cry while apologizing. Some sadistic bastards like to play pretend by calling your manager while you’d beg for them not to. Some perverts with a hero complex would play into your pleads. König stares in awe as you drop the menu accidentally, not forgetting to show off your cleavage as you pick it up. Brushing it off with your finger, looking so tiny and shy…god, he fucking adores you already. — S…so sorry, master. Please, forgive me for dropping the- — It’s okay. Don’t worry, ja?

He reaches for your hand, but you shoo it away. No touching – the cafe policy, as dumb as it sounds. He knows it’s for your own good, to protect you from perverts and creeps – but you shouldn’t be so scared about touching him. He would have to train you to do this after. nothing that a few touches of a good military discipline wouldn’t fix though – and he is very good at breaking down dumb recruits and annoyingly stubborn people. Oh. Right. He still kinda has to order. His gaze immediately flicks to the most expensive thing on the menu – an exclusive dessert, probably too sweet for his tastes. He will have to make do though – there isn’t much on the menu, certainly is zero alcohol so drunk guests wouldn’t harass the maid girls, and a tiny portion of an omelet with some ketchup hearts squeezed all over it certainly isn’t to his tastes either. No, König had his eyes – covered by glasses, of course, he didn’t want to show off his scars and the expression of a serial killer forced to work in mercenary forces to cute girls in ruffled aprons – on a different prize. You.

And the exclusive photos and a hug from any waitress of the fine establishment that would come with this overpriced order.

König has never seen the manager of this cafe, but he is ready to give them all money he has – just for implementing this feature into the menu. Just for selling off their girls to any customer who is willing to pay almost 50 Euros for a piece of a pretty regular cake and some coffee.

You stare at his order for a few seconds, your mouth going agape. He is not hurt – it was weird, after all, for a guy like him to order something as silly as this. You’re probably weirded out, thinking that he accidentally put his finger on the order – but you know better than to ask again and risk him changing his mind. Your cafe gives off bonuses if guests want to take a picture with you so, naturally, you’re all smiles and nods, tilting your head to the side as you say, ever-so-sweetly, that you’d be back with his order. Now…is König ashamed of liking the pretty little maid so much? Not really, to be completely honest, he kinda adores having you around, and he’d pay even more for the opportunity to touch you. Too bad your cafe isn’t a front for some other body business – he’d be happy to raid it on the part of special forces and then save you from such a gruesome fate by making you his wife.

König wonders if your cafe has themed days. Maybe catgirls, cosplay, maybe housewives.

König wonders if he can get your number. Then his gaze falters to the reflection of his face in the screen of his phone – and, no, not going to happen. Not when he is fresh out of deployment, barely showered, and thrown a clean hoodie on which does very little to cover the smell of blood clinging to his body. It’s his cross to bear – his victims scratching at his ankles as the colonel sips on complimentary water from a pink glass and looks at all the other losers who coming to this fine establishment.

You’re lucky it’s a slow day – if König saw you being so sweet and touchy with some other lousy customer, he might have shot the whole place up. Master does not tolerate his silly servant being so nice to others, after all.

— Your coffee, master.

He whips out a stack of bills already, way more than what he was supposed to pay even with the exclusive offer he ordered. Your mouth opens to stop him, to remind him of the actual price of everything – then he breaks whatever good intentions you had when he starts to speak, his voice muffled a bit because of his black surgical mask.

— Do you have a boyfriend?

Oh.

Now, under normal circumstances, you’d yell for the manager to come and pick you up. You’d scream bloody murder and alert other girls and clients that you’re having a bad customer who is going into harassment mode very quickly – asking such personal questions at this place is something that shouldn’t be happening, no sir. Totally not happening.

But…the work has been a bit slow lately. You didn’t get as many bonuses as you wanted to, and the rent is coming up, and the phone bill is getting more expensive…sometimes you just got unlucky and his a streak of customers not liking your particular archetype – so if this weird dude who is totally killing people in his spare time wants a bit more than usual service and is definitely ready to pay for it.

You might have had a thing for guys in masks. Big, muscular guys in masks who looks like they can choke you with their thighs and then fucking destroy you. With money who can get you a bit closer to your savings goal. So, you’re not calling your manager, your friends, or the police. So, you play into the fantasy for a little bit, remembering all the acts your supervisors drilled into your head. — Of course I don’t, master. I’m here for you, remember? You smile and nod, hoping it will be enough. Hoping a guy like him could be satisfied with something as silly as this, something as tiny. You touch his hand a bit later, making sure to hold him for a while longer. A simple trick to enhance the amount of tip you can get – even tho you feel like playing with fire when you touch this guy so sweetly.

And, oh, König is…done for. Smitten. Shot right in the heart through his cock, somehow. This man survived battle after battle, destroyed more small countries than there is letters in his real name, but he was defeated by a pretty girl in a maid outfit in a cafe made for incels and otaku wannabees. If any of his lower officers saw him right now, with ears and cheeks burning angry red, with his heavy breathing and obvious, but concealed by table hard-on, he would be done for.

But, oh god, aren’t you just beautiful?

Obviously embarrassed and maybe a bit shy – he thinks it’s probably just your persona, a way to milk tips from the customers who like to play dominant, but König doesn’t even need to play. He knows he’d have to take you by the end of your shift, whatever this time might be. He is not the best person for the romance job, but he’ll be damned if he let a pretty thing like you just run away like a silly girl you are.

— Can I have your phone number? You want to say no, he can’t have your phone number. The guy smells of gunpowder and blood, looks like he is going to shoot the entire venue down if you disagree with him, and you do not want to die like a hero for a job that pays barely above minimum wage for the amount of public humiliation you have to endure to ensure good tips. The guy smells like danger and a bad time and a long conversation with your manager about the types of guests that they allow into this fine establishment.

You want to say no and yell but, then again, there are multiple factors that are screaming against such rush decisions. A huge chunk of money he still has in his valet is, embarrassingly enough, one of the biggest decision-making points. — We’re not really allowed to give our phone numbers, master… His hand goes to his pocket.

You’re not sure if he is touching his cock, his gun, or another stack of bills right now – but all of the options are kinda making you want to die before you can check your answers. It’s going to be bad either way, so you tilt your head to the side, trying to look as innocent as possible.

— But I can make an exception!

He actually startles, looking at you like you just agreed to marry him. You probably would, with enough bullet threats – but you still bite your tongue, not wanting to give the crazy guy an idea. You actually don’t know if he is crazy or not – but taking your chances isn’t something you want to do on a nice Monday dead work day.

You can see relief in his eyes. A little wrinkles of smile, too – his mouth is covered by a mask, but you’re almost sure he is grinning like an idiot under this thing. Oh no…you just insulted a customer in your mind. It’s really bad for business.

You write your number down and pass it right to his hand without anyone noticing…you hoped so, at least – you don’t want other customers to order the same special treatment and you know that the manager would have your head for overstepping the rules so much. No one would care that you’re saving this fucked up place from a massacre – they would only care about arbitrary rule-breaking. You lick your lips and smile as his hand lingers on you a bit too long.

His hands are big and warm, too – you’re getting lost in the touch, as he carefully caresses the back of your palm with his thumb. He is…surprisingly tender. As much as a killing machine can be tender, of course – but you do appreciate a softer, milder touch. You do appreciate his hands on your body, caressing it softly and maybe even leaning you for a kiss and a quick…

Oh god, what are you thinking. You need to stop, immediately.

He pulls from his table suddenly and you almost feel like you fucked up, somehow. Maybe he did wanted something a big more than what you were willing to give, maybe this guy wanted you in a way that was not friendly for the cafe – but he swoops you by your waist before you could say anything before your hands could go upright and smack him – and you stop right before hearing him saying the dreadful words. The words you wished he wouldn’t have enough money to say.

God, this is hopeless.

— Can I get my special offer now?

König makes it sound like the special offer would include you on your knees, choking on his cock. König makes it sound like it would include you on your back, taking pounding from him while he tugs on your dumb apron and tells you to cry for your master. König makes it sound like the short skirt of your outfit was not covering you enough, he makes it sound perverted, horrible, utterly despicable, he makes it sound like…

God, he doesn’t have enough self-control for you.

You just…look so scared. Nervous. You play with the fabric of your costume in your hands as the other maid – some faceless pretty thing for him, with his eyes glued to your side anyway – was making pictures. Polaroid, is overpriced for a couple of photos he will get…but he doesn’t care if he has to blow off an entire contract bonus if that means getting some bonus from you.

He gets to hold your waist and it’s so easily to imagine digging his fingers to your sides as he fucks you with as much passion as he could gather. It’s easy to imagine his cock pumping into you, your tummy bulging from the sheer size difference between you and him – poor thing, you’d probably be terrified as he would force himself onto you. Maybe you’d clutch your little apron adorably and beg for him to stop. Maybe you’d ask him to be rougher and more passionate – to make you his in all sorts of ways. He just…he can’t imagine not taking you home after this.

He hugged you, it’s basically a marriage proposal already.

You try your best to ignore the way his hand slips down, almost to the point of groping your ass. You ignore it, the girl who is taking the pictures ignores it too. No one wants a scandal, no one wants to point this out – everyone knows how tips are made here, and you sure as hell won’t be putting yourself in danger just because you feel his giant hand fondling you through the fabric of your silly dress. You forgot the protective shorts too - so there is only a matter of underwear and skirt between his hand and your ass.

Somehow, the sensation isn’t as terrible as you want it to be. Somehow, you feel like tips aren’t the only thing that keeps you from screaming at him.

König died and went to heaven – this much is obvious. He is taking a picture with a pretty girl, he touches a pretty girl in maid's suit and she doesn’t even say anything to him. He just went out from a successful contract that would keep his pockets full for a few months and went straight for his savings, and he killed more people than the last week – god, life is fucking beautiful. He fondles your ass with his hand, other is awkwardly limp to his side, and he already knows that he will be a regular here.

He hates getting his pictures taken – it’s normal for people in his line of work, being a mercenary and a socially active person isn’t something wise if you don’t want an enemy finding out where you live, but he doesn’t really care anymore – he will keep the pictures with you, hold it in his wallet and put a spare one in his vest pocket. You can be his little guardian angel, the pretty girl who is waiting for him to return.

And he does have your number with him.

— Are you happy with the pictures, master?

You tilt your head and König forces down the urge to squeeze your cheeks and kiss you. They way you say this, the way you call him master – he simply can’t resist, not when you’re too fucking adorable to miss out on. He knows it’s inappropriate, he knows you’re just working here, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving a hefty tip and making sure you know exactly what made him leave so much.

God, he can’t wait to make you his.

König wonders if you’d agree to wear a skimpier outfit once you’re at the safety of his house.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #call of duty #loser!konig #konig smut #konig x you #cod konig #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #yandere imagines #yandere male #male yandere #yandere #maid #maids

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months

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What if darling made Remmy his own doll?

Bro would cream his pants right there

I think Remmy would be very happy about that - unless you do similar things to what he does to doll you. I assume, and pray you won't fuck doll Remmy, but if you carry him around in your pocket and kiss/cuddle him while Remmy is in the doghouse (not dating) Remmy will get crazy jealous.

"Look, Rem! I made a mini you! Isn't he just the cutest?"

Remmy's heart soars as you display your newest creation for him to see. You told him you had a surprise, but never in a million years could he have imagined you shared the same hobby as him let alone take the time out of your day to make a doll of him of all people. It was the most flattering thing anyone has ever done for him. It must mean you have some type of feelings for him too- All the things you could do together now. Dress your dolls up in matching outfits, take them out for double dates-

"I know you don't really like others touching you, so now I can give this lil guy all the hugs i want give you."

And just like that - the fragile organ in his chest crumbles to a billion pieces. If he had to pinpoint the exact moment when it shattered, it would have to be the millisecond your lips touched the doll's plush cheek. You hug the doll to your chest - his jealousy reaching a boiling point as its head rests in the area he only dreamt of placing his. He'd probably faint the moment he touched you, but his point still stands. What else is this doll getting that he isn't? Your affection and love, cuddling with you at night, getting to see you undress after a long day... It's not fair. It's not fair at all.

"I... I like hugs!- kisses too. Please give me some too. If you're the one giving it to me, I'll allow anything! I'm sure doll me wouldn't want the real me to be left out."

The doll seems quite pleased with its placement on your chest and undesiring of change. Remmy seethes, mocked by its buttoned eyes and stitched smile. Anger and grief drips from his broken wails.

"You traitor!..."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #Remmy my oc

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yutaholic · 5 months

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the show must go on (M)

PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)

SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.

WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content

NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot

Seattle, 1991

We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.

Takes one to know one.

What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.

The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.

We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.

He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.

You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”

Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.

You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.

“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”

There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.

“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.

Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”

“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”

Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.

“What the hell am I doing?”

“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”

You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.

Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”

The summer was winding down. August was half over.

I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.

There would be nothing holding us together anymore.

“Haechan?”

“Yes, my love?”

You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”

Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”

You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”

Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”

“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.

Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”

“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”

“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”

You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.

After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”

The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”

Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.

So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.

Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.

The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.

But you knew why.

Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.

You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.

As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.

Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.

“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.

Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.

Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.

Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”

You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.

Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.

“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”

Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”

You called, “Jeno?”

“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.

Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”

“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.

That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.

You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.

Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.

It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.

When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.

One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.

That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.

The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.

You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”

“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.

Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”

“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.

“And?” Jeno pressed.

You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”

Well, that woke everyone up.

“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.

“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”

“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.

Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”

You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”

Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”

Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”

“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.

Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

You rubbed your arms awkwardly.

I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.

“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.

“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”

Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”

Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”

Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”

You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”

“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”

“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”

It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.

Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”

“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”

You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”

Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.

“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.

You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”

“What do you mean?”

You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”

Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.

“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.

“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.

“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”

You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”

Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”

Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”

“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.

Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”

Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.

“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”

You flinched.

“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.

Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”

Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”

Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”

Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”

Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.

And he correctly chose Haechan.

Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.

He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.

Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.

“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”

Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.

You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.

We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.

I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.

He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.

Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.

Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.

You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?

Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.

“My love?”

You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”

Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”

You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.

We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.

That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.

“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.

Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”

You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”

“No.”

Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.

“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”

Still, you said nothing. You hated him.

Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.

Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.

Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.

Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”

“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”

“I won’t,” Mark started.

“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”

Mark nodded.

“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.

“What about you and Jeno?”

Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”

The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.

Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.

Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.

You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.

That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.

When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.

You smarted, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll drag you.”

You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.

A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.

After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.

Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.

A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.

This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.

My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.

Just as I mourned my relationships.

“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.

Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.

But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.

“I’m still mad,” you huffed.

“I know.”

Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.

Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”

You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”

“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”

You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

Haechan smiled softly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”

“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”

Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.

The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.

Nothing was over.

You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.

When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.

He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.

Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.

Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.

There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.

Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.

Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.

It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.

He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.

Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.

You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.

Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”

You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.

Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”

“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”

“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”

You snickered. “Who are you then?”

Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”

Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.

The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.

“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”

Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”

An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.

It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.

“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”

Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”

“Do I?”

“I like it.”

“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.

Haechan would have loved that.

You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.

It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.

Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, ��Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?”

“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”

You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.

Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.

He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.

“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."

For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.

And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.

Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.

“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.

Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.

You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.

“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.

As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.

You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”

Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.

You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.

“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.

Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.

Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”

Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.

Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”

You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.

“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.

“You’re doing fine without me.”

“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.

Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.

The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.

“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.

Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.

“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”

It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.

Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.

Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.

You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.

The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.

Like it was the last time.

Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.

“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”

He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.

The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.

When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.

Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.

Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”

“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.

Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”

Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”

Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.

Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”

Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”

“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”

Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.

Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”

Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”

“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.

Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”

“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.

You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”

All three of them gaped in perfect sync.

“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.

“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”

In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.

Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”

Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”

“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.

You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.

“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”

Tears pricked your eyes.

Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.

With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”

Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.

“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”

Jeno sulked.

“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.

“I know it is!”

You waited patiently.

“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”

“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.

He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.

You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”

Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”

“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”

Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”

You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”

“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.

Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”

He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.

“You’re not your father, Haechan.”

“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”

You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”

Haechan chuckled.

“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”

“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.

All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”

“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.

Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.

The missing chapter of your memoir.

You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”

“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.

“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”

Mark and Jeno laughed.

Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”

You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”

“No?”

“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”

“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”

Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”

Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.

Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.

You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.

Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”

“Stop it.”

“Okay.”

“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”

Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.

A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.

Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.

“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.

“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.

You laughed.

The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.

Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.

“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.

You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.

Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”

Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.

“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.

Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.

Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.

#nct #nct smut #haechan #haechan smut #lee haechan smut #haechan x reader

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themissinghand · 1 year

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Dr. Stone: You're Crazy Like Me, Dumbass

Summary: In which Senku has an older sister (who is just as crazy as him...in a good way of course).

Note: Not related/connected to my current Dr. Stone fic on Wattpad at all. This is just for fun!

Warning: Swearing and lots and lots of sibling energy

"Did you know that some metals are soooo reactive that they can explode when they come in contact with water? Make sure you protect your manhood boy."

The Kingdom of Science certainly did not expect a person to appear out of nowhere.

Especially hanging underside down from a tree.

"Who's that?!" Gen called out, his eyes already focused on the foreign woman.

"An enemy?" Kohaku pulled out her sword whereas the Kinrou followed suit.

"Sister?" Senku whispered out, and everyone snapped their heads to see a dazed and disbelief expression on their leader's face.

"Yo!" The older responded with a cheeky grin, and a hand raised in the air.

She had her white hair tied up in a high ponytail, showcasing their family's signature green hair tips at the ends. A lone hair strip crossed her eyes and curved to her chin.

"Heh, isn't this the lil' shit? You grew!" She jumped down the tree and walked towards the group.

"You guys know each other?"

Senku rubbed his temples.

"Yea. She's my older sister-"

"Sister?!" The woman grinned as she stopped right in front of Senku, and they brofisted as if it was normal, then followed by a noogie.

"O-Ouch! What the heck-"

"It's been a while you lil' shit! I thought you would have died or buried ten feet under!" Senku pulled out of her grasp and deadpanned at her.

"Ha, you wish. Where were you even? I tried looking for you and I couldn't-"

"Oh I came here by skateboard-"

"Skateboard?! Did you just say SKATEBOARD?" Gen's screech was followed by dazed and confused villagers. She pointed to the huge skateboard made of wood?! How?

It doesn't even look like a normal skateboard, in fact, it could be deemed as a boat with wheels at this point.

"Yea, you see, I'm an engineer. So I make shit, attach shit, and fix shit."

She definitely got a crude mouth too; everyone thought at the same time.

"Heh, as expected of the gorilla-" Senku was cut off by the pulling of his hair.

"Hey, shouldn't you be telling me what's going on? Since when did you have so many friends?" She scrutinized every single person around, and others shivered under her look.

"Oi! Stop that! I'll explain later, but we have a war to win!" Senku escaped and then gave her a evil smirk.

"What'cha say we make an evil weapon? With you here..."

"Oh ho?" An evil aura burst forth from the two siblings.

"Gen...we're so screwed."

"Kohaku...we're fucked when he's already our last hope. And now, there's another one?"

"You got an issue? Half and half?"

"Half and half-" Gen spluttered but swallowed his pride when he saw the toned muscles underneath her coat.

"Not bad." Senku acknowledged with nod.

"Unlike you, I work out." She rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway, where were you exactly?"

"In hell. But now that I'm here, looks like I've reach purgatory-OW!" Senku tased her on her sides, making her jump.

"You-" Before she could unleash her wraith, Senku stops her with a question.

"How did you find me?" Senku asks sternly, and the older sighed.

"Just exploring on my own and I decided that I should find you lil' shit. So I made myself some shit and before I know it, I spot a bunch of weirdos hoping around a big pot and a fucking leak-"

"Oh fuck you."

"Oops, can't hear you over your bushy hair."

Senku rolled his eyes.

"Idiot."

"Leek."

"Baboon."

"Loverboy."

"What? Where did you even get that from!?"

"What? You just looked like one." She simply shrugged with a cheeky grin.

"That's not a sight you see every day. Senku's outmatched." Gen mentioned, while he watched the two siblings bicker.

Kohaku simply laughs and shakes her head.

"He deserves it."

"I'm ten billion percent gonna throw you to the wolves!" Senku almost but roars with steam going out of his head.

"And I'm ten billion percent going to hull your ass to Antarctica!" She mimicked with a girly voice, the complete opposite of her natural deep one. She then looked at Kohaku with a smile.

"You there, you're the lil' shit's wife?"

"W-What? No!"

"Well who gives a fuck. Anyway, explain this war to me. I'll help you guys out."

"Really? That would be great!"

"Yea, explain to me what's going on. And I also need names. I can't be calling ya lil' shit's gf can I?"

"No thank you!"

After a solid explanation of the current situation, Senku's sister tilted her head and yawned.

"So...we're going up against this dude who's like a bitchy communist dictator kid with Heracles's strength," She looked around at the group.

"And the mother fucker who's a huge hypocrite is reviving assholes of his liking in order to kill innocent children like y'all because he thinks technology is absolute shit."

Well that's one way to look at it.

"Uh...translation please? What's a Heracles?" Chrome jumps in and asks while scratching his head.

"It's Tsukasa but stronger." Senku simply says, and Chrome and Kohaku accepts it without question.

Gen sighs.

"Senku...I'm pretty sure it's more than that..."

#dr stone #ishigami senku #drst #gen asagiri #kohaku #senku x reader #manga #anime #tsukasa shishio #season 1 #stone world #female reader

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winterrrnight · 3 months

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for secret admirer, them going to the strawberry field together for a lil picnic, reading,stealing kisses, napping, eating, talking all giggly and just in love and it being a tradition for them 🥹

I cannot with this. I am so incredibly soft right now it is crazy 🥹🥹 I made it into a little fic because, why not??? I hope you like reading this lovely anon 💓💓 do let me know your thoughts!

les fleurs du mal — a secret admirer blurb

PAIRING: high schooler!soft!rafe cameron x high schooler!fem!reader

SUMMARY: just another day of you and Rafe in the strawberry field which holds a billion memories for you.

WARNINGS: so much soft and fanon rafe, fluff fluff fluff

EDITH SPEAKS: secret admirer!rafe is my forever boyfriend. period. I don’t want anyone else but him.

navigation || join my taglist || requests || series masterlist

You clutch onto Rafe’s hand as he leads you through the rows of low lying strawberry bushes. With one hand grasping on a basket and the other in yours, Rafe makes his way through the small trail which goes up to the tree.

As you reach the clearing, Rafe gives you a small smile as he sets the basket down, pulling out a blanket for you. The red and white plaid contrasts the lush green of the grass as the blanket settles on the ground. You both sit down, and you peek into the basket.

“What all do you have in there?” You ask, not really being able to make out what the basket contains.

“Oh it’s just…” he says, starting to pull out small boxes, “some stuff I made for you,” he smiles. He opens them one by one, and you see small delicacies in each one of them. You gasp as he nudges a box closer to you. It contains cookies; two cookies sandwiched together with a layer of strawberry jam in between them.

“Whoa…” you say with utter awe as you take a cookie in your hand and taste it. The buttery flakiness of the cookie and the sweetness of the jam fills your mouth, creating a complete symphony. “That’s so good,” you say with your voice muffled.

Rafe chuckles softly at you as he eats one of the cookies too. “It is huh?” He smiles at you, his own voice slightly muffled as he chews on the cookie. A comfortable silence falls over you two as you hear the soft rustle of the leaves from the breeze, the birds chirping in the distance, and your own rhythmic breathing.

“Oh I forgot I got you something,” you say, getting your bag. Rafe looks at you a little confused as he sees you rummaging through your back, but his eyes light up when you pull out a book.

“Les Fleurs du mal,” he whispers as he takes the book from your hand. “Oh my god…” His eyes are wide as he holds the book in his hands and looks at it as if it’s sacred. Les Fleurs du mal is a book of French poetry by the great Charles Baudelaire. Rafe has always told you how much he wants the book, wanting to explore more about French poetry, but he totally didn’t expect you to just give him a copy of it.

“You’re giving me… wow I-” he says, stumbling over his own words as he tries to find words to express his gratitude.

“It was a little struggle to get you a nice copy of it, but I found one,” you say with a smile. “Now you can write me letters with poetry from this book,” you joke.

“Oh you know that,” he says, chuckling softly. “But, wow… thank you mon amour,” he moves closer to you to press multiple kisses to your cheek, his hair tickling you softly.

“You’re welcome,” you whisper, looking up at him with a pink tint lighting your cheeks. He moves to sit closer to you, bringing his knees closer to his chest as he rests the book against his thighs. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh as you eat more of his cookies and watch him start to flick through the book.

You can hear the birds chirping in the distance as Rafe flicks through the book, sometimes stopping in between to read out a certain poetry or prose from the book; his pronunciations right on spot.

“Mon enfant, ma sœur, songe à la douceur, d'aller là-bas vivre ensemble…” He mumbles softly. You let his words sink in yourself for a moment, your mind working to translate what it means.

“Imagine, ma petite, dear sister mine, how sweet were we to go and take our pleasure leisurely, you and I — to lie, to love, to die, off in that land made to your measure,” You sigh softly, closing your eyes for a moment as you take in a deep breath, the carefully curated words hitting in your mind in a way that seems to wake you – make you more feel more blissful.

Rafe smiles at you, your words bringing a certain pleasure to him. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, resting his head on top of yours. And that is how the rest of your evening goes; he recites lines to you in french, you tell those back in English, and both of you simply cherish each other’s company. The sun starts to set in the distance, the rays paint you golden with their warmth, and you can’t help but let the little smile keep on pulling your lips, after all, what’s better than having a boy you absolutely adore in a strawberry field, reciting French poetry with, eating little strawberry biscuits with, and kissing? You fail to see anything better than that.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl

(send me any of your secret admirer thoughts and/or your thoughts on drew/rafe/zach! sfw only! <3)

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dykementality · 1 year

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forgive me if you're not interested, but I'd actually love to hear more of your thoughts on the maroon arc, what you thought was/wasn't done well. would u like to share?

hii i didnt see this. im gonna apologize right away bc this is not gonna be organized i have talked soooo much today already and im tired lol.

for starters what i think was done best is flint and madis dynamic. its incredibly well played both as individual characters and as representatives of pirates and maroons in relation to empire. their chemistry is crazy and their dialogues are extremely didactic. i also find that flint not immediately viewing the maroons as natural allies but as tools to reach his own purposes and later deconstructing that after getting involved with them aggregates to his ongoing theme of progressive radicalization which i think is also a highlight of the maroon arc in the way it makes it explicit for good that his political stance has done a 360 and is now entirely discordant from the one he had as a lieutenant in every aspect that matters. freeing and partnering with the maroons is expected after that and i dont think theres anything special on that regard. then the shitty parts are essentially everything else. especially steinberg admitting he stalled to really explore the topic of slavery due to not being in his element as a white guy but still not putting black people on the team to do it. this reflects very obviously in the show and makes the entire arc feel rushed and reticent besides leaving a billion loose threads and missing opportunities to appropriately explore character dynamics that couldve been way more interesting (such as silver/julius/flint & madi/eme & madi/eleanor & eleanor/scott) and really engage confidently in the impact that flint and the pirates having canonically sold slaves would have had in their relationship. speaking of julius i also very much felt like it was a tragedy to hinder his presence and had they started it earlier or extended it longer his perspective on war vs. protecting his community as opposed to madi’s for example would have been probably my favorite part of the arc. i know the version in my head of it is. all in all its a vital arc for the story and everyone slayed really hard with with they had i just wish the creators hadnt shied away from all the implications of it. if i had the energy to go look for some posts for u i would bc my mutuals have definitely also discussed this before but alas. thanks for asking anyways feel free to add ur own thoughts or question mine further

#correio

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elmundodeflor · 6 months

Text

There isn't a part of his body that is safe from harm. Every muscle, every crevice and cartilage burns like he has a soaring fever— pounds and stings worse than in any other battle he's fought.

Is it over yet...?

His cheeks are red, flooded with his own cries of pain. As the silver thread that makes up a stream from across the driest of valleys. It all hurts. It all stings. It all burns.

Damn.

He winces, cleans up his tear-tracks with the back of his hand. If he had to compare this much pain to something— anything— really, it'd sure be a black hole, he figures. A force deadlier than gravity that makes him wanna cave into his very own misery.

"They're dead stars, I've read.", Hanji'd told him once, as they'd pointed up to the skies. They were set out to camp for mission, and Erwin had put them both on watch duty. "They bend time and space, and start swallowing everything that's around them! Kinda crazy, huh?"

Their voice fades into an echo, and the vision of them two reaching for the stars is water that slips through his fingers. It's all gone. All set. All done. And now, he's left with nothing but a black hole sitting in his chest. A growing pull that threatens to swallow what little there is of him.

Is it over yet...?

He looks through the blur. The air smells of fire, like a hundred-year drought that brought the land to its end. He can taste it, on every inhale of his lungs: it'll take another hundred years for hope to bloom again. It'll take two thousand lives for dreams to part through all this death.

Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji... where are you...?

Are you guys watching...?

Is it over yet...?

His heart clenches, then expands and explodes into the glimmer of a billion different supernovas. There's not a single frame of him that's not empty now. Not a simple trace that hasn't been replaced by utter brokenness.

He falls to his knees, lets his body give in to the shake. Yes. For the first time since he's been taught how to combat, Levi Ackerman allows himself to fall. Rapid. Vivid. Painful.

His skin bleeds when it touches the floor; his throat so closed he can barely breathe. Perhaps, this, he tells himself—this endless spiral of ache— is exactly what happens when a soldier loves. It's the pieces of himself he's lent to the fallen, that now have been lost. The stubborn ways of the soul, to be so foolishly selfless now he's nothing but a living ghost.

He glances up at the skies, there where a ray of sun makes its way through the clouds. Will the black hole in him come and take him, too? Can it bend time and space, and make life the way it was?

He thinks about it for a second. Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji; everyone he'd ever longed for, had believed in this world. They had bled, and sworn, and resigned to war, so that the rest could see peace, even if just once. Would it be fair for him to wish he was gone, light as a feather, then? Did that mean he had to persist through existence, still? Even with this void eating him up inside?

He takes another look around. He has no answers, just yet. But, in the midst of destruction, he can make up the contours of something he's always known.

Something that brings warmth to the cool that always lays after stars are born.

Erwin, Mike, Petra, Hanji...

Are you guys watching...?

This is the result...

Of all of your devoted hearts...

And after that, he’s swallowed into the infinites of a black abyss, too.

READ THE COMPLETE FANFICTION HERE

"The Tale Of The Butterflies", a story where Hanji Zoe survives The Rumbling, is out now on AO3!

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sizzlingpatrolfox · 10 months

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Don't you think pjms theories are too much of a reach? I don't think the company is sabotaging Jimin or that Bang/Scooter hate Jimin. There's not enough evidence to affirm those things to me. The company is just inefficient, stupid and money hungry. They are in a position to give better support to Bts solo songs that are not tied to western producers, they just don't want to spend money because a bts solo has some degree of success guaranteed anyway.

I have stanned idols who sued their company, who shaded their company until they left. And Jimin doesn't do those things. He complained about the MVs, but that's about it. He looks happy, he jokes around with staff. To me he is not being mistreated, it just looks like it because they company is incompent.

No, I don't think everything is a reach. I don't think they particularly hate Jimin, it's not personal. It's just that Jimin wasn't who they were planning on investing in, and they had other things to prove and he unfortunately stepped in their way. I even think they would've done the same to any other member, of course not everyone has the star quality Jimin has.

They're not incompetent. You don't build a multi billion dollar company if you're incompetent, for god's sake. You're naive and everyone thinking the same is naive or playing dumb. A lot of what they did for Jungkook's promo they already did it for BTS as a group before; they actually did more for Jungkook than they even did for BTS. They've always known what to do, they just didn't do it for anyone else. And even if some things slipped out of their hands, fans have been tagging them and asking them to fix it and they never did. Even though they fixed everything people complained about regarding seven.

What do you mean to say, that from April to July they learned everything didn't learn in 10 years? Because that's the time between like crazy and seven; 3 months. How does that make sense? Even more, the moment Jungkook was in that studio booth, they were already planning everything for seven. So, did they learn everything between March 24th and April 7th?

All solo releases had a settled and agreed on budget by the company. I doubt the members get involved with numbers; it's the company who decides on the budget. But even knowing and understanding that, some things are hard to understand still.

Jimin didn't get 6 videos because it was "irrational" but rookie group new jeans got 6 videos. Jungkook is going to get at least 2 more when he releases his album, and I don't even have to talk about predictions but present day is enough: there's like 10 visualizers (I think it's more than that now because I keep getting the notifications) for this one single and those videos cost money too.

I get that the physical CDs that the fans have been asking for cost money, but here's the thing.. they were sold out in the first or second week. So they never planned on restocking anyways, they manufactured a certain amount that got sold out in the first week and they never restocked because they were never planning on manufacturing more. Now, Jungkook has a month worth of CDs stock, I heard that the they stocked 38k CDs a couple of days ago and I believe the first stock was 10k, and since then they've restocked like 4 times so I'm sure they're already around the 100k CDs sold. I would even bet you that if they run out of their initial stock, they will manufacture more CDs if necessary for this single.

The same is happening to other BTS releases, by the way. They've been sold out for months and they're only restocking for Jungkook. It wasn't an exaggeration when I said all the money the 7 have earned is solely going into Jungkook's career. I will keep saying that because it's a fact.

By not restocking those CDs, they're limiting their support for their own artists. But they're also limiting the support fans can give them, because how can they buy if the product is not available. And that is sabotage, no matter the reason behind.

You say "They are in a position to give better support to Bts solo songs that are not tied to western producers, they just don't want to" well exactly, and that is not incompetence. They just don't want to.

"Demand, impact" bla bla bla. If they were to restock 50k CDs of like crazy, they will sell all. And they know that. It's not that they're scared they'll manufacture and ship CDs and make no revenue; they know there's demand, they just don't want to do it.

Budget and money aside, there's still important things they could've done, important things they could still do that they don't need money for.

There's no need to for budget to combine a song's streams or let people know about change in a chart rules. The English and Korean versions were released combined, it gained streams the following two days simply because it's a good song, and it hit #1 on global. The day after it was #1, the numbers were split and thus affecting its chart position. It's almost like for three days it didn't matter but it mattered the moment it was #1, because that was the debut they had planned for a different member. Seven, of course, combined from the begining and still no problems.

Spotify customer service said the label was in charge of combining songs, that they could do it if the label asked. I wasn't sure if I believed them at first, because sometimes databases get messed up and also Spotify customer service is kinda bad. But for several reasons, one being that issue with Post Malone's song, and the other being scooter's attempt at changing the number of streams for seven after its debut, I believe them now and I'm sure that if hybe wanted to, they could.

They didn't need budget to let people know about the change in the chart rules. They didn't care to, they didn't want to announce it until Yoongi had a song out. I don't know if you remember, but this is how things played out:

-> like crazy predicted between #4 - #6 for the second week

-> announcement that 100k+ sales were deducted from the total sold that week

-> a couple of hours later: instagram posts about Jungkook "making history" with bangpd and scooter

-> bangpd on the cover of billboard magazine the next week

If you think all of that was a coincidence, you do you.

And they didn't need budget to let people know what happened to those 100k sales. They still haven't given any explanation on that.

Did they need budget to put like crazy on this is BTS playlist? Did they need to hear Jimin say he wants to be a giant popstar?

None of that has anything to do with personal aspirations the members might have and it has everything to do with management. And no, I don't believe they're incompetent.

I said this earlier this year and I still stand by it:

There is no doubt it was Jimin who decided for who long he'd promote and what activitites. Of course, I'm not ignoring that Yoongi's release was stepping on Jimin's tail, so I also think Jimin could've been somewhat obliged to cram everything into a few days because he knew Yoongi was next.

I know Jimin decided on the shows and performances he went to; Jimin always been tied emotionally to their Korean fans, and he's always respected and honored them; during the pandemic and for festa 2022 he mentioned several times wanting to do music shows. He's had a good relationship with Jimmy Fallon for years, he chose to go to his show because he likes him. I never expected Jimin to go to live lounge as well as I don't expect Jungkook to ever do a stage like set me free pt2 or even like crazy.

I could consider -I have considered- the option that everything was just bad luck or something and that after knowing it was possible to have such a debut like Jimin, hybe he wanted a piece of the cake and to seriously take credit for success like that, so they decided to go all out for JK (this is where personal aspirations come into play), making sure that everyone knew who were the people involved. Because everyone knows who's behind seven. Even Jungkook won't miss any opportunity to talk about receiving the song and being granted this chance. He literally said his life changed because they gave him this song.

I mean...

But there are two things that won't let me really commit to the possibility that all happened by chance; one being all the mediaplay around JK since early 2022. Two, and the most relevant to me it's that Jungkook seemingly never worked on his album. He said that he wasn't doing anything, that he had no plans, told people to not wait for him. I'm sure you know everything. It's not like they suddenly decided to give him a song and then a full english album, no. They've been planning this for a while, and he probably knew about the plans and that's why he wasn't really working on anything.

Maybe you're new to the fandom, but one of the years BTS went to the Grammys, I think it was 2020, a CEO went with them and he placed himself in every photo next to them. In one photo, he even moved Jungkook out of the center so he could be the center of the photo in the freaking red carpet.

That same man, along with BangPd would give interview after interview talking about how they know how to create the next BTS, because they allegedly have some kind of formula. Formula was the word they always used. Armys always got so mad about those statements, saying BTS can't be imitated and that BTS is what it is because of the members and not because of the company. Most armys who remember that, who read those interviews aren't in the fandom anymore. The people in the fandom now don't know, and don't care.

This whole thing, for more than a year, has reeked of the same ideology.

You know that they are fame and money hungry, yet don't consider the possibility that they might do everything they can to get exactly that.

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