#this is well enough worded for me to post it let's GO

[dior-luxury]

How'd They React To You Skipping School

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . comedy/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] cater . leona. floyd . vil . rook . silver . sebek . malleus

- [𝐩:𝐬] none

Note: I had like no idea of what to post, so I just decided to post one of my drafts!

Cater Diamond

Cater is used to you doing your own thing, but when he realizes you're skipping school without telling him, it throws him off. He first notices your absence in class when he glances over at your usual seat and finds it empty.

"Huh? No way. Did she sleep in?" he mumbles, tilting his head.

He checks his Magicam feed just in case, and sure enough—there you are, chilling at a café, sipping on a fancy drink with a little dessert on the side.

"Omg. She’s out living her best life while I’m suffering in Trein’s lecture?? Rude."

At first, he considers letting it slide. After all, it’s not like he never ditches, but the more he thinks about it, the more a nagging feeling settles in his chest.

So, the second class ends, he shoots you a text.

Cay-kun 🧡: Baaaaabe, why am I seeing u on my Magicam instead of in class? U cheating on me with a strawberry shortcake? 😭🍰

You don’t reply right away. He sighs, leaning against a hallway wall. Then, an idea strikes him. If you’re going to skip school, why not have a real ditch day adventure?

Thirty minutes later, you’re peacefully enjoying your alone time when a very familiar voice chimes in from across the café.

"Omg, no way. What are the chances? I just happened to be in the area~", Cater says, sliding into the seat across from you with an easy grin.

You roll your eyes. "Cater, you totally left school to find me."

He laughs, taking a sip of your drink without asking. "Busted. But c’mon, how could I let my precious girlfriend have all the fun by herself? We could’ve planned a whole cute ditch day together!"

Though he’s joking, there’s a flicker of something else in his expression—concern, maybe? You don’t miss the way his fingers drum lightly against the table, the way his usual easygoing smile seems just a bit forced.

"Next time, at least tell me, okay? I wanna make sure you’re safe. Plus, if you’re gonna skip, might as well do it with style. Matching outfits, cute couple photos—the whole deal."

Even though he’s being playful, you know he’s serious. And honestly? You wouldn’t mind skipping with him next time.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is no stranger to skipping school—hell, it’s practically his hobby. So when he hears from Ruggie that you didn’t show up to class, his first reaction is to scoff.

"Tch. So what? Not like it’s my problem."

But as the day drags on, something bugs him. He expected you to at least text him if you were gonna skip.

By the time lunch rolls around, his patience is gone.

Instead of going to class, he heads straight to his usual napping spot in the botanical gardens—where, conveniently, he finds you lounging on a bench, headphones in, eyes closed as you soak in the afternoon sun.

For a moment, he just watches. Then, with a sigh, he plops down beside you, one arm draped over the back of the bench as he tilts his head toward you.

"You got some nerve skippin’ without tellin’ me."

Your eyes snap open. "Leona? How’d you—"

"I am the king, y’know. I got eyes everywhere."

He leans in, his voice dropping to that low, lazy drawl that always sends a shiver down your spine. "So? You got a reason for dodging class, or you just felt like slacking?"

You mumble something about needing a break. Leona raises an eyebrow, letting out a deep sigh.

"Hmph. Well, can’t say I blame you. But if you’re gonna play hooky, at least do it right."

Before you can react, he shifts, lying down with his head in your lap, eyes already closing.

"Since you’re already here, you might as well stay. I ain’t letting you run off alone again—next time, you skip, you tell me first. Got it?"

His words are firm, but the way his hand lazily rests on your knee, fingers tracing absentminded patterns, tells you everything you need to know.

You weren’t just skipping school—you were skipping him. And Leona Kingscholar doesn’t like being left out.

Floyd Leech

When Floyd finds out you skipped school, the reaction is instant and dramatic.

It starts when he bursts into your dorm room, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Shrimpyyyyy~ Why weren’t you in class today?"

Before you can even answer, he flops down onto your bed, stretching like a lazy cat.

"I was soooo boooored. Sitting in class with no Shrimpy to tease? Ugh, it was awful!"

You roll your eyes. "Floyd, it’s just one day. I needed a break."

The air shifts.

Floyd props himself up on one elbow, his usual playful smile still in place, but there’s something more intense behind his eyes now.

"Hmm. A break from school? Or a break from me?"

You blink. "Wait, what? No, that’s not—"

Before you can finish, he’s suddenly on top of you, his long fingers gently but firmly pressing against your wrists. His grin widens, but his grip tightens just slightly.

"Y’know, if you wanted to play hooky, you could’ve just told me. We coulda done something fun together." His voice drops to a murmur, lips brushing against your ear. "But instead, you ran off all alone… That’s kinda mean, don’tcha think?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Floyd, I didn’t mean it like that—"

In an instant, his mood flips back.

"Hehe, just kidding~!" He suddenly rolls off you, laughing as he sprawls out on the bed again.

"Buuut next time you skip, I’m coming with you. No ifs, ands, or buts. Shrimpy doesn’t get to run away from me, got it?"

Despite the playfulness, you know he’s dead serious. And honestly? It’s safer to just agree. Because when Floyd wants something…

He gets it.

Here’s how Vil, Rook, and Silver would react to you skipping school, each in their own unique way!

Vil Schoenheit

Vil notices your absence immediately. He keeps a close eye on you—not in an overbearing way (or so he claims), but enough to know when something’s off.

It starts when he walks into class and sees your seat empty. He frowns.

"Where is she?" he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

Even Rook, who usually lets things play out naturally, raises an eyebrow at Vil’s reaction.

"Perhaps ma belle has decided to take an impromptu escape from the drudgery of academia?"

Vil clicks his tongue. "Hardly. She wouldn’t skip for no reason. Which means…"

His eyes narrow as he pulls out his phone and dials your number. It rings. And rings. No answer.

Vil is not amused.

By lunch, he has had enough. With a sigh, he closes his notebook, stands up, and says, "If the professors ask, tell them I’m handling a… personal matter."

A few students exchange glances, but no one questions him. When Vil Schoenheit is on a mission, he gets what he wants.

—

You’re lounging at a quiet spot near the outskirts of campus, enjoying the rare moment of solitude, when suddenly—

"There you are."

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of his voice.

Vil stands before you, arms crossed, his violet eyes burning with irritation.

"Would you like to explain to me why you’ve chosen to neglect your studies today?"

You stammer out something about needing a break. The pressure of school, the endless expectations—it was all just too much.

For a moment, Vil just stares at you. Then, with a sigh, he walks over and gracefully sits beside you.

"I understand," he says at last, his tone softer now. "But running away won’t solve anything, my dear. If you were overwhelmed, you should have come to me."

His fingers gently brush a strand of hair from your face, his expression unreadable.

"Your beauty, your mind, your potential—they are things that should be nurtured, not neglected. And if anyone dares to say otherwise, they’ll have to deal with me."

You swallow, feeling warmth bloom in your chest.

"But…" he continues, tilting your chin up slightly, "if you ever pull something like this again without informing me, I will drag you back to class myself. Understood?"

With Vil, skipping school is not just about missing lessons. It’s about maintaining excellence—and to him, you deserve nothing less.

Rook Hunt

Rook doesn’t need anyone to tell him you skipped school. He feels it.

The moment he steps into the classroom, a shiver runs down his spine. He scans the room, and sure enough—you’re missing.

"Ah… mon trésor, where could you have vanished to?"

Anyone else might have let it go. But Rook? Rook Hunt?

Oh, no, no, no.

This is a hunt.

—

You think you’ve found the perfect hiding spot—a secluded meadow just beyond campus. The breeze is gentle, the grass soft, and the world feels so blissfully quiet.

But then—

"Ah…! What a rare and exquisite sight! A most beautiful creature, escaping the confines of duty to embrace the wild!"

You jerk up, heart pounding. "Rook?! How—"

He smiles down at you, eyes glimmering with delight.

"My dear, you wound me! Did you truly believe you could evade me?"

You groan. "Can’t I have one day to myself?"

Rook simply chuckles, kneeling beside you. "But of course! And what a splendid setting you have chosen! Ah, the crisp air, the golden sunlight—it is a moment worthy of poetry!"

You sigh, leaning back. "So, you’re not going to drag me back?"

Rook tilts his head.

"Non, non, ma chérie. Who am I to interfere with the call of your spirit?" His voice lowers, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "However… I must ask—were you running to something… or from something?"

You pause. You hadn’t thought about it that way.

Rook hums, plucking a flower and tucking it behind your ear.

"Whatever it is, you need not face it alone. If ever you wish to flee again… invite me along, oui? Let us embark on a grand adventure together."

His words are sweet, but the message is clear—next time, he will find you. And next time… you might not mind.

Silver

Silver is usually the one who accidentally skips class (thanks to his habit of falling asleep anywhere), so when he realizes you’re the one missing, it catches him off guard.

Lilia is the first to notice his concern.

"Looking for someone, Silver?" he asks, sipping his tea.

Silver hesitates. "She’s not here. She wasn’t in class this morning."

Lilia chuckles. "Ah, young love. Are you worried, or do you just miss her?"

Silver’s ears turn a little pink. "That’s not—"

But he is worried.

So, after finishing his morning duties, he sets off to find you. It doesn’t take long.

He finds you by a quiet stream, legs dangling over the edge, watching the water ripple. You don’t even hear him approach—until he’s sitting beside you.

"Skipping school, huh?" he says, voice calm but firm.

You sigh. "Are you here to lecture me?"

Silver shakes his head. "No. But I am here to make sure you’re okay."

You blink, surprised.

He gazes at the water for a long moment before speaking again.

"I get it. Sometimes, the world moves too fast. Sometimes, you just… need to stop." He exhales. "I’ve felt that way too."

His honesty takes you off guard.

"But," he continues, turning to look at you, "you don’t have to bear it alone. If you ever need to slow down… let me stay by your side."

Your heart clenches at the sincerity in his voice. Silver has always been gentle, always patient—but beneath it all is a quiet strength, one that makes you feel… safe.

He offers you his hand. "Let’s go back together. But if you really don’t want to, then I’ll stay here with you."

You stare at his outstretched hand. And for the first time today, you don’t feel like you have to run.

Because with Silver beside you, the world doesn’t seem so overwhelming anymore.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prided himself on being alert, disciplined, and ever-diligent in all things—so when he noticed your absence from class, his first instinct was absolute outrage.

"Where is she?!" he bellowed the moment roll call finished, slamming his hands down on his desk.

The entire class turned to stare. Even Lilia, who was used to Sebek’s theatrics, raised an eyebrow.

"Calm yourself, Sebek. I’m sure she has her reasons," Lilia said, sipping his tea.

Sebek whirled around. "Reasons? What reasons could possibly justify this?! My human— I mean, my beloved has abandoned her education!"

His heart raced in his chest, not just from frustration, but from concern. What if something had happened to you? What if you were in danger? What if—gasp—you were avoiding him?!

No. Unacceptable.

Without hesitation, Sebek stormed out of class, determined to find you and drag you back to school himself.

—

You were relaxing in a quiet corner of the gardens, lying beneath the shade of a tree, finally enjoying some peace. That is, until—

"HUMAN!"

The roar of your name nearly sent you flying out of your seat. Before you could even react, Sebek loomed over you, arms crossed, golden eyes blazing with intensity.

"You dare to SKIP CLASS?! What kind of nonsense is this?! Have you no sense of duty?!"

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "Sebek, please. Not so loud."

"LOUD?!" he repeated, even louder. "How can I possibly remain quiet when you have committed such a heinous act?! Skipping school—DISGRACEFUL!"

You sighed. "I just needed a break. I wasn’t in the mood for class today."

Sebek scowled. He wanted to scold you further—to lecture you on the importance of education, of discipline, of honor—but then… he saw the tired look in your eyes.

His frustration wavered.

"You… were not in the mood?" he repeated, his voice softer now.

You nodded. "I’ve been feeling overwhelmed. I just wanted to breathe a little, that’s all."

Sebek stiffened. His grip on his arms tightened. His natural instinct was to demand you push through it—to insist that duty must always come first.

But then… he thought of Lord Malleus. How often had his master been told to put his responsibilities first? How often had he been isolated because of that very thinking?

Sebek hesitated. Then, very slowly, he sat down beside you.

"If you were feeling unwell… you should have informed me." His voice was still gruff, but gentler now. "It is my duty to stand by your side, no matter the circumstance."

You blinked, surprised by the change in his tone. Sebek? Being understanding? That was new.

He cleared his throat. "But! This does NOT mean I condone such behavior!" He huffed, turning away. "If you must rest, then rest properly! Not by… skipping school like some delinquent!"

You smiled. "So, you’re not mad?"

"OF COURSE I AM—!" He caught himself, exhaled sharply, then muttered, "…Just do not make a habit of it."

You giggled. Despite all his dramatic ranting, you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

And maybe, just maybe… Sebek Zigvolt cared more about your well-being than he let on.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus immediately noticed your absence the moment he stepped into class.

At first, he thought you were simply running late. But as the minutes passed and your seat remained empty, his usual calm began to crack.

"She is not here," he murmured to himself, fingers tapping lightly against his desk.

Lilia, watching from the side, smiled knowingly. "Ah, young love. Worried already?"

Malleus said nothing, but his green eyes darkened.

The moment class ended, he vanished. Not even his retainers could stop him.

—

You were peacefully sitting beneath a willow tree, flipping through a book, when the sky suddenly dimmed.

A chill ran through the air. The once-bright afternoon grew darker, as if the sun itself was hiding.

And then—

"There you are."

Your head snapped up. Standing before you, tall and regal as ever, was Malleus. His emerald gaze bore into yours, unreadable and intense.

"You did not come to class today," he stated. Not a question. A fact.

You swallowed. "I just… needed a break."

Malleus was silent for a long moment. Then, he took slow, deliberate steps forward.

"A break," he repeated softly. "From school… or from me?"

Your eyes widened. "Wait, what? No, Malleus, I—"

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance. He stood so close, his presence towering, consuming.

"Do you understand how worried I was?" His voice was gentle, yet firm. "You disappeared without a word. Do you truly believe I would not seek you out?"

You fumbled for words, guilt creeping into your chest.

"I didn’t think it would be a big deal—"

"You are my beloved."

The way he said it—so matter-of-factly, so absolute—made your breath hitch.

"Everything about you is a 'big deal' to me."

Your heart pounded. You opened your mouth to respond, but Malleus was already sitting beside you, his usual regal demeanor softening.

"If you wished to escape," he murmured, "you need only call for me. I would take you anywhere you desire."

His fingers ghosted over yours.

"But next time, do not disappear on your own. My heart does not take well to such… uncertainty."

A lump formed in your throat. You hadn't meant to worry him—not like this.

You turned, meeting his gaze. "I promise. Next time… I’ll tell you."

His expression eased, and a rare, soft smile graced his lips.

"Good."

And just like that, the sky brightened once more.

Malleus Draconia was no stranger to solitude. But when it came to you…

He would not tolerate being left behind.

[millers-angel]

dust and dior bodyguard!joel miller x reader

summary: Joel is your bodyguard—strict, controlled, and off-limits. But keeping you safe starts to feel personal, and the line between duty and desire blurs. Just as tension rises, your father sends you to the countryside, far from luxury… but close to Joel, to his home. warnings: 'accidental' voyeurism, masturbation (both, joel and reader), joel has dirty thoughts about reader.

this is an extract from the story posted on ao3! you can read the whole chapter—and the ones to come—in here!

The house grew quieter as the night settled in. Joel sat in the dim glow of the television in his own room, mind elsewhere, thoughts heavier than usual. He wasn't really watching—just something to pass the time, to keep his mind from drifting too far into places it didn't belong.

But then, like clockwork, his eyes flicked toward your window.

He told himself he was only checking—making sure everything was fine, making sure you were fine. It was his job, after all.

The light in your bathroom had been on for a while, steam curling faintly against the glass. Then it flicked off, and a moment later, you walked back into your room, towel wrapped loosely around you, bare legs catching the glow of your bedside lamp.

Joel clenched his jaw, already knowing he should look away.

But he didn't.

He told himself it was just a bad habit. You never closed the curtains all the way—not intentionally, not teasingly. Just a careless mistake, one you didn't even know you were making—but surely he made sure he was the only one to know about it.

And yet, when you turned, reaching for something on your dresser, the towel slipped—slowly, effortlessly, peeling away from your body like silk.

It wasn't the first time. It wouldn't be the last.

The curve of your waist, the slope of your spine, the way droplets traced down your thighs—it was enough to make his throat go dry, enough to stir something deep, something raw. You were too damn beautiful—every inch of you, and he couldn't make something to not feel as hard as he felt when you leaned to pick up the piece of fabric that fell from the drawer.

A wonderful view of your bare pussy.

Joel's breath stalled. His fingers pressed against his thigh, jaw locking so tight it ached.

He forced himself to turn away.

Too late. Always too late.

Joel forced his attention back to the television, but the images on the screen blurred together. His mind wasn't on whatever late-night rerun was playing. It was still caught on the glimpse he'd had of you, still tangled in the shape of your body, the memory of bare skin under the dim light of your room.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head like it would do anything to push the thoughts away.

Minutes bled into an hour. He checked the time—almost midnight. Without thinking, his gaze drifted back toward your window.

You were lying in bed, scrolling through your phone, but something about the way you looked—shoulders slack, eyes dim—told him exactly what was on your mind. He knew you well enough by now. You were still thinking about your father, still letting his words sink in, digging into you like thorns.

Joel sat forward, elbows on his knees. A long sigh left his lips before he pushed himself up and made his way to the kitchen.

The pasta you barely touched was still there. He reheated it, pouring a glass of water to go with it, then made his way upstairs.

He knocked, a firm but quiet sound against the wood.

There was a pause, then soft footsteps before the door cracked open.

You stood there, brows pinched in mild confusion, eyes flicking down to the plate in his hands before looking back up at him. "What's this?"

Joel shifted his weight. "Told me you'd eat later. Never did." He lifted the plate slightly. "So I brought it back."

A breathy laugh escaped you. "It's late, Joel."

He was so close to saying he could grab you a bowl of cereal instead—he knew you liked to snack on that around this time—but instead, he only said, "Better late than not eating at all."

You rolled your eyes but took the plate. "You're persistent."

"Part of the job."

You sighed. "Thanks."

"I'll wait here so I can take the plate back to the kitchen, Miss."

He expected you to take it inside and shut the door, but instead, you leaned against the frame, tilting your head slightly. "If you want to make sure I eat, you should just come in and eat with me."

There was something playful in your tone, but the look in your eyes was something else—something warm, something dangerous.

Joel stiffened. "Can't do that."

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Why not?"

"Because it's..." He exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. "It's not right. It's—outside of boundaries, Miss."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, your fingers soft against his rough palm as you pulled him gently. "Just come inside, Joel."

He held his breath.

Your touch was warm. Softer than it had any right to be.

And then there was your face—your eyes looking up at him, so big and so deep, full of pleading and vulnerability, something he didn't want to acknowledge because the second he did, it would be real.

And yet—"I can't." His voice came quieter this time, rougher.

You tilted your head. "But do you want to?"

Joel didn't answer.

You laughed, a quiet, knowing little thing. Then, instead of stepping back inside, you lowered yourself onto the floor, right there in the hall.

Joel blinked. "What are you doing?"

You patted the space in front of you. "Sit with me."

"Can't."

"Joel." You pouted. "Please?"

And just like that, he was done for.

Joel sat down with a sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him. Still, he thought of something else. "If you want, we can go to the table. Might be more comfortable."

You shook your head, smiling as you twirled your fork into the pasta. "I'm perfectly fine right here."

And so, you ate—small bites at first, slow, thoughtful, but soon enough, you were talking between them. Telling him how you'd been feeling off, how maybe it had to do with your father, but you weren't going to let it weigh you down forever. You had a plan to prove yourself to dad. You were going to talk to him, figure things out. There was something hopeful in the way you said it, a quiet determination that made Joel hold back any words that might be too much. He only nodded, listening, letting you work through it on your own.

Eventually, the conversation drifted, the heaviness fading. You joked, he smirked, and somewhere between it all, he found himself chuckling at something you said. It was easy—being here with you like this. Easier than it should have been.

When you finally finished your meal, you set the empty plate aside and looked at him with something soft in your eyes. "Thank you for bringing me dinner. You didn't have to, but... I really appreciate it."

Joel nodded, standing up and grabbing the plate and glass. "At your service." Then, a small pause before he added, "Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better."

You smiled. "You sleep too, okay? I'm just gonna brush my teeth and turn the light off."

Joel let out a quiet chuckle. "Alright, alright. Goodnight, Miss."

He took his time in the kitchen, washing the plate and cup before heading back to his own quarters. When he glanced toward your window again, the light was out. You were already asleep.

A quiet satisfaction settled in his chest.

You'd gone to bed well-fed. In a better mood than before.

And somehow, that made everything feel just a little bit lighter.

The next morning, Joel sat at the long wooden table with the other employees, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The morning had started like any other—quiet conversation, the sound of dishes clinking, the occasional chuckle over some shared story. But then, the cleaning ladies walked in, their voices hushed but carrying enough weight to shift the atmosphere.

"Tense morning," one of them murmured. "She's arguing with her father again in the dining room."

Joel didn't react, just took another sip of his coffee, but he listened.

"She always gives him trouble," the other added with a shake of her head. "Nothing gets through to her. She doesn't care about anything but herself."

"So spoiled. She's never had to work for anything."

Joel's grip tightened around his mug. They had no idea. They didn't see what he saw. They didn't know about the girl who had sat on the floor with him the night before, hopeful and determined, talking about how she would try to prove herself to her father. They didn't hear the way her voice had softened when she said she had a plan.

And now, hearing this—knowing that she was in there, probably fighting a losing battle—it makes him feel bad for you.

He glanced at the clock. It was time to work.

Pushing back his chair, he stood and left his empty cup behind. He walked toward the main part of the house but didn't step into the dining room where you and your father were. He kept his distance, standing where he could hear but not intrude. It wasn't his place. But the weight of the conversation made it hard to ignore.

"You don't know the first thing about running this company," your father said, his voice firm and edged with impatience. "That's why you ask stupid questions all the time."

"I do know!" you shot back. "I've spent my whole life around this, and I'm telling you—I won't do what I did yesterday ever again. I swear."

Your father let out a sharp breath, frustration laced in every syllable. "This isn't a game. This isn't like picking out a new dress or deciding where to go on vacation. This is my life's work. My money. The reason there's food on the table, a roof over your head." His voice grew colder. "The reason you can lift a finger and have someone already know what you want before you even ask."

The words were brutal. Unforgiving.

And Joel? He stood there, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides, listening.

Silence settled between you. Heavy. Uncomfortable. You stared down at the table, lips pressed together, hands curled into fists on your lap. The words sat on your tongue, but you weren't sure if saying them would even make a difference.

Finally, you lifted your gaze. "Please," you said, voice quieter now. "Just trust me. I won't let you down."

Your father exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before leveling you with a look that made your stomach drop. "If you don't take this seriously, I'll send you away. Maybe then you'll learn to appreciate what you have."

Your brows knitted together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he said, voice clipped, "that I'll take everything from you. No more help. No more protection. No more easy way out. I'll make sure you understand what it's like to actually work for something. To value the money you throw away like it's nothing."

Your heart pounded. "You wouldn't—"

"I know about your plans for the summer," he cut you off. "Running off to Saint-Tropez, drinking on yachts, wasting time and money with people just as careless as you. But if you keep this up, I'll send you somewhere else instead. Not just for the summer, for a year."

Your stomach twisted.

"The countryside."

You blinked. "The countryside?"

"Yes," he said. "Where you'll spend your days shoveling animal shit, sweating under the sun—not because you've been shopping all day, but because you're actually working for once in your life."

Your throat tightened. "You wouldn't do it, daddy."

"You think I won't?" His tone was sharp. "You think I won't send you off to break your nails digging in the dirt until you finally understand how easy you've had it?"

Panic flared in your chest. "Please," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Just trust me. I don't want to go. I can prove it to you—I swear."

"One more screw-up, and you're out of everything," your father warned, his voice firm, his gaze sharp.

You nodded quickly, your expression lighting up as if he hadn't just threatened to strip you of everything you had. "Thank you! You're the best dad in the world!" You jumped up from your seat, wrapping your arms around him and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Joel can only hear and a smile tugs at his lips... you're too sweet. Your father sighed, some of the tension in his shoulders easing as he looked down at you. He took your hand, pressing a kiss to it before meeting your gaze. "Don't disappoint me."

You shook your head. "I won't!"

"Did you like the breakfast?" you asked then, your voice softer. "I had them make it just for you. I know it's your favorite."

His lips barely lifted, more a twitch than a smile. "Yes. But I'm running late." He stood, adjusting his suit jacket and tie.

"Can I go with you?"

"Joel will take you. Gives you more time to get ready. I have a lot of meetings today."

You nodded, satisfied, and as he turned to leave, you called after him. "Have a good day, daddy!"

He didn't respond. He just kept walking.

Joel waited until the man was completely out of sight before stepping into the dining room. "Good morning, Miss," he greeted, same as always.

You grinned, waving him over in a hushed, conspiratorial way. He hesitated, then walked toward you, stopping beside your chair.

"It worked!" you whispered excitedly, practically vibrating in your seat. "My plan worked!"

Your father had spoken to you like you were incapable, like you weren't worth trusting, like he was still one step away from sending you to shovel shit in the countryside—but right now, you were beaming, like none of that had happened. Joel couldn't help it. The sight was endearing.

You bounced in your seat, grabbing his hands as if to ground your excitement. "Told you! I did it!"

Joel let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm glad," he said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Did you eat already?" you asked, tilting your head. "I can have someone bring you breakfast if you want."

"I already ate," he assured you. "But thank you."

You hummed, stretching your arms above your head. "I have to go to the office today."

Joel gave a small nod. "I know."

When you finished your breakfast, you left to get ready, disappearing into your room. It wasn't long before you stepped out again, looking like you had spent all night thinking about what to wear just in case your father let you go back to the company.

You were breathtaking. Professional but youthful, the kind of put-together that still felt effortless, like you were born to wear expensive clothes. It was modest but undeniably alluring, everything fitting you in a way that made it impossible not to notice.

Joel clenched his jaw, forcing his eyes away as he stepped forward, guiding you outside. He opened the back door of his truck, waiting for you to step in before shutting it gently behind you. Then, without a word, he slid into the driver's seat and pulled out of the estate, heading straight for the company's offices.

Joel accompanied you inside the company building, keeping a professional distance as always. You walked with confidence, carrying yourself with the kind of grace that demanded attention, but even so, it was clear that no one truly took you seriously. They acknowledged you, not out of respect for your work, but because you were the owner's daughter. It wasn't fear, exactly, but an understanding that your presence meant they had to watch their words—at least when you were around.

Still, you stole every glance in the room, your presence magnetic, impossible to ignore. You were effortlessly captivating, a striking contrast against the stiff, corporate world around you. But despite how composed you were, the whispers never stopped.

"Pretty face, empty head."

"She's just here to play dress-up."

"Bet she'd be easy."

Joel heard it all. He had been leaning against the wall outside your office when a few of the company men had gathered nearby, their conversation low but not low enough. He kept his head down, focusing on his hands, but the way his jaw clenched gave him away. Then, when those same men left their little huddle and approached you, suddenly all smiles and politeness, he barely held back a scoff.

He didn't move at first, just watched as they stepped out of your office after making whatever weak attempt at charming you they thought would work. But once the door clicked shut behind them, he straightened, stepping into their path. His voice was calm when he spoke, but there was no mistaking the warning beneath his words.

"Gentlemen."

The men stiffened at the unexpected attention. Joel didn't need to raise his voice. The way he held himself—the way he looked at them—was enough to make his point.

"If I were you, I'd watch what I say next time."

There was no need to say more. They knew exactly what he meant.

Inside, you worked diligently throughout the day. You weren't perfect, of course. You made small mistakes, miscalculated things here and there, but you were learning, and more importantly, you were trying. By the time the day ended, you were exhausted but satisfied, feeling a rare sense of accomplishment from your efforts.

Joel drove you home, listening as you told him about your day. There was something different in your voice now—lighter, more confident. You weren't dwelling on the difficulties or the gossip; you were focusing on what you had managed to do, however small. And he was genuinely happy to hear it. You looked better than you had last night, and that was good.

That evening, you sat down to eat dinner alone. Unlike the night before, though, you actually ate, and when Joel passed by, you waved him over.

"Sit with me," you insisted.

"I can't," he said, standing by the table. "It's against the rules."

"Who cares?" you huffed. "Daddy doesn't care if you eat with me. And I want you to."

You looked up at him with those big, wide eyes, impossibly persuasive, your voice soft as you added a quiet, "Please?"

Joel was not easily swayed, but something about the way you said it made it impossible to refuse. With a reluctant sigh, he sat down across from you. You had someone to bring him dinner to the table.

As you ate, you watched him for a moment before giggling. "You eat weird."

Joel smirked, shaking his head. "That's how we eat where I'm from."

"And where's that?" you asked, tilting your head.

"A little town in Texas—" he named a place so rural it might as well have been on another planet compared to the world you knew. A place of open fields, cattle, and the kind of hard work you had never been exposed to.

Your eyes widened slightly. "Do you go back for the holidays?"

"Sometimes."

"Do you like it better there or here?"

Joel didn't hesitate. "There. It's home."

You leaned forward slightly. "Do you have somewhere to stay when you go?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I go to my brother's ranch—well, ours. We grew up there. I had to leave for a while, to make money, to put back into it. But it's still there."

You hummed, processing his words, but before you could ask anything else, he took another bite of his food, effectively ending that conversation.

And somehow, sitting there with him, eating dinner like this, you didn't mind.

You took a small sip of your lemonade, then, as if deciding to steer the conversation somewhere lighter, you smiled. "I made friends at work today."

Joel's expression shifted almost instantly. His brows furrowed slightly, and he set his fork down, his jaw tightening just a little. He knew exactly which "friends" you were talking about—the same men who had been calling you easy behind your back. He had already informed your father about everything—it's his job.

You, however, looked genuinely happy. Excited, even. It wasn't often that you talked about something with this much enthusiasm, and for a moment, he debated whether or not to tell you. But he had a job to do, and part of that job was making sure you didn't walk blindly into situations that could hurt you—physically or otherwise.

He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "They're not your friends, Miss."

Your smile faltered. "What?"

Joel leaned back slightly in his chair, his voice even. "I heard them talking about you today. Before they knew I was standing there." His jaw tightened. "They weren't sayin' anything good."

Confusion flickered across your face, but then you straightened in your seat, crossing your arms. "What did they say?"

Joel hesitated, debating how much to actually repeat. "Bad things."

"What things?" You asked. "Please, I want to know..."

"That you're just a pretty face. That you don't know what you're doing and that everyone in that office knows it." He watched your expression carefully, waiting for the realization to settle in.

Silence.

Your grip tightened around your glass, your shoulders tensing. You blinked a few times, processing his words, before finally looking down at your plate.

Joel sighed, lowering his voice. "I'm telling you this because you need to know who you can trust. People aren't always nice just because they mean it, Miss. Sometimes they just want somethin'."

You swallowed hard, forcing a breath through your nose. "I see."

Joel hated how small your voice sounded. He knew it wasn't fair, knew how hard you had worked today, how much you wanted to prove yourself. And for what? Just to have people dismiss you the second you turned your back?

He tapped his fingers against the table before reaching for his glass. "You did good today," he told you. "Don't let a bunch of assholes take that away from you."

You nodded, still not looking at him, and took another sip of your lemonade. The excitement from earlier had dimmed, but Joel knew you weren't defeated. If anything, he could see the quiet determination setting in.

Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He waited as you stood there, hesitating before your room. Then, as if remembering something, you turned back to him.

"Is my dad coming home soon?"

Joel shook his head. "Late. But if it's about what they said earlier..." He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "You know I have to tell him everything. He already knows."

Your brows furrowed, lips parting slightly. "Everything?"

He nodded once.

A pause stretched between you, the weight of his words sinking in. Then, you sighed. "Alright. Good night, Joel."

He gave a small nod in return, watching as you stepped toward your room—only to stop at the door. You lingered, then turned back, your steps slower this time as you walked toward him.

Joel straightened, eyeing you with quiet confusion.

"Do you really tell him everything?" you asked, head tilting slightly.

Another nod.

Your lips curled just a little, playful now. "Even when I bring someone home? When a guy stays over?"

Joel didn't answer this time. He didn't even look at you.

You reached for him, hands soft against his jaw, gently tilting his face toward you. His fingers wrapped around your wrists—not rough, just firm enough to stop you.

But you didn't pull away. Neither did he.

For a brief second, you felt it—the warmth of his skin, the strength in his grip, the way his breath got heavier. You liked it. And so did he.

"Tell me," you whispered. "Do you tell him that too?"

His voice was low, strained. "Go to your room."

"No," you murmured, eyes locked onto his. "Not until you answer me."

Joel finally met your gaze, and that was a mistake.

Because you were looking at his lips.

And for a split second, it made him forget himself. Made him forget everything. The only thing in his head was the unbearable temptation to close the space between you.

To take. To give in.

He nearly did.

He nearly scooped you from the floor and took you to your bed like a rag doll.

"Answer me," you murmured, voice softer now, almost coaxing.

Joel's grip on your wrists tightened just slightly before he gave a single nod.

You gasped. "But sometimes I sneak them in the house!"

"I know."

You laughed, quiet and amused. "You're such a snitch."

Before he could react, you lifted yourself onto his boots, bare feet pressing against the leather. The sudden shift made him tense, muscles locking as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt for balance.

His voice was steady, low. "I'm not a snitch."

You raised a brow, teasing.

Joel's expression remained serious. "They're your father's orders, Miss."

"But that's private."

"Not if you can be in danger," he almost snapped. "We have to make sure you're safe, and some boys—they can hurt you."

You bit your lip. "Am I safe with you?"

He didn't answer, just swallowed, and you could see it in the way his Adam's apple bobbed.

Your smile widened. "You're not gonna push me off?"

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. His hands found your waist, firm but careful as he tried to ease you back down.

But you only laughed again, fingers tightening around his collar, holding onto him. "That's not gonna work."

"This isn't right," Joel said, firmer now. "Get down. For real."

"No."

"You're gonna get me in trouble," he drawled.

"Good," you teased him, biting your lip.

He huffed, shaking his head, and without another word, his fingers brushed against your sides, just barely—enough to make you jolt. A sharp inhale left your lips as you squirmed, startled by the ticklish sensation.

"Joel—!"

He did it again, this time more intentional, making you break into soft, breathless laughter as you wriggled in his grasp. Finally, with a reluctant huff, you let go, stepping off his boots.

You smoothed down your dress, catching your breath, and looked up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "Still a snitch, though. I don't think I can trust you anymore."

Joel shook his head. "I only tell him what other people do, or the people you're with... not... personal things."

You gave him a knowing look. "Sure. Whatever you say." You turned toward your room, flashing him one last playful grin. "Good night, snitch."

Joel exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. And once you were out of sight, when he was sure you couldn't see him—he laughed. Just a little.

"She's trouble,"

read the whole chapter on ao3!♡ —and the ones that will come!

[kittygowrite]

Midwest Girl

Warnings: F!reader, hunting mention, (just in case) slight gore/blood description, extreme weather mention (tornado sirens), just self indulgent fluff

An: trying my hand at a drabble 😌 (a very long drabble… more like a poorly formatted fic) saw this post by @succubusvalentine and just needed to write Simon with a Midwest girl lol. Lil disclaimer, this is based on my own experience in the Midwest and where I live in it (omg it's huge there's so much variety in the culture)

Word count: almost 800

Simon with a Midwest girl that absolutely fascinates him.

You were always so sweet and polite, a small smile would pull at his lips every time you said “ope.”

If you were surprised, bumping into something, or remembering something, every single one would be accompanied by a little “ope!”

Or when you would walk past him, a little “let me just squeeze right past ya...” he would be fighting off a grin.

The politeness wasn't a personal thing though.

The first time a stranger started talking to him at the grocery store, he thought they were insane. When his sweet girl started chatting with the older lady who had commented on the tomatoes Simon was holding, he thought you had fallen off the deep end as well. But that's just how you were. His sweet thing, sharing your sugar with the neighbors, helping with their gardens, bringing over dinner or other comforts whenever someone fell on hard times.

Your food reminded him of what home ought to feel like, all comforting and warm. Whether it be your mother's “famous” chili, a casserole brought to a potluck to celebrate some small town holiday, or a simple pasty warming his fingers in the heart of winter, Simon could never get enough.

While there were quite a few things he hesitated to eat, shoving a bite into his mouth usually shut him up and had him devouring the rest, despite the odd name or questionable ingredients.

The weather was its own situation.

The tornado sirens are blaring, he's grabbing things to hide in the basement and wait out the weather, following the safe and logical protocol. Searching high and low for his sweet girl, just to find you lounging on the porch, a bottle of Faygo in hand, watching the sky swirl and shift with a content smile. Brushing him off when he frantically tries to usher you inside, nodding to your neighbors who are all doing the same, outside despite the sirens screaming for you to hide inside where it’s safe. (Of course, if it actually got bad, you would go inside, but it would take a while to get to that point.)

The temperature changes were intense, 20’s and freezing his fingers off one day, 60’s and driving with the windows down the next, it was enough to give him whiplash.

Not to mention the god-awful winters. He would think you were insane for wearing just a T-shirt and jeans when it's nearly in the 30s. You would just smile and wave him off, laughing when the usually stoic man would be reduced to grumbles about the cold bite.

The chill in Manchester was enough for him to be tugging on a winter coat so the colder temperatures were less than comfortable. He would be bundled up in long johns, flannel, a down coat, mittens, and a scarf wrapped over a thick woolly balaclava you had gifted him for the holidays and he would still be shivering like a wet kitten.

It’s hitting the negatives and you’re unbothered.

“It’s not so bad without the wind.” You happily tell him, as if his nose wasn’t numb and his fingers stiff from the glacial weather. He had to buy a proper pair of winter shoes, his assumption that his combat boots would be fine stomping through the snow. After a too-close dance with frostbite, he caved and bought a real pair of snow boots.

The way you interacted with wildlife never failed to amaze him either. Shooing off a raccoon or coyote that was pawing through your trash. Feeding the birds and squirrels, not batting an eye as a deer walks past.

Growing up in Manchester, he had seen his share of wildlife, but it was so different in the States. The deer were bigger, coyotes would bark and scream like banshees in the night, and don't even get him started when he saw a moose for the first time.

But Simon whose girl goes hunting or fishing? He’s whipped.

You’ve got antlers on your walls, maybe a hide or two kicking around. His eyes would nearly pop out of his head when he walked into the garage to be met with the sight of his sweet girl elbow-deep in fish guts, scaling and gutting the fish with practiced efficiency. Blood splattered on your arms and a smudge on your cheek as you smiled at him and handed him a plate of fish to bring inside.

He would laugh at first, the need for a freezer in the garage seemingly useless. But come hunting season, when it was filled with rabbit, venison, and wild turkey, he changed his mind quite quickly.

You had your quirks, but you were his. And he wouldn’t trade his sweet Midwest girl for anything.

An: I had a lot of fun writing this! Like I said, it’s based on my own experience with where I live so I’m sorry if this isn’t how you’ve experienced it! Feedback is always appreciated <3

Taglist: @pythonmoth @hattiefunny @daydreamerwoah @bi-sk8er @sweetheart4you @shinebright2000

[into-deepspace]

hi there! i saw you are taking requests hehe So i have this idea, how would the Lads guys (in specific Sylus) react to your past situationships, lets suppose you just happen to mention your last romantic interest and the way he treated you before him and he's truly horrified and like ''did you really allowed that? sweetie, why? that's absolutely, no, not acceptable.'' bc obviously he is better and treats us as royalty, he would be horrified to find out the audacity some man have hahahaha if this is something you are comfortable with i would love to know your take on this, thank u so muchhh, mwa

hiiii oh my goodness tysm for the ask!! this is such a interesting premise, i've just written sylus's part for now but i have ideas (and some rough drafts hehe) for the other guys' parts that i hope to post in the next few days 🥰 so, without further ado:

sylus vs your (not-so-stellar) past relationships

690 words, mc/sylus, mini-fic format, mentions of (past) over-controlling relationships, they/them pronouns for MC, MC is described as wearing a dress, no smut but Sylus does get a lil handsy with it oops

request info • remember to reblog your authors!

zayne (coming soon) • rafayel (coming soon) • xavier (coming soon)

MC frowns at themselves in the mirror.

They don't look bad. Truly, they look good. Great, even, in the dress they'd picked out for tonight's auction. No doubt about it, the fabric hugs and flares in all the right places. It could be described as show-stopping, truly, with the way it suits them so nicely.

But, at the same time, it's clear that MC has some slightly different proportions to the online model. It doesn't affect how the dress fits, or how good it looks but it does affect how much of certain pieces of skin are showing. They run their fingers along the edges of the fabric, trying to pull a bit, wondering if half an hour is enough time to procure some fashion tape and tug the dress around so that the coverage is just a bit more... well, covering.

There's a knock at the door, more an announcement than a true request for entrance, and then Sylus is striding into the room, his neat suit jacket draped over one shoulder like a cape. He clasps an expensive-looking watch onto his wrist as he crosses the floor, smiling as his eyes drag up and down MC's figure.

"I was going to ask if you're ready," he comments with a quiet smile and a glint in his eye, as he steps up behind them and drapes his arms around their waist, "but now I'm not sure if I want to leave the house at all..." MC flushes, gaze breaking from the mirror and dropping to the floor.

"Yeah," they manage, breath tight in their chest, both from having him so close and from preemptive nervousness regarding any comments about their choice of dress. "This isn't super- uh- public-appropriate." Their gaze darts back up just in time to watch Sylus raise an eyebrow.

Once again, Sylus's eyes rake up and down their body, this time less of a flirtatious look and more of a genuine search. His thumbs brush gentle, idle circles over MC's hips.

"I don't see why it's not," he says, and MC almost believes him with how genuine it sounds. "Look," he says, tracing the lines of the dress with the smirk of a man that knows exactly what he's doing. "All the exclusive parts are covered, aren't they?" MC can feel their cheeks burn warmer.

"I mean- well, yeah," they choke out. "But... come on, I'm not stupid." They look up at Sylus in the mirror, trying their hardest to not think about the pleasant weight of his hands on their waist, not right now. "Not like I haven't had a boyfriend before. I know how guys think." Sylus's shoulders straighten a bit, and a slightly more serious expression crosses his face.

"Oh? Do you?" he says. "Enlighten me, then." MC huffs, feeling remarkably like an animal in a trap.

"You know. People don't like it when their partners, well, parade themselves around. I'm not stupid. I know this is a little too much to be wearing out and about."

Sylus gives a few slow blinks, then lets out a measured breath. He searches their face in their reflection for a moment, as if trying to figure out just what's going on. Finally, with a soft, serious voice, he speaks.

"I don't know what sort of insecure boys you've dated in the past," he says with distaste, "but I don't find myself in the business of telling my partner what they can and cannot wear." One of his hands moves to their jaw and cups their face, gently turning their gaze from the mirror to him. With a unique softness, he presses a grazing kiss to their lips.

"So," Sylus continues, "unless you yourself are uncomfortable with the amount of skin you are currently showing, I think it would be best to go ahead and get your shoes on so that we can begin our evening."

Well. MC's face splits into a relieved, grateful smile — they aren't about to argue with that. They relax a bit, leaning against Sylus as they gaze up at him over their shoulder.

"Sounds good," they breathe. Sylus smiles back.

"Good."

[hedwig221b]

Hi, If it's not a bother, could you recommend me some sterel fics with void stiles at some point in the fic? Please and thank you ❤️

Hello! Hope you like these ones!

Shadow and Flame by pixieblade

"Get. Away. From. Him.” The teen said harshly. Derek watched bemusedly as Stiles stalked across the loft. His wooden bat dragging along behind him. It made a scratchthumpscrape sound that was almost mesmerizing. Alternative nogitsune/darach meeting. Pre-slash Sterek.

Unexpected Results by pixieblade

What do you do when the people you are supposed to trust, betray you in the worst possible way? What would you do if someone offered you a way out?

Full and Void

Stiles could be meek, sure. In Derek’s arms, softened under the touch, pinned under his weight. He allowed himself to relax only in Derek’s sole presence. Stiles could also look meek. Small, scared. Let the enemies think he was hiding in his mate’s shadow. After all, no one would stop to think that the shadow could ever be dangerous.

Emerald Eyed Mystery by QueenOfAngst21

It's been two months but the Void won't go away. With his brother turning against him and with no where else to turn, Stiles looks to the place he least expected. If Beacon Hills is destroying him then when better to run away then at 1am on a Thursday. Three years later, with the fate of Supernatural world on their shoulders they must return but Stiles isn't defenceless anymore. He's an Alpha Mate and his eyes aren't normal; they are emerald.

Words Alone by SnowshadowAO3

Derek gets the first text message two months after he leaves Beacon Hills. He stares at it for a long time without actually opening it up, trying to figure out why Stiles would be texting him at all. Things start fitting together in Derek’s mind: his dreams, the door he sees Stiles enter, the loss of memory. Stiles’ body, his mind, are no longer just his. Something is sharing it, controlling him. Derek doesn’t know what it is yet, but he’s damn well going to find out. In which the Nogitsune ordeal brings Derek running back to Beacon Hills and, in the end, to Stiles.

Voice of Rage and Ruin by Qayin

Derek is hired as a bodyguard to this kid, Stiles. And the thing is, Stiles seems completely harmless, but everyone keeps telling Derek how he needs to be careful. Stiles is a nogitsune, a human possessed by a powerful deity of chaos and void, and not only does other people want him for his power, but he could potentially hurt others; and then it’s Derek’s job to protect those people — from his client.

Echo of the Void by MissAnnThropic

Post season 3B. After defeating the nogitsune, Stiles takes steps to ensure the demon fox can never possess him again. When things don’t go according to plan, Scott calls Derek to come try and calm Stiles down.

Ready or Not by spaceprincessem

Ready or not here I come “Is it him?” The man whispered to the woman standing next to him, a gleeful smile on his face. “Is that-” “Void?” Stiles asked. Derek took a shuddering breath. Stiles no longer sounded broken or pleading. His tone was cold, cruel, calculating. “Void.” The woman repeated with a small nod of her head. Stiles' smirk widened now, “That’s what you wanted, right?”

i'm here in search of your glory by EvanesDust, spaceprincessem

And standing there, in the dim light of the office was the all powerful emissary whose name had been whispered across the country. The one who could move mountains and part oceans. The one they all called Void. Standing there was Stiles fucking Stilinski. There were so many things Derek wanted to say - needed to say - and Stiles arched an eyebrow, like he was waiting, like he fucking knew. Derek opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was, “Are you fucking kidding me.”

Together Again by Firebull

When Scott pushed Stiles out of the pack, he unwittingly unleashes the Nogitsune once more. Not that it lets him live long enough to tell anyone about it. Too bad really, because it has plans for a certain werewolf currently living in Mexico.

We are the greatest pretenders by heyshalina, marshmallowfluff

(How am I gonna get myself back home?) Derek wishes Scott wasn't such a failure of an alpha, that he had noticed the aura of darkness around Stiles before Derek had. Maybe then, it would be Scott now, staring into Stiles' empty eyes, at his twisted smile, faced with the prospect of killing him. "You know, I never wanted to be anything other than human."

Other fic recs: angsty fics | possessive Derek | historical AU | baby/mpreg | outsider POV | smut | mafia | hurt/comfort | magical!Stiles | Stiles gets kicked out of the pack | BAMF!Stiles + pt2 | omegaverse | witch!Stiles | creature!Stiles + pt2 | oblivious!Stiles | bad friend Scott | pack mom!Stiles | unrequited love | werewolf!Stiles | dark sterek | single parent!Stiles | feral Derek | arranged marriage | Stiles is underestimated | mpreg w/o abo | accidental knotting | jock!Derek | jock!Stiles | alive Hales | spanking | royal abo au | longfic

[after-the-end-times]

Not Just A Townie

~This was not the drabble I set out to write at the beginning of the night~ Rating: T◈Words: 2,21◈CW: Steve has low sense of self worth, Robin's just now realizing how low ◈Tags: Platonic Stobin, Robin POV, Secret Relationship Steddie, Lots of Emotions, Lots of Hugs, Sibling-like bantering, Bitchy Steve, Bitchy Robin, Retail Personas For @steddiebingo Square: Family Video Ao3

Steve smiled a friendly retail service smile at the two girls walking into Family video. "Welcome to Family Video, let me know if you need help finding anything!"

"Thanks."

"Sure"

They headed straight back to the wall of New Releases.

Robin poked him. "Go talk to them. They're pretty."

Steve glanced sideways at her. "Yeah no. Not interested. I mean, they're clearly not interested."

"You got that from thanks? They're pretty girls and you're a... not bad looking guy. Two plus two equals four, ergo go talk to them."

Steve turned to lean his hip against the counter, crossing his arms. "You do know dating doesn't work like that, right?"

"Really." She gave him a highly skeptical look. "I'm pretty sure it does. Otherwise, why flirt with whoever walks in?"

"That's to feel out the vibe. See if you click. It's not just, oh pretty, let's date."

"You know what? No. I'm gonna go talk to them."

"Oh! Good for you! Proud of you."

"Not for me! For you, Steviepoo"

"Ew, Robin, no."

Robin flicked his ear, he lightly slapped her shoulder, she jabbed a finger into his ribs, he flipped her hair, she went to-

"Ok, enough! What does the post-it note say?"

Steve heaved a sigh and recited in monotone, "'No slap fights. That means you, Steve and Robin. I mean it. No more customer complaints.' With three underlines under 'no more'. But, can I just say, you started it?"

"So? You could just not retaliate!"

Steve gave her a flat look. "I can't believe I used to beg my parents for a sister. Shoo. Go talk to the pretty girls."

She started walking backwards. "Oh, I will. Just you watch me."

"Don't trip."

"What?" She tripped. "Ow."

She popped up and spun toward him, sending a 'I'm watching you' signal and a middle finger hidden by a movie rack.

Robin walked to the back wall where the girls were holding up a couple videos, debating which to get.

"I see you've picked a couple good ones there. Is there anything I can do to help you decide? I'm Robin, by the way, and I have to say I've seen the one in your right hand about five times now, so, good choice!"

The brunette girl held up the movie. "Yeah? We've been wanting to see it, but didn't know this one had come out already." She held up the one in her left hand.

"Well, how about you check out the one you've been wanting to see. And perhaps my friend, Steve, over there can check out the other one and you could watch it with him? He makes the best popcorn."

The girls looked at each other and back at Robin. The blonde girl spoke up, "Oh, uh, no, I think we'll just see if it's still here next weekend."

"Really? You don't think Steve's a good looking dude? He's also really nice." She failed to mention the tendency for slap fights.

"Sure, he's hot," Blondie said. "But we're dating college guys these days? No offense to your friend, but-"

"We don't date townies." Brunette stated, with a little smirk.

Robin, honest to god, gasped.

She didn't remember the last time she gasped in offense like some southern mama, but this, she thinks, warrants it.

How dare they think they're above Steve.

Her face fell flat, switching to costumer service voice. "I'm sorry, but I believe those two videos are on a wait list. I'll just take them, thank you. I need to let the next people on the list know they're available. It's just store policy, you understand."

She walked back to Steve, holding her captured videos. She slid the movies under the counter, making a mental note to put them back out once the girls left.

"Sooo, how'd it go? Two plus two work out for you there?"

She flicked a glare at the girls across the store. "They weren't good enough for you."

"Awwww Robiiin!" He grabbed her up in a tight bear hug, wiggling her above the ground a couple times, before lowering her back down.

She slapped at his chest once she was free.

"Robin, it's chill, seriously. I can't really compete with the college guys a lot of the girls my age are meeting."

Robin gasped. Again. She's mildly horrified at herself.

"You listen to me, Steve-Marie, you're just as good as any of those college guys. You've saved this town. What have they done? Gone to class? Ugh! Stop looking at me like that!" She flicked his nose.

Steve twitched his nose and just kept gazing at her, love and amusement shining from his eyes and smile, for anyone to see. "Nope! You loooooove meeee!"

"You're annoying."

The girls walked back toward the front of the store, movie-less.

Robin gave a little wave. "Have a nice day! Sooo sorry about those movies. Not sure when they'll be available for you. You know, since all the townies are already waiting for them."

She continued smiling until they were out the door, dropping it once they're back in their car. Steve was smirking when she turned back to look at him.

"That's what got you in a twist? They called me a townie? I am a townie. Townie. Tooownie. Welp, word's lost all meaning."

"No, you're not, Steve. You're gonna get out of here, do something awesome."

"Why can't I do something awesome here?"

"Because! Because, it's Hawkins, Indiana. You belong out there. Somewhere they'll appreciate you! Ugh! Stop it with the face!" She put her hand over his eyes. "Why are you making me say nice things about you! You're you! You're Steve Harrington. Why would you stay here? Here?!"

Steve's smile slowly dropped, suddenly looking too serious and resigned. "Where would I go?"

She pulled her hand off his eyes, suddenly aware the conversation just went serious.

"Steve."

"Would it be so bad? Staying here? Maybe get a job somewhere I actually like? Get a little house with a yard? And just, build a life here?"

"What about the nuggets?" That got a small smile out of him, at least.

"There's other townies." The smile dropped. "Besides. I don't know if that's for me. Not anymore."

Her chest started to feel tight; she started this, she led them down this conversational path. "Steve."

"Hey, it's ok." He pulled her into a hug. "It's ok. You're gonna go off to college and you're gonna see the world. Just, maybe come visit townie-Steve, every once in a while, yeah?"

Silent tears spilled down her cheeks, soaking into Steve's vest. How could he be so resigned? Yes, there were a lot of good people just living their lives here, but- but Steve was- they all were, meant for more. How could they be happy here? How could he think she'd just go off without him?

He just kept holding her tight.

Finally, she pulled back, swiping angrily at her wet cheeks.

"Ok. Ok. Here's the plan. I'm going to defer college for a year-"

"No, Robin. You're not. You're going to college in the fall."

"Ok, Dad. No, I'll defer. I got into a few that I applied to. We'll use this year to get you in, too. Where'd you apply last time?"

Steve just looked at her.

"Steve?"

"Nowhere."

"What?"

"I didn't send in the applications. Told my parents I didn't get in."

"What."

"Where would I go, Robin?"

She blinked at him, she was so angry and sad and confused. She couldn't even form a thought, let alone a response. He'd just- But he was always so- How could he-

"Ok." She finally said.

"Ok?"

"I'll defer and you're going to update and send in your applications. If you want to come back here after we graduate, fine. But, we're leaving for four years first. Got it?"

Steve just looked at her, expressionless, it was unnerving, but she figured he was processing.

"Why?" He finally said, looking at her like he'd never met her before.

"What do you mean why?" She grasped his shoulders. "Because, you deserve to get out of here and experience more than what Hawkins has put you through."

Somehow, he was still expressionless, still just looking. She could always read him, his face usually betrayed every emotion, every thought. This was something new and Robin didn't think it was something good.

"No. Why would you defer? I'll just come later if you want. Why would you change up your life for me?"

Robin's chest was tight again. "Why wouldn't I?"

"People don't do that."

And there it was.

She could hear the silent for me tacked onto the end of that statement and it killed her.

Robin wanted nothing more, in that moment, than to hurt every single person who did this to Steve, who left him feeling like he had to give everything of himself while expecting nothing in return.

"Well, it's what I'm going to do. Ok?"

Steve didn't speak, just nodded, eyes finally filling with emotion. Robin pulled back him into a tight hug.

The bell over the door rang.

"Get out, we're closed!" She yelled without looking. "Flip the sign on your way out!"

She heard the thwap of the sign hitting the glass as the person did what she told them.

She did not hear the bell again. She turned her tear wet face just enough to see the door.

Eddie.

From his position, he could see Steve's face and Eddie looked gutted at what he saw.

Robin motioned him with a hand to join them. He was there before she could even let Steve know. His arms wound around them both, his head pressed to Steve's other shoulder.

She rubbed Steve's back, big up and down swipes of her hand, taking slow, deep breaths. Her tears finally dried up.

She heard Eddie's voice murmuring to Steve, too low for her to really make out the words, but she felt Steve nod against her shoulder.

And finally, Robin felt Steve take a deep, shuddering breath, letting it out slow.

Steve gave her one last big squeeze and pulled back slowly. She kept an eye on him, watching for...something, anything, she didn't even know anymore.

Robin just wanted to make this better for him, whatever that meant. She just wasn't sure if she was helping or hurting him at this point.

This Steve wasn't one she had a mindmeld with, she couldn't tell what he was feeling, let alone what he was thinking.

She watched as he turned to Eddie. Eddie, who was...awfully close, who lifted a hand to Steve's cheek and gently, slowly wiped under Steve's eye with his thumb, catching a stray tear.

Robin gasped.

Silently this time, thankfully, but that was her third gasp of the day and she was tired from so many emotional revelations in so short a time.

"Steve?"

He smiled, lifting his head to look at her. Purposefully, he lowered his hand, slipping it into Eddie's.

She wouldn't gasp again, but her hand still came up to cover her mouth. "Oh, my god."

"Is that a good oh my god?" Steve asked, eyes soft and a small half smile quirked across his tilted face.

"What? Yes!" Robin felt suddenly thrust back into her body, jolting forward to grab Steve's other hand. "Yes, it's a really good oh my god. I had no idea you were- and my mind's still reeling, but I'm so happy for you! And you, Eddie, obviously, but Steve's- well, you know."

Eddie chuckled low. "Don't worry, I get it."

Robin sagged in relief. She hadn't even realized she was so tense. She wants to go home.

"Can we go home?" She looked up at Steve, when did she look down?

"Yesss. Let's get out of here." He used his grasp on Robin's hands to pull her against his side, walking her back to the break room to get their stuff.

Eddie was writing something on the notepad when they came out.

"Hey babe, what're you writing there?" Steve said.

Babe

"Writing up your excuse for closing early."

"Yeah?" He slid one hand low across Eddie's back and tried to peek around his shoulder. "So, why'd we leave?"

"Computer issues."

"Simple. I like it. Though, what happens when it boots right up for Keith in the morning?"

Eddie grinned over his shoulder. "Yeah, he's gonna have a problem with that."

Robin ducked down to look under the counter, cords hung limp, coiling all over the floor.

"You might not have work tomorrow if he doesn't know how to plug everything back in. Also, there's the computer virus you valiantly stopped that he'll have to deal with."

Robin's eyes met Steve's, he raised one eyebrow, and she doubled over laughing.

She was laughing so hard she couldn't breath, she grabbed onto the counter to hold herself up. Steve caught her just as her knees tried to give out.

She leaned her head against his chest, trying to slow the laughter, trying to breath. Weirdly, she felt better. Lighter.

And maybe they still had things to talk about, emotions to work through, futures to decide, especially now that she knew to include Eddie, but she knew they'd work it out.

They'd be ok. Together.

[altacctforastarion]

Hi I was wondering if I could request just some soft hcs of astarion and tav like waking tav up with burnt breakfast or tav surprising astarion with some fresh blood they got from god knows where. Basically just some sfw of them post elderbrain

Hey! Thanks for requesting, this one was so fun!

Warnings: spoilers, he sucks at cooking and watches you sleep lmao. Sfw, 18+ and mdni still because my page, works, and myself are for adults only.

Tag list: @astari0nsju1ceb0x @obsessionprofessional @lotus-ignis

- I think it starts before the elderbrain tbh. Like you wake up and he’s just laying there watching you, a dagger in his hand like he’s been waiting so he can protect you, but he just greets with a smile and a soft, “good morning, love. How did you sleep?”

- maybe he gets your breakfast on a plate before you’re even out of the tent. Maybe he sets out clothes for you, helps you put on any armor you may have. He keeps your weapons sharp for you.

- But then the world doesn’t end, and the two of you live together and you wake up to the smell of food burning, sitting up quickly and rushing to the kitchen, only to see it in disarray and a huffy Astarion standing right in the middle, angrily whispering at the charred food in front of him, blaming it for his failures.

- “Well, you would have had a nice breakfast, but it decided to burn.” He says, hissing out the word “it” and you’re sure the misshapen, burnt pancakes are quaking from his rage, “So maybe you cook something?”

- he keeps trying to cook. Eventually you convince him to just get ingredients ready and set out for you and you cook instead. Sometimes he gets in a mood and demands to help, and you have to give him constant instructions, watching his every move and even then it still goes wrong. Two hundred years of never having to touch normal food, only eating it to pretend to be alive and not a vampire, have left him with barely any recollection of how to cook.

- Other times, you wake up and he’s watching you again, sometimes playing with your hair, sometimes close enough that when you wake all you can see are his eyes and you nearly fly out of your skin.

- Sometimes you wake up and he’s no where to be seen, you don’t hear him in the kitchen, and you’ll eventually find him doing some chore you hate or have been putting off.

- I put this in multiple other works of mine, but honestly I take him saying “don’t be so nice to me, it makes me want to be nice back.” As a real thing that he means, in an acts of service kind of way. I think even when he gets comfortable sharing his feelings and caring for you and acknowledging that he’s changed, it’s easier to do a nice thing for you without saying anything. You’re a great partner, his favorite person, and no matter what you say or what you do, he will feel like he needs to do something to show his appreciation. I think early on it’s so he doesn’t feel like he owes you something, terrified of letting you be kind and being in your debt, but later it’s just a way he shows he cares. So depending on how the day before goes, he might feel this urge to do something for you in the morning, beyond just wanting to.

- that being said, I think if he’s doing a “dirty” chore, it’s because you did something that meant a lot to him. One night he talks about how the things that happened are effecting him now, long after it’s all said and done, and you’re so kind and understanding and gentle. So the next morning you wake up and he’s washed all of the dishes, the house is spotless, and he’s urging you to go fill a basin with water so he can wash all of your (specifically your) clothes.

- if you have a favorite mug it’s always clean and he never says a word about it.

- he mends your clothes. Sometimes you wake up and there he is, stitching up your clothes and sometimes embroidering them. It’s always a surprise, you don’t always see him work but if he’s embroidering he won’t let you look at it, it’s to find on your own.

- I think he does a lot during the night, he doesn’t really need sleep and if the two of you don’t go to sleep in each others arms he wanders.

- If you don’t like to talk to others he will do it for you, and if someone is even kind of rude to you he will flip out on them

—

- You surprise him with blood occasionally. Sometimes yours if you don’t have time to let him feed from you, sometimes someone else’s. You are a person who saved the world, who fought for their life constantly, after all, and those skills don’t go away because there’s less danger. Some days you find a criminal and think “ooh, a snack for Astarion”, and then kill the guy and fill up whatever you can to take to him.

- You start keeping vials and jars on your person for such occasions, just in case you find a not so willing donor that will feed your partner.

- It surprises him the first few times, waking up to you speaking softly, saying good morning and saying you got him breakfast. He looks at you, confused, about to remind you that he doesn’t eat food when he sees/smells a jar of blood in your hand. “…Darling? Whose blood is that?”

- He sips on his blood while you explain that you saw a man trying to steal purses and lured him into an alley to kill him before buying some jars and draining him. There’s more blood downstairs if he’s still hungry. It makes him very happy, but he does look at you strange for a moment because wtf do you do when he’s not there to stop you?!

- You handle the washing around the house usually, because he hates it. If you’re not in the Underdark and you have a yard, you are responsible for yard care lol, he is not doing it.

- You pick up random shit from stores for him, sometimes stealing just so he can tell you how proud he is (he is always very proud). Sometimes a new dagger, sometimes a fun trinket, occasionally jewelry

- I think if you got him a stuffed animal he would pretend to hate it but that thing would stay in your shared bed constantly. Maybe you come home and he’s asleep cuddled up with it.

- You let him handle the decorating for the most part, just because it makes him genuinely happy to design the house, and he asks for your input constantly anyways.

- You search for a way for him to go into the sun, but on the mean time he starts using umbrellas and such to go out with you, and you find him various pretty ones. You also get him a cloak, and he looks amazing in it, matching it to his outfits, putting on a borderline fashion show for you.

- I think astarion is materialistic bc he didn’t have a lot, so he hoards things for both of you and is DELIGHTED with every gift you give him, adding it to the hoard happily and giving you many kisses.

[holybibly]

So, yesterday we talked about me, and today we will discuss with you such a topic as triggers. This is my personal opinion, you may agree or not, we are just discussing this in light of recent events. I just want to clarify my attitude to this issue.

Let's start with the first:

Trigger - A term used to describe sensations, images, or experiences that trigger a traumatic memory. Related to PTS Disorder (often but not always relating to sexual assault) First of all, let me tell you about my attitude to these things.

Few people know this, but I am a crazy arachnophobe. And when I say crazy, I mean it, and I say it to explain how triggers work.

If you were to ask me to explain the horror I feel at the sight of these creatures, it is simply inexplicable. I get real panic attacks even from pictures or videos of these creatures. This thing complicates my life more than you can imagine.

I wet clean every night. Before I enter a hotel room or any unknown place where I will be staying for some time, I ask to have it checked for arachnids first. My friends clean their house before I go in to remove any possible hints of spider webs or arachnids. Photos, videos, words, anything that has to do with these things causes horror.

Knowing the reaction these creatures cause in me, I avoid any content related to them. Anything. My mother even had to cover up the pages of encyclopaedias so that I don't accidentally see it when she's taking notes or reading some biology articles. So you can understand how much this subject bothers me?

Accordingly, I avoid any, even the slightest, encounter with it. If I know what I'm about to encounter, I immediately refuse to talk about it.

I say this to make my point, my trigger is not related to the sexual context, but that is what triggers my panic attack. But it would be strange if I went on a witch hunt because I encountered it in the text of this or that book, or wrote a post about a programme about the jungle with scenes related to spiders, and when all my friends went on holiday to Australia, I was the only one who refused to go because I knew in advance what I might encounter.

And what I'm getting at is that if, God forbid, you've experienced some kind of trauma or unpleasant incident in a sexual context, you understand what could provoke you.

With this in mind, I cannot understand people who, having had this experience and knowing their sore spots, start to read a story with warnings such as: choking, humiliation, manhandling, explicit sexual content, explicit language, dacryphilia, humiliation, rough sex, power play and more.

Just by seeing all this, you are consciously agreeing to dark and rather intense content. And this is not just about one word. These warnings are enough to understand what is to come.

I want to go into three of them in more detail: choking, dacryphilia, manhandling.

Dacryphilia - is an underexplored aspect of non-normative sexual interests. A sexual kink or fetish that’s outside of typical sexual behavior. Some people are turned on by dominating or controlling another person during sex. This can include emotional control as well as physical. Most often has sadistic tendencies. Dacryphiles enjoy making their partner cry. Whether this is through physical or emotional discomfort depends on their individual preferences. Some people are turned on by watching other people cry or become emotional. This is called passive dacryphilia.

Manhandle - To physically dominate someone roughly and forcefully.

Choking - the act of choking someone for sexual pleasure. Sexual choking is common. Sexual choking is very dangerous, physically and emotionally. Autoerotic asphyxiation is sexual choking you do to yourself. Sexual choking is where someone applies pressure to your neck that partially or completely restricts airflow or blood flow to your brain during sex. It can also be called breath play or erotic asphyxiation.

Now explain to me how, after a person has read these warnings, after and if, God forbid, there ever was an unpleasant and traumatic sexual experience, you consciously continues reading the story? What do you hope to get out of it? You are consciously subjecting yourself to emotional and psychological abuse. And after that, you say that you are not happy with some word in a text of 10k text, more than 8k of which is a sex scene that includes these warnings?

But what worries me most is that in the two years that my story has been out, not a single person has contacted me to say that something in the text made them feel uncomfortable or triggered them.

So it's been two years, and you're only now saying something doesn't suit you? Isn't it easier to just say so?

To come back to the fact that I always ask for feedback. If you read a particular story after it has been published, you should tell me about it immediately so that I can make changes to the text. But judging by the reaction of my readers, followers, messages in my inbox, comments, reblogs and the number of likes, no one was injured or stressed at the time of publication.

This is why I always say that by clicking the "read more" button after reading these warnings, you are shifting all responsibility for your emotional and psychological state onto yourself.

As I have said before, having had a traumatic experience with arachnids, I will never in my life and under any circumstances get involved with anything related to them.

[deadlysoupy]

here's a tfe starbee request: post breakbee breakup, bumblebee wants to make breakdown jealous. starscream has been dealing with annoying comments from megatron since their divorce the end of the war and wants to make a point about him not needing megatron. they get together as each others rebounds and end up catching feelings for each other.

or, alternatively, bumblebee defending starscream from megatron's comments about how starscream is too evil to be allowed to exist in the world unsupervised. they aren't even together and don't even get along at this point but it makes starscream go heart eyes (spark eyes?) because other than hashtag no one's ever stood up to megatron for him.

this one took a while but hey, it's here and it turned out better than i thought it would! (quick note tho for the future: you guys should know i'm not one for "rebound" ships. or jealousy, unless it's starscream. there are some lines i dont want to cross and this is one of them. just letting you know that, unless an alternative is provided, like here, i will not write a "rebound" fic)

(Read here on AO3)

The day has not been going well for Starscream.

If he was being completely honest with himself, he's had a consecutive streak of bad luck looming over his helm. Ever since he was imprisoned, come to think of it. He's had it pretty well during their "stalemate" with the Autobots and the Maltos, but it was nothing he would describe as "lucky".

He ultimately failed in his mission to finally have a home, but that wasn't anything new.

Now, he's forced to share space with the person who pushed him so far into insanity, and he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Mainly, Starscream has learned to avoid confrontation with Megatron, no matter how impossible that seemed. It was working — for some time.

This day turned out to be an exception.

They cross each other in the maintenance room. Starscream needs to upload intel on their new human relations — he didn't read the file, it was too processor-numbing for him — and it seemed like Megatron ended up with the same objective. It had still felt like a strange vision, that Megatron would ever do someone's bidding that easily. The room was small, barely enough for three bots, and given Megatron's frame… well. One could say the air started suffocating Starscream pretty fast.

He grits his denta and reaches out his servo to the main panel.

Apparently, that was the wrong move to make. Megatron regards him with a "look", his size — as always — looming over him, murderous optics drilling into his spark.

"What do you think you're doing, Starscream."

He doesn't shudder under the threatening tone. He needs to keep calm, or it will blow his whole plan out of proportion.

"I'm doing my job, Megatron," he answers, staying as still as possible. "Or is this not what I'm supposed to do?"

The warframe clicks his denta. "You never do your job. There's always something with you."

"I've been nothing but compliant with you Autobots ever since you oh so kindly let me out," he can't help but sneer in response. "I have no reason to do harm, so you should just let me do what I came here to do."

Megatron unleashes his pointed dentas, glinting under the artificial lighting of the room. "I wonder how long this charade of yours will keep working, Starscream. We both know you aren't doing your job out of well intentions — your spark will always be rotten."

And Starscream would have agreed with him on any other day. On any other occasion. He would have glowed in the praise, would have considered it to be the mightiest words of affirmation he's ever heard, and he would have gone on his merry way.

But he wasn't going to let this go. He can't keep pretending to like this presence, this… humiliation. Hashtag, the Terrans, and one other particular bot taught him otherwise.

Starscream's backstrut straightens, high on alert, voice loud. "You may believe whatever you want, Lord Megatron, but I deserve to be here just as you do. You've earned your chance to keep your place among the Autobots, and I should have the space to be able to do the same. Unless… you actually don't deserve to be here? Unless you're just the same arrogant fool you've always—"

A servo squeezes Starscream's shoulder and the plating creaks under it. Starscream's frame buckles, but stands firm. "Shut your ammering, Starscream, or I'll remind you why I don't trust your miserable spark with anything of importance."

"What's going on here?" Bumblebee's voice comes from the entrance. Starscream won't admit it out loud, but he's glad to hear it. The Autobot has been the only one keeping him sane in all of his time outside of the brig.

"Nothing, Bumblebee," Megatron regards him with a short look. His servo moves away from Starscream's shoulder — the ping of pain runs across his entire frame, but it goes away quickly. Luckily, Megatron wasn't able to do a lot of damage. "I was simply concerned that Starscream had malicious intentions. Nothing more."

Bumblebee arches an optic ridge, first at Megatron, then at Starscream, who looks away from them both. He was not going to get involved anymore. It would only make things worse.

"Right," Bee says. "So, that's solved, then? Can't you… I don't know… be nice now?"

"Are you insinuating I wasn't, Bumblebee?"

And when that tone is directed at Bumblebee, Starscream's gears are twitching. He almost wants to open his mouth to retort, but Bee beats him to it.

"Well, by the sound of it — no, you really weren't. Yeah, I've been listening," the scout folds his servos. Star glances at him, and the stance almost mesmerises him. He's completely calm… while scolding Megatron. "I know you're trying, Megs, but come on. We need to be better than this. I'll admit, Starscream can be a little… a lot to handle, but if you deserved even a smidge of doubt, then he does, too. He's not that bad once you get to know him. You don't need to second-guess his every move. Just… be patient, okay?"

Starscream isn't sure whether he should be offended, touched, or enraged at Bumblebee's comments.

In the end, he settles on amused. He doesn't recall a time when someone would defend him and, at the same time, be so very kind to someone like Megatron. It's something Bumblebee masters to an art form. And he's growing to appreciate it.

Despite his efforts not to, a smile makes its way on Starscream's face. He turns his helm before anyone notices.

Megatron huffs air out of his vents. "You're right. We should… cooperate," he sounds like he's fighting the words actively coming out of his mouth. Starscream hopes it hurts to say them. "I'll come back later, when it's less crowded. Good day, Bumblebee."

"You, too."

When Megatron leaves, Starscream still has a smile on his face.

"That was some lecture you gave there, little Bee."

Bumblebee shrugs and walks up to Starscream. "Yeah, well, sometimes the guy forgets who's on which side. Gotta approach everyone differently, y'know?"

And there was also that. How Bumblebee chose his words carefully, suiting it for whoever the bot was talking to. It reminded Starscream of himself, in a way, and made Bumblebee all the more… interesting to interact with.

Bumblebee's nonchalance turns into concern. "He didn't… hurt you, did he?"

Judging by the way Bee glances at his shoulder, any answer might set off alarm bells in the Autobot's processor, so there was no way of hiding it. "Perhaps. Nothing I can't handle, though."

Bumblebee frowns. "Are you sure? Do you want me to… I don't know, stay with you?"

A grin snakes up Starscream's faceplate. "What, worried about little old me, Honeybee? Have no fear — I am perfectly operational. Besides, I'm sure you have your own duties to attend to."

The bot wants to protest, an objection on his lipplates, but a blush takes over on his faceplate, and the thought is forgotten. "…sure. I'll… see you later?"

"Oh, you will," Starscream coos, and Bumblebee turns tail as fast as that.

Despite his tremendous desire to shoo Bumblebee out of the room, it's now sparkless and empty. Starscream clutches his shoulder, still aching, but on its way to recovery. He'll manage without help, as he always had.

Next time, perhaps, Bumblebee. Next time.

[usafphantom2]

This story is about David Peters and RSO Ed Bethart.

Dave was born to fly. He started collecting airplane pictures at the age of 7, writing to airplane manufacturers for pictures that would cover every inch of his childhood bedroom wall. He wanted to be a pilot, and he did. He became one of the best pilots in the Air Force. He made an impossible situation possible with help from God.

Dave was descending back to Okinawa, Japan, his home base, with only one engine working. Then the other engine blew out. Knowing that the SR 71 glides like a rock, he had to think fast! Dave started to tell Ed to get out (eject).

Then Dave heard a voice …

“You’re OK keep going.” The voice was not in my head.

Ed said he never heard it. I heard it again and I felt calm and I did exactly that. I kept going.

The rest of the story is in Dave’s exact words.

It started with a rocket ride one pass through the Korean DMZ unrefueled. Everything was great until I came out of AB (afterburner) for the descent. Almost immediately the left engine started surging and the compressor stalling with the EGT going way past limits. I told Ed I was going to shut it down. So he went through the checklists and we declared an emergency and requested decent to a precision straight in. We were setting up and not particularly worried because we had done this more than once.

Unfortunately, about 15,000 ft in the decent setting up for a downwind the other engine started surging, and the compressor stalling. Ed made his infamous comment

“Don’t tell me that’s the other engine “.

My answer is, Ed that’s the other engine. So he says what are you going to do?

I said restart the other engine so call approach and tell them we are going visual and get the tower and I’ll talk to them. So I started a pretty steep dive to get enough speed for a restart which I was able to get. The engine was still operating the same way so it wasn’t doing anything but giving us hydraulics for flight controls. I left the other one running for the same purpose. Ed got the tower and I told them we were running out of engines and were visual for a modified straight-in. They cleared us for whatever we needed.

We were doing a little over 500 Kias and turning onto a descending base leg trying to get the speed down to lower the gear.

We kept slowing and I threw the gear down at about 350 Kias. At the same time, the right engine ceased. The gear came part way down so I pulled the emergency release handle and the mains came down and locked but the nose wasn’t down. I was constantly readjusting and trimming to keep the flight controls as close to neutral as possible because I didn’t want any violent movement if everything quit.

That’s when I told Ed” If I say get out… if you say what… you’ll be talking to yourself”.

I kept letting it slow and about 5 miles on the final the nose came down and locked. I felt like we had everything set up well and was geared to keep going. According to the MRS, the second engine quit at 11 seconds on final which at the speed we were traveling was a little over a mile and a half. I think because I kept keeping the trim as close as possible there were not any big changes and windmilling may have been enough. At any rate, we touched down at about 240 Kias popped the chute, and eventually used emergency braking to stop.

Lew Sultze was the first one there with a pickup he backed up under the chine and we exited.

🌟It turned out to be very fortunate that we were able to get it down because it was determined that the cause was faulty fuel hydraulic pumps that failed.

When they looked further they found the same faulty pumps on the other airplane at Kadena, two at Beale, and one at Mildenhall. (By saving the 960 they probably save more lives.)

We received DFC and I was awarded the Koren Koligian Jr trophy which recognizes the most meritorious flight for all US military for the year. This was in 1979.~ David Peters

Introduction and post by Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[seenoversundown]

Insidious : Five

Jake Kiszka x Rory (Fem OC)

Warnings: Language, Violence, Mentions of Blood, Anxiety, Mentions of Drugs, Drinking, Gross Behavior, Disrespectful comments, Panic, Fainting. (I think that covers it all - if you feel something was missed, please shoot me a dm)

Word Count: 2.2k

Author's Note: This one felt good to write- I think you'll understand why.

Tempe, Arizona | Show #1 

Earlier that night..

“How the fuck do you think we’re gonna pull that off?” I bark into the phone. My blood is pumping through my veins at an astronomical rate. 

“Figure it out,” he tells me, matter of factly. Hanging up before I can say anything else. 

“That motherfucker,” I let out. How does he think we’re gonna— I hear the sound of rocks being slid against the ground. Turning and seeing Rory looking at me from the back door. 

Her eyes went wide as I started walking toward her, like a little deer in headlights. I bark out, “What the fuck are you doing?” My body feels hot but also numb as I quickly make my way over to her. 

She sounds nervous, but letting out a hesitant, “Uhhhh..” 

“How long were you there for?” I ask, staring at her with a scowl. 

She whispers, “Like thirty seconds.”

The look on her face stops me from questioning her further. She looks terrified of me at the moment, which no matter how much I poke and prod at her— I never want to be actually scary. I mutter, “Don’t fucking do that again.” 

At least she didn’t hear anything, I’ll take what I can get but I fear she’s going to find out sooner rather than later. 

Post-Show.. 

The boys decided to just hit the hotel bar tonight, which was shocking to me that they didn’t want to go out. But, I wasn’t going to complain about being able to just take an elevator and be back at my room. 

“Do you think Rory is gonna come down?” Josh asks. 

I shrug, “I don’t know? I haven’t spoken to her since before we played.” 

His eyebrows pull together, “How?” 

“Well,” I start, and then realize he’s gonna be pissed. “She may have walked outside while I was on the phone with—“ 

He rolls his eyes, “Were you an ass to her?”

“I may have yelled at her a little,” I cringe.

I know I shouldn’t have yelled at her the way I did, but hindsight or whatever. 

“I’ll text her,” he says, pulling his phone out. 

I grab my beer off the bar, walking off. Finding myself on the opposite side talking with some random men, who have also found themselves here. 

They seemed nice enough, but frankly, I was distracted. From the moment Rory walked into the bar, a dude near me kept looking over at her, but for some reason, it felt off. I couldn’t stop glancing over at him. 

“Where are you guys playing next?” The man next to me asks. 

I watch as this dude leans over to his friend, whispering something and the hair on my arms stands up. I don’t know what it is about his presence but it’s not sitting well with me. 

“Uhh..” I hesitate to answer his question. “New Mexico, I believe.”

He sips his beer, “Oh! You should stop—“ continuing to ramble off a few places near Albuquerque that he recommends us to stop at. I feel a little guilty not paying closer attention, but my brain was fully locked in on whatever this fucking guy was up to. 

A few minutes pass, and I see Rory walk over to him, Josh was stood next to her for a minute, but then wandered off. Come on, Josh. How are you leaving her there? 

The way she’s smiling at him, that little lean in when she laughs. He probably thinks he’s won her over. I feel insane watching from a distance, but I force myself to look over to this guy and try to talk with him a little longer. Doing everything in my power to not just fully stare at them while he tells me about where he’s from. 

Out of the corner of my eye, he walks away from her, toward the bar. I don’t love that. I see the bartender hand him a drink, but naturally he’s behind people so I can’t see him until he’s almost back to her. Nodding along to whatever this man is on about, not intentionally ignoring him, I just can’t shake this feeling. 

A few minutes pass, and I feel eyes on me. Turning to check on this dude and Rory’s staring directly at me, but looking away quickly like she was caught. I can see from here the way she’s swaying a little. 

“Hey, excuse me for a second?” I say to the man I’ve been kind of listening to and setting my drink on the table. 

Slowly walking closer to them, I can hear her tell him, “I’ll be right back.” My eyes locked on her as she starts to walk past him, but her legs start to give out. The sound of her drink hitting the ground and glass shattering made the rest of the boys look over. Pushing a chair out of the way, catching her as she starts to fall, holding her against me as I look up at this “man.” 

“What the fuck did you give her?” I snap at him, feeling her go limp in my arm.  

He smirks at me, mumbling, “She must be a light weight.” 

My eyebrows shoot up staring at him, asking, “Do you think I’m fucking dumb?”

“I mean..” he starts, standing in front of me now. “Just wanted her to.. Relax.”

 My heart pounds at the thought but I spit out, “So, you drugged her?” 

“I can take her from here,” he says, reaching his hand out.

Shaking my head a few times, backing up, and letting out, “The fuck you will?” 

“What’s going on?” Josh’s voice finally graces my ears, I look over to him and then glancing down at the now passed out version of Rory. He whispers, “I’ll take her.”  Holding her, he carefully walks out of the bar, heading toward the elevator. 

“So, y’all can share her, but I can’t have her for one night?” the shitty man says, stepping toward me.

Taking his lead, I get closer, tilting my head, “Can we talk about this outside?” 

“What if I say no?” he tries to question, when I see Sam and Dan come out from behind him. Danny’s hand landing on his shoulder, gripping tightly. 

Sam leans close to his ear, “You don’t really have a choice, Big Dog.” 

Walking out a back door, Danny practically throws this guy out the door before him. He stumbles before quickly walking toward me. 

“What the fuck?” he lets out, getting far too close to me. 

I can practically feel his breath on me, and unfortunately, I know what his fate is, but I don’t think that he does. 

“What’s your name?” I calmly ask. 

He shakes his head, “Sawyer? Why do you care?” 

I nod a few times, glancing over at Sam and Danny who are already smiling behind him, so patiently waiting. I laugh out, “Trust me, I don’t give a single shit about you.” 

He finally cracks, his fist balling up my shirt, getting in my face, he spits out, “Then what the fuck are we doing here?”

Knowing what’s about to happen, the grin on my face has to piss him off even more. I tell him, “Well, you think it’s okay to fuck with unwilling women– try me.” 

His arm pulls back, and I see the fist form as it comes racing back at me. Reaching up, and unfortunately for him, I’m faster– grabbing his wrist as it gets closer, holding it still in front of me. Letting out a laugh, glancing over to Sam, I bark out, “Really thought you’d pull that off, huh?” 

My hand drops his arm, and with no hesitation, my other fist makes contact with his jaw. Watching his head whip to the side, stopping for a second before looking back at me, his eyebrows furrowed. 

Stepping toward me, he swings again and misses– but I don’t, this time making direct contact with his nose. It’s a matter of seconds before he’s dripping blood onto his shirt. Not giving him time to recover, swinging on him, but he bats my arm away. Shoving me back against a wall, he attempt to hit me, but I dodged fast enough that his hand makes contact with the brick behind me. He closes in on me, grabbing my shirt again, but this time he tightens up on it enough to make it harder to breathe– he doesn’t need to know that. 

The blood trailing over his mouth now, I can’t stop the smile from growing on my face. He gets one good punch into my stomach, taking whatever breath I had away. Pushing him back, he comes at me with another swing, and it barely grazes my jaw as I watch Danny come up behind him, wrapping his arms around him to pull him back. 

Sam comes over to me quickly, whispering, “You good?” 

“Yeah, I got it,” I mumble back. 

Sawyer grumbles out, “What the fuck is your problem?”

“He already told you. Don’t do that shit, asshole,” Danny tells him. 

I walk toward them, not taking my eyes off of him as I do. My heart pounds as I get closer, something tells me that I shouldn’t be done with him yet. 

“Is she your girlfriend or something?” Sawyer hastily asks. 

Everything went silent after that. The blood pulsing through my veins faster than ever, the ringing in my ears is bordering painful, my jaw clenched tight. Every movement feeling like a blur, as Danny backs away from him and my foot connects with his chest, knocking him back. I stalk him shoving and swinging on him until he finally trips backward, landing on his ass. My foot pushing against his chest until his back hits the pavement, kneeling down over him as his chest struggles to rise with breath. 

I don’t know how many times my fist connected with his face, but the blood from his nose had splattered onto me. Feeling Sam’s hands grab my arms, pulling me off of him. 

“Jake,” he yells. “You did enough.” 

I look down and it’s hard to judge if he’s even conscious. 

“Go inside,” he tells me. “We’ll take care of it.” 

I turn my head far enough for my neck to crack loudly, before looking over at him. Muttering, “No traces left, okay?” 

Knocking on her room’s door, I whisper-yell, “Josh!” 

It takes a minute but he lets me in, carefully shutting it behind us. He mumbles, “She’s still gone.” 

“Shit, alright.” 

I step into her bathroom, turning the water on low, glancing into the mirror. I look like hell right now. Maybe it’s good she’s still out cold. Washing my hands as quickly as I can, watching the remnants of blood circle the drain as I do. 

“I don’t want to leave her alone,” Josh tells me as I walk out into the actual room. He’s sitting on the bed next to her— it looks like her body hasn’t even realized she’s in a bed. 

“Probably for the best,” I whisper back. Moving to the other side of the bed, and sitting in the armchair next to it. “God, what a fucking prick.” I breathe out. 

Josh leans over, looking at her, and giving me a tight-lipped smile. He mumbles, “At least you caught it quickly.” 

My hands wipe over my face, sitting back into the chair. I tell him, “I felt weird about him the entire time.” 

“I didn’t love the vibes I was getting,” he admits. “I even told her that someone was staring.. I didn’t think she’d actually go for it.” 

A sigh leaves my body at the thought, why would she do that? Did she not find him even slightly creepy?  I groan, “She probably already had too much alcohol in her. Did she eat anything today?” 

Josh stares at me blankly, muttering, “Now that you ask.. I don’t think she did.” 

I stand up, sitting next to her on the bed. God, she looks so helpless. A little shiver runs down my spine. Shaking my head to rid the thoughts, gently moving her hair away from her face. I whisper, “Do you want to stay with her?” 

“I can.” 

Standing up, I carefully slide her shoes from her feet. It’s a team effort to get her actually under the covers, but we managed and she didn’t even flinch. Poor thing. 

“Text me when she wakes up,” I tell him.��

He nods, turning the tv on and immediately muting it. Mumbling, “You did the right thing, Jake.” 

I stare at him for a second, my heart racing at the comment, and all I can say is, “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

The sound of the shower felt louder tonight. I stood there in the hot water, as it was just pelting my chest. Making sure to rid of anything that could remind me of what happened earlier. 

At least you saved her. 

Shaking my head, hoping that it helps the thoughts go away. Running the hot water over my face for a moment, trying to soak in the feeling. 

“You did the right thing, Jake.”

Closing my eyes tighter, the anxiety washing over me as I stand here. My heart pounds trying to forget again. It had been a while since this happened. 

I end up sitting on the floor of the shower, the water is still running over me. Tucking my head forward, practically against my knees, and my throat feels tight. I can see her. 

I succumb to the memory, and all I can choke out is, “I’m so sorry.” 

Four

Masterpost

Taglist: (reply or dm to be added)

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@literal-dead-leaf @lizzys-sunflower @mackalah @klarxtr

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@justwantjosh

[for-a-longlongtime]

WIP on Wednesday Thursday

Well, first of all, my WIP folder is currently looking like this:

But fuck it, we ball right?

I got tagged by @din-cognito and @avastrasposts this week, and @the-blind-assassin-12 and @lotusbxtch last week, so I've got some catching up to do! I've been all over the place working on different docs, so you're getting a few tidbits this week.

I've posted snippets of this before (and lo! a hozier title! I'm gonna have to change that though because the story ended up going differently than planned), and after it having been on hold for months, the pieces are coming together at last.

let me wrap my teeth around the world (working title) | Santiago x Frankie “You think we did the right thing there?” Santiago says, staring at the ceiling as he avoids Frankie's eyes. Unsure he really wants to hear the answer, because of how likely it is that he is the only person who can’t answer that with a decisive yes. Fish was the only one on their team - besides Tom - who'd had a family to take care of, who needed that money probably more than any of them did because of his pilot license being suspended. “I mean... Following his lead with the money.” No answer. The deafening silence lasts for much too long. Santi grimaces as he closes his eyes. Shit. Why did he even ask? He keeps fucking up like this.

Next we've got a WIP that I haven't worked on in a bit (it wanted to go on break, bummerrr) but that I'm hoping to pick up very soon.

Untitled | Reynaldo x Matthew It’s those large hands that draw Matt’s attention first.  That, and the golden chain partially but-not-quite hiding under that checkered golf shirt, glistening every now and then in the bright afternoon sun. It’s almost as bright as the gleam in Sophie’s eyes when she throws back a shot and listens to the older man introduce himself as Reynaldo. Matt is only vaguely aware of the prepared talk that the man launches into, a few words standing out, such as ‘exclusive members only’ and ‘the best golf club in all of Arizona’. Things that everybody wanted to hear, and that gave Sophie all the more opportunity to coo at the man how this was ‘one of the best premium golf clubs’ she’d ever been at. It probably isn’t all that premium though, considering the Scotts and Dale had been able to book this place on a budget. And truth be told, it’s still unclear to Matt why they are here on a ‘vow renewal bachelor staycation’, which seemed a contradiction on its own. Or even why Sophie showed up here, acting like one of the guys, just long enough until she found someone who was willing to give her the attention she was clearly looking for. He’d seen the pattern before, especially with the girls on the Kel-squad. None of that matters though, he tries to remind himself as they make their way up to the golf course. He’s simply glad to get away from Kelsey for a couple of days - not just for some peace and quiet, but also so he doesn’t have to wonder if she’s talking to Domingo every time she smiles at an incoming message on her phone.

Finally, this last one is still in the VERY early stages, but ngl... I'm excited. Thank you to the folks who encouraged me to keep going with it! This is hella out of my comfort zone but what the hell, that's where the fun is, right? This one is going to more filth than I'll probably be able to shove into an one shot... so it may end up becoming two or three parts. We'll see.

for glory (working title) | Harry Castillo Harry is speechless, shock painted over his features, and it takes him a moment to find his voice. "You wouldn't dare to," he finally manages to say, and what had previously been surprise in his eyes has now flipped into unmistakeable rage. "Mmm, is that so, Harry? What - you think I've got morals or something?"

EDIT: WAIT!! I forgot to add one final excerpt! This is from a yet to be decided chapter from Joel and Marcus Moreno' story. I spent way too much time trying to find the right face claim moments for them at different ages, and this is what I settled on for their mid-twenties:

Joel in his mid-twenties (a.k.a. Zach Wellison in Brothers & Sisters)

Marcus Moreno in his late twenties (a.k.a. looking like Comandante Veracruz from the Burn Notice movie).

Yes, I'm as shocked as y'all are about the latter, but I promise it'll make sense. As for the excerpt:

Untitled series | Joel Miller x Marcus Moreno Marcus folds his arms as he leans back against the wall, looking every bit the charismatic guy most people know him to be. But Joel has known him a long time and can see where the varnish has cracked, and the parts he so desperately tries to cover up.  "So you don't like it. How I look. You don't like me anymore," Marcus says after a moment, and there’s something about all that combativeness on display - as well as the bitter irony of those words - that hits Joel much harder than he was prepared for. He doesn’t have the same defense system that Marcus clearly is equipped with; the mask that he can put on and off so easily after years of practice. So he just shakes his head. "Think it's been too long since you've had someone push back against you, M." "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Joel tries to hide his sigh by drinking from his coffee, but the beverage has gone cold, the stale taste of it now bitter on his tongue in a way that feels oddly specific to this situation. "Don't pick a fight with me because you're unhappy, Marcus," he says softly.

I know a lot of y'all already posted a WIP Wednesday, so I'm just gonna link a couple of folks, no pressure as always (apologies if you've already made your weekly WIP update):

@perotovar @sin-djarin @lotusbxtch @mountainsandmayhem @qveerthe0ry

@letsgobarbs @gothcsz @milla-frenchy @guiltyasdave @oliveksmoked

@magpiepills @arcanefox207 @reallyrallyauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @clubsoft

@romanarose @the-blind-assassin-12

[orvdiscrepancies]

Discrepancy #40

Gilyoung is portrayed differently. This is also a case of writers analysis.

I’ve said in Discrepancy #4 that Gilyoung is introduced differently in the novel and I was curious how that would change his character.

Welp I got my answer :D

Now here’s the thing, I’m a writer. I analyze things as a writer. So allow me to introduce the writing technique I’ll be talking about today: Show Don’t Tell.

It’s a basic technique that tends to get recommended to newer writers. Show your audience what you want them to know, don’t just tell them. This works best for explaining emotions or the emotional impact of something. For example:

OP was very disappointed when she looked at her phone and saw her bad grade.

This is an example of telling the reader exactly what happened. Versus this:

Once the grades dropped, OP immediately checked her grade book. She was proud of her work and was sure that the teacher saw that too. As soon as the page loaded, her smile dropped as she stared in confusion. She searched the page to be sure there was no mistake. Her hands trembled softly and everything around her felt suffocating. Her eyes stung and her chest clenched. She quietly turned off her phone and didn’t mention the grade.

See the difference? It’s more personal, more believable, more detailed. It’s just an easy method for newer writers to practice being descriptive.

But, like all writing ‘rules,’ they can be broken. Let’s examine the novel and webtoon.

Here is how Gilyoung is portrayed in the novel:

[ORV Novel, Chapter 7]

This is an example of ‘Tell.’ The author is plainly telling us what’s going on. Why does this work? We don’t know these characters yet. This is the first time Gilyoung is being introduced so we kinda have to be told how he’s feeling. The author wants us to perceive him in a certain way and the only way to do that this early into the story is to plainly tell us.

The beginning of the story is just that, the beginning. They’re laying the groundwork. Was there a way to do it more elegantly? Yeah, probably. But for these purposes, it works just fine. Honestly, as long as it works it works. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.

Also this novel is pretty good at show don’t tell, as shown in the 4th paragraph of the screenshot but I digress.

Now let’s look at the webtoon:

[ORV Webtoon, Episode 7]

This is an example of ‘Show.’ There are no words describing Gilyoung, just his expressions and body language. So why does this not work?

Well, we’re missing information. What is the significance of Gilyoung just standing there? What is the significance of him staring at a body? Why is he staring at a body? Who is the body he’s staring at?

All of these questions are answered in the novel because we have more information. We know that it’s probably his mom that he’s staring at. We can’t kinda pick it up that the person he’s staring at is important to home due to framing and composition, but who is she? Who is she to him? We don’t know. Hell, we never find out in the webtoon. That’s information given in the novel that is just left out.

So let’s return to the start of this post. How does this portray Gilyoung differently?

The novel portrays Gilyoung as a child that has just watched everything go down around him and watched his mother try to kill someone and then got herself killed. Hes reasonably scared and wants comfort. He’s around 11 I think? 10? My service isn’t good enough to look that up right now. Anyways, when Dokja offers him comfort, even though he has ulterior motives, Gilyoung is going to latch onto him.

Because we’re lacking a lot of the context surrounding Gilyoung (his mother, her actions, and his laughter that I referenced in Discrepancy #4), Gilyoung just seems like a traumatized kid that isn’t processing what’s happening. And yeah, he is on a base level, but there’s no depth to that.

Dokja’s decision to talk to Gilyoung is so impactful in the novel because we get the line about Gilyoung not grieving his mother but fearing death. There’s depth to that decision. Not only is he taking advantage of Gilyoung’s fears to gain the constellations’ favor, but also providing this kid another chance of survival. He’s saving Gilyoung again.

In the webtoon, it looks like Dokja saw this scared kid and is only using him for personal gain. It doesn’t look like he understands Gilyoung’s pain or fear.

But Dokja does. He does understand. We don’t know that yet, but later on when Dokja’s backstory with his dad comes to light, it shows that yeah, he does kinda understand what it’s like to be a kid in a shitty situation with no one to turn to.

Anyways, that’s my lecture on show don’t tell.

[sosickastro]

Indulgence (Bts x Chubby reader)

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

Chapter 2

Poly Bts x Chubby Reader, Soulmate au and Idol au

Summary: Poor broke and isolated mc gets the chance to go to a concert with an old high school friend, with hoping to find their soulmate and see the biggest boy band in the world. A new shocking reality hits her while at the concert.

Chapter Warnings: degrading thoughts, poor writing and grammar, gender confused reader, anxiety, mc being a loner, mentions of weight insecurities, swearing, fat phobia, etc (let me know if I miss anything)

A/N: second chapter omg I actually wrote it in a decent time span, I want to say thank you for the support for the first chapter! I will try my best to keep up with posting chapters, etc, etc, As we all know, Grammarly is my lord and savior, but even they can't fix my awful spelling mistakes, so let me know if anything is wrong or just ignore it for the sake of the story.

word count: 2,034

(Thank you Corinnecousins on Pinterest for this picture)

Perviously on Indulgence:

"Then for the first time in my life, I felt a tug, anxiety filled my stomach as I froze in my tracks, and my heartbeat went through the roof as I looked down at the red thread I usually forget about, it loosened. Holy shit I am near my soulmate. Holy shit. Lauren notices that I stop walking and now staring at my pinky finger asks me “Are you okay?” I initially looked around the bus station, there were a lot of people walking around, too many to see where the string goes. “Is it your soulmate?” Lauren asks me again. I couldn't speak, my mouth dry as I gave her a shaky nod. But unfortunately just as it loosens it quickly tightens again, meaning my soulmate either left or is on a bus going further away from me. “I wonder if he felt it” I questioned out loud, looking at Lauren with shaken eyes. She sighs, almost equally disappointed “Come on Clare is waiting for us, we don’t want to keep her waiting.” Lauren tells me, grabbing my hand and basically dragging me to the exit. I can’t stop staring at my red thread, there's hope. There is always hope. Now I at least can find comfort that he is in the States, and not in Korea or Russia or anything far away. "

We make it to Clare’s car, she smiles at me as this is our first time meeting. I put on a smile as I tried to push through all the emotions I was feeling at the moment. But it is more complicated than I’d like to admit. The man I moved halfway across the country for is now somewhere in the city that’s only 3 hours away from my 4-year hellscape of a college.

 I let out a deep sigh as I looked over to Lauren and Clare, who were having a quiet conversation themselves. Clare nodded at something Lauren said, a look of concern and slight confusion filled her eyes, and spread across her face. “I’m fine yall— let’s get going before I hear another kid scream their head off,” I tell them with a slight chuckle, hoping that I’m schooling my face well enough to at least look like I’m fine as well as my typical dry humar distractes them from the imdending breakdown I am bout to face in tminus 10 seconds. 

Lauren eyes me up and down while also looking deep into my very soul to see if I’m lying to her. Clare shrugs, “I agree.” Lauren seems to give up her soul searching and nods her head. In silence that was not completely awkward, we got into Clare’s small car. I shove my bag and myself into the back seat, hoping that the fabric of the cheap seats swallows me whole.

 After 30 minutes of awful pop music from the local radio station, – Clare saying something about “keeping up with the latest music” – Clare’s occasional road rage and cars honking, we reach a small street lined with small shops and other downtown “hippie” and “local” boutiques. As God was on our side we found a decent parking spot with little to no casualties, though I was pretending not to feel the curb that Clare drove on top of.

 As the other two girls make their way to one of the many shops we will visit, I try to find it in my very core to move and get out of this stupid, beat-up car, but my every soul has died and been replaced with a mopey version of myself. I keep asking myself, “Would I ever have that chance again? To be that close to him?” The feeling of hopelessness seems to seep into my bones and takes over into my soul as I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of despair. A gust of wind hits my arm, making me shoot up in shock I yell at Clare as she laughs at me hanging off the open car door. “Come on, man, Lauren is dying to check out this new shop.” I rolled my eyes and finally found the courage to step out of the car; the car isn’t stupid, just my feelings.

 I breathe in the cold air as I match my footing with Clare, following her mindlessly as we catch up with Lauren, who is currently star-struck over this shirt. “Guys, what! Look at it!” Lauren practically screams at us, I laugh at her as I feel myself letting go of its tight grip on the soul-crushing reality. Maybe spending some money and indulging in giving the greedy company my mind, body, and soul is what I need at the moment.

 The rest of the afternoon is spent with Lauren dragging Clare and me around the street, jumping and hopping from one store to another. I found a few tops that were cute and appropriate for the concert but as for pants my fear was proving to be true as none of the shops had my size, or like any normal sizing I mean come on even the chubby girls like to overconsume, and spend all their money on a pair of jeans. 

“Isn't this so cute!” Lauren yells into my ear as I lazily glance over the rack of tops. I throw on a smile as I examine the clothes “Oh yeah, it fits you.” She smiles back at me before her eyes start analyzing the shirt once again. “I’m going to ask Clare what she thinks,” before I can respond Lauren already walked away from me. I sighed but smiled nonetheless, as I went back to looking at the mildly ugly and small tops in front of me, 

“You shouldn’t be here,” a small but pitchy voice says to me. I turn my attention to the owner of the offending voice, only to see a short girl who looks like she would be blown away by a strong gust of wind. I swear to all that is holy, if this goes in the direction I think it is, I’m gonna hole myself up in my room for the next decade. “Excuse me?” I ask the lady, confusion dances across my face as I tilt my head down at her to get a better look, black jeans, black top, and oh- look! A name tag, great, she works here. 

“I’m saying,” her pitchy voice raises a notch as she scoffs at me. “You don’t belong here, none of these sizes will fit you.” She gives me a once-over before crossing her arms and staring up at my face. Yup this went exactly how I was expecting it to. Look, I’m not a Karen or anything of the sort, so the following things I say don’t represent me at all. My eyebrow raised in amusement at her sheer audacity, but two can play this stupid game. 

“Oh, really now? I’m sure your manager or other coworkers would love to hear that you're being rude to a customer just based on their weight.” I give her a fake pout. Her eyes widen at my words, “I’m sure this establishment prides itself on being fat-phobic to their customers, so maybe you will finally get some recognition. Oh! And this interaction will make you get that pay raise you have been hoping for!” I fake excitement in my voice, but I am channeling all the sarcasm I have collected over the 19 years of my life. 

 She starts to stutter as her eyes are wide as dinner plates, her hands come out in front of her, trying to fix her comment she made about me as she fails over and over to come up with something to smooth over her mistake.  Another employee walks up to us, “Is everything okay over here?” The employee is an older woman and much more secure with herself. I smile at her, “Actually, no, this employee over here was telling me to leave this establishment because of my weight, and I feel very disrespected,” the said offending short girl’s body regrets itself as she turns to the older woman, trying to explain and justify herself. Again, I am not a Karen of any sort, but I am not going to let myself be disrespected by this Barbie regret just because she is insecure and projecting it onto strangers. 

The older woman smiles at me, ignoring her. “I’m very sorry she said that towards you, honey, by no means do her words represent the company and what we stand for. Rest assured, this behavior will be dealt with.” I gave the older employee a polite smile, thanking her as she took the younger girl to the back of the store. Once they left, I let out a deep sigh. Look, just because I handled that well doesn’t mean I wasn’t blowing up on the inside.

I scan my eyes around the store, spotting my two friends over the accessories. Taking another deep breath to steady myself, I make my way over there, I just need to turn off my brain and have fun. I can’t let comments like that get to me. For the next hour, we went to two different stores. I managed to find some pants that make up a complete outfit for the concert. I felt more giddy, as maybe the world isn’t so bad when you have a new outfit to wear and show off. Us three stopped at this small cafe for a late lunch and a breather.

 Lauren took the liberty to fill me in on the latest gossip and drama going on in her arts school, as Clare and I just ate peacefully. “Oh hey, what happened back at the bus station?” Clare asks me once Lauren’s gossip train slowed down, I cursed internally, as I was hoping not to think about that again. I shake my head, “It was my soulmate, the string was so tight like he was right there next to me. I was freaked out by it” I explained to her my body shrinking on itself as I reminisced on the feeling of being so close to him. Clare gave me a look of sympathy as she shared some comforting words with me.

 “Holy shit-“ Lauren’s voice breaks through my self loathing as the said girl is starting at her phone like it personally offend her, me and Clare exchanged confused looks “What’s wrong?” I ask Lauren carefully, but as soon as I speak, she shoves her phone into my face. I had to squint my eyes to adjust to the screen as I read the headline on a news article

 ‘BTS THE BIGGEST BOY BAND HAS A 8TH SOULMATE?’ 

“holy shit?!” I shout out as well as I take Lauren’s phone to read through the article quickly to make sure it wasn’t some clickbait but as I read more of it, statements from Bighit and Namjoon himself explain the situation. I passed over the phone to Clare as I stared in disbelief. Their soul group isn't complete? Does this mean that ‘SoulTies” is wrong, or did they just not know? But these guys are on a world tour right now. How are they just now discovering they have an 8th soulmate? 

“Wait, guys, did you read this part?” Clare questions us as she scans her eyes over the phone, “According to the leader of BTS, Kim Namjoon, also known as RM, Him and one other member felt a tug and their red string tightened when at the bus station in the city, where they are performing this Saturday.” Clare finishes reading the segment of the new article. 

I think my brain stopped working at that moment. A million thoughts raced into my head all at once, and the main one is “Could I be their soulmate?” but theres no way, there's no way I am the person. Besides, it's nearly impossible as well since we probably were at the bus station at two different times. There was no way two members of BTS where at the bus station and didn't cause a huge commotion. “Do you guys think we were at the station at the same time as them?” Lauren asks us, there is a childlike amusement in her voice, but Clare, thank god, shuts down that thought immediately. “There's no way, we would have seen a bunch of armies going apeshit as well as a million security guards and paparazzi.” I hum in agreement as I finish up eating.

“Well, maybe we should head to your guy's places since it's getting late.” I changed the topic to hopefully not down Laurens' hopes to much. The other two girls agreed as we packed up and paid for our food. We walk down the once busy streets, now its just a few stray people going home like us. When we came into view of Clare's beat-up car, I sighed in relief. Today was fun, a lot of it if I dont think about how much money I just spent, but there is still this nagging feeling in my chest that something is wrong, and that my soulmate is closer to me than I think, and with the article? I dont know what to think at all, I just want to enjoy the concert and leave this stupid city. 

.

I watch as our soulmate gets into the back of her friend's car, and my chest aches as I see the small pout on their face. Soon, you will be with us. 

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previous

[vaguely-concerned]

seeing people claim that lucanis is 'bad representation' is hilarious to me because in so many ways he's really the closest anything has ever gotten to capturing my own personal experience. sorry for being bad real life queer and mental health/neurodiversity representation folks 😔 I'll take time to reflect and do some work on myself and try to do better in the future

[puppppppppy]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you