#but sweaty that boy could not be less interested

[casuallyanidiot]

Got a fair few asks about Danny (aka Yandere Farmboy) and what he'd be like in marriage, with kids and the In-Laws etc. So here are a few HCs about that !

Tw. BabyTrapping, Yandere, Power Imbalance, Forced Marriage, Implied Noncon, Slut shaming, implied abortion, implied homophobia/transphobia at the end, Fem! AFAB! Reader

The Marriage

I've gone into some detail about how Danny would treat you once he got his hands on you in another ask. He likes getting you all dressed up and proper, and he never wants to see you with dirt smeared across your face ever again.

Danny would want to wait until you were pretty far into your pregnancy to actually marry you. Hell, he might even wait until you actually have his baby. You'd asked him to just get it over with right after he got your parent's permission to take you away from the farm and into his home, but he wanted everyone to see what you had become.

You aren't just some rat scurrying around town anymore. No, you're his. And now there's no way you can deny it. Because if you do, you risk being shunned by everyone.

"That poor Petusky kid... getting stuck with that whore."

"She's lucky he even keeps her around. If it were me, I would've run her off a long time ago."

Danny had you moved into his family home soon after the events of the first fic. He likes sitting there, rubbing your growing belly and murmuring words of comfort. He forces you to recline in a plush, padded rocking chair he made with his father just for you.

"This is the happiest I've ever been," he praised as he pressed kisses to your skin. He smiled at the way you flinched, and he cooed softly. "The wedding venue is booked. Plus I've got the bakery prepping a cake. A big one too, with your favorite flavors," He said. You don't remember telling him what they were. "We just gotta wait until this little one arrives. Getting married will be the best thing that's ever happened to you, I swear. Weddings are just... stressful. Don't want anything hurting the baby now, do we?"

Of course he doesn't let you work. You're his precious wife, after all. Plus he seethes at the thought of failing you, of letting you slip from his fingers and back into a life where he can't control your happily ever after. You'll have no financial freedom, that's for certain.

He's eerily attuned to your wants and needs. he's spent years observing you, your interests. The way your eyes would trail longingly on the other women in town with their nicer clothes, the way in school that you tried and tried to keep up with other academically. You wanted a better life. He had that. He could give you that.

He adores you, he really does. He'd buy you old Bronte sister novels and sit there with you when you'd struggle to read them. He comes back to you every day, no matter how sweaty and caked in mud he might be, pressing flowers into your hands.

Maybe if he'd been less of a creep, less desperate to possess you entirely, then perhaps he could've been the love of your life.

The In-Laws

Danny's parents, like mentioned in the original fic, are pretty much the wealthiest people in town if not the entire area. They own several cattle ranches and acres upon acres of land that's perfect for tilling. Really they're the exact opposite of your family.

They aren't unkind per se, but you could definitely feel them judging you whenever you had spoken to them in the past. They'd smile at you in an overly friendly manner that felt empty as it looked nice. Just typical southern politeness wrapped in a shiny veneer.

That being said, when Danny came to them one day, dragging your shaking form in front of them, they knew something was up. There's no reason a girl like you should seem so upset that their precious baby boy was promising her the moon and stars. When he goes on to explain " She's gonna have my baby. I know you should wait until marriage and all, but we got to excited and well..."

A shotgun marriage with the town tramp. Not exactly ideal for a sterling reputation, but they could work with this. Most of the town would probably judge you no matter what, but Danny's parents subtly nudge people to think of you like some gold digger.

They can sense that Danny did something to you. You flinch sometimes when you think no one is looking, and his mother has caught you crying alone in some random room in their big house a couple times. Unfortunately, though, you're far less important to them than their son. If he wanted you that badly, he can have you. They're just gonna make sure everything stays under wraps.

Danny's father doesn't really care for you one way or another. He doesn't really get what his kid sees in you, but then again, he can kind of see why the boy grew up to be so damn possessive. He had traditional values pummeled into him from a young age, and what's more traditional than marrying your high school sweetheart and providing for her and your family? Once you get cleaned up a bit and start living with them more often, he quietly accepts you as part of the family. He likes whittling toys for your new arrival when he's not working or with his wife, and he finds you to be a pleasant addition. Overall, he'll keep his mouth shut on what Danny did for the sake of everyone in the family and for his own peace.

Danny's mother on the other hand is quite involved when it comes to you. Your her daughter in-law! Ain't that something? It's kind of clear that she doesn't like you from the beginning, but she can't get rid of you and sweep you under the rug in the way she'd like. If it was up to her, you'd be headed for some backwater clinic before being shipped off to the big city, never to be seen again. But Danny loves you, and she can't exactly stop him without risking putting him in jail or having their reputation ruined. So, you stay, much to her resentment.

Second to Danny, she spends the most time with you. She's a housewife as well, so she helps you learn how to take care of a proper household for once. Your manners and demeanor are awful in her opinion. You're too skittish and sad looking! So what if you've been forced to marry your stalker? Don't you know how many other girls would've killed for this, young lady? Just like her husband, though, she becomes more fond of you over time. Once you're settled in and start meekly accepting her offers to bake, clean, and do general busy work with her, she starts actually seeing you not as her son's property, but as her daughter. She had all boys after all, so it's nice to have another girl in the house. She keeps tabs on you for Danny, sending him candid photos of you and the baby once it arrives. Now that she actually likes you, sweeping the whole thing under the rug changes to include keeping you as well.

Danny has little sibling as well: two younger brothers. They're both far younger than him, and they don't really have an opinion of you one way or another. You just kind of... appeared in their house one day. Their mom and dad started stressing for a while, and you didn't seem too happy either, so what was this whole deal? I think they'd be very kind to you initially, bothering you to play and sharing sweets when they wished to, and they're both curious and annoyed about the fact that a baby is going to join them soon.

I think that while the siblings don't learn about what happened to you, their perception of love and morality would be heavily skewed by the fact that you, being scared and held in the house against your will, and their big brother are presented as the pinnacle of romance.

Overall, you'd be accepted, but there are definitely a lot of strings attached to that.

The kids

I think Danny really loves his kids with you. Or rather, he loves the idea of having a family more than he actually would the kids themselves. He's always had this dream that the two of you would be lost in a fluffy, domestic bliss until the day you died, and part of that meant a few little ones running around.

He's a good dad in the sense that he'd always be there for them. He'd take them to games, to dance practice, teach them how to work in the fields and buy them gifts. He's very present, but it's always with an undercurrent of control. You don't want to ruin this happy family, do you now? Your kids love their father, they love this happy home, so don't you dare think about leaving, okay?

In addition, I think that Danny would have a really hard time dealing with a kid that deviated from what he considered to be "normal" or "traditional". Part of his whole power in their very conservative town is that his family is a paragon of tradition and "societal values". It's how he trapped the reader after all. But if his kids threatened that balance of power by trying to leave the farm, go to the city, or be anything other that what he'd been trying to turn them into, I think he would genuinely lose it. His kids are not people to him, they are ideas and pawns that he'd become attached to.

If the kids turned out to be more like him in possessive, controlling behavior, then I think then he'd probably recognize them as their own individuals rather than just an fantasy he had for a legacy or a life with the reader.

[str4wb3rrysw3etheart]

Do you think you could write hcs of the boys at prom? 🥹 (post comic book store fire, since in the lore they didn’t go the first time)

OFCC!!!

Sfw ♡

Cw: suggestive in Petes and bills, bill needs to be pegged/j, usage of slut, Josh has a binge ed

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Bill

♡Did not want to go.. his mom barely let him go, but decided he needed to hang out with someone ..

♡He stands with you in the corner at the food table, eating the occasional snack, and complaining that his tie was too tight (his mom made him dress up)

♡If you try to dance with him, he will blush from embarrassment and refuse, saying that it's dumb.. just make him he's pathetic (I love him)

♡Try to kiss him? Hes bright red. He chewed four packs of gum and brushed his teeth for 30 minutes to prepare for this, but still..

♡He stares.. a lot, he finds you so domestic in a dress, and he feels manly. He yaps about how good of a house wife you'd be..

♡He sulks in the corner if you go off to talk to someone else.. you're litterally his only friend there.

♡Will ask to go to the bathroom (to get lucky..) multiple times. Unless you say yes he gets whiner and whiner each time

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Pete

♡Finds the whole thing stupid, but goes, he doesn't wanna upset the only women to EVER talk to him..

♡Dances with you, and tries to be romantic, but kinda sucks at it.. just making sexual (and slightly objectifying ..) remarks

♡Doesn't dress up at all. He's wearing his normal clothes..

♡Refuses to let you go off with your friends, following you around, not really interested in your friends in the slightest.. what good are they anyway?

♡Tries to ... well.. get lucky with you at the end of the dance (if you want more details thats another fic)

♡If you kiss him he's just a bit too into it.. he sucks at it though.. (teaching Pete how to kiss fic coming up??/hj)

calls you horrendous petnames the whole time (women , sugar, slut)

♡Lowkey he makes you leave early and watches a movie with you instead, complaing that there were too many normies there..

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Josh

♡VERY nervous to go to prom.. he made his mom do his hair, spent two hours cleaning himself up, and practicing how to kiss and what to say in the mirror..

♡Forgets all that he practiced as he sees you, You're the prettiest thing he's ever seen..

♡Tends to eat a lot of food out of his nervousness, so best believe he is by that snack table..

♡When you try to dance with him, he sucks at it. Stepping on your feet and tripping the whole time.. he has clearly never done this before

♡When you kiss him, he doesn't reciprocate at first, freezing up, he eventually leans into it, I'll admit a bit messily, but he's okay at kissing

♡Nervous rambles the whole time, he can't shut up. Normally he goes silent from anxiety, but I guess if he can't give you a minute alone with your thoughts you won't decide to leave him because you can't think about it

♡Once he gets more comfortable, he sweats a bit less, still on edge, but trusts you.. happy to be there with someone he loves.

♡Definitely called you milady at least once. Wanting to cry from embarrassment when you laughed.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

Jerry

♡Actually went there mostly on his own accord , didn't take much convincing when you asked

♡He is still a bit awkward the whole time, but he tries to mask it, acting confident as if he didn't cry over his hair not looking right for you 20 minutes ago..

♡Is most familiar with dancing, he's been to plenty of weddings for family members he doesn't remember

♡When you kiss him, he kisses back almost immediately, but you can feel how sweaty his palms are

♡Actually makes an effort to seem.. normal? While there. Talking with your friends if you bring them over, and being respectful of you wanting space

♡Tries to drink the punch, and it ends up being spiked and is so wobbly is almost comical. He is a huge lightweight

♡Compliments your dress like 15 times, trying to cover up that's why he was staring, and not anything else... nooo...

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷꒦꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ๋ ࣭ ⭑꒷

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: NSFW, yandere

♡ gn reader

You’re attracted to Bakugou for many reasons – he’s tall and ripped and handsome and a bit of an asshole – but really, what you like about him most is that he doesn't seem like he’d be too much trouble. And you mean that in many ways. 

You’ve been in relationships before, and none of them have ended on good terms – always leading to deep upsets and disappointments. You’d come to the realization that boys, on any level that wasn’t purely sexual, were something you didn’t really need or want at the moment – which is why Bakugou, in all his disinterested glory, was just perfect for you. 

He’d fold you in half in filthy places like the locker room or bathroom or in his smoke-steeped car – making your heart beat from the thrill without that nagging feeling of being underappreciated because, well, you didn’t really care. He wasn’t your boyfriend and you weren’t committed to each other in any serious way, so there really weren’t any grounds for standards or expectations – it was just sex – carnal ball-clapping sweaty sex �� pure and simple and just what you needed. No more, no less.

You didn’t go on dates or meet each other's parents or give each other chocolate on Valentine's Day or any other presents on any other holiday – you didn’t even hang out aside from seeing each other at parties and sometimes in the school hallways. He’d cock his head with a grin, and you’d smile coyly up through your lashes, and you’d meet in the handicapped bathrooms between classes to get drilled over the sink with your face smudged against the cool mirror.

It's only when he starts knowing things about you that you grow a little stiff with your arrangement - things he couldn’t possibly know from you as you’d never cared to speak about your private life. And sure, some of those things he could have easily found out through your social media standing – which already makes you feel a little iffy – but there are other things he’ll slip out, specifics about your interests and classes and whereabouts and the stuff you do with your friends – stuff you’re positive you’ve not posted anywhere. 

When you asked him about it, halfway jokingly with a somewhat nervous laugh, he’d only quirked a brow and brushed it off, insisting you’d been the one that told him. And you, despite being sure he’s lying, decide to believe it anyway. Because what the two of you have right now is still good – much better than any other fuck-friend you’d had before. Katsuki makes you so wet, and he's always so able to just pound your orgasm right out of you. 

If payment is small talk, you can humor him.

But then the sex becomes a little dull. Instead of his fist wrapping tight around your throat, he’s now sucking gentle love bites into the skin. And he no longer has his hand in your hair, forcing your face down against a cold surface with nails digging into your scalp to keep you still while fucking you fast and selfishly from behind.

Both his hands are instead holding you around the waist, keeping your body skin-to-skin against his chest as he gently lolls you on his lap – so slow you can’t even feel your heart – so slow you’re still breathing through your nose. He hasn’t slapped your ass once, and it’s beginning to get a little sad.

You want to tell him that you want him to fuck you like he’s a dirty cop and you’re a criminal resisting arrest – and not this old married couple shit. But you also don’t want to be rude. 

However, after all the one-sided heart-to-hearts he’d sat you through lately – spending more time chatting than making you cum – you were left feeling a little awkward, honestly. And between that and how he’d started texting you goodnights at eight-thirty – you were afraid he’d lost his original raw sex appeal.

He’s become so pedestrian in your eyes he might as well have been wearing glasses and a sweater vest.

You let him finish without saying anything – but you can't deny you’re happy when you feel him finally blow his load.

Dismounting him, you jump to your seat in the car and pull your underwear back up without a word.

It’s silent while he lights a smoke and rolls down his window – his hand coming to rest on your thigh after.

You look out your own window, your face in your palm while you think. And then talk. “I think… we need to stop.”

He's a little busy with his cigarette, but still, he answers, casually. “Stop what?” Smoke goes out his mouth and up his nostrils, then out again.

“This.” You answer. “Fucking.”

The hand on your thigh stirs and you catch him shifting his head to look at you, but you don’t return the gesture – keeping your eyes fixed on the puddle peppering with raindrops out on the empty parking lot the two of you’ve often spent time burning rubber drifting donuts before making the windows steamy.

“Why?” He eventually says. Flicking the spent filter out onto the wet pavement. Rolling the window back up and leaving the both of you in a way too tense silence of muted rain.

You sigh, leaning back against the headrest. “We’re not strangers anymore... It’s just getting a little boring.”

He taps another cigarette up from his box but doesn’t light it – just rolls it around in his fingers with his head bowed. “Boring, huh?” He repeats. And then there’s a pause. 

A hefty pause. A silent one that lasts a little too long and makes you forget the subject in favor of thinking about other things – like, had your roommate done the dishes this time, or were they still on the counter?

“What if I lock the car and drive us off a cliff?” He breaks through your thoughts, and this time, it’s you who turns your head. Looking at him while he still fingers the same slim roll in his hands – mumbling to it, it would seem. “I’ll laugh, you’ll scream… and maybe I’ll light this cig’ while we’re in the air…”

He sighs – as though what he’d just said was not what he’d said – then copies your action, letting his head fall back to rest against the leather – his face blank and his breath steady.

“If you fuck someone else, I’ll break their face.”

This time you blink when staring at him – face riddled, doubting what you were hearing come out of his mouth. “You what?”

“If- you fuck- someone else…” He repeats slowly. “I- will break- their face.” He says it so calmly you’re still unsure whether you heard him right. “Understand?” He asks – chin cocked up while glancing at you from the corner of his red eyes. “I won't stop punching until their teeth are on the ground and their eyes are so bloated and bloody they can no longer see who it is that’s throwing the hits.”

You blink a few more times. Stunned into a stupor, picturing it with parted lips without any words escaping them.

He rolls down the window again and puts the smoke between his lips.

And while he lights it and blows the roof full of grey, you’re still hung up on the image…

Maybe Bakugou wasn’t as boring as you thought.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

Full altered fic with smut available here:

[ohhowjooniewept]

tension, brothers best friend

jungkook x y/n

he wasn’t yours, he could never be and yet it stifled you to see what effect he had on you. if only you knew that your heart had already belonged to him, lodged in a tight grip.

���—————

sweaty bodies and the stench of cheap alcohol littered in the air, bodies pressed into one another. why you were here, goodness knew, but your eyes were trailing over the figure quietly mixing drinks. head down low and fingers moving skilfully. you’d recognise the tension in his shoulders from a mile away, his shadow a constant reminder of the thump behind your eyes. for someone so inconspicuous, it was clear this environment welcomed him.

“i’m going to see some friends, okay?” your older brother murmured over to you, breaking you out of your trance. you looked away from the figure in the kitchen, instead peering upwards. “try to mingle, put yourself out there y/n. please.” he grinned, all too wide and all too knowing with a ruffle of your head

you weren’t a child, you wish he would understand. it was by choice that you didn’t enter these parties. you wish he understood he was only older by two years, that you too faced the height of your early twenties alongside him as opposed to beneath him.

“i’m not a dog.” you grumbled, pushing him away to which he laughed, already turning towards his group of friends which were in the direction of the boy from earlier.

he wasn’t there anymore, although your heart continued to thrum loudly in your chest. you knew who he was, of course you did. his presence had always quietly roamed your mind, your heart, your very fucking soul. jungkook, your older brother’s quiet friend. the same friend that would stare so deeply into your eyes, you were sure he had seen something you had already desperately locked away.

you found your feet walking towards the drinks, where he had once stood, fingers ghosting over the same bottles. you could never have him, this much you knew - but the warmth in your head matched that of the warmth between your thighs, all encompassing.

if only you had noticed him, watching you. sipping, silently, as your brother bellowed and whooped behind him. turn around, he wanted to whisper. look at me, he wanted to beg. dance with me, he wanted to scream.

———

it didn’t take long for jungkook to feel that horrible feeling of pure intensity that often pooled in his stomach, and lower, at the mere sight of you. it took even less time for it to be replaced by a green monster, gripping his throat and chest like a vice as he watched men approach you, in hopes of gaining your attention.

you weren’t his, that would be the correct thing to say. but he was lovesick, he had been infiltrated by the scent of your shampoo and glossy eyes since over a decade ago, and though you had shared no more than a dozen hello’s in that time, he was enamoured. his girl. his. all his.

your brother was drunk, and though jungkook adored him, he couldn’t help but feel annoyed by his presence. he knew you would never voluntarily attend a party like this, too sweaty and much too busy for anyone to really enjoy themselves. why would he convince you to come only to abandon you? that sounded like him.

he watched as the man in front of you began stepping closer to you, whilst your lips pursed. you weren’t interested, but it did little to soothe the ache in his chest. the boys next to him were getting rowdier, the alcohol doing its job in exciting them whilst jungkook stood against the wall, drink in hand.

he watched as the man reached for you, his hand gripping your hip to which you pushed against his chest, eyebrows furrowed and mouth turned downwards. jungkook’s brain stopped working for a moment, finding himself moving before he could even think, his feet taking him to you.

you noticed him immediately, taller than the boy in front and much wider. you couldn’t help the droop in your eyes, nor the exhale that left you. relief, or thrill? the mere sight of him drove you insane.

“you shouldn’t touch what doesn’t belong to you.” jungkook murmured, once the guy turned around. big eyes darkened and body tensing, a display of anger that would frighten anyone.

“o-oh..jungkook?” he stuttered. “my bad, bro, d-didn’t know she was yours.”

you both watched as he rushed away, your heart lurching violently at his response. yours. yours. yours. what did he mean? how could he say such a thing? come back, you wanted to scream, explain what you mean. give me the answer you can’t bring yourself to ask.

it wasn’t that jungkook was overtly terrifying, but the boy hardly spoke to anyone that wasn’t in his immediate circle. he was always brooding, eyes dark and face blank - it unnerved people. that enough was a deterrent, and for that, he was thankful.

you looked back at him, finally, to find him already staring.

one step. two. three. he stood in front of you, not touching, but bodies too close to be deemed anything other than inappropriate. he had never seen you so close, though he had dreamt it, wished for it. when he would close his eyes and fist his cock, it was you he would think of, mouth parted and large orbs staring.

his hands reached out, hovering over your hips where the other man had previously touched you. he knew, to place them there, to touch you, would be enough to drive him insane.

you lifted your own hands, eyes never leaving his, shaking as they hovered over his own before pushing them. placing them on your hips. you both exhaled.

“you shouldn’t be here.” he murmured.

“yes. well, i am.” you replied, hands over his whilst his grip tightened.

“maybe i should take you home.”

you tried your hardest to remember to breathe. he had only ever really said hello to you, and now you were face to face, breath mingling, bodies touching.

“why?” you pushed.

“because. more of them will come. they like pretty girls.” he found himself gritting out. you noticed a twitch in his cheek, a break in his usually blank facade.

you exhaled again, hands shaking on top of his own. “you think i’m pretty?” you whispered.

“you don’t want to know what i think, y/n.” he breathed, his eyes suddenly scrunching. he had only had a sip of alcohol, nothing more, but he felt alive.

you shook your head. “tell me.” you begged.

“i’ll take you home.”

“no.” you shook your head. “you don’t like them speaking to me?”

jungkook found himself pushing forwards. he was thankful the party was so busy, your brother and his friends completely oblivious to the quiet tension fiercely burning in the corner of the room between you both. he looked at you, lips pursing before shaking his head in a no.

“but girls speak to you.” you found yourself gritting out.

“i don’t let them. never.” he denied instantly, shaking his head. the thought insulted him. they weren’t you.

oh. oh.

“me? i’m a girl…” your voice was getting quieter and quieter, perhaps subconsciously. it made him dip his head closer.

“my girl.” he whispered back at you.

your breath hitched, eyes peering upwards and fingers shifting. they found home on the expanse of his chest, to which you could feel the thumping of his heart beneath your palms.

“but..but we can’t.” you weakly protested. you both knew it was a terrible argument. jungkook loved your brother, and despite his infatuation with you being founded within mere polite exchanges, he would choose you a million times.

“i’m taking you home.” he simply replied, hands pushing your hips closer to him. your chests touched, your hands cradled between you both.

“only…” you started, licking your lips. “only if you stay.”

he simply closed his eyes, exhaling deeply as his forehead pressed against yours. it was akin to finally allowing himself a piece of heaven that once sat within distance but too far away to reach out to. you were here. he could feel you, so intimately. you. you. you. you. you. you.

“i won’t leave.” his eyes opened, gaze burning.

you nodded up at him, moving against his own head to which he finally found his lips quirking upwards, just slightly. only for you. his girl.

[medievalandfantasymelee]

👑🌹Queen of Love and Beauty🌹👑

Round 4: 2 of 2

The Queen of Love and Beauty shall hold the honour of presenting unto the winner of the Tournament his Champion's Coronet.

Vote for the lady who, to you, best exemplifies feminine dignity, grace and loveliness.

The two contenders with the most votes will advance.

Éowyn of Rohan, The Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003) Portrayed by: Miranda Otto

My Lady Èowyn has & can do it all -- whether loopholing a prophecy to vanquish a walking nightmare, supporting a noble shortarse unfairly deprived of his own stabortunities, or gardening (established by S.Gamgee as a profession for confirmed badasses) (also lbr, blades & pest control, she's all over it). & whether resplendent in a court dress or grimed & sweaty on the battlefield, she's 😍Glorious😍, just ask Faramir aka the Dude Who Gets It. In short: She HAS the RAGE darling (not a typo).

Lady Marian Fitzwalter, The Adventures of Robin Hood (1938) Portrayed by: Olivia de Havilland

I love Maid Marian’s arc in the 1938 Robin Hood so much. Because this film makes clear that retelling everything from her perspective would also be really interesting. And it makes this clearest in a scene less than 20 minutes from the conclusion, a final act heightening of tension. This film. The Normans are Nazi-coded, and in the lead-up to the final showdown, when Prince John is going to get himself illegitimately crowned as dictator king, Marian is arrested for the treasonous crime of… trying to inform the rightful king.... [This propaganda is excerpted; read the full post here.]

Princess Buttercup, The Princess Bride (1987) Portrayed by: Robin Wright

[Full Propaganda Under the Cut] Everything Buttercup does, she does for Love. There is none more fit to wear this crown. Cast your votes as you will, my friends, but I know which Lady I champion in this tourney.

For Princess Buttercup:

"I must speak on behalf of Her Highness Princess Buttercup. All she does, she does for love. She loses Westley and so loses the will to live, or truly care if she marries Humperdinck or not -- but when her Westley returns to her, she looks him square in the eye and says "...you're alive. If you asked me, I could fly." And then, at the end of the film, she does. She flies! Floating softly as a feather from the tower window, down to where Fezzik waits with the horses.

"She sacrifices her own happiness to save Westley's life, giving herself over to Humperdinck in exchange. But she never loses faith that Westley will rescue her from the evil Prince -- until the wedding is unfairly rushed to a close. In her lowest moment, she braces to make one last sacrifice, because now -- now that Westley lives -- she cannot bear to be wed to someone she does not love. But Westley appears again to rescue her, and together they escape, but the chase ends at the window. There's no way out but a sheer drop that reaches several stories, surely fatal.

"And Buttercup -- beautiful, faithful, loving Buttercup -- turns to smile at her Farm Boy. She lifts herself to the windowsill... And leaps.

"It is a leap of faith, and what is love if not that? She sails downward, ethereal, gentle as a first kiss. She makes her impossible declaration real, all because she has her Westley at her side."

[princessbrunette]

mascot!jj had charmed you.

he had handed you the party invite whilst wearing the full mascot get up, sweaty hair stuck to his head, cheeks flushed post game, tongue wetting his lips. jj was an odd one, the rules were different at college. you can be a dork, a mascot for the sports team — but if you were likeable, charming, and cute — you’d still get invited places.

“better see you there, i’m like, so serious.” he’d grinned when he placed the flier in your hand, eyes lingering before he runs off to hand out more.

now there you were, watching him be a social butterfly — shyly stood at his side with a tight dress on. it was nice to see him without the big mascot costume, now stood there — looking alot less sweaty, the college sweatshirt on, a cap sat snugly backwards on his head. you already knew he was cute and charming, but tonight you were seeing him in a different light. the type that made you down your drink a lot quicker, needing that buzz of confidence.

you were aware of rafe’s presence at this party, and that he wanted you — so naturally he wasn’t very happy about seeing you lingering around jj the whole night. the cameron boy was already pretty gone by the time you’d turned up, so it was hard to keep his attention for too long anyway — rafe getting sucked into beer pong with the boys or worse, disappearing to the bathroom and reappearing fifteen minutes later sniffing and playing with his nose. he’d give you a sweaty five minutes, grinding up behind you on the dance floor before running off to force his friends to ‘chug.’

but you had jj’s attention. he didn’t miss a beat.

when it came to passing around a joint, he practically smacked it out of his friends hand to grab at it.

“dude, seriously — y’gotta offer it to the lady first. where are your manners? like…” he scolds, shaking his head before holding it up with raised brows. “care for some greens m’lady?” he presents, making you giggle. you lower your voice, a little embarrassed.

“i’ve never done that before.”

he’s quick, eyes widening and jerking his hand away. “oh— forget it then. it’s gone. s’totally cool we don’t gotta—”

“wait— no i… i wanna try… with you.” you bring your hands to a clasp on your lap, lifting your shoulders shyly as if to bat away the eyes on your interaction, and you physically watch him melt. not only in relief, but in adoration.

“wh— really? don’t feel like you have to. i’m cool either way.”

you take two tokes and you’re done, and jj is indeed cool with it. chuckling as he takes it away from you, he brings it to his own mouth, inhaling before blowing away from you and standing up. “y’know what? sometimes two is like, more than enough. gettin’ you some water ‘kay, two secs.”

you’re all warm and hazy as you watch him walk away, grinning ear to ear as you don’t even acknowledge rafe shoulder checking him as they pass eachother, saying something you don’t hear. jj flips him off as he walks on, and that’s that. you’ve never had two guys fight over you before, and though usually you hate the attention being on you, even when you’re up dancing on that field— you couldn’t help but feel some arousal stirring inside you. it was nice to feel wanted.

maybe that’s why you downed your drink, why that shyness started to drain your body, why you ended up in some sorority chicks walk in closet, practically climbing jj maybank as you frantically overlap tongues.

you can’t believe the words flying from your mouth as you pant wetly in his ear, so beside yourself you couldn’t believe it. his hand is stuffed down your panties, jaw dropping when he really acknowledges how soaked you are. “wanna— wanna suck you off, jayj.” you moan, and even in the moment you know you sound like a desperate pornstar. jj physically shudders, eyes screwing shut like he could cum right there.

“you— okay— i mean there’s no way like you’re impossibly hot and should be seriously like… not interested in me dude — sorry not dude, you’re not a— whatever, lemme make you cum— see how ya feel after.”

he shakes his head at his own rambling, dropping a quick kiss to your cheek when you freeze to listen to him with wide glossy eyes, biting his lip and scrunching his nose in concentration as he extends his arm a little more, trying to find that spot. surprisingly, it seemed like he’d done this quite a few times before. if you weren’t so aroused, your stomach might’ve twisted in jealousy.

he sinks his middle finger inside you, and extends his thumb to dust little circles over your clit and your knees buckle, jaw dropping. he supports more of your weight, nodding knowingly. “yup. theeere it is. alright, lemme get you right mama.”

and that he did.

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 8

[chap seven] | [all chapters here] | [chap nine]

Summary | You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

Warnings & Notes | fem reader, slow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, not-quite-enemies-to-lovers

Author's Note | I am NOT in control of myself when I write, this chapter took on a mind of it's own. I didn't plan for it to go this way, but boy do I love the drama that unfolded anyway. I hope you all suffer just as much as I did lmao~~

WC | 4.9k

Chapter Eight

Instead of your usual midmorning trek to fourth period with Eddie, the two of you - and the rest of the student body - were making your way to the gymnasium for another redundant pep assembly come Monday morning.

Even before you became disenchanted with the superficiality of the popular crowd, you detested assemblies. You actually preferred being in class over being crammed into the gym with a bunch of sweaty teenagers all halfheartedly cheering for the next upcoming sports game or student council election. Even when you were considered an It Girl, even when you were dating Duncan, you still found the whole school spirit thing to be total bullshit. You never cared for the false excitement and encouragement; it was a waste of your time.

This particular pep assembly was thrown together to officially announce the homecoming theme for this year. Why that task required a whole hour of time was beyond you. If past years were anything to go by, then the actual announcements would be wrapped up within fifteen minutes and the remaining time would be wasted on cheerleading routines and jazz band performances.

After ditching the student council some three weeks ago, you cared even less about all this shit than you did before - what interest did you have in celebrating the reveal of some stupid theme inspired by pop music or cheesy dance movies? You’d already decided you sure as shit wouldn’t be attending the school dance, so why was it obligatory for the entire school to attend this assembly in the first place? The heavy-handed force upon students to participate in school activities was something you had never understood, even when you yourself were a part of those groups that lived and breathed school spirit.

As you entered the gymnasium, you stole a glance at Eddie, who appeared just as disinterested as you as his eyes darted around to take in the awaiting student council and their eager smiles. His arm was resting lazily over your shoulder, which you were finally becoming accustomed to, to the point that you would nearly forget it was there sometimes. Hell, you were almost beginning to enjoy having Eddie’s arm there, not that you’d tell him that or even spend a minute wondering why that was.

“I still think we have time to run out of here before anyone notices.” You suggest, drawing a fake look of reprimand from Eddie; he grinned at both your blatant detachment and at your eagerness to skip school for the second time within a week.

“And miss out on everyone acting so impressed by whatever dumb idea they have now? Not a chance.” He teased while guiding you towards the far end of the bleachers. As a pouty scowl crossed your face, Eddie helped you up the steps to take seats just a few rows from the front.

While you impatiently waited for this damn assembly to finally start, Eddie’s friends slowly filtered into the gymnasium as well, each approaching you two with the same apprehension they’d had when they first met you. These guys were still clearly intimidated by you, and you still hadn’t taken the time to open up to them. As Jeff awkwardly shuffled onto the bench in front of you, your knees brushed against his back thanks to just how cramped the bleachers already were; you pulled back from the contact, twisting your body as best you could so that your knees could rest against the side of Eddie’s thigh instead. You didn’t catch the way he smirked to himself about it, content to see that you were shying away from contact with him less and less than you had before.

As the last of the stragglers entered, a trio of freshmen walked towards your group, clearly going for the last few seats in front of you; just as you were nearly prepared to tell them to buzz off and sit elsewhere, Eddie cherrily greeted them with clear recognition. You looked between the boys’ faces with critical puzzlement before turning to Eddie expectantly.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with freshmen.” You said as if it was a dirty word. Upon seeing the way your brow curved with judgment, Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if silently asking you to please not scare these kids; when you glanced at their faces again, you figured it was too late for that.

The boys awkwardly squeezed into the bleachers, looking back over their shoulders so they could converse with the rest of the losers club that you were now a pseudo-member of. One of the boys accidentally met your watchful gaze, causing him to trip over his words as he quickly wrenched his eyes away. You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lips - you knew you were always intimidating, but you still found amusement in how people reacted to you.

Your eyes narrowed in realization as you continued to stare at the boy, who clearly was trying to engage in conversation as if he couldn’t tell you were watching him, “You’re Nancy’s brother, aren’t you?”

The whole group looked at you, the freshman in particular seeming wary to speak to you considering your straightforward and cold aura, “You know Nancy?”

You tilted your head at the way he asked the question, which seemed to make him a little more nervous, so you taunted, “Why do you sound so surprised?”

As the Wheeler kid looked as if he were searching for the right response, Eddie gave you a little nudge, to which you gave him a faux look of innocence. The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer before Eddie returned his attention to the younger boys he was clearly attempting to befriend.

“Don’t let her scare you,” he started in a lighthearted tone, similar to the one he’d used with Gareth the week prior. He leaned down towards the group conspiratorially with a funny grin, feigning a dramatic whisper, “fear only makes her stronger.”

The group laughed a little, Eddie seeming to put them at ease; you jabbed your elbow into his ribcage as he straightened back up, sharing an amused look with you. At the same time, the cheerleaders started on some generic, peppy routine out on the basketball court, drawing the crowd’s attention as they shook their pom-poms and called out school chants. As you assessed the cheerleading squad with dispassion, you unconsciously relaxed into Eddie’s side just a little; over your shoulder, Eddie grinned to himself.

Once the cheerleaders wrapped up their set and students began to clap eagerly, the class president, Duncan - the vice president - and a couple more members of the council took to the court. You couldn’t help but sneer as you watched Duncan smile widely, clapping the class president on the shoulder as the crowd began to quiet down. The president - a good friend of Duncan’s named Trent - made a show of hushing everyone, as if whatever he had to say was of the most dire significance.

As you watched them, you found yourself wondering how you had the patience to put up with all of this in the past. Did you ever actually enjoy the false comradery, the sense of importance, the trivial joys of a school dance? Or were you just blindly going along with all of it in order to continue fitting in, to continue maintaining those flimsy friendships?

“Good morning Hawkins High!” Trent started into the microphone in his hand, rousing the crowd for another few moments as Duncan spoke into the second mic.

“We can’t thank you enough for your excitement so far!” You rolled your eyes with pursed lips, sharing a judgmental look with Eddie that caused you both to smile, “Now, I know everyone’s been eagerly awaiting this year’s homecoming, but we’ve got some more exciting news to go over before we announce the theme.”

Eddie tipped his head so that he could talk in your ear, ensuring that you could hear him clearly over Trent and Duncan’s speech, “This was the guy you dated for half a year?’

His taunting led to another jab of your elbow, causing him to cough out in surprise while pulling back to give you an exaggerated wounded look. He leaned back in to continue.

“He’s so… vapid.”

You mirrored Eddie, turning your own head so you could speak in his ear, “Honestly, I think I tuned out at least 80% of his bullshit.”

You could feel his small laugh against your ear, “That’s generous of you.”

“My patience hadn’t entirely run out at that point.” You responded while trying to eye Eddie in your periphery, feeling his hair tickle your cheek, “I guess I was good at pretending.”

“You still are, princess.” Eddie pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, as if to emphasize his point. You were still pretending, after all, just in a different way than before. In the midst of this conversation, how could you have momentarily forgotten that this whole thing with Eddie was a sham?

Righting yourself quickly, you smirked, hoping that Eddie hadn’t detected that singular moment of hesitation and confusion that you suppressed, “Well, you’re much more fun to pretend with.”

You turned your attention to the student council for a brief second as Trent was finally rambling on about the homecoming theme for the year - Footloose, of all things. You could still feel Eddie’s eyes trained on you, and in that moment you weren’t exactly fond of him staring; it caused you to squirm a little in your seat as you feigned total ignorance of his watchful gaze studying you.

“So I am fun?” Eddie teased, drawing your attention back to him, “Careful there, princess, you’re starting to reveal that you aren’t so bad under that icy exterior.”

Despite the roll of your eyes, you grinned at Eddie’s remark, playfully nudging him.

Out on the basketball court, Duncan took over from Trent, and you caught him saying it was time to announce the nominations for homecoming king and queen; the only reason you even spared him another glance was because he listed himself and Amelia, of all people, as the first couple on the docket. Since when were they a couple? That felt like an intentional jab at you, but on the other hand, you figured they didn’t care enough to insult you in this way. Right?

Returning your attention to Eddie, you raised a playful brow, ignoring Duncan’s voice as he droned on, “Don’t start telling people I’m nice, Munson, you’ll ruin my reputation.”

He dipped his head with a devilish, scheming look, “Isn’t that my job? To ruin your reputation?”

As you opened your mouth to give him some smart reply, you suddenly heard yours and Eddie’s names leaving Duncan’s mouth, a confused hush falling over the crowd as only a scatter of people halfheartedly clapped. Your stomach dropped as your eyes widened in realization, Eddie’s expression a mirror of yours. You both slowly looked towards Duncan, meeting his eyes from across the gym; he stared back with a histrionic, false smile, obviously playing innocent for the crowd. But you knew him well enough to recognize the mean, challenging glint in his eyes.

Your eyes slowly scanned the cluster of students on the gym floor - Amelia was now standing with Duncan (and giving you a blatantly supercilious look), Jason Carver stood with his long-time girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham, and star student Todd Stephens was arm-in-arm with Veronica Schneider. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest as realization set in, prompting a look of frustration and dread to befall your face.

Duncan brought the microphone back up to his lips, putting on an all too innocent voice as he held your eyes, “Well, are you two lovebirds going to join us? Come on, don’t leave everyone hanging.”

Duncan put you and Eddie on the ballot for homecoming king and queen.

Anxiety twisted at your gut as you grew hot with anger, your harsh eyes unblinking as you stared Duncan down; and he just looked back with that stupid grin of his. You were never one to feel self-conscious, to feel embarrassed, but in that moment, you recognized just how quickly you’d fallen from grace. Humiliation was not a feeling you’d known before, but in this moment you suddenly felt as if you were drowning in.

And you knew that’s exactly what Duncan wanted.

God, you wanted to give him a piece of your fucking mind. You wanted to march right up to him, jab him in the chest with your manicured finger, and make him wish he hadn’t dared challenge you in front of the entire school. And yet, you were frozen in place, trapped in this imbalanced staring contest with Duncan as he continued to play at innocence.

Beside you, you felt Eddie tense up, his arm having fallen from your shoulder at some point, perhaps in total disbelief. But you couldn’t bring yourself to even look at him, to try to gauge what exactly was going through his head - you were too busy staring at Duncan as if your eyes could possibly cause him harm. Your hands formed into fists of rage, your jaw clenching as you were about ready to just to your feet and decimate Duncan with your words.

But as he’d proven himself to be good at time and time again, Eddie beat you to the punch, raising a hand to his mouth in order to project his words, “You know we’d beat all of you!”

You whipped your gaze to Eddie abruptly, surprise causing some of the tension in your face to mellow out. From this close, you could see the apprehension in Eddie’s eyes, the worry hidden there, but to the rest of the school you were certain he looked as if he was entirely too relaxed and composed about this whole confrontation.

Eddie briefly glanced at you, but quickly returned his gaze to Duncan challenging, “The rest of you wouldn’t stand a chance against us!”

A wave of laughter passed through the crowd of students, but you weren't certain if they were laughing with Eddie or at him. Duncan shared a look with the rest of the homecoming court, smiling mockingly at each of them before returning his attention to the two of you; you wondered if he was truly as confident as he looked.

“You think so?” Duncan called back with contempt, daring Eddie to continue. Without realizing what you were doing, you pressed your hand atop Eddie’s knee as if it were a warning, silently asking him not to egg Duncan on. Despite your impulsive desire to jump to your feet and attack Duncan yourself, you couldn’t picture any possible way for this whole melodrama to turn in your favor.

“I’d bet on it!” Eddie challenged again, managing a rather convincing bold smile. Your chest twisted again, your cheeks growing warm with both rage and edginess.

Duncan made a cocky face, finally looking away from you and Eddie to address the crowd as if this was all just a part of the show, as if you and Eddie had played your part and he was now done with you, “Well, we’ll leave it up to all of you! Voting begins today, so come find the student council during lunch hours to place your votes!”

The crowd seemed to lull back into ease as Duncan and Trent continued onto the next phase of information, acting like the past few minutes hadn’t put even the slightest of dents in the assembly festivities. As excitement began to build back up in the crowd, you sat in a daze, still trying to process this entire fucking thing.

Your hand still rested atop Eddie’s knee, and you must have unconsciously squeezed your fingers a little too roughly into his skin, because you heard Eddie hiss beside you. He grabbed your wrist to remove your hand, drawing your eyes to his; you stared at each other with blatant confusion and upset, and it was muddling your brain, making it impossible to think straight.

“Hey--” Eddie started, but you abruptly wrenched your wrist out of his hand and shot to your feet, shoving past all of Eddie’s friends as you stumbled the most straight path accessible down the bleachers. Although the student council continued to speak exuberantly to the crowd, you could feel the intense stares of so many of your peers following you as you quickly stormed out of a set of double doors.

You marched away from the gymnasium with a vexed shine in your eyes, your face red hot with frustration. You couldn’t believe what Duncan just pulled on you, still couldn’t quite come to terms with how shitty that whole thing was - was the entire student council in on this, too? Did they all share a collective laugh when Duncan suggested this disrespectful prank? Had Janet even attempted to say anything in defense of you?

God, you nearly shouted with rage. You thought walking away from your tormentor would help you calm down, but in some stroke of cruelty being alone with your thoughts only made them worse. The fact that someone you once considered a friend - someone you once dated - would make a joke of you in front of everyone was easily one of the more painful things you had to endure.

With an exacerbated sigh, you stopped your incessant marching, considering this whole fucking situation with gritted teeth - in some twisted way, you had gotten what you wanted. After all, it was you who wanted to become some kind of social pariah, you who wanted to be cast out by everyone you thought you knew.

It sure as shit wasn’t supposed to happen like this though. It’s not as if you were exactly thinking ahead when you decided to become completely detached from everyone, but you had never considered that you’d be treated callously. No, like a fool you had hoped that all the popular kids would simply ignore you and pretend that you had never even existed, moving on with their lives as if they’d never even met you. Evidently, your former friends were far more cruel than you’d given them credit for.

Trying to pull yourself together, you leaned against the nearest wall, massaging your temple with your fingertips while breathing deeply. You were the ice princess, the chick who always got away with being cold and bitchy and rude, but you realized in this moment that your reign was most certainly over. Despite your penchant for opinionated crassness, you had never truly been the type to flare with anger as you had today; but of course it would be Duncan to cause this surge of outrage within you.

And you were stupid enough to let him see just how upset you’d gotten.

You knew you had to get it together, to shove down all this distress and instead put on your usual brave face for the world to see. Next time you saw Duncan, you had to read as calm, cold, and only mildly annoyed - you couldn’t hold onto all this wild-eyed agitation.

As you closed your eyes and rested your head back against the wall, you heard someone approaching, prompting you to sigh through your nose as if that would calm you down. You glanced in the direction of the first steps, your gaze falling on Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie - did you really think it could’ve been anyone else?

His entire being practically radiated concern, his eyes shining with unease, his fist clenched around the strap to your book bag that you abandoned when you ran out. As if approaching a skittish animal, Eddie came to lean against the wall with you, the pair of you standing together in contemplative, frustrated silence.

You could feel your upset rising again, unaccustomed to having a companion at your side in moments of anger. You always loathed the idea of being comforted, of having someone there telling you to relax, telling you that everything would be okay. And perhaps you were simply assuming, but you hoped Eddie wouldn’t try to calm you down - you needed to just let yourself be pissed for a while.

“I can’t believe he fucking did that.” You finally said, voice laced with malice. You shook your head in disbelief, staring at the opposite wall, “He’s even shittier than I thought.”

Eddie hummed in agreement, but said nothing, as if he didn’t know the right words to offer you right now. Good, you’d rather he didn’t say anything right now.

Another beat of silence fell between you two. You watched the wall clock with laser focus as you tried to compose yourself, following the second hand as it ticked rhythmically - you had about ten minutes to get your shit together before everyone filtered out of the gym. You couldn’t let any of them see how pathetic you felt.

After one more tense minute, you felt Eddie’s fingers reach for your own, brushing against your knuckles as if hesitant to grab your hand, unsure of what kind of response he’d get. You flinched away while looking down between you, meeting Eddie’s eyes a moment later; he was clearly trying not to show any kind of hurt at your small rejection.

He pressed his lips together as he briefly considered his words, “Come on, I need a cigarette.”

His fingers skimmed past yours again as if to gauge your reaction; you neither pulled away nor reached for him, so with a look of acceptance on his face, Eddie pushed himself off the wall. A mean part of you wanted to shoot Eddie a nasty look as you began to follow him - in your own selfish way, you found yourself wanting to put some of the blame on him, wanting to act like he was part of the problem. But you refrained from reacting poorly, allowing Eddie to guide you out the doors and around the side of the gym, en route to the football field.

Following just a couple steps behind Eddie, the two of you finally reached the bleachers, ducking under them to hide out from any potential prying eyes. As you rested against one of the posts, Eddie dug out a cigarette and lighter, putting a bit of distance between the two of you as he walked deeper under the bleachers. You crossed your arms tightly in front of you while biting the inside of your cheek with annoyance; you watched closely as Eddie inhaled a deep breath of smoke, his eyes looking anywhere but you.

Unintentionally, Eddie’s lack of eye contact fueled your own upset, and suddenly you found yourself annoyed that he couldn’t even seem to look at you. Instead, he stared off in thought, slowly blowing smoke out between his lips. Wordlessly, he held the cigarette out towards you; any other time, you would have taken it from him without a second thought, but this time, you gave Eddie the cold shoulder, turning your attention away.

He dropped his arm limply back at his side, and you could feel his eyes on you for a moment. With a heavy sigh, Eddie brought the cigarette back to his lips; you wondered if the sigh was thanks to you or this entire situation.

“Don’t let him get to you.” His tone seemed a little unsure, scratchy thanks to the smoke coating his throat. You met eyes, Eddie’s stare conveying his own frustrations while yours was mean. To add fuel to the fire, you twisted your face into a snarky look.

“I think it’s a little late for that, Munson.” You said in a clipped tone as you raised your chin defiantly, catching the brief flash of upset that crossed Eddie’s face at your attitude; clearly, he hadn’t expected you to turn it on him all of a sudden. Admittedly, you hadn’t expected it either, but it leapt out of you without any control.

Eddie took a defensive step towards you, his gaze firm as he took another drag from the cigarette; he seemed at conflict with himself as he responded in as level a tone as he could, “Then get it together and don’t take it out on me.”

As you stared back at him with your characteristic coldness, you could feel all your emotional walls building back up - just as you feared, Eddie was trying to get you to relax, and you were too upset to care if you retaliated with an attitude. Right now, you wanted to be mean just for the sake of it, to push him so he’d stop trying to comfort you. You didn’t need him to pretend to care - this was a fake relationship, you reminded yourself, but that didn’t mean Eddie also had to fake niceties when shit got hard.

Eddie gave you a look of warning, as if somehow he could read your mind, as if he could tell that you were trying to block him out. And you nearly made a face as if to mock his concern, but you managed to refrain, pressing your lips firmly together.

“I already made myself look stupid in front of the entire fucking school, I can’t act like that didn’t happen.” You whined, abruptly spinning on your heel to begin pacing once again, that stupid habit of yours that did nothing to calm you down, “I’m a fucking joke.”

You couldn’t stand the look that crossed Eddie’s face, although you weren’t sure what exactly it meant - there was something akin to pity in his eyes that you didn’t like, “You’re not.”

His response was simple yet stern, and you threw him another snide look a moment before he turned his gaze away yet again. Were you beginning to piss him off? To upset him? That cynical part of you hoped so.

Eddie breathed deeply for another couple of moments as he collected his thoughts, his voice a touch smaller than it was a moment ago, “This is high school, princess - you can’t take everything so seriously.”

Frustration started to well in your chest as you glared at his profile, at his dumb little frown, the way he fussed with the cigarette between his fingers, the slight slump of his shoulders, “Well, I do. All I wanted was for them to forget about me, but instead they’ve decided to make me some kind of a target for their immature bullshit!”

“Welcome to the club!” Eddie rounded on you, abruptly matching your antagonistic tone; his eyes were dark, if not a little wild, and you were nearly taken aback, but instead your glare only deepened. You’d never seen Eddie look angry before, and the rational side of you that was buried extra deep right now decided that you never wanted that anger to be directed at you again.

Edd took a moment to think, laughing without even a trace of humor before he inhaled another deep breath of smoke, his eyes narrowing a little as he continued, “What the hell did you expect? Did you really think you could start hanging around a freak like me and get off scot-free? I know you’re not that naive, so don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”

You gaped at Eddie’s bluntness, completely unprepared for this show of temper. For only a split second, you could feel yourself getting overwhelmed, but just like every other feeling you had, you shoved that down with a scowl. You two stared harshly at one another, the moment stretching out uncomfortably between you. Eventually, you shook your head with a scoff, turning your back to Eddie.

“Of all the things I could’ve done, I can’t believe I thought coming to you for help was the best option.” You started, speaking coldly through your teeth, “I was stupid to ask you for shit, and you were stupider for agreeing to it.”

The silence that fell over you was thick enough to cut with a knife, the static tension in the air nearly painful. If you weren’t so upset, you may have considered how dramatic and mean you were being, you may have considered that you didn’t have to treat Eddie as if he was the problem; but you were too angry to care.

From behind you, Eddie huffed out a deep, disappointed sigh; you heard the toe of his shoe twist on the gravel as he put out the cigarette he’d clung to like a lifeline. Your posture grew even more taut, arms crossing more aggressively and jaw clenching so hard that you were grinding your teeth.

Eddie began to take slow steps towards you, walking around so that you were forced to face each other again; he hovered mere inches from you, ensuring that you could see his upset with total clarity. His gaze was perturbed and severe, mouth twisted into a frown, shoulders rigid with indignation. He silently held out your long forgotten book bag, barely giving you time to reach for it before he carelessly dropped it into your hand; your grip was virtually nonexistent, and the bag hit the ground with a sad thud.

It was so clear that Eddie wanted to say something, but he held back his words, a calculating and thoughtful look on his face. You stared rigidly at one another, your expression cold and cruel, his hurt and despondent, the both of you waiting for the other to act first.

Finally, Eddie shook his head smally as he looked down at the ground, walking away from you without another word or glance back.

.

.

Taglist (if you'd like to be added, pls let me know | @a-queen-blr @avalon-wolf @costellation-hunter @daisy-munson

@daisyridleyss @damon-loves-pie @damp4eddie @delilaaahhh @eddiernunson

@em0220 @frogtape @fromasgardandback @fckyeahlames @kthomps914

@lotrefcp @love-anonymous-writer @marrowfrog00 @mewchiili @miaajaade

@munsonssweets @no-bueno-writer @rach5ive @sav12321 @sheneedsrocknroll92

@steeldaisies @stormgrl19

[missuswalker]

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 || 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𐙚 summary: donnie asks you on a date, (to his room) and, of course, you can’t resist those eyes

𐙚 warnings: pointless fluff + brief smut because i love him, donnie being too cute, maybe too long + not proofread (aged up, obviously, let’s say seniors in hs) not proofread oops

𐙚 notes: i’m obsessed with him can somebody talk with me about this subject matter

Donnie, while not shy, wasn’t the most courageous boy out there. At least, when it came to you. His brain stopped working when you were near and he’d overshare until there was nothing else to say. You stuck around, though. You liked his stories. You liked spending time with him. He liked spending time with you, too. He’d pass you a note in class, pretending to stretch so he could drop the folded paper on the desk behind him. He loved to hear the crinkle of the paper as you unfolded it, your quiet giggles following. Every time you would write back, he’d pocket the paper and take it home.

The teacher loved your little ‘budding relationship’ quite a bit less than the two of you did, though. In fact, Donnie had gotten detention twice now for his constant whispers and laughs he shared with you. He didn’t care. As long as he kept you hooked on him, he’d take any punishment. Besides, Ms. Dulwich was exactly what her name described her as. A dull witch. She was a miserable, lonely woman who had nothing better to do than move Donnie as far away from you as possible. He always managed to get a note back to your desk, despite the newfound circumstances of having a desk at the very front of the room.

It was today, though, that he decided he needed to finally step up to the plate. He couldn’t just wait around forever. You’d lose interest or someone else would get to you first. The thought plagued his mind more than Frank, it was a constant bother.

It was 11:05, his, and your, lunch period. After debating on whether or not he go through the lunch line, he ultimately decides he was too nervous to eat, so instead, he begins to search for you. He eventually spotted you at the end of a table full of girls, the lot of you laughing and gossiping, as one does. He rubs his sweaty palms on his pants, and begins his journey towards the crowded table. He didn’t believe you fit in with those girls. They were loud, obnoxious and so… plastic. You were real. They didn’t deserve you, but Donnie definitely did. At least that was what he believed.

“Y/n,” he interrupts, ignoring the girl who he’d just cut off, rubbing his hands on his pants once again. As soon as you look up at him with that smile, he thought he might as well just marry you. He just couldn’t seem to get his words out, his mouth falling open and closing, over and over. The girls around you began to quietly snickers, giving glances and eye rolls. “Do you wanna eat lunch with me?” He finally spit it out, finally asked. Now the hard part was over. The girls began to giggle, but you nodded, standing from your seat. “Okay,” you said, your voice so calm. Immediately your friend’s laughter stops, the snobby girls looking on in disbelief. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with Donnie, the group just thought he was kind of a freak, to say the least.

You had never thought of Donnie as a freak. You saw him as the smart guy he was, which was a boost to his ego, considering he found you rather intelligent as well, though your smarts didn’t always show through a test. Maybe he just thought so highly of you because he liked you, but either way, he knew he enjoyed talking to you. “I hate them, I’m sorry. They’re just brats. They weren’t laughing at you, they were laughing at me,” you tell Donnie, sitting across from him at an empty table. Donnie furrows his brows, watching you pick at your lunch. “Why would they laugh at you,” he snorts, his eyes trailing back to the girls who were staring right back, poking each other and whispering. “I talk about you a lot,” you say vaguely.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Donnie decided he couldn’t take it anymore. If he didn’t ask what had been driving him crazy for so long, he’d never be able to sleep at night. “Do you wanna go with me? Like, do you wanna, like, I don’t know. Never mind, shut up. Not you, me,” he rambles, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut in disbelief. You stare at him, seeming so bewildered for a moment, before you simply begin to laugh. “Yeah, I wanna go with you.” Donnie nodded in response, biting his lip. “I like you,” he says, eyes flickering all over your face. “I know,” you snort.

“Will you come over after school? We can just hang out, or I can read you this book, it’s… I think you’d like it,” he blurts, his heart pounding. He could hardly process everything happening right now, his mind going haywire. “Yeah, okay, that’d be cool,” you nod, leg bouncing under the table. “Okay. Cool,” Donnie sighs. The rest of lunch wasn’t so bad. The two of you just talked like you normally did and the awkward tension went away completely. It was like nothing changed, though both of you knew something did, indeed, change.

𐙚

As the two of you stepped into his bedroom, successfully having gotten passed his mother’s questions and his fathers jokes, you dropped your book bag on the floor. “You can sit on the bed, I’m gonna grab that book,” Donnie tells you, kicking off his shoes. When he joins you on the bed, he hesitantly wraps his arm around your shoulder, opening the book. You look up at him, giving a grin. “What are you doing,” you ask, putting your hand on his elbow. “I’m not doing anything,” he says, looking down at you as he bites back his smile. After a moment of silence, he looks down at your lips. “You know, you’re my first girl,” he says, his voice quiet. “Oh, so I’m your girl?” You rest your head on his shoulder, Donnie giggling. You loved his laugh. It was so airy and silly. “I meannn,” he trails off, looking away for a moment.

“I think I like being your girl,” you hum, raising a brow. “That makes one of us,” he jokes, causing the both of you to laugh. Then, again, there was silence. He slowly moved down, his lips dangerously close to yours. “Donnie,” you snort, grabbing his face and pushing him away. He gently pulls your hand away, sticking out his bottom lip in a dramatic pout. “What?” You think for a moment, giving a shrug. “I dunno.” He scans your face for a moment, brows furrowing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have tried anything. I’m not expecting anything from you, I just, I was thinking… I don’t know, I thought maybe you wanted to kiss me, so,” she begins, only to be cut off by your lips on his.

It didn’t take long for the kiss to get a little too passionate, your shirt on his floor and his hand hovering over your bra. You move his hand onto your tit to give him the extra push, and then he’s all over you. “I really didn’t plan this or anything, I swear. I really like you,” he rambles on, sliding his fingers under the white fabric of your bra, his inexperienced fingers playing with your nipple. “Stop talking,” you say softly, hand fiddling with the button on his pants. “Gotcha,” he mumbles, reconnecting your lips until your hand meets his hard cock, covered by his boxers. “I’ve imagined this before, actually not to long ago, but this is better,” he tells, not able to stay quiet because he just always had to say whatever was on his mind. You almost laugh against his lips. “Donnie, you’re really cute, but shut up.”

He nods, grunting at the feeling of your fingers grazing the skin of his stomach. “Sorry. You’re so pretty, can’t help it,” he huffs, pushing his nose into your hair. He pushes your hand away, pulling his dick out of his boxers, because he just couldn’t wait any longer. “You don’t have to do anything, I-” He’s cut off with a moan as your head ducks down to take him into your mouth, tongue flat against the head of his cock. “Oh, shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” he tells you. You look up at him, one hand moving to make a ring around the base of his dick, slowing moving it up and down, the other finding his balls, squeezing gently. His fingers fly to your hair, gripping at the roots. He rewards you with heavenly moans, twitching in your mouth. You slowly drag your tongue around his tip before moving down. As soon he dick his the back of your throat and you hollowed your cheeks, he cums down your throat, tossing his head back as if his soul left his body.

You make sure he’s looking at you as you swallow, pulling away to let him take a moment. “You never had your dick sucked?” You question, running your fingers through his hair. She shakes his head, putting his thumb in between your teeth, pulling your mouth open. Letting his finger trail back down to your lip, letting it bounce back, he places a sweeter kiss to your lips. “I think I just came into next year,” he breathes, hands finding your tits again. “You’re so romantic,” you say sarcastically, Donnie giving you a dopey smile. “What, you didn’t like it?” He moves his lips to your neck, testing the waters. “No, I liked it.”

“You wanna do it again?”

𐙚 he’s such a virgin, idc, he’d be so awkward and chatty the very first time he did something slightly sexual and it would be so cute and annoying at the same time i want to kiss him

im so tired why’d i stay up so late writing smut about this man

[woncon]

part one: the sunscreen master

pairing: poly!stray kids x gn!reader

A day at the beach with your eight chaotic boyfriends.

genre: mini-series, fluff, suggestive, crack/humor, summer fic, established relationship, polyamory, a day on the beach

warnings: jisung dreams about priest jeongin (he's lucky), men compete for chest groping, sunscreen, like a lot, one twilight-reference

word count: 4.1K

a/n: shoutout to @honeytwo for her work with this big chunk of words. thank you! 💗

also, don't get sunburned, guys. protection is important.

summer go loco / stray kids mlist [part 2] / [part 3]

It was a warm day. Very warm. The sun decided to stay true to the lines of ZEROBASEONE's Sweat. Oh, baby, I'll make you sweat, sweat, sweat, sweat, sweat.

Chan got the fan out for you to use. He took it into the living room where most of you were gathered.

Jeongin was mopping his forehead with his T-shirt, Minho was fanning himself with his tank top, Jisung was twisting and settling in one of the armchairs in agony, and you were deep in thought about taking off your shorts or not. When the four of you spotted the sweaty Chan's acquisition, you burst out in grateful sighs and cheers.

"Hyung, you’re a god!"

"I love you!"

"I'll marry you!"

Chan smiled modestly and embarrassed, plugging the instrument in, which flooded the room with cold air.

Jisung crawled closer to the cold airwaves that came from the fan on the carpet and lay down in front of it, grinning in satisfaction. His wet skin clung to the soft material like he was a lifeless snail, but he didn't seem to mind. In the meantime, Chan occupied the vacated chair. And he clung to its fabric. Clinging was an universal factor that day.

The euphoric sound just heard made the rest of the guys curious, as they sought to get some refreshing, less stuffy air through the bedroom window. They peered into the living room and decided to stay. After all, it's easier to stand in front of a fan with a rotating head than to squeeze in a group at the window. Hyunjin threw himself down on the sofa next to Jeongin, Felix chose the other armchair and Seungmin lay on top of you who were on the sofa. You all squeaked in chorus.

"Y-you're heavy, Min hyung." Jeongin tried not to die. Seungmin grunted an offended growl, and rolled over so that his buttocks were against the speaker's stomach.

Changbin soon appeared as well. Shirtless, might I add, so that everyone could thoroughly admire the panorama of his upper body down to his waistline. He thought it would be funny to tease Jisung, so he climbed on top of the boy lying in peace and tickled him.

"Hey, stop it! Bin! Hey! CHANGBIN!"

Everyone watched the events with interest. Would there be a tickle fight? And if not, will Jisung retaliate for his treatment? You were so focused that your grip on Seungmin's legs loosened. He was also wearing shorts and sweating. Those legs almost slipped out of your grip.

Jisung laughed as he struggled until Changbin finally let go. In revenge, Jisung elbowed the giggling individual in the side and then fled to the opposite side of the rug.

It occurred to you that it would be a lot easier to hold Seungmin in water, you'd just have to slap him on a floatie and push him. Then the perfect idea came to you.

"How about we go for a swim?"

There were no objections - not like a few days ago when Changbin was hungry at 2am and begged someone to walk him down to the convenience store for chocolate milk and buns. You agreed to take a dip in the nearby lake. Once the decision was made, you left the living room to get ready. The last to leave turned off the heroic fan.

Minho and Seungmin were responsible for the floaties, you for the sunscreen, Chan for the slippers, Jeongin for the bathing gear, Felix for the groceries, Hyunjin for the towels, and Jisung for the sunglasses. You were ready in fifteen minutes, all of you in the car while your stuff was in the trunk.

And your group was on the way.

Many of you took a nap during the drive. Even Jisung was tired from the active torture of the heat. For a while you memorized the names of the villages and towns you passed through, during this activity you leaned your head against the window, but Changbin, who was lying next to you, put his arm around your shoulders and hugged you when he noticed that you were asleep. He wrapped an arm over the boy on his other side, too. The lucky guy was Jisung, who was mewling contentedly, because everyone is happy to have their face pressed against Changbin's chest, the best sleeping pillows in the world. Changbin also fell asleep to the soothing sound of the engine.

Six of them stayed awake. Chan, the driver, Felix the DJ, Minho who caressed Jeongin's hair, Jeongin who played on his phone, Seungmin who was eating a sandwich, and Hyunjin who was snacking on Seungmin's food to annoy him - in a very loving, quiet way of course, as to not disturb Chan's driving.

After you arrived, getting out the car was a difficult process. Not because you were out of the mood for swimming, as it was just as blistering hot as before, but because many of you stepped out onto the concrete of the parking lot half asleep. In a sticky half-asleep, stretching-yawning state.

Felix and Seungmin supported the dazed Jisung. The boy told them his dream about his wedding with Chan and Minho, which was greeted with smiles, although Felix was not pleased that he had become a bridesmaid - but rather that he had kissed the priest, Jeongin, and one of the witnesses, you, before the ceremony.

Changbin couldn't get out of the car. He tried, but with a sniff, he fell again and again on your shoulder. Finally, the kisses and wake-up monologues of others who had already woken up got him out.

You, meanwhile, whined in your seat.

"Hmn, twenty more minutes! Or ten. I'll settle for five..." you begged until Minho was lying on your chest, having given up on your wake-up call. From there, you were tied down to being a good support and stroking his soft locks.

Seungmin tried to similarly lean into your chest from the opposite side once Minho had given up on pushing you out of the car, but you slapped him on the arm with an angry face. You muttered about trespassers in the hills of your chest.

"I didn't mean that way!" defended Seungmin. He fell silent when you laughed.

"It was just a joke. C’mere!"

Seungmin rolled his eyes, but snuggled up to you anyway. You now had two boys on either side of you. They blocked the way for the others to get to you. It wasn't how you'd originally planned it, but it was a diabolical plan to buy you some more time to sleep.

You have not taken into account the danger of the previous row of seats. Chan grinned as he squeezed between the two seats, grabbed your cheek and covered you with cupping kisses. You'd have been a fool to resist, even if he had your full attention, and you were being pushed further and further away from your dream. Thanks to Chan's skilled wake-up technique, within minutes you were outside in the blazing sun, missing the coolness of the air conditioning. At least you were awake and remembered why you came: to take a dip.

You were ready to start the next phase: going ashore, also known as beaching, as it's more pleasant. The circus consisted of uninflated floaties, containers of food, drinks, bathing suits, towels, bags, and a few blankets.

Jisung complained that the air conditioning froze his legs and he couldn't feel his toes in his solid black slippers, so he ended up with the props in his hands on Seungmin's back, needless to say, very contentedly.

Jeongin went his own way: he went the wrong way about three times. When Chan got tired of calling the poor guy, he took his hand to stop him from wandering off.

Hyunjin paused every few minutes because he didn't want to wait until everyone was camped out, he wanted to wear the designer, heart-shaped sunglasses he got from you for his birthday last year. Finally, with Minho's help, he fished them out and put them on his nose with a satisfied smile.

"Well, now everyone will be looking at you..." Minho hummed appreciatively.

Hearing that, you almost dropped the hand pump you were entrusted with. Thanks to Felix's proximity and quick reaction, that didn't happen. You threw your head back and cast a suspicious glance at the boys who were seeking the attention of others. Felix also made a surprised face.

"You guys are everyone, stop looking at me like that!" Minho snorted mockingly.

"And your attention is perfectly enough," Hyunjin added.

"Very good." You turned back with an angelic smile. Felix let Hyunjin hug his shoulders, so you concluded that he wasn't angry either.

Changbin was still a sleepy zombie when his stomach started to growl.

"I'm hungry!" he announced with a grimace, and he stumbled over to Felix, who had the food bag. Felix patted him on the head and promised to feed him as soon as they were settled. In the meantime, he left him in your care, and you expertly tried to distract him by talking about everything that wasn't food-related.

You found a cute grassy area where you could spread out like little rascally donkeys and where you didn't disturb other beachgoers peace. Everyone set down the things they had carried with small sighs. Seungmin made the loudest noise as Jisung's slippers hit the ground and he was able to straighten up properly again.

Felix fished out a chocolate croissant for Changbin in the heat of the moment the bag hit the ground. Changbin ate it with grateful passion.

You took turns getting dressed in the changing rooms set up for the purpose. The more refined ones had already put on their swimming clothes at home, but you, for example, had a dressing-room circuit, which you quickly did to help with the beach chores.

For example, you put one blanket on the grass, then another, then a third. You always had to take into account that on a nice day, everyone goes out to sunbathe, and in this case you need a lot of space. Your huge bedroom bed could tell a lot about this (the mattress shop owner was stunned when Minho shared the required size with him. The guy said that he had never been asked for a mattress that big, but he would comply. And he did indeed put together a mattress that is about the size of two California king beds.)

You threw out the towels for the soft stuff, and got your own sunglasses. You put them on with pride. With your swimwear, complete with your mango patterned t-shirt, you had the perfect summer image. And to make the summer vibe even more appropriate, you felt you were sweating quite a bit and needed to get in the water as soon as possible or you'd end up in a puddle and that would be the end of you. All you'd have left would be your clothes and sunglasses.

You had to splash as soon as possible.

Of course, who the hell wants to splash alone when you've got eight hot boyfriends, so you set about preparing those hot boyfriends for the water: slathering them with sunscreen. It was the most rewarding task you'd ever attempted on the beach. You got a knot in your stomach as you grabbed the sunscreen from one of the bags. You squeezed a squirt into the palm of your hand. The pleasant, soft scent reminded you again that this is what sunshine could smell like.

Jisung and Seungmin have already started getting half-naked. Seungmin was still aching at his waist, and Jisung was stroking the sore area guiltily. You picked them as the first victims.

"If we give it a massage, will it help?" you asked Seungmin, smiling, and held up your sunscreened palm.

The boy nodded. You gave some of the cream to Jisung as well, and together you gently squeezed the likely stuck area. You worked very co-ordinated, like a real team. As your palms pressed up to spread the sunscreen all over the spine and shoulder blades, Jisung stroked the cream into Seungmin's waist.

Felix got up from beside Changbin to help with the 'smear Seungmin' project.

"Better now?" he asked gently, pressing a kiss to the nodding boy's forehead. He, too, got cream, which he smeared all over the other's neck, chest and abdominal wall. Seungmin closed his eyes and the soft moans turned to sighs as his three lovers gave his body pleasant touches. Seungmin was just like that: teasing everyone, usually not asking for touches because when you touched him, he simply melted.

You planted a kiss on his forehead, then gave Felix a sweetly cheeky look.

"Strip, baby!"

"Your wish is my command."

In that moment Hyunjin looked up, pumping the mattress with greater vehemence at the sight, even causing his glasses to slide down the tip of his nose.

You rubbed Felix's nicely arched back, with Seungmin helping from the front. Jisung was the next, whom you left in the care of the others. You yourself sat on the blanket with Changbin. He was still snacking there.

"Want some?" He offered his last two bites. You nodded.

Changbin fed you with care, as your hands were fit for nothing but sticky groping. You used them on Changbin appropriately, massaging his shoulder blades as well. You also devoted a lot of time to his huge biceps, to prevent them from sunburn. And as with the first chest you touched that day, well, you spent a lot of time there too. All up by those muscular tits, all up by that worked-out, hard, drool-inducing abs. You were careful, of course, knowing that Changbin's chest was a sensitive area.

The boy kissed your cheek. You smiled lovingly at him, and it was as if you were alone. But not anymore. A tired body, Jeongin, happened to fall on the blanket next to you with his arms outstretched. He was followed by a black tank top, which fell next to his head. Not his own, he was wearing his t-shirt. You looked up, and Minho was standing over you. Half naked, holding out his hand.

"Sunscreen, please." He had quite many beads of sweat on him, but at least one of the mats was ready. Chan was getting the next one prepared for the next pump.

You didn't let Changbin take the tube from you. In truth, you yourself found it hard not to comply with Minho's every wish when he looked down on you like that, but you persisted because there are limits. You just happened to be the sunscreen master that day or something. You didn't want to pass up the opportunity to grope.

"As if." You scrambled to your feet and held your palms ready for action again. In fact, you curled your fingers to make the message even clearer: get the boobs here!

And with that, you got down to work. You were really into it. Minho's muscles under your skin were hypnotizing you. What a great thing sunscreen was! You noticed how sexy Minho's sideways smile and the look in his eyes were, even though he was laughing at you.

"I need to make sure your belly doesn't burn, okay?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Enjoy yourself."

"I don't–" The look on Minho's face as he poked his cheek with his tongue drowned out your words. You sighed in surrender. "I might be enjoying myself. But anyone else would do it if they were me!"

As if to confirm your words, Changbin stared longingly at Minho from the blanket.

"What is it, cutie? You want to smear me too?" asked Minho in a mournful voice.

Changbin nodded enthusiastically. You didn't want to deprive him of the opportunity to touch Minho. You were a fair and loving sunscreen master after all. You helped him stand up, then pressed some cream on his hands. You watched with pride as he rubbed his palms together, then placed them on Minho's shoulders. You must have looked like a contented matchmaker, smiling and hugging the sunscreen.

The matchmaker, however, did not expect to be grabbed at the hips out of nowhere and pulled backwards so that the owner of the hands could drop his chin on their shoulder and then roll up the bottom of their shirt.

"And who's going to smear you?" Hyunjin asked.

And, whoosh, he'd already pulled the shirt off you, and there you were, wearing nothing but your bathing equipment. Changbin whistled appreciatively, then returned to rub Minho all over.

"What's with the passion?" you blinked in disbelief.

"I just wish to have the honor." His made-for-brush fingers plucked the tube from your hand, and you could hear the hissing sound of splashing sunscreen. You took the bottle back to grip it. You had to grab it when Hyunjin touched you.

Hyunjin did it in an understanding way. His hands worked your sleeping back, you could not help sighing in delight. You were almost dizzy on the blanket

"Don't stop..." you begged.

It turned out that you can enhance the pleasure. As soon as Changbin finished with Minho, the latter stepped in front of you. He squeezed himself some sunscreen to smear on your side. His thumb slowly worked its way around your hip. It made your eyeslashes flutter and your thighs tremble.

Hyunjin noticed the change immediately, scrunched you up jealously, pulled you to him, and gave Minho a defiant look.

"Mine."

Those nearby cried out at this bold statement.

"All I have to do is hold my toe differently and my slipper will smack you in the forehead, you selfish hyung!" warned Jeongin, lifting his foot at a really threatening angle.

"I mean, I'll smear them," Hyunjin corrected.

"You wish, pretty boy," Minho replied.

You've established that there was chest inflation. Yours has become quite a valuable piece of land. But as long as you have a say, you're not going to let these two fight it out.

"Guys–" you started, but Jeongin's dedicated shouting interrupted you.

"Hyung! Don't start pumping! You just blew the biggest one. You need to rest!"

Chan had indeed planned to do everything himself. Felix, Jisung and Seungmin had undertaken to relieve him of pumping, but as it happened, he was adamant and kept pumping.

"I can put the cream on myself!" Taking advantage of the commotion, you stepped away from the two competing gentlemen and smeared the cream left on your hands on your belly to prove it.

"Will you put some on me, please?" Jeongin raised his hand.

Well, you couldn't say no, so you took the opportunity, and the bottle, kneeling down next to him. Jeongin usually bathed in a T-shirt. This time he didn't indicate that he would have wanted it any other way, so you didn't even attempt to take off his shirt, and just squeezed enough cream on your slick palms to cover his face, neck and arms. You took a peaceful seat beside him and began to cover his exposed body parts.

Jeongin stroked your wrist first. His face turned innocently towards the sun, his eyes closed. You got caught up in the thorough work. Suddenly, you found his palms sliding all the way to your shoulders, not planning to stop, reaching your neck. Jeongin was already looking at you. You blinked questioningly into those beautiful, deep brown eyes, but they didn't reveal much.

Meanwhile, his long fingers touched your collarbone and didn't hesitate to go lower. Your eyes widened, blushing, you wanted to pull away, for you had planned to be fair and cover that area yourself. True, you had your back to the majority of the others, but still.

"Easy, baby. I'm not smearing you... I'm just touching you," he whispered, a sly smile forming on his lips.

It was as if Jeongin had read your mind. He was mindblowing. You had just put the white material on his forearm, and Jeongin touched you even more boldly. You enjoyed it. Of course you did when Jeongin touched you, but you also resented that he had played the others like that. Your resolve was also ruined. Before this groping could get out of hand, you let go of him and turned to the junction where most of your boys were.

"I changed my mind." Damn, fine, you thought. If they want to fight, they'll get it. "Whoever kisses Innie first gets to cream the front of me."

Jeongin shouted in surprise. He threw himself to the side when Changbin knelt down like a knight to attempt a kiss. Jeongin couldn't rest afterwards, he struggled into a stance as Minho darted towards him. Jeongin was forced to run away. He ran as if his life depended on it. He left both his slippers behind.

But he couldn't leave the others.

"Innie, it's only a kiss," Jisung persuaded him.

"Stick your soft cheek in here, let me give you a smooch!" cooed Changbin, as if the contest was to see who could embarrass the fleeing boy more than catch him.

"Leave me alone! I don't want your spit!"

He rounded a tree and immediately Hyunjin and Felix were about to attack him from two sides. With a frustrated battle cry, he backed away from the dudes charging towards him. He ran for a new route along the grassy bank. He couldn't go to the sandy bank, he would hurt his feet. His escape options were greatly reduced without his slippers. And he was alone against seven dedicated boys, who loved to baby him anyway.

"Innie-ah," Seungmin laughed as he framed Jeongin. "Stop running."

Jeongin didn't listen. In utter desperation, he jumped barefoot onto the gravel path. His face was writhing with a pained expression. Watching him from a distance, each step seemed to be like stepping over tiny pieces of lego. You both appreciated his perseverance and pitied his suffering. Perhaps you shouldn't have exposed him to this... What you didn't expect was that, after he'd been so eager to touch you, he wouldn't let the others get romantically close to him even for a second.

Chan rushed to his rescue, carrying Jeongin's slippers. He put them in front of him and even knelt down to help him get into them.

"Does it hurt much?" asked Chan, looking up at the persistent boy.

"Not anymore," Jeongin replied quietly. He had lost his fighting spirit at Chan's chivalrous gesture, and the others hadn't approached him since Chan appeared with the protective footwear.

When Chan stood up, Jeongin whispered something in his ear. Too far away to hear, in any case, Chan's face brightened at what he heard. The next moment, he pressed a light kiss on Jeongin's cheek.

The losers erupted in an ovation of dissatisfied voices. They huffed, pouted, grumbled, but there was nothing to be done. Chan had clearly won the contest. Now he could smear, and he could also come smearing, like a loaf of bread waiting for butter.

Chan sat down next to you and smiled, squeezing some sunscreen onto his palm. He was blushing so sweetly, and working so hard - driving, pumping and pumping, even getting the fan out - that it seemed to you that the others had softened in his direction and returned to their pre-race activities. In other words, pumping to the death.

"Come closer, Edward," you said to Chan, who was thoroughly prepared for your smearing.

"Edward?" he made a puzzled face.

"Look at you," you pointed. "You shine in the sunlight like a Twilight vampire!"

"Yeah!" Chan giggled. It was music to the ears.

He stroked your stomach first, quite affectionately. He didn't rush anywhere, moving over your skin with careful, soft touches. Then he pressed his creamy hand to your chest, softly caressing the white material there.

"Done! And I've only aged five years doing it," Seungmin reported as he released the hand pump. The last mattress was successfully inflated. Felix wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and tossed the doughnut mattress onto the pile. Then Hyunjin circled him with a hair tie and made a neat bun so that Felix's hair wouldn't hang in the water. You knew that Hyunjin had freshly washed his own blond locks and therefore didn't want them to get wet, but to see him taking the same care to keep Felix's intact warmed your heart.

Everyone was sunscreened and all the mats were ready. The sun was still blazing as if baking people was its main goal, or at least hobby. There were no questions of spending another unnecessary minute on the beach, but instead you all dived in.

stay taglist :: 💕@lemonn015

[neowonderland]

Different || l.yy

Summary: Yangyang's tired of fucking pretty girls and boys, so he fucks you.

Pairings: Fuckboy! Yangyang x reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, noncon, choking, sub! Yangyang, university au

Dark Content, Minor please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

Yangyang knows you like him so, so much. 

He knows he’s attractive, born with a pretty face, pretty voice, pretty body. Yangyang knows he lives in a different world than you, surrounded by adoring fans who live and breathe for him. Everywhere he goes, people are sure to look and follow. He’s never once had an issue with dating or fucking the most attractive men and women, most of them tripping over themselves to get to him. Of course, he indulges in this. How could he not when it’s so pleasurable? It’s a wonderful feeling to feel beautiful and to be seen with someone so attractive. But, routine is boring to Yangyang.

Maybe that’s what draws you to him initially. 

Yangyang knows you find him attractive. He can see it in the way you look at him, the way you post about your love for him on your various social media accounts, the way that you follow his crowd around. 

You’re one of his many admirers but you’re not attractive at all. It’s almost as if you feed into that, never styling yourself in clothes that flatter you. Yangyang’s never seen you talk with another person, much less go out with a friend or go to any social events. He’s pretty sure you’re not in any clubs or any extracurricular activities. He doesn’t even think he's seen you study on campus. 

Yangyang finds it interesting how you act on your feelings. Your social media accounts are all set to private. Besides his public events, he never sees you around. You’re never pushing your way forward in mobs trying to see him or talk to him, always opting to stay in the back. 

Yangyang thinks it’ll be fun to try to fuck you. 

“Good girl, choke me a little harder.” Yangyang gasps, eyes rolling into the back of his skull in pleasure. Yangyang’s splayed out on your couch, leaning back into the headrest. He looks pretty like this, filthy words falling from his pink, bitten lips, drool leaking from his mouth, cheeks tinged pink, chest heaving. His hands are around your waist, fingers digging into your skin enough to leave a bruise. Yangyang moves you up and down his length helping you ride him.

This was not what you wanted your first time to be like. You didn’t want to fuck him at your place on your old couch. You weren’t ready yet. You didn’t want to be forced into Yangyang’s fantasies. You never wanted to fuck Yangyang, at least not like this and definitely not raw.

You reluctantly tighten your grip around his throat and sniffle as more tears slip down your redden cheeks. Your thighs burn from riding him and the stretch of his length burns. Yangyang didn’t bother to prep you properly, only hastingly working you open just enough to be able to force himself into you. You feel gross, sweaty and sticky from sex. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, my perfect little slut to mold. You’ll do anything you tell you to do, right?” Yangyang babbles, hands moving you up and down faster. You swear he’s becoming delirious with pleasure and lack of oxygen.

“Yangyang–” You try to speak, to tell him once again to stop, that you’re tired, that he doesn’t have to do this to you, that he can find other people much better than you to fuck. 

“I’m so close. Just a little bit more, I’m gonna cum inside you and you’re gonna take every last drop.” Yangyang groans. 

Alarmed, you remove your hands from Yangyang’s neck and try to pull yourself up from Yangyang’s lap as you plead with him not to cum inside you. It’s futile, as Yangyang shakes his head, tightening his grip on your waist and holding you down as he continues to chase his high. 

It’s repulsive as you feel Yangyang cum inside you. You can feel his length twitch and his hot cum fill you up to the brim as he lets out a loud moan. Yangyang's body shudders as he holds you down as he cums, wanting your warmth to milk his length for all that it’s worth. 

You’re stuck in a daze as Yangyang pulls out from you and you hear Yangyang’s phone camera click with a flash. A memento for himself. 

You vaguely hear Yangyang leave, shutting the front door behind him as he exits while you sit on your couch, Yangyang’s cum leaking out from you and making a mess on your couch.

[btskitten7]

Midnight Bite| Introduction

Ship: Jeon Jungkook x Fem reader

au/genre: vampire!au royal!au arranged marriage.

rating: M

wc: 1.8k

Chapter warnings: little smut. POSSESSIVE JK. Blood mentions. (It's a vampy fic...) YOU ARE THE TOXIC ONE. JK is the perfect boyfriend.

summary: Jungkook, a powerful vampire king, is on a relentless pursuit to find his runaway bride. Their relationship is a complex dance of love, desire, and conflicting needs. Jungkook is determined to bring her back, but she yearns for freedom and independence. As the chase intensifies, the story delves into the complexities of their relationship and the sacrifices required to bridge their differences. Amidst a dark and mystical world, their destinies intertwine in a thrilling game of cat and mouse.

tagss: @shadowyjellyfishfest @baechugff @maunosorioh @shelylamc @princess-sunshyn @scuzmunkie @wanceu @coldcoffee2121 @maunosorioh @massivelyfullenthusiast

Jimin leaned against the polished wooden bar, his gaze fixed on his younger brother, a mixture of worry and frustration etched across his face. "Have you seen her?" he asked, his voice laced with urgency. Jungkook sighed irritably, his expression mirroring his annoyance. "I haven't seen her anywhere. I don't even know if she's arrived yet," he replied, his words tinged with exasperation. Jimin furrowed his brows, his curiosity getting the best of him. "But you're a vampire, a king no less. Why don't you simply command your servants to bring her to you?" he questioned, hoping for a simple solution. "If only it were that simple," Jungkook replied, Jimin poked his head up “Better yet, why don’t you find another? You have plenty of others at your feet.” 

“Well first,” He started “If it was that easy, don’t you think I would have done it already? She’s avoiding what she truly wants. It’s just her way of…testing me. She just wants to see if I will go to lengths to have her. Which I am. I don’t want another. I want what was promised to me. I want what I’m obsessed with. You would never understand brother.” 

Jungkook had a moment of reminiscing about an intimate moment between you two that almost stopped him in his tracks. Your touches, kisses, calling his name—it was all so addicting for him.  He knew another couldn’t give him what you gave him. 

He knew what you were running from but he wished you would just let him fix what needs to be fixed. 

He needed you to trust him and trust him fully. He has been proving himself to you for years now. He doesn’t know what else he could do to prove to you that he can be everything you ever needed but that never stops him from trying. 

Every time he would get you where he wanted you, you’d pull the rug from underneath his feet and vanish—starting the dreadful game yet again.

‘It’s not safe out here my princess, my queen.’ he murmured to himself looking through the crowd, trying not to get annoyed with all the sweaty humans bumping into him with this awful music playing in the background. 

Jimin growled as another sweaty jock bumped into him, spilling their beer all over his expensive suit. 

While Jungkook was patient, mainly because you were more important to him than some college boy looking for a fuck and cannot handle his liquor, Jimin was not. 

“Don’t lose focus brother. We need to bring my princess home.” Jungkook said as he continued to push anyone and everyone out of his way as your scent got stronger and stronger. 

“If one more of these lowlifes spill their beverage on me, we’ll be on the most wanted list.” 

Jungkook chuckled as he continued to move through the crowd, feeling your presence grow stronger and closer. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Hold it together, it’s not much longer brother, I feel my baby.” 

You were twirling your hair as you pretended to be interested in what this kid was talking about. He was going on and on about his car and how the blah, blah —you didn’t care. You were more interested in how he tasted. He got into a fight with some guys earlier, and you could smell his cut from a mile away, truly captivating you. You were hopeful he would taste delicious, you could tell from the scent he gave off. Truthfully, that’s the only reason why you were here. 

While he kept talking, you looked around the club growing bored with this conversation when your eyes landed on someone you hadn’t seen in so long. A small giggle left your lips as you knew that the night just got more interesting. 

‘Jungkook,’ you said bitterly, rolling your eyes the moment you locked a mutual gaze, just being a little teased as you were. Of course, he’d find you here. That’s what makes it fun. 

There’s no real reason as to why you were playing this game with him. He’s an amazing guy and he’s respectful. No red flags are to be seen. If anything, it was more of the terms to which you are agreeing. 

You wanted to be queen. You even wanted to be his queen. You just didn’t like that his parents already had a planned step-by-step timeline you two had to follow. 

‘You need to be married by this date and pregnant with your first child by this date. You need to make these appearances and make sure you are always doing this–’

It was too much for you. You liked to do things, naturally. Your parents always allowed you to do things more naturally, that was the reason you agreed to marry Jungkook because you were naturally attracted to him. You guys hit it off as soon as you had the first ‘date’. Both of your parents planned a ball for the two of you to meet and mingle. You and Jungkook were attached at the hip. You looked like a couple as you guys walked around the ballroom, dancing, talking, just enjoying one another.

He was perfect. He is perfect. The terms? Not so much. 

You knew it could be fun but with his parents having their hand in everything, you knew it’d be a pain in the ass. 

A smirk grows on Jungkook’s face as he heads closer to you until he sees the man you’re talking to. His smirk instantly turns to a frown. His tongue pushed the inside of his cheek as he grew closer. You followed his eyes on the man and smirked, turning your attention back to him, you gave him a flirtatious nod as if you’d been paying attention to his dreadful rambling. Your hand rested on the man’s lap as you laughed as if his joke was actually funny. You just wanted to piss Jungkook off. And boy did you do a great job at it. Seeing him so worked up and so possessive was toxic but it was the sexiest you’ve seen him. 

You are fully aware that you are the toxic one in this relationship.

Jungkook’s eyes were dark as he looked at the man next to you. Once he got close enough he snatched your hand off of the man’s lap, instantly.  

“What the fuck are you doing, sir?” Jungkook looked at the man with so much disgust but tried to remain as normal as he possibly could, but you could tell his attitude was flaring up. 

You giggled softly as you crossed your legs, allowing your already too-short of a dress raise to show your thigh. All three men look as your honey skin is exposed. Jimin cleaned his throat as he tried to look in another direction. The guy turns to Jungkook and begins to stutter to which you roll your eyes again. ‘Such a weak man’ you thought to yourself. 

Your perfectly manicured nails danced across the bar before you slightly turned the guy’s face back to you, tilting your head. 

“We were talking, right? Tell me more, baby.” You seductively continue, “You’re so sexy when you talk about cars. Please tell me more.” 

His jaw dropped at your voice and how you were talking to him. Jungkook was growing more irritated. The mere fact that you called this low-life baby and not him was fucking him up in the head. He couldn’t believe it. 

“I asked you a question. What the fuck are you doing, talking to my fiancée?” Jungkook smirked. 

“H-huh?! Y-your fiancee? Sh-she never said anything about being engaged” 

The man frantically looked between you and Jungkook as you sat there unbothered. 

“Why must you always ruin my fun, Prince, it was harmless,” you said in your native language between vampires to which Jungkook responded. 

“Because you’re mine, no matter what you think. The sooner you get that through your head the sooner we can get to the more fun parts” 

“I only wanted to feed. Can’t you see how yummy he smells?” You pouted and crossed your arms as Jimin held his hand out for you to hold onto. Giving him a small smile, you took his hand and stood to your feet. 

“Come, Princess. Let’s go now.” Jimin said. “I’ll take you feeding later,” Jungkook added. 

You rolled your eyes and allowed Jimin to escort you out of the club. 

~~~~~~

“Why do I have to chase you all the time? Why can’t you just stay put, Princess” Jungkook asked, rubbing your thighs softly. You laid your head on his chest as your right leg rested on his lap. 

“I was trying to feed. That’s all. I was coming back,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook chuckled and planted kisses on your neck. He loved it when you were obedient to him. Everything felt so perfect. 

“I know you, I’ve always had to come find you to bring you back home, you were never coming back. At least not until you needed me to fulfill your needs.” 

“That is not true! You always come to find me and  never give me a chanc-”

You bite back your response when you feel his hands push your legs open. A small whine falls from your lips. 

“If I won’t give you want you wa-want when you want it, w-why don’t you take your parents up o-on their offer of finding another?” You pushed out as his hands got close to your core.

“Because baby…” he started, “I don’t give a damn about what my parents want and you’re my property. I own you and you know I’m the only one that can make you feel good,” he expressed, grazing his fangs across your neck drawing another moan from your lips. 

“Y-you’re too controlling. You always think I’m doing something against you. I’d never hurt you, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook let out a bitter laugh in the crook of your neck. 

“Because you do shit like this. Time and time again, I’m out looking for you because you don’t know how to stay still. Daddy fucks you, you stay for a few weeks, then you leave. So disrespectful, baby.”  

His fingers worked on your core softly as he listened to your pants and moans fill the car. He had no regard for his brother driving the car who’s getting captivated by your moans as well. You hid your face in his chest as he still toyed with you, your wetness began to pool underneath you. Jungkook chuckled as he began to slip his fingers between your folds. 

“Are you ready to stay put and let me take care of you?” Jungkook whispered in your ear. 

He had you. You couldn’t escape this man, he has you wrapped around his finger. Literally. Finally, you decided to give up and give in to him. 

“Y-yess.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, d-daddy” 

”Jungkook chuckled pleased as you finally came to. 

“If you’d stay put like a good girl…we wouldn’t have this problem. Would we?”

[noisyquokka]

Try Again

PAIRING - Hyunjin x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS - After a short-lived relationship ends, Hyunjin struggles with the idea of “just friends”. Three years later, it seems you haven’t lost interest either.

WORDCOUNT - 2.9k

WARNINGS - lovers to friends to …., mutual pining, jealous!Hyunjin, a lil playful banter/angst that turns kinda steamy, kinda left open-ended... part 2 perhaps? 🤨

A/N - Literal WEEKS late, but uhhh… that’s never stopped me before! 🤭 My little addition for Hyune Day! Enjoy, Darlings! 💛

(Based loosely on Try Again - PRETTYMUCH cause I've been listening to it on repeat and it feels like a Hyunjin song to me, personally. I also wrote this to satisfy my insatiable love for watching him practice, cause let's be honest... choreographer!Hyunjin just hits different iykyk)

“Would you at least take some videos if you’re gonna bury your head in your phone?”

Your eyes sweep up to the shadow of the man who pauses his movement in the middle of the studio. Hyunjin straightens up, his fingers reaching for the brim of his hat. He pulls it off and runs his fingers through his dampened tresses, already sweaty from the past hour of practice.

“Well, excuse me, Hwang,” you mutter, resting your hand on your thigh. “I didn’t know I was summoned here to be your videographer.”

“You’re supposed to be critiquing my choreo so far.”

He’s been working on this choreo for his new solo, and while he didn’t expect you to drop in, he knows Minho has some part in you ending up here. Why? Because he was stupid enough to spill his feelings to him in full confidence that Minho would keep his mouth shut. One could say he kept his word, but still, he plays with fire in his process.

“Ah, right…” God, is it fun to ponder your next remark. You smirk as you watch him reach for the open water bottle near him. “Not enough sneaker squeaks.”

His hand pauses mid-drink, bourbon eyes cutting to your proud little grin. Your eyes are already back on the phone in your grip, tapping away like you’re texting someone. For a moment, Hyunjin is itching to know who it could be. But then he reminds himself that you’re not together anymore. He tilts his head slightly, tries not to let it bother him.

“You’re so unserious, my god,” Hyunjin mutters, and swipes at his forehead with a huff.

Your grin turns into a playful lip bite, and you can’t help but tease him a little.

“I’m being completely serious.” Your eyes find him again, and he exhales heavily. “The sneaker squeaks are an essential part of the performance. How will anyone memorize your routine if they can’t count the squeaks?”

“Okay.” He scoffs, pushing his hair back and putting his hat back on, swiftly turning back to his Bluetooth. You mock him with your typical Hwang Hyunjin voice, not noticing the way he shakes his head and smirks to himself.

Hyunjin taps the play button on his phone, taking a deep breath as he readies himself for another run-through.

It’s been hours since he started working on this specific number, and while the comeback wasn’t for a couple of months, he thought getting ahead of schedule would be nice. However, your being around brought on a difficulty to slip into the choreographer head space. Ever since his conversation with Minho, and Minho's comment about how you quote-unquote very well feel the same, I mean, have you seen the way they look at you?!, he’s been the embodiment of a goldfish in a bowl. He wishes things would’ve started off better because apparently, this lovers-to-friends plot line was only digging his early grave. Hyunjin’s fairly certain that after you two broke up, you only agreed to stay friends because you made good connections with the rest of the boys.

The rational side of him knows that’s not the truth.

Fucking less than five months and the metaphorical flames fizzle like a defective sparkler.

The only problem is that those feelings never fizzled for him. Even now, his heart stutters in his chest when you lock eyes with him. When you give him one of your little grins and cock your head as if to say you’ve won in the various dumb debates that you love to drag each other into.

Like right now.

“Seungmin agrees with me,” you say, standing up and shoving your phone at him right as he begins the dance. Hyunjin’s brows raise, blinking and tilting his head in a non-verbal question to get you to move.

“Seungmin agrees with you because it’s a dumb argument… and it’s you versus me.” he mutters the last part, watching you roll your eyes and backtracking to your spot.

“If you’re so confident in this, why am I still here?”

“You could leave,” Hyunjin says, his exertion making his comment sound harsher than he meant it to be. He locks eyes with yours in the mirror, his dark tresses falling in his line of sight. The smirk that threatens to quirk his lips sneaks in when you seemingly freeze on the spot, your eyes wider than usual. “I know you’ve got work in the morning.”

You’re mulling it over in your head now — a glimmer in your eye that Hyunjin pinpoints as he attempts to keep track of where he is in the choreography. He watches your eyes sweep to the phone, most likely checking the time. It’s roughly 1:00 am. You lock eyes again, the answer clear before you speak.

“Well, now I’m not leaving since you want me to.”

He gives a sardonic laugh, rolls his eyes as his foot slips and he misses a beat. Distractions…

“I didn’t say that,” he replies lowly, snatching the towel off the top of the stereo.

“You’re mumbling…”

“I said I didn’t say that,” Hyunjin speaks up, his hand bringing the fabric to his face to pat the sweat from his skin. You watch the drops of sweat as they drip off the ends of his hair when he pulls his hat off, and you feel the need to clear your throat. And then the towel is thrown haphazardly over his shoulder. All it has you doing is a double-take on the black tee shirt he’s wearing. The way it hugs his shoulders and chest should be outlawed, you think.

But then he reaches for the open bottle of water again, and you purse your lips. It’s another short swig, a singular drop of water escaping from the corner of his mouth. It travels down his chin, slowly slipping down the length of his neck, your eyes trained on the path it follows. It stops just before the collar of his black tee and you question why it’s suddenly hotter in the studio.

You swallow, forcing your gaze away and back to your phone before Hyunjin can witness any more of your blatant ogling. As you return your gaze to your phone, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. You’re not embarrassed, not really, but the idea of getting caught sends your brain into overdrive.

“Still waiting on some critique I can work with~” he sing-songs, placing the bottle and towel back beside his phone.

“Maybe I don’t have anything to say,” you reply, and he chuckles.

“You?! With nothing to say? That’s a first.” He walks over, leaning against the wall and folding his arms over his chest.

With the wave of feelings you’re dealing with, Hyunjin’s comment has you bristling. You glare up at him as he arches a brow at you as if challenging you to say something. That stupid smirk quirks his lips. Butterflies swarm in your gut.

“Fine, then.” You lean forward, propping your forearm on your knee as the two of you stare each other down. “You’ve been favoring your right leg through the entire first verse of the song, your hip rolls aren’t deep enough during the chorus, you seem undecided on whether the overall choreo should be slower or faster—” You list off each critique on your fingers, and while Hyunjin wanted your genuine criticism to work toward a better overall performance, he’s clocked out to what you’re saying. His eyes sweep over your face as you continue listing the things he could improve, and he grins at the way your eyes seem to glow in the studio lighting. A fire. Passion for the things he’s passionate about.

“—And another… thing…” Your voice drops to a surprised whisper almost instantly when you feel Hyunjin’s fingers curl under your chin, feather-light against your skin. You blink, realizing just how close he’s gotten, having bent down so his elbows rest on his knees. His head cocks slightly, tongue darting out to lick the corner of his lips. Brown eyes flicker down to yours a moment later.

“Another thing?” Hyunjin repeats, his tone a low murmur. His breaths mingle with yours, your heart beating erratically in such close proximity. His index finger runs the span of your jaw as he stares, a tangible connection that still feels natural and electric to him. A reminder of the silent tension that has always lingered.

The familiar scent of his cologne clouds your senses. It brings you back to the nights he used to spend at your apartment, with the two of you watching K-dramas until 3:00 am. Your bodies a mess of limbs in your bed, his distracting kisses up your neck until you’d try to playfully shove him away. He’d reach for your jaw to pull you in for soft kisses that would evolve into slow and lazy make-outs in his arms. Your eyes dart down at the reminder, and you mentally curse yourself.

“I, Uh.” you stammer out a few words before falling silent, your eyes fixated on his. The moment hangs in the air, the tension between you thick and palpable.

Something, something, boundaries… Something, something, self-control…

Hyunjin can’t help the sly grin, feeling the skin under his touch move when you swallow. All logic has left you in favor of longing for those familiar caresses you had years ago. It sure hasn’t changed, every subtle brush of his fingers ushers forth shivers down your spine. You are teetering on the edge of a cliff, the question being do you jump? You want to. Hell, with the way Hyunjin’s gaze keeps darting down, you can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling the same way.

You attempt to regain control of yourself, but it’s futile — your focus is lost, distracted by the proximity of his lips. Fuck, is he leaning in…

“Your expressions.” You finally manage, the only lingering critique swirling around in your head. “They, uh, could be sharper…” You say, watching Hyunjin sharpen his gaze like a conniving fox. And like a trickster, his fingers drag from your jaw to your neck, dark eyes following its path until the steady thrum of your pulse halts his journey. Your eyes drink him in, lips parted as Hyunjin’s brow twitches in a knowing gesture.

We can’t do this, not after all this time.

The silence crackles with anticipation. You’re fairly certain that Hyunjin knows some part of this is dangerous cause he hesitates for a moment. But then he’s leaning in, his thumb tracing circles against your neck. You mirror his movements, so close that this sliver of distance feels like a challenge. Unspoken desire hums between you two, a heat that has always lingered, just waiting for the right moment to reignite.

Just friends…

The soft brush of Hyunjin’s lips against yours slams the factory reset on your thoughts, mental gymnastics be damned. The tension snaps like a rubber band. You finally give in, capturing his mouth in a meaningful liplock. It feels like no time has passed - he still kisses you with the same careful tenderness that he always has. That familiar heat runs through your body as you sink into him, chasing his lips when he pulls away for a split second only to recapture yours with a fervor.

Your phone is forgotten in your lap, hands sliding up his chest in a new wave of confidence. You pull him closer and Hyunjin groans softly, his free hand coming up to brace his weight against the wall behind you. Your mouths move together in a seamless rhythm, your kisses growing hungrier and more desperate. The brim of his hat grazes your forehead and you slip one of your hands higher into his hair, hooking your finger around the strap. It falls to the floor with a dull thud, allowing your fingers to rake freely through his dark tresses. A subtle pull that has him smirking against your mouth.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his fingers sliding from your neck to your jaw. Your lips part in a sigh as you both sit there on the floor of the dance studio, panting against each other’s mouths. Eyes closed, you feel his forehead rest against yours, your noses brushing. You bite your lip, savoring the warmth of his skin on yours.

“I’ve missed this,” he tells you, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Me too.” You murmur, lashes fluttering. God, what an understatement. You’ve been close even after you ended things, with friendly shoves and your usual back-and-forth banter. But the feel of his warm hands against your skin, the comfort of his close presence, his plush lips. This is what you’ve truly been craving.

His scent lingers in your lungs, his heart beating steady beneath your palm. You feel Hyunjin’s fingers knead the skin of your jaw, tilting your head up so he can come back for another chaste kiss that soothes the ache in your chest. He pulls back, pressing his lips to your forehead as he shifts to sit beside you on the studio floor, his back to the wall. You lean back, resting your head against the wall, your eyes locked on the ceiling.

Silence… as comfortable as it’s always been with the man beside you, you despise it right now. It only has you in your head after both of your confessions. What does it mean for you two?

Your gaze wanders back to his. Only those browns are already looking back, a softness in them that has always been there when they’re looking at you. Hyunjin gives you a half grin, reaching out for your nearest hand and slipping his fingers between your own. His thumb caresses the back of your hand as you both sit there, minutes passing by.

“You’re not going to say anything, are you?” Hyunjin’s voice shatters the silence, staring up at the ceiling.

“We should be running through what not to do when you stay friends with your ex right about now,” You’re half joking, but your tone is more tense than nonchalant. Hyunjin laughs under his breath, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You don’t look at him, but you feel him squeeze your hand lightly.

“You should know how difficult it is to stay friends with an ex.”

“Oh, is it?” A small huff escapes your mouth, and you steal another glance, licking your lips.

“You don’t need me to tell you why, do you?” Hyunjin replies, his voice a low murmur. His head turns to you, his gaze fixed on your lips as you bite at them nervously. “You could have cut all contact with me. You could have moved on and we would have gone our separate ways…”

“I didn’t want to do that.” You admit. Your fingers twitch in his palm, pads running over small callouses and lines as you try to distract yourself with something. Anything. His hand wraps around yours again, squeezing firmer this time. A gesture of reassurance.

“I didn’t either.”

You swallow, picking your gaze off your entwined hands, and your heart skips a beat when you meet his eyes.

“We’re gonna have to decide what this is, aren’t we?” You say, the words sounding more serious than intended. Hyunjin does respond immediately. He just stares, his eyes awash in a mix of emotions you can’t quite decipher. He breathes in, tilting his head slightly.

“Yeah…” He says, his voice low and steady. The weight of that realization settles on his chest, but Hyunjin shakes his head and offers you a genuine grin. “Maybe after a good night’s rest.”

“And a shower.” You smirk, pulling away from him in a joking fashion. But he pulls you back into him, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You screw your face up and he rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t hear you complaining with my lips on yours just a moment ago.” He teases, nuzzling his nose against your cheek. You huff a laugh, leaning back against him.

“Hard to complain when you’re a good kisser.” you counter, bringing a hand up to his shoulder.

“Ah, couldn’t forget that over the years?” Hyunjin mutters, a hint of playfulness in his tone. His lips connect to the junction of your jaw, slowly trailing kisses down the hollow of your neck. Your fingers dig into his shoulder blade, your lashes fluttering over your cheeks.

“I don’t think I ever could.”

Your words send a rush of satisfaction through him and he nips at the sensitive skin just behind your ear. This closeness and playful back and forth is what he’s missed. A comfort that he never wanted to let go of. Even now, as the clock nears 2:00 am.

You capture his face in your hands and pull him back up with little argument, your thumb tracing the corner of his lips.

You don’t realize he’s leaning in again until you feel his lips on yours. It’s a slow and tender kiss this time, but the passion behind it burns hot. You revel in the subtle way he pulls you in, his hand falling off your shoulder to find purchase at your lower back.

Hyunjin eases up, and you’re left breathless yet again, your heart thumping in your chest.

“You gonna be able to sleep after this?” He asks, a sly grin curling his lips.

“Old habits die hard…” You breathe, pulling him in once again.

Psst!! If you've made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read my work 💕 I appreciate you!

[hellfiresky]

Bro, what the fuck?!

Summary: Hound was your best friend and you tried to play matchmaking with him because he was a lonely dog boy.

Pairing: ARF Trooper Hound x F!Reader Word Count: 10k lol Warnings: Long. Lots of curse words.

Join the taglist if you’re interested Taglist: @orangez3st, @msmeredithrose

Working for the Republic was a pain in the ass. The politics were a mess, the office was more guarded than the Republic prison, and “normal” days off didn’t exist. Whilst the rest of Coruscant got a whole week off during New Year Fete Week, you got - drumroll please - one day. One. During the new year day. And then it was right back to the grind.

The only good thing about your job was the massiffs. At first, they were just part of the scenery, stationed near the checkpoints with their guards. You’d pass by them like everyone else, eyes forward, no sudden movements. But over time, that changed. First came the smile. Then a little wave. Then you started sneaking them treats, just to see their tails wag. And saying hi to the dogs meant saying hi to the ARF troopers, who were always close behind. You didn’t expect them to be funny, because most Coruscant Guard troopers were always too polite, but they were. Real shitposters in armour, especially when they figured out you weren’t some uptight Republic staff. One of them taught you how to say “fuck you” in Mando’a. Another made a game of seeing who could sneak unregulated sweet treats for the massiffs in the weirdest container. 

But out of all of them, Hound was different. Maybe it was the running. You both had a thing for early morning jogs, less a shared hobby, more a coping mechanism. You remembered it perfectly: one foggy morning before work, you were making laps around the Federal District when you heard panting behind you. Not the “this guy’s out of shape” kind of panting. The animal kind. Big, heavy, and a bit way too close for your liking.  Shit, rabid wild massiff, your brain screamed as you picked up your pace.

“Aye, aye! Calm down, it’s me!”

You nearly tripped over your own feet spinning around. And there he was. Armour off, breathless, sweating, and somehow still managing to look presentable with those curls matted under a backwards cap. Grizzer skidded to a halt in front of you, tongue lolling, tail thumping. He immediately nudged your thigh with his big head like he hadn’t just scared you half to death.

“Gee,” you panted, scratching Grizzer behind the ears, “where did you come from? Those shoes carbon-plated?”

Hound let out a toothy grin, a little too proud. “Finally cashed in my BAS savings. Got these new training runners - they got this super flexible bouncy soles and this stabilising tech that’s supposed to reduce ankle impact by 38 percent.”

You raised a brow. “You memorised the spec sheet?”

“I read the entire product page,” he said, completely unashamed. “Twice.”

You laughed.

“I’m joining the Corusca Bank Marathon next week,” he was practically bouncing in place. “Command finally gave permission for us to join public athletic events as long as we don’t wear the armour. You believe that?”

“Wait… really?” you brightened immediately, pushing sweaty hair off your forehead. “Me too! That’ll be my fourth marathon this year!”

His eyes widened. “Fourth?! Stars, I haven’t even done one. This is my first. But did you know we get free electrolyte gels at every checkpoint? And also the running kit? I just picked it up yesterday and it came with a free water pouch and t-shirt! And there’s a gear expo the night before with, like, vendors and giveaways? And they’re handing out real physical finisher’s medals, not just holograms.”

You laughed again, unable to stop yourself. “You sound like a tourist.”

“I am basically a tourist! Trotting around the planet but was never allowed to participate in any civilian events.” he grinned. “Do you know how long I’ve been begging for a pass to run in an actual sanctioned race? They even waived the registration fee for clone troopers. Said something about ‘military goodwill visibility’ whatever, I’m not gonna argue if it gets me a free bib.”

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “that’s actually really nice!”

“Yes! The bib even has a chip in it to track your pace.”

“I’d rely on my chrono for that, but that would make a good comparison. What wave are you starting in?”

“Third. Group C. The ‘highly enthusiastic but most likely underprepared’ bracket.”

“You’re such a nerd,” you burst out laughing. Meanwhile, Grizzer flopped at your feet, huffing through his nose. He knew the signs. His handler had entered Chatterbox Mode. He wasn’t getting home anytime soon.

“Hey,” Hound gave you a mock-offended look. “I trained for this! Ran loops around the barracks courtyard every morning until Thorn yelled at me to ‘stop making laps and put more work into strength.’ You know, cause we don’t wanna lose this baby.’” He flexed one arm, biceps gleaming with post-run sweat, grinning.

With both hands on your hips, you clicked your tongue. “Ah yes. The greatest fear of distance running. Not shin splints. Not plantar fasciitis. Not knees turning into gravel. No. It’s losing muscle mass.”

“I’ve worked very hard on these arms. And thighs. And legs.”

“And you think one single marathon’s gonna vaporise them?”

“Maybe! I’m not a medic, I didn’t get a physiology module!”

You snorted, covering your mouth as you broke into another round of laughter. “I swear,” you wheezed, “you’re gonna show up to the race with creatine gummies and protein powder taped to your belt.”

“...Is that a bad idea?”

“Oh my stars.”

“I could run with a shaker bottle!”

“Absolutely not. You’ll tire yourself. Stick with the free water pouch that came in the kit and those electrolyte gels.”

Grizzer let out a tired groan, rolling onto his side with his belly exposed in full “please end this conversation” protest. You dropped down beside him and gave him a belly rub. “Sorry, Grizz. Your dad’s training for his first marathon, and is already losing his shit.”

“Come on, I’ll finally have a medal to hang in my locker,” Hound crossed his arms as if he wasn’t trying to hold back a grin.

From then on, it was kind of a thing.

You, Hound, and Grizzer. Morning runs. Caf before work. Casual shit-talking. Dog treats stuffed in your jacket pockets. Every now and then, he’d stop by your wing in the Senate Office Building for no reason at all, just to “check on security,” like the hallway outside your department was suddenly the hotspot for insurrection. Everything was friendly, though. Totally normal to get butterflies when your work bestie laughs at your jokes like you’re funnier than you actually are. Totally normal to pretend you didn’t notice how good he looked covered in dust after patrol. Totally, completely normal to memorise the sound of his laugh and file it away for bad days.

“Wanna amp it up to four minutes per kilos?” Hound asked one morning, side-eyeing your casual pace.

“We won’t be able to chat if we amp it up.” You groaned. 

“You’ll survive.”

Before you could fire back, another runner passed you going the opposite direction - a Zeltron with peachy pink skin decked in full neon green workout gear, like she was promoting that new hyperpop album on the fly. Without thinking, you cupped your hands and shouted. “CUTE FIT, MA’AM! BRAT SUMMER EVERYDAY!!”

The Zeltron lit up, grinning wide and throwing a peace sign over her shoulder. Hound huffed a laugh. “I think you might scare people off with your compliments.”

“She loved it.”

“Yeah, but not the old man from yesterday.”

“Okay,” you said, “but he did have an immaculate mustache.”

“He nearly walked into traffic.”

“He should’ve been proud!”

You had a thing for noticing people. It wasn’t just something you did. You once stopped mid-run to tell a teenager sitting on the curb with a busted hoverboard that their eyeliner was “so sharp it could slice a speeder in half,” and you meant it. You waved at garbage droids and shouted, “keep up the good work, king,” as if they could hear and appreciate the encouragement. You named the stray alley tooka you passed every week on the same corner - first Pablo, then Kel-not-dor, then simply that guy. And Hound, despite not being the sentimental type, remembered every name. You brought backup gloves for him once when he forgot his on a freezing morning, and didn’t wear any yourself. You talked too much when you were excited, shouted compliments at strangers without warning, and sometimes you outran him like you had something to prove. And Hound started to realise he liked mornings more when they had you in them. But, true to form, he kept that particular revelation to himself and maybe muttered it once to Grizzer when no one else was around.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued after a few metres, “there’s this thing at 79’s next week. ARC Night.”

“What’s that? Like a ladies’ night?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, the both of you still sticking to the easy run, not yet veering into Zone Four territory. “ARFs are included this quarter, apparently. Big inclusion win for all us helmet-wearing dog guys. And… those dog-less ARFs from the battlefield.”

You raised a brow. “So, it’s a mixer?”

“More or less. You know how it goes. Free drinks if you show up in armour. Everyone brings a date. It’s a thing.”

“Ha!” You barked a laugh, loud and shameless. “And you’re too fucking busy being a lonely dog guy!”

“Ey, come on,” Hound wiped a sweat from his nose. “Shep and Spitz are single too.”

“Didn’t you say Spitz started seeing that barista dude?” you side-eyed him.

Hound made a face. “Okay, technically. But the guy keeps giving him free caf. That’s not a relationship, that’s a transaction.”

“Sure.” And then, without thinking much, you said. “Bro. Admit it, you’re too hot to be single.”

Hound’s pride and joy - the carbon plated running shoes - slightly caught on the pavement as he skidded. With widened eyes, he turned his head towards you. Then he burst out laughing. Loud, unrestrained, unbothered. The laugh took over his whole chest cavity. Grizzer barked excitedly too, tail going wild like even he thought this was comedy gold.

“Bro, what the fuck?!” Hound wheezed, still laughing, shaking his head as he picked up pace again. “That was way too random!”

“Nah, I’m dead serious.” You ripped open a pouch of energy gel with your teeth. “I don’t get it. Your brothers? No dogs. No killer runner’s legs. Still get dates. You? You’re always available, always hanging out in the barracks with Grizzer like a sore loser. What is that? Even Shep and Spitz have dates.”

“Wow. Harsh.” He groaned.

“I’m helping you get dates for ARC Night,” you declared, elbowing him. “This is charity work.”

He snorted. “You’re fiddling with my love life now?”

“Exactly.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“You don’t get a say,” you said with a smug little grin. “I’m getting you laid.”

He let out a long suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “Maker, I regret every life decision that led me to this moment.”

“You won’t when you’re getting your back blown out by some hot tech from Research & Development.”

“I swear to fuck—”

“Just trust the process, Hound.”

The run ended the way most of them did - with your legs warm, your lungs happy, and your brain already spinning into “what now” mode. The sky had finally cracked open above the city bright morning sunlight filtering through Coruscant’s layered skyline like the planet was apologising for being so grim all week. When you finally slowed to a walk with sweat cooling on your neck, you spotted one of the old wooden benches near the pond, and flopped down onto it. Without missing a beat, you pulled out your datapad and started tapping.

Hound, still catching his breath, kicked your feet as if you were personally offending the sanctity of cooldown time with immediate gadget time. “We just finished running.”

“And now I’m working,” you muttered. 

“What are you even doing?” He leaned over your shoulder, breath warm against your ear, cheek nearly brushing your temple as he peered down at your screen. You could feel the heat coming off him - sweaty, post-run heat, but somehow still weirdly comforting. He smelled like pollution, sweat, and caf and whatever awful protein bar he’d inhaled before the run started.

It was his day off. And yours, miraculously. One of those rare alignments in the Republic’s scheduling universe where both of you had been granted the same day off. No meetings for you. No last-minute patrol routes for him. Just… free time. And a park. And a little caf booth that, despite looking sketchy as hell, hadn’t poisoned either of you yet. He handed you your usual order with a suspicious look. “I think the droid running the booth shorted my change. I’m not even mad. That coffee was terrifyingly fast.”

Grizzer slumped onto the ground in front of you both, tongue out, tail doing that lazy thumping against the pavement. He pawed at his nose and sighed.

“CoruMatch,” you announced proudly, lifting the datapad. “Also going to get you on Coraya. That one matches you with senators and other rich sad single professionals. We’re covering all bases.”

Hound blinked. “You’re setting me up on a date with a senator?”

“Senators need love too.”

“They also need better legislation. But sure, let’s go with that.”

You ignored the snark, fully locked into the mission now. Profile setup was a sacred act. This was war.

“Name?” you asked, not even looking up.

“Hound.”

“Should I put your CT number?”

Hound gave you a flat look. “Do you know my CT number?”

“…Fair.”

“Exactly.”

“Fine. Hound it is.” You punched it in. “Occupation: ARF Trooper. Likes: long walks along the periphery of the Senate Building.”

“You’re making me sound like a Separatist spy.”

“Noted. I’ll tone it down.” You tapped again. “Hobby?” you asked, ignoring his suffering. “And don’t say ‘working’ or ‘running with Grizzer’ because I’m putting something fun.”

“You’re gonna lie on my profile?”

“I’m gonna make you hot.”

He rolled his eyes. “Maker, I hate you.”

“You love me,” you shot back sweetly, not realising until the words left your mouth that your heart definitely skipped a beat saying it. Hound didn’t react. Or maybe he did, but you didn’t dare look up to check.

“So. Hobbies. I’m going with: running, cafe hopping, massiff training, and…” you trailed off, squinting at the screen. “Do I put ‘arms so big they could choke you’ or is that too much?”

Hound choked on his caf. “WHAT?”

“You’re right,” you said solemnly. “Too slutty. Gotta leave a little mystery. Okay, now pictures. Gotta show the goods.”

“The what?!”

“The goods, Hound. The product. The merchandise. Now send me that topless pic of you - no, wait. Too slutty. Or maybe just slutty enough. Hmm…”

“I hate this.”

“Oh shut up. You sent me that pic last month when you got your new paintjob, remember? Half armour, mirror selfie?”

“I was showing off my vambrace mod, not trying to thirst trap you!”

“Well, it worked.” You blew raspberries. “Now cough it up.”

He bit the inside of his mouth, and started scrolling through his device. “And,” you added, pulling back and lifting your datapad before he could react, “for the casual, approachable vibe…”

Click.

You captured him whilst he was sipping his caf, curls slightly mussed, brow furrowed, looking like a grumpy, rugged dreamboat. Grizzer, massive yet photogenic, was curled up at his feet like the perfect accessory of crime.

“What the hell, warn me first—”

“Nope. Candid. That’s your ‘just a regular guy who wrestles Republic threats for a living’ pic. Irresistible.”

Throwing his head back, he let out a long suffering sigh. “This is a mistake.”

You were too busy uploading the photo to hear him properly. “Boom. Profile complete. CoruMatch is gonna eat you alive.”

“I feel like I need a booze for this.”

“You’ll need one after your first date.”

Hound grimaced. “I’m scared.”

“Okay, let’s get swiping.” You angled the datapad so he could see, fingers going at lightspeed. “Nope. Nope. Definitely a catfish. Ew, one of those ‘if you’re under six feet don’t talk to me’ bios. You’re six feet though, but not letting you date a red flag. Next. Ooh, what about this Pantoran?”

“Eh…”

“C’mon,” you nudged. “She’s got glossy baby pink hair.”

“That’s your metric?”

“Better than the catfish who used a stock photo of Senator Amidala.”

“Okay, fair,” he muttered. “But… look at her bio.”

You rolled your eyes, tilting the screen back to yourself as you skimmed it. And then you stopped. Brows furrowed. Read it again.

“…Oh no.”

“Yeah.”

“She wrote ‘Fluent in Shyriiwook because I only date men who growl.’”

“Yup.”

“She said ‘looking for my #DivineMasculine’ unironically.”

“Uh-huh. I felt myself get physically weaker reading that.” Hound closed his eyes like he was physically sucker punched by the cringe bio. “She also tagged her own name in her bio.”

“Who is she trying to SEO for?!” You swiped left. “We were almost victims,” 

You both sat in momentary silence, wind brushing through the trees, the caf long forgotten. Finally, you looked up. “Wanna keep swiping?”

“Maker help me, but yeah.” Hound groaned. “Why do people do this?” He sank deeper into the bench. 

“Cause it’s a fucking city planet and we’re all lonely.”

“I’m just saying,” he muttered, “even the shinies are… phew. Don’t ask.”

“No, I have to ask.”

“The moment they landed from Kamino, they already knew shit like - moon sign compatibility, whatever the hell that is. One of them tried to explain ‘twin flames’ to me during barracks cleaning.”

“NO.”

“And now you’ve dragged me into this hell.”

“Oh, this one looks green-flag-ish,” you ignored his grumbling, zooming at the screen. You shoved the datapad into Hound’s face. “Hala, a folk musician from Alderaan. Based in CoCo Town. Now listen, she likes running and wellness. She even spelled everything right in her bio. No weird emojis. That’s rare.”

“Alderaanian folk musician?” Hound grabbed your datapad and inspected the profile. 

“Don’t knock it. This might be the most emotionally stable person within a five-klicks radius.” After you swiped right, the screen immediately exploded with celebratory heart shapes and a little jingle. “Oop! It’s a match!” you gasped. “See?! The algorithm works!”

“I don’t think the algorithm has met me.”

You ignored him completely, already typing. “Now we say hi…”

He tried to reach for the datapad. “Wait, what are you saying?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No. No, give me that—”

“Too late!” you beamed, holding the screen out of his reach like you were taunting a toddler. “Message sent.”

“What did you say?!”

“I said, and I quote, ‘My name is Hound but you can call me tonight’”

The ARF trooper stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “You did not.”

“I did. You’re a confident, playful trooper with a sensitive side and dog dad energy.”

“I’m going to die alone.”

“You’re going to die loved. Possibly with a girl and a litter of massiff puppies on your deathbed.” Grizzer whined in confusion. You patted his head. “Your dad’s about to go on the nicest date of his life. Be happy for him.”

Your datapad buzzed with a reply. “She said yes! She wants to meet tonight for tea and a walk around the sculpture gardens. Fancy.”

“Ugh,” he groaned and grabbed your datapad to check Hala’s profile again. “If this doesn’t work…”

“We’ll try again!” You grinned.

That night, you made yourself dinner. Instant noodles jazzed up with a soft-boiled egg and way too much chili oil, and promptly forgot about Hound and his date. It was just another match. A little experiment. Some harmless fun to entertain you both whilst the Republic slowly caved in on itself. You even put on a face mask, tied your hair back, and curled up on the floor scrolling your datapad like this was just any other lazy rotation. You were halfway through a video of the latest Coruscanti gossip when your comm buzzed at exactly 2300 hours.

Hound.

Brushing your fingers clean on your sleep shirt, you accepted the call.

“Hound? What—”

“She brought a crystal,” he cut right to the chase. “Said it was from Koboh. Told me it had ‘natural regenerative energy’ and waved it over my shoulder like she was summoning the fucking Force.”

You dropped the commlink straight into your lap and immediately started wheezing before picking it up again. “Maybe she thought you had energy inflammation,” 

“She told me bacta is a big pharma conspiracy to keep us addicted to it.”

“Stars.”

“She drinks this fermented root thing that smells like glue and tastes like piss. No caf. No caf at all.”

You went still. “That’s a crime against the Republic.”

“She told me, verbatim, that caf disrupts your body’s natural vibrational frequency.”

You were already tearing up. Fumbling to switch the call to holo. “I’m gonna cry.”

The hologram streamed a moment later. Hound appeared in blue-tinted 3D, hair damp and curling at the edges, skin flushed from a recent shower. He was wearing his old Kamino fatigue shirt - the red one that hugged his arms a little too much and was, arguably, the most emotionally devastating shirt in his wardrobe.

“I almost did,” he deadpanned. “From dehydration. She only drinks filtered rainwater.”

“Her bones are probably hollow.” You shrieked. 

“She asked if I’d ever done a past life regression,” he continued, running a hand over his face. “Then told me I used to be a Wroshyr tree.”

You choked, nearly knocking your comm over. “A Wroshyr tree? What are you a wookiee descendant?!”

“I said I didn’t remember that and she got offended.”

By this point, you were doubled over, sitting cross-legged with your comm propped against your knee, face buried in your sleeve as you cackled into the fabric.

“She was really nice, though,” Hound added after a moment, because he was polite to a fault and probably thanked her for the disastrous date. “Just… you know.”

“Yeah.” You wiped your eyes, still breathless. “A little much?”

“She thinks medbays and hospitals are a scam and she tried to cleanse my aura with essential oils. I smell like a spice market exploded, and I’ve showered twice! My nose is burning.”

You finally flopped backward on your floor, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay,” you couldn’t stop laughing. “So. Maybe not a second date?”

“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “I can’t do this again. You win. I tap out.”

“Don’t say ‘you win’ like this was a competition,” you rolled onto your side. “I matched you with someone who thinks Grizzer is the cutest bundle of joy.”

“I hate you. I’m going to bed.” He flipped the middle finger at you, earning another bark of laughter that hurt your belly.

“Burn your shirt.”

He looked down at himself. “Never.”

You sighed, watching his little hologram glitch as he moved around his space on the other end.

“Hey, same time tomorrow?” he asked.

You smiled. “0700.”

“Bring caf.”

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

“Okay. Second date. After office hours. Are you writing this down in your note app?” you quipped, adjusting your pace to match Hound’s stride as you both jogged towards the Senate Office Building.

It was part of your unspoken routine now - morning run, post-run chat, then split off to your respective showers. The communal one on your floor was barely used; most staff preferred to stink in silence or go home first. You didn’t mind. It was quiet, tiled, and vaguely smelled of expensive aromatherapy. Hound, meanwhile, would bolt back to the barracks for his own rinse and then kit up before his 1100 patrol shift, lunch hour. His least favorite. Too many politicians, too much foot traffic, and too many civilians trying to take selfies with the massiffs. “They’re not lap dogs,” he’d muttered once whilst untangling Grizzer from someone who tried to put a pink tutu on him. 

Hound slapped a towel around his neck. “Who am I dating again today?”

“The financial advisor for Mobquet,” you said, pulling up her profile as you slowed to a walk. “Twi’lek. Yellow-gold skin. You literally said she’s pretty when I showed you before we started running.”

“I said she had nice cheekbones. That’s not the same.”

“Sounds like horny math to me,” you snorted, angling your datapad towards him. “Look at her. She does this meditative stretching but not the fake shit that comes with a thirty credit jogan smoothie. This is your best shot yet.”

He finger combed the curls that fell on his forehead back, dark brown eyes widening as he raised both eyebrows. “She’s got those rich people eyes, you know, the ones that would judge your eating habits”

“She’s going to cleanse your palate, bro.”

“Right, bro. From what? Tree girl? My will to live?”

You ignored him. “Also, heads up, I got access to Coraya.”

Hound stopped dead. “What?! I thought you needed some kind of clearance to get in.”

“I have connections.” You winked. “Some senate aide owed me a favour. And now? Boom. You’ve got four matches.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t trust people who use dating platforms with references.”

“They’re vetted! They’re verified! They’re—”

“Emotionally unavailable,” he finished for you.

“You’re emotionally unavailable.”

“Exactly. That’s why this isn’t going to work.”

You reached over and punched his bicep. “Shut up and take the love I’m forcing on you.”

He let out the most dramatic sigh and mouthed “fine.”

“Second date,” you said again, cheerful. “Twi’lek advisor. Nice outfit. No interest in crystals. We’re going to debrief over drinks afterward.”

——————————————

The next day you found him already waiting at the usual deli table near the Senate Plaza, hunched over like he’d been up since dawn - which he had. No run that morning. You had a 0800 meeting with some stiff-necked junior advisor about budget allocation, and Hound had pulled a patrol shift that started before sunrise. It was one of those rotations where you’d barely messaged, just a quick “lunch?” over comm before diving back into the hustle.

Sliding into the seat across from him, you wordlessly pushed a cup of caf and fish sandwich across the table. “Well?” you asked, unwrapping your own sandwich. “Is Twi’lek the new aphrodisiac?”

Hound groaned and dropped his head onto the table, face-first.

“So that’s a no?”

“She was nice,” he mumbled, words muffled into the metal. “Really nice. Smart. Articulate. Not into star charts or past life regression. So nice.”

You chewed, watching him from over your coffee lid. “And…?”

He rolled his face to the side so one eye could look at you. “She also spoke in numbers.”

“…What.”

“Like. Numbers. Statistics. I complimented her jewelry, and she hit me with ‘75% of women on Coruscant wear blood diamonds from a deregulated mine on Iktotch.’ Then she asked if I was more of a ‘risk-assessment or projected yield’ kind of guy.”

That made you choke on your caf, nearly snorting foam up your nose. “Okay, that’s… honestly very on-brand.”

“She tried to explain compound interest and capital gain using us as a metaphor.”

You lowered your sandwich slowly. “The fuck. Like… emotionally? Or financially?”

“I honestly couldn’t tell.” He stared into the middle distance. 

“So… second date?” Slurping your caf, your eyes never left his.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked down at the rim of his caf cup, fingers absently running along the lid like it had suddenly become the most fascinating object in the galaxy. “…Yeah. Benduday night.” he said finally.

That drove your eyebrows to the ceiling. “Really?”

“It wasn’t awful. And…” He trailed off, lips pursed, eyes still on the table. “You’re right. Everyone’s bringing dates to ARC night next week.” He dragged his eyes up at you. “They already think I’m a lonely dog guy. I just want to be left alone. But if I show up alone, they’ll start pulling stunts. Thorn’s already threatened to sign me up for speed dating.”

You both laughed at his suffering. Taking another sip of your caf, you let the warmth sit on your tongue as your eyes drifted back to him. “So you’re really doing this, huh?”

“What, dating?”

“No.” You looked at him over the cup. “Performing heterosexual stability for your brothers.”

“Do you want me to date or not? You literally signed me up for this.” He narrowed his eyes. 

“I was joking! I do,” you grinned. “And I stand by it. I want you to be happy.” You said it lightly. “Whatever that looks like.”

The man in front of you stared at you for a moment, one curl fell on his face, eyes searching like he was trying to line something up in his head that wouldn’t quite fit the puzzle. You forced yourself to hold the gaze, even though it made your chest feel strange. Then he stood up, stretching his arms behind his back. “Same time tomorrow?”

“0700.” You pointed at his caf. “Your turn to bring me one.”

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

The night after his second date, he met you at your usual pre-run meet-up spot, right on time. It had been two days since your last run together - both of you swamped with tight schedules and barely enough time to check in. But the post-date debrief was still on the menu. The morning air had that crisp, early chill that made you grateful for your long sleeves, cold enough to sting but not quite cold enough to curse Coruscant’s wind this time of the month. Grizzer was spinning in circles chasing his tail before suddenly catching himself, straightening up with dignity like he hadn’t just been an idiot ten seconds ago. He posted at Hound’s side like a statue, ears alert, pretending to be all business. Little weirdo.

Hound looked… lighter, somehow. The dark under his eyes hadn’t vanished, but there was a looseness in the way he carried himself, a settled ease in his shoulders. Quietly content. You reached for the caf in his hand without asking, and chugging it like it was the only thing tethering you to the galaxy. It was still hot, nearly scalding your tongue, but you didn’t care. Pre-workout religion, shared by you both.

“So,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Financial Advisor Round Two went well?”

Hound huffed a short laugh, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah. Actually… it went really well.” He took a deep breath before he continued. “We went to this rooftop spot in CoCo Town. Real quiet, kind of hidden. Good food. Nobody rushed us out, which is rare as hell. We just… talked. For hours.” Deep brown orbs gazing at the path ahead like he couldn’t meet your gaze. “She’s still intense with the finance metaphors, but… I don’t know. It felt easy.”

Tossing the flimsi caf cup to the bin, you tried to keep your suddenly hitching breath steady. “Easy’s good.”

“She gets the job stuff, too. Doesn’t flinch when I talk about the field, or Underworld patrol, or massiff training. She actually asked about Grizzer. Didn’t call him a ‘soul creature’ or whatever that last girl said.”

You didn’t know why you didn’t feel like laughing, but you forced one anyway. “Wow. A miracle.”

“Yeah,” he said, and he smiled a little, soft and fond in that way that made bugs swarming in your belly. Has this feeling always been there? “She said she’s down for ARC night at 79’s too. So I was thinking…” He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, thumb rubbing along the edge of his caf cup as if he needed something to fidget with. “Maybe I don’t need the Coraya matches after all? You can cancel them. I’ll probably just… bring her.”

You felt it hit your chest before your brain could register it. There was no dramatic gasp. No nothing. Just a sudden gravitational drop of your heart. Like blinking and realising you’re standing at the edge of a skyscraper and don’t know how long you’ve been there. “Okay.” You pressed a smile onto your face. “Wow… that actually went well. Great! I’m… I’m glad.” You didn’t look at him as you said it. Simply stared out at the running path. 

He looked at you then with his brows pulled together. “You okay?”

You laughed too quickly and it cracked on the way out. “Yeah. No. Of course. This was the whole point, wasn’t it? Me setting you up. Helping you find someone who isn’t a crystal-wielding root juice drinker.”

“Right.” Curls bouncing on his head as he chuckled.

“Good for you, though,” you forced brightness into your voice. “She seems like a great match. Really.”

“Thanks,” he eventually said after finishing his caf. “For all of this.”

With your smile still intact, you turned your head towards him, and tilted your chin toward the trail ahead. “Anytime. Now, race you for the next hour? Wanna hit four minutes per kilo?”

“You’re on.” He elbowed you before both of you took off. Maybe if you just ran hard enough, you could outpace the sudden ache you felt in your chest.

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

ARC night always drew a crowd. From off-duty troopers blowing off steam, shinies still awkward in their freshly ironed grey uniforms trying to look like they belonged, to civilians taking advantage of cheaper alcohol and the overall safety of the place. The music had that smooth, electronic beat with vibrating bass that made your chest thrum. Lights flickered and spun in warm ambers and electric blues, bouncing off bits of clone armour worn by a handful of troopers.

But you weren’t here for that. You were here for ladies’ night, which, because 79’s was a marketing genius, happened to fall on the same night as ARC night. Your friends had dragged you out with the usual bribes: Free drinks, come on, we haven’t gone out in weeks, you never wear that black dress anymore. You told yourself it was fine. Just a night. Nothing would happen. You’d sip something sugary, laugh too loud, and head home before midnight.

“There you are.”

A deep voice rose just above the music. You turned, drink in hand, your breath catching before you could stop it. There he was, Hound. Wearing his blacks, sleeves rolled, half armour. Arm casually draped around the shoulder of a stunning Twi’lek woman in a fitted blazer and asymmetrical dress, her skin a smooth shade of yellow-gold. She leaned into him, and he didn’t seem to be bothered by it. The sergeant looked relaxed. Comfortable. Buzzed enough for that loose smirk to melt across his face like he’d never known stress a day in his life.

And stars help you, he looked good. Too good.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight,” he stepped closer, arm still slung around the heaven-sent Twi’lek, though he adjusted his stance like he wasn’t sure how close to get to you.

“Yeah, the girls dragged me out. Free drinks, loud music. You know. Classic trap.” You sipped your drink. 

Hound’s eyes gazed on your outfit, lingering a little too long. The black dress. The low back. The way the straps crossed at your shoulder blades. You knew you looked good. That wasn’t the problem. “Oh—uh,” he blinked, straightening like he’d forgotten himself. “This is Lyra. Lyra, this is—” He hesitated. Friend? Matchmaker? Teammate? Almost-something-that-never-was? 

“…This is the one who made this whole thing happen,” he settled on. “My, uh… running partner.”

“Yeah. I built him from the ground up. Swiped left on twenty-five disasters before we found the financial wizard.” You grinned from ear to ear, drink raised. “I’ve heard… about his past dates,” you added breezily. “You’re already winning. You haven’t assigned him a soul animal yet.”

Lyra laughed politely, and flicked her eyes between the two of you. “He told me all about that. I promised I’d never try to name his soul animal.” She smiled, free hand flew on his chest. Perfect.

“Oh, I don’t know,” you teased. “He does have ‘feral rancor’ energy in the mornings.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Hound’s eyes narrowed. “You’re the one who nearly started a fight with a street vendor for under-toasting your bagel.”

“It was limp!”

Lyra laughed again, but it came with a hint of confusion. Hound had turned towards you now, fully engaged, like the two of you had slipped into an orbit only you understood. Jokes that no one seemed to understand but the two of you flew effortlessly. You didn’t even have to think about it. You never did.

Finding yourself smiling a little too wide, and a little too guilty for accidentally leaving Lyra out of the conversation, you checked your chrono. “Anyway,” you said quickly, stepping back. “I was just about to head out.”

“Already?” Lyra pouted. “It’s not even 2100!” 

You gave a one-shouldered shrug, adjusting the strap of your purse. “Early meeting tomorrow. Some budget subcommittee that thinks my entire department can function on six credits and free lunch Primeday.”

Hound frowned slightly, like he wanted to say something, but didn’t allow himself to.

“See you tomorrow?” you asked as casually as you could make it.

“Yeah,” he said. “Same time.”

“Cool.”

You smiled at Lyra. Gosh, she was beautiful. You nodded again once, then turned. The crowd swallowed you almost instantly. You didn’t look back. And Hound, still standing beside Lyra, watched the space you’d left behind.

After you left, Hound didn’t even register the music anymore. The pulsing rhythm, the strobing lights, the press of bodies moving through the haze of conversation and laughter - all of it blurred into static. He barely heard Lyra chatting beside him, her voice distant as she mentioned something about a Senate finance shake-up, her hand lightly tapping his arm in that casual way she always did. But he couldn’t focus. His eyes were still fixed on the spot where you’d just been standing, now swallowed by the crowd. The smile you gave him hadn’t reached your eyes. And you didn’t even look back. That shouldn’t have meant anything. But it did. Right in the gut. 

He didn’t know what he wanted to come after him, but he knew it wasn’t this silence. He’d been so sure he would try it with Lyra. She was kind, smart, asked good questions, and didn't try too hard. She didn’t flinch when he talked about his nasty Underworld patrol. She didn’t ask about his rank or make his clone status a topic of fascination or pity. She got along with Grizzer. She laughed at his jokes. She was almost perfect.

But she didn’t look at him the way you did. She didn’t roll her eyes when he was being dramatic or bicker with him over dumb things like caf orders and running pace or which vendor in the Federal District had the worst bagels. She didn’t shove caf into his hand at 0700 and say, “You’re welcome, war criminal,” with a wink and that stupid grin of yours. She didn’t make him feel like he was being seen for something other than what he did or what he was made for. Which, to be fair, wasn’t her fault. You’d known him for a while. Lyra was new. But even back when you were new, the second time he ever hung out with you, he remembered thinking this is different. With you, he didn’t have to hold himself back. Didn’t have to double-check his tone, or scan for offence, or explain things that didn’t need explaining. 

You understood. And somewhere deep down, a door quietly creaking open in a part of him he hadn’t dared to look at. Not until now. A sudden shout of laughter from the other side of the bar pulled him back into the present. The music swelled again. He blinked, refocusing, turning back to Lyra as she smiled up at him. He nodded, forced a smile of his own, and answered like he hadn’t just felt something click into place that might ruin everything.

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

You were already stretching by the time Hound jogged into view, Grizzer loping at his side, tongue out and tail high, a red bandana tied around his thick neck. Hound gave you a nod as he slowed to a walk, hoodie tied at his waist like a makeshift kama, the regulation red of the Coruscant Guard bleeding into civilian comfort. No caf in his hand. No shouting “You ready to smoke the entire district?” like he usually did, every morning like clockwork, as if it were part of the run-up ritual.

You didn’t meet him with a joke either. Just a quiet, even, “Morning.”

“Hey.”

And that was it. You took off at a steady pace with your breathing already synced to the shape of the path ahead. No warm-up banter. No arguing over pace. Just running in silence, broken only by the echo of your steps and the ambient murmur of the waking city. 

By the third block, you’d pulled ahead. Not by much, but enough to leave Hound and Grizzer behind. A few metres in your back, Hound had started breathing harder, legs pushing just slightly more than usual to stay even with you. “You training for a trail run or something?” he called out jokingly. “That’s not ‘til the summer rotation.”

“Just clearing my head.” You didn’t turn to face him. 

Another block passed. Your feet carried you forward like they were trying to outrun something. The silence was suffocating - it made your ears ring.

Eventually, he caught up again, matching your pace. “Heading to work after this?”

“Yeah.”

“Big day?”

“No bigger than usual.”

An uncomfortable silence that was never there finally made its way in, and neither of you did anything to break it. You stared straight ahead, into the rising silhouette of the Senate tower, its gleaming metal surface catching the early sunrise - grey, cold, and detached. You hated this. The distance where ease used to live. The absence of all the little nothings that once filled the space between you. You hated the way your own voice felt unfamiliar in your mouth, and how the words burned as you asked the one thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t.

“So,” you said. “How’d it go? With Lyra.”

He glanced sideways at you, brows furrowed, as if he wasn’t sure if this was an actual curiosity or a test. Then he looked away, settling his gaze somewhere in the middle distance as he let out a long, quiet sigh. “It was fine.”

“Everyone loved her at ARC night?” You nodded, forcing a smile that felt hollow in your cheeks. 

A small laugh escaped his lips. Not quite genuine, but not unkind either. “Yeah. She handled it well. Didn’t get weird about the armour. Didn’t freeze up when the war stories started flying. Talked shop with Thire about tax brackets. That was… actually impressive.”

“She sounds like she fits in,” you said. Your laugh came out manufactured, trailing off before it even landed.

“Yeah.”

Both of you kept running. Grizzer’s claws tapped a steady rhythm on the pavement in that click-click-click noise - the only constant sound in this suddenly foreign silence.

“Everyone kept asking if we were already a thing,” Hound said after a while, like he wasn’t sure whether it was relevant or just another thought that wouldn’t let go. “Didn’t help that we actually showed up together. I-uh, I picked her up.”

“Are you?” You glanced at him. 

He looked at you.

You looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said, quiet again. “Feels like I’m supposed to want that.”

There was nothing left to say to that. Not truthfully. Not without setting fire to something you could never put out. So you smiled again, your last defense, and said the thing you’d practiced in your head a dozen times. “Well, as I said. If it makes you happy. I’m also happy!”

Bumping your elbow into his side, you tried to shake the weight from your shoulders, to turn it back into something familiar. “I’m just glad you’re no longer a lonely dog boy,” you said, joking, pretending, swallowing everything else. That earned a smile from him. Faint, a little confused, maybe, but he said nothing. And you kept running. Because it was fine. You’d get over it. You always did.

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

The locker room was steaming with humid air from the last round of hot showers. Water dripped from showerheads, and pooled along the corners of the tiled floor, glistening under the overtly bright overhead lights. The clatter of boots against the floor, the dull slam of locker doors, the occasional bark of laughter - all of it echoed in the wet acoustics of the room, bouncing off white walls scrubbed too many times. Hound hated the soap. The godawful knockoff citrus the quartermaster kept ordering in bulk, probably because it was dirt cheap and smelled better than bacta spray. He sneezed twice as he scrubbed the scent off his hands with a towel, rubbing his curls dry, autopilot whilst his mind lagged somewhere three steps behind.

Across the aisle, Thorn leaned against his locker, towel wrapped low around his hips, datapad in hand, somehow managing to look smug even while dripping. Thire was already halfway into his blacks, pulling the undersuit over his legs. 

“ARC night was wild,” Thorn cracked his neck with a sigh of deep satisfaction, and threw his datapad into the locker. “Did you see Fives try to dance with that senator’s aide?”

“Bet he tapped that,” Thire grinned, adjusting his belt as he spoke.

“Yeah, well… of course he did.”

Hound let out a low laugh despite himself, tossing his damp towel into his locker and shaking his head. “That son of a bantha.”

“Hey,” Thorn suddenly pointed at him. “ARFs included in ARC night perks now, right? You get your free drinks?”

Hound grabbed the bottle of body spray off the bench, giving himself a quick hit of the aggressively named Cool Breeze - which was supposed to smell like cool ocean breeze, but as much as he remembered, Kamino didn’t smell like chemical peel. “Yeah, I got my drink.”

Beside him, Thire held out a hand. Wordlessly, Hound tossed the bottle his way. Thire sprayed himself like he was trying to disappear into the mist. Then, without warning, he turned and lobbed it toward Thorn, who caught it with a laugh. Of course. Now the communal body spray era began.

“Free drinks and Lyra,” Thire added with a knowing grin.

Hound rolled his eyes, trying to keep the warmth from creeping up his neck. “It was just drinks.”

“Sure,” Thire snorted, tugging on his chestplate. “Though I gotta say. I thought you’d bring the other girl.”

Hound blinked. “Huh?”

“You know,” Thorn cut in, waving a hand vaguely. “The Senate Office girl. The one you’re always running with. The one you ran with this morning. Always talking about. She said this, she did that…”

“Yeah, that one,” Thire snapped his fingers, snickering. “The one who drops you off after every run like your personal handler. We were betting on that.”

“I think I saw her last night, actually,” Thorn mused. “Just a flash. Thought she’d be with you. She’s already taken or what?”

“Oh,” Hound hesitated. “I mean… she’s my best friend. She was there, yeah, but had to bail early. Something about chasing that mythical eight hours of sleep.”

Thorn raised an eyebrow. “That all?”

“She’s the one who set these dates up for me,” Hound said quickly. “Said I was, uh, too hot to be single.”

Thire barked a laugh. “She said that? Bro.”

“Damn,” Thorn grinned, shaking his head. “She’s out here playing matchmaker? Didn’t see that coming. Thought you two were already a thing before you came with Lyra.”

Hound gave a short laugh, trying to match the casualness of the situation. He turned towards his locker, busying himself with pulling his blacks free. “She’s just… like that. Always something to laugh about later.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘just like that,’” Thire echoed, securing his chestplate. “You really think she expected this setup to actually work?”

“I mean,” Hound said softly, staring down at the locker’s empty interior. “She was excited. Really excited. Wanted me to meet someone. Wanted me to… not be alone.”

“Sure,” Thorn said. “But that doesn’t mean she thought you’d actually meet someone.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Thire clapped a hand on Hound’s back. “Don’t overthink it, man. Just figure out what you want. ‘Cause from where we’re standing? You’ve already got it.”

Words stuck in Hound’s throat. From where they stood, it was simple. From the outside, it probably looked obvious. But inside his own head, all he could hear was the difference in laughter, the way you called him out for his military posture during his pre-marathon trainings, or made him wave at service droids just to prove a point that not all droids are bad. The way you saw him.

“Besides,” Thire added, tossing the rest of his gears into his bag. “We haven’t heard one word about Lyra ‘til last night. But you? You talk about your running buddy like it’s breathing.”

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

The place he found himself in that quiet Taungsday afternoon was small, warmly loud in a very intimate way. The lights were a soft amber glow, filtered through greasy glass blocks, and the walls were a curated mess of vintage flimsi posters, hand-painted holo ads from decades past, and cracked tiles that no one had bothered to fix. It smelled like garlic that had been left to crisp in the pan and fire-cooked meat. The type of smell that stuck to your clothes and made you feel full before you even sat down. His kind of place. Unpretentious. No frills. Real. 

Lyra loved it instantly. Sliding into the booth across from him, her smart wrap top still crisp despite the heat, her lekku draped politely over her shoulders. “This place has character,” she’d said, eyes crinkled as she smiled. “I’m into it.” And she meant it. She cracked jokes with the grumpy Pantoran running the register, ordered the house special without needing a menu, didn’t flinch at the spice level or the sticky tabletop. She fit in effortlessly, like she could match the rhythm of any space she walked into. She told stories between bites of food. “…and then my CEO tried to write off her cousin’s entire old speeder collection as ‘cultural artifacts.’ I had to explain to the board that if the licence still lists him as the primary driver, it’s not an antique, it’s a tax writeoff”. And he’d laughed, genuinely. She was clever. Funny. She made fraud sound romantic. And Hound smiled back, and he meant it. 

But beneath the laughter was a stillness he hadn’t expected. Lyra laughed in rhythmic bursts, just enough, never too much. Polished. Controlled. Unlike you - who laughed like the world owed you joy and you were going to take it. Loud, messy, infectious. You snorted. You shook with it. Lyra made way too many gestures when she spoke - it was always delicate, graceful, careful not to knock her drink - but Hound missed the way you stabbed the air when you got mad about procedural inefficiency in Senate legislation, like you were personally ready to brawl with the system armed only finger guns. 

Watching Lyra across the table, he saw the way she tilted her head when she listened, saw that she was everything he was supposed to look for in a person. Grounded. Thoughtful. Uncomplicated. And yet the space in his head where he stored your morning runs and caf orders was louder than her laughter. 

“You okay?” Lyra asked softly, pulling her eyebrows together. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Just… long patrol this morning. Think I hit a wall.” He blinked. 

She nodded easily, understanding, not offended. “You’ve been busy. If you want to call it early, I won’t take it personally.” 

And he hesitated - not because he was tired, but because this wasn’t fair. Not to her. Not to himself. Because the truth was, he didn’t want this to be enough. He wanted you. Your chaos. Your rants. Your unpredictable moods and predictable orders at the cafe. The way you never made him feel like he had to perform as a clone, a trooper, a protector. With Lyra, he was seen. With you, he was seen, accepted, understood, and known.

As they walked under the haze of golden streetlights back towards her building - a charmingly old one with cracked brickwork, ornamental balconies, potted plants clinging to welded iron, she asked, “Lunch date next Centaxday?” 

It should have been easy to say yes. But something inside him had already moved on. He stopped walking. She did too, turning to face him with that soft, curious tilt of the head. 

“Um… Lyra,” he started, and the words felt too small. 

“Yeah?” The warmth in her lekku deepened, a subtle flush. 

Hound took a breath. “I don’t think this works.” 

Her expression changed, not to sadness, but a quiet understanding. 

“It’s just… I’ve been pulled into extra rotations, the Guard’s assigning more surveillance routes to ARF teams, I don’t even know if I’ll get Centaxday off,” he stumbled, reaching for logistics like they could make this sound less like a rejection and more like unfortunate timing. Coward. 

She didn’t interrupt. Just watched him, hands folded in front of her cardigan. And when he finished trailing off like a kicked massiff, she only smiled. “So… is it really the Guard?” she asked gently. 

He lowered his eyes, then looked back up, hating how easy it was for her to read him. “Actually… no.” 

“Of course,” a faint smile curled on his lips. “Didn’t think so.” 

And when he tried to apologise again, she waved it off. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re kind. Very kind. You tried.” 

He opened his mouth. “I just—” 

“You’re in love with her,” she said. There was no accusation in her voice, only clarity. “The girl from 79’s.” 

He froze. Not because she was wrong. But because it was the first time anyone had said it out loud. “Tell her,” Lyra added, stepping back towards the entrance of her building. “If she’s as smart as I think she is, she’s probably still waiting for you to catch up.” She smiled one last time. Not sad, not bitter. “It was nice hanging out with you, Hound.” And with that, she disappeared behind the building’s old wood-framed doors. 

Hound stood there for a long time, hands loose at his sides, breath thick in his lungs. The streetlight above him buzzed faintly in the quiet. And then he moved, first a step, then another, faster, into a brisk walk, feet carrying him without thought. As if his body already knew the way back.

After a few klicks his feet carried him faster, regulation boots be damned. He cursed himself for not wearing his running shoes to his afterhour date, but here he was, feeling blisters started to form on his achilles and foreseeing days of complaining about shin splints during patrol. He ran through CoCo Town, down crowded footpaths and across skybridges, breath burning in his throat. He didn’t bother with the hovertrain. Six stops was nothing compared to what he felt gnawing inside his chest.

Your flat. Fobosi District. He remembered. You’d told him once offhand, “seventh level, corner unit, west side. I get the sunset through the window!” You’d said it mid-run, cheeks red, breath fogging in the cold. Like you didn’t expect him to care.

But he did. He remembered everything. You always ran home early. Always claimed you had meetings or unfinished paperworks. But maybe you just liked being alone. Or maybe you didn’t want to say why. He liked that about you. That you didn’t give everything away. That you kept parts of yourself sharp and chaotic and yours. He remembered how you’d point at people during runs and shout, “Nice boots, queen!” or “That’s a perfect beard, ten outta ten!” and then dare him to do it too. You made the whole planet feel alive, like the city was filled with weirdness and wonder and you were just in love with all of it.

You were kind in the way that made people uncomfortable, raw and loud and relentless. And then after a while that uncomfortableness would turn into the realisation that this galaxy did need more kindness. He loved that. He always had. How did he not see that?

The question looped in his head as he tailed the previous resident who entered your flat building, and the lift creaked up to the seventh level.

But she’s the one who set the dates. She matched me. She told me to go. She smiled when I left. So why did it hurt her so much to see me with someone else? Oh. We really do share a single brain cell.

The doors slid open with a hiss. And there it was, your floor’s hallway. Quiet. A little worn. Smelled faintly of dust and someone cooking something spicy two doors down. His heart thundered as he approached your door. He didn’t have a plan. Didn’t know what he was going to say. Just that he had to say something to end this slowly growing silence. That you were the one thing he’d run to without hesitation. Always had been.

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

You opened the door at the third buzz, face smothered in a clay mask the colour of green milk, hair pulled back with a clip, oversized Tatooine Summer Camp tee slipping off one shoulder. Your eyes blinked at the unexpected silhouette in your doorway. “You’re not Dumpling,” you said flatly. 

Hound stood there, breathless and baffled, hair matted down with sweat. “What?” he managed. 

“I’m ordering dumplings,” you clarified, stepping back and waving him in as if he was not new here, even though this was technically the first time he’d been inside your flat. “That place you like… you know, the one with the spicy green sauce that makes you cry and curse in Mando’a?” 

You turned and wandered back towards your couch, noodle bowl in hand. Hound hesitated for a second. He thought about turning around, faking a patrol alert, but no. No more excuses. No more running. Not when you looked like you'd gotten all that unexpected heartbreak out of your system and stuffed it in a nice little box labeled “Not My Problem Anymore.”

The door slid shut behind him, locking in the moment. “I broke it off with Lyra,” he said. 

You didn’t even look up from the stupid holoseries you were watching. “Oh,” Then a long groan followed. “Hound, what the hell! Now I have to dig through the trenches again!” You dropped your bowl on the table and flopped backward onto the couch dramatically. “You were so close.” He opened his mouth, but you cut him off, sitting upright and waving for his datapad. “Nope. Give it. We’re using yours this time so I don’t have to flirt with some Southern Underground girl at 0200 just to trick her into a conversation.” 

Hound stood there, rooted to the floor, and something snapped. “Absolutely not!” he barked, hands flying up. “We are not doing that again!” And just like that, he started pacing. 

“I went on a DATE with a woman who thinks medical science is a SCAM,” he ranted. “She waved a fucking crystal over my back like it was gonna realign my entire bowel system and then fed me fermented root juice that tasted like shit!” You bit your lip. He kept going. “AND THEN! Sweet, wonderful, beautiful, normal Lyra took me on dates. Correction, I took her. She was very nice, very adult! Oh shit, I think I should introduce her to Thorn so he wouldn’t have to sleep around anymore. Remind me?” His eyes widened in realisation. “NOT THE POINT!” He grabbed your glass of water and chugged it. 

“And guess what, the entire time I was with her, I was just thinking about you. And your laugh that sounds like a poorly modded speederbike backfiring. And how you always fake cough after saying something embarrassing like it’ll delete it from reality.” 

“I do not—” 

“You do! And it’s so dumb. And I miss it.” He laughed once, manic. “And I miss you calling me ‘paw patrol’ and ‘war criminal’, and shit like that, and acting like caf is an emotional support crutch and I just…” He paused, turned, eyes wide. “I miss running with you EVERY SINGLE DAY. I miss you yelling ‘KING’ at old men with good coats. I miss pretending not to laugh when you flirt terribly with vendors. I miss the hot sauce in your pocket. I miss you.” Silence. Your clay mask flaked at the corners of your mouth from sheer expression overload. 

Hound dropped his voice. “I don’t want another date. I just want you.” 

You looked down at yourself, sauce-stained shirt, peeling graphic, swamp-coloured face, a literal chili oil splotch over your left tit, and felt absurd. Ridiculous. Feral. And yet this emotionally constipated man had just poured his soul out on your welcome mat like it was nothing. “…You couldn’t wait until tomorrow? When I didn’t look like Bozo the Hutt Clown?” 

Hound blinked. “What?” 

“I have chilli oil stain on my tit, Hound.” 

Cracking the tension open, he burst out laughing, head thrown back, hands on his knees. “Stars, you had to pick tonight?” you groaned, almost smearing your own drying mask with a hand dragged down your face. 

“I ran here,” he said helplessly, walking closer. “Six hovertrain stops. I didn’t have a plan. Just… you. You were the only thing I wanted to run to.” 

“…Okay, that was hot.” Your heart stuttered. He really made your heart soar, huh? But then you halted into a pause. “What’s your pace?” 

“What?” 

“Your running pace, paw patrol.” 

He instinctively checked his chrono. “Uh… three and a half minutes per klick.” 

You whistled. “Damn. PB?” 

“By a whole thirty seconds.” 

“Shit. Was that really all the way from CoCo Town?” 

“Started slow, hit stride at the rail line, then sprinted once I saw your district marker.” 

“Respect.” 

And you both nodded, silently, like that made perfect sense. Until— “Wait. I confessed my feelings.” 

“You got off-topic!” You pointed a finger at him. 

“You brought up my pace!” 

“You answered!” 

And then you both burst into a breathless laughter. Instinctively, Hound stepped even closer, tilting his head, and leaning down towards you. “…So?” 

“You’re trying to kiss me?” With your hands stretching the fabric of your clothes, you made a point of the stubborn stain that painted over the graphic. “Again. I’ve got sauce on my tit. And this mud mask is working overtime.” 

“You’re pretty,” he said without thinking. 

“It’s bentonite clay from some backwater planet, not love.” 

“You’re gonna make me wait?” 

“Two minutes. Let the vitamins set in.” 

“I can’t believe this,” he groaned, hands in his hair. “I run across half of Coruscant, confess to you that I’m in love with your gremlin ass, and you’re making me wait because of your skincare?” 

“…Yeah.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“Correct.” 

The gears turned in your head, fuck it. You grabbed his jacket, yanked him down, and kissed him. Clay be damned. He made a soft noise of surprise and then melted, hands finding your waist, forehead brushing yours, the kiss was awkward and hurried and absolutely perfect. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, he looked dazed. “You taste like clay and seaweed,” 

“Mask got in your mouth?” 

“Yeah.” He wiped his lips, and peeled a flaky green smudge from his cheek. “Worth it.” 

You pinched his face and slapped it lightly. “Dumbass.” earning another grin from him as if it was the best word he’d ever been called. 

“I’m not kissing you again until this swamp is off my face!” You turned towards the kitchen sink next to you. Behind you, Hound laughed again, arms wrapping your waist, kissing the top of your head as you wiped down the sludge on your face. 

Not another minute later, the door buzzer pinged. “Now, that’s Dumpling,” he called. 

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK THE THIRD *  assorted dialogue from the 2007 film, adjust as necessary

let's just say some things are better left unsaid.

if there's something you want to do, or someone you really want to be, then the only one standing in your way... is you.

well, my stomach's aching and my palms just got sweaty. must be a high school.

it wouldn't be inaccurate to assume that i couldn't exactly not say that it is or isn't almost partially incorrect.

so you do know where he is!

all right people, let's do this thing!

i thought we agreed we'd go by the name "team super cool."

from henceforth, we're all to be known as "team alpha super awesome cool dynamite wolf squadron."

right! assume the position!

what are you doing?

i can't believe i'm going to be a father.

how did this happen?

allow me to explain.

when a man falls in love with a woman, he is overcome with powerful urges...

how can you be a receiver of the wedgies when you are clearly not a wearer of the underpants?

somebody help! i've been kidnapped by a monster who's trying to relate to me!

greetings, cosmic children of the universe. welcome to my serenity circle.

please leave all bad vibes outside the healing vortex.

i knew i should have got that warranty.

i'm sorry, but this isn't working for me.

it's not like your attitude is helping.

let go of your petty complaints and let's work together.

someone had better be dying.

if he were real, could i do this?

that's quite enough, boys!

look out! they got a piano!

you really need to get yourself a pair of pants.

some people just don't understand boundaries.

it's just so hard, you know?

come on, take it easy!

there's a mean person doing mean things to good people.

i'll go and get my things.

we realy need your help.

sorry, i don't do that stuff anymore.

how about a hug? that's the best kind of magic there is.

jealous much?

where's the baby?

you just need to do a little less yelling and use more soap.

the soap is because you stink. really bad.

i will never forget you. you are the love of my life.

that's easy for you to say!

it's not easy to come by honest work when the whole world is against you.

those are some nice leotards though.

do they have those in men's sizes?

all right, don't overdo it.

break a leg. on second thought, let me break it for you.

i haven't had a trip that bad since college.

please don't eat me.

i've always wanted to play the flute.

i'd rather get the black plague and lock myself in an iron maiden than go out with him.

try to be reasonable.

i don't know you, but i'd like to.

can i interest anyone in a snack or beverage?

that information is on a need to know basis.

what do you want, [name]?

i love you too, honey!

you're going to be a father.

from here on out, we're gonna take care of business ourselves.

this isn't a rehearsal.

i know i made many mistakes with you.

won't you please open mine first?

can you please just try to grin and bear it?

i got you the biggest one because i love you the most.

now you'll have plenty time to work on your marriage.

excuse me. old lady coming through.

just stay out of this!

oh, this place is filthy.

everybody stay calm. we're all gonna die!

[fastboatsmojito]

🕸️𖤐 Promptober Day Two - Choking 𖤐🕸️

| a/n; Tall man barely fits in the picture, poor thing </3

Promptober schedule here !

| cw; 18+ smut btc !!! Title, GN reader, Luca being a sweetheart <3

| wc; 755

Dividers by @strangergraphics <3

He was hesitant when you first asked, still sweaty as the heat of Chicago summers were dwindling, just getting comfortable on the couch beside you when you brought it up.

“Jesus, that was out of nowhere, sorry-“

You laughed softly at the look of surprise on his face and the realization that it was a little more difficult to bring up than you thought. “I was just thinking about it last night, and I didn’t want to ask you then and freak you out.”

“Sure- yeah. That makes sense. Well..” You could tell he was really thinking about what to say next, a habit of his you grew fond of, he was always so carefully kind. “I’m not against it I just want to make sure I know what I’m doing first, you know? I don’t to hurt you.”

“I know, sweet boy. No pressure.” You meant it, and so did he. You didn’t bring it up again until he did and he spent quite a while looking into the technicalities of it all.

-

Several weeks later, once the summer was officially gone - autumnal chill finally cooling off the city, you were reminded of the short and sweet conversation you’d all but forgotten about.

You were lighting a candle - pumpkin pancake to be specific, looking forward to cozying up on the couch with your boyfriend and some reality tv as soon as he got home. You pulled out all your shared favorites; your designated mugs soon to be full of apple cider, popcorn thrown together with peanut butter m&ms, plenty of Halloween themed blankets, all ready for a lovely night in.

You were bringing your mugs to the living room when he came in, kicking off his shoes and putting his keys back in the pumpkin-shaped dish he got for you a few days prior.

“Anyone tell you halloweens still a few weeks away?” He smiled at your slightly premature enthusiasm, coming up to hug you after you set the mugs down, falling back into the couch still squeezing you as you giggled.

“I knowww, but I’m excited!”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.” He said, smug as he laid down and pulled you to lay on top of him, resting your cheek against the soft fabric of his sweater. A strong hand was under your sweater, gently rubbing your back as you settled into him, getting used to the familiar warmth falling over you.

-

The show got less and less interesting when you looked up to kiss him, slow, soft kisses and touches getting longer and deeper as the tv turned to background noise. The warmth of his hand under your sweater pulled you closer into him, the lingering scent of your his ‘warm cider’ shampoo filling your nose as you moved your hands to his hair.

As you got impossibly closer, his hand on your back moving around and up to the back of your neck - you were reminded of the unintentionally abrupt conversation. You figured he forgot about it or just hadn’t had any time to think about it as it hadn’t come up again, his hand lingered at your neck when you pulled away.

He had just gotten confident enough in understanding how to choke someone without actually harming them. He wanted - needed to make you feel good, and he’d do basically anything to make that happen.

Just a few moments later you were lying under him, legs wrapped around his hips, his fingers clutching the sides of your ribs as he pulled you into him. He was just rough enough to make you drool, your eyes closed as your hands rested on his head tucked in your neck.

“Feel good?” He whispered low next to your ear, looking up at you when you hummed, moving your face towards his with a hand at the side of your neck.

His fingers were lazily draped over your throat, the simple, dizzy feeling - and the mere thought of him applying more pressure there, had you clenching around him. Which he noticed immediately to your dismay, embarrassed by the need he so easily drug out of you.

You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, pleas absentmindedly falling from your mouth until his hand gripped your throat, not applying any pressure until you looked up at him. “That’s all you need, isn’t it?” He cooed over you when you grabbed his wrist.

“Just tap my hand if you want me to stop, okay?”

<333

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Like everybody else, I love young!recruit, but lately, the absolute treasure that is the Colonel is utterly taking up residence in my brain and refusing to leave. Pleeeeease, if you could indulge a simple anon, I'd be forever grateful 💜💜💜

Look… Colonel König is a gift from God!!

Imagine a calm, confident, emotionally stable and intelligent man who's worked on himself, Colonel König is the opposite of young recruit (who's basically a lovesick fuckboy), he calms a woman’s nervous system simply by entering the room. His colleagues respect him, his subordinates aim to please him, men want to be him, and women want to be with him... But he only has eyes and loins for you!

Man has a nice, healthy layer of fat on top of his muscles (unlike the young lean recruit who really ought to eat more) – it’s a shallow thing to do but you can't help but compare these two!Even his musk is somehow different, it’s better, less pungent... Nice and mellow, manly, robust, you sometimes pout when he says he has to take a shower :/

Colonel has a few scars on his neck, chest, abs: old wounds that have long since healed, but he absolutely loves it when you caress them like a maiden about to swoon. And it’s only natural that you worship his war-torn body, because Colonel König worships you.

Pulls you into his arms when he comes home, giving you a passionate, unhurried kiss. Takes a good, long look at you – his darling precious wife, look at how beautiful you are… Has to inhale your scent, good and deep, God, he has missed you so much...

And the way he makes love to you :// It's like he makes love to your soul, too. You could almost cry from how well he's attuned to your needs, man’s so present that you feel shy, even after all these years. Imagine getting flustered when he’s inside you, because you do, the attention is too much.

Colonel König looks deep into your eyes while he fucks you, with a small smile on his lips. Of course he sees how hot and bothered his pretty little wife is, getting sweaty and breathless even if it’s him who’s doing all the work. How did he even end up with such a needy woman...? He must’ve done something right…

And if you’re in need of a rougher ride, he’ll fuck you against a wall, sure, no problem! Man’s as strong as a bull, his stamina is not as through the roof as younger recruit’s but what the older Colonel lacks in desperate quickies he makes up in skill and quality loving <3

Strolls into the kitchen in the morning when you’re making coffee, large hands disappearing under your (his) shirt as he comes behind you and rumbles that he loves you. You find him staring at you, at the store when you're picking your favorite pickle jar, at home when you're reading a book. When you stop and smile and ask him why he's looking at you like that, he tilts his head and says: “Just admiring my beautiful wife :)”

Calls and checks up on you often, laughs huskily at the other end of the phone when you tell him about your silly work day. You get a feeling that you brighten his days with your adorableness, and when you send him cute cat videos, he likes every single one of them. Just imagining the respected, sometimes even feared Colonel watching cat videos in his office in the middle of the day, smiling and double tapping the screen before rerurning to his work, makes your heart hurt.

Young recruit only sends you dirty memes and suspicious gun videos... He only likes your selfies, and begs you to send him naughty videos while he's deployed :( If you sent him a cat video he'd probably joke about making a hat out of that cat...

When you tell the Colonel about young recruit's latest antics, he just sighs and says that the boy has a long way to go. Your husband is mainly interested in that the pup has managed to please you, and asks if he needs to give the rascal an earful... or a warning. You find yourself protecting the poor recruit who would, in truth, never survive the wrath of his older version. It's not that the Colonel enjoys unnecessary violence or would beat younger König into a pulp, it's just that he can get a little intimidating when it comes to the issue of pleasing and respecting his wife.

One wrong move, and the young recruit will fly out the door and won't be let in. Nope, not even if it rains and the sorry dog is whining and scratching at the door :((