#not someone i’m on actual bad terms with LMAO

[lottiies]

CRUSHING AND GREEDY

leon kennedy x fem puppy hybrid!reader

you’ve started feeling different about your owner, leon, as of late. cuddling and following him around all the time just isn’t enough, especially not with the way the spot between your thighs has been aching for him. leon isn’t immune to your antics, he’s weak for his sweet girl

cw: fem!reader, 5.2k wc, daddy kink, baths, small excerpt of jealousy on readers side, mentions of PMS symptoms (sore chest), tit massage, masturbation, unprotected p in v, blowjob, doggystyle, missionary, ass & clit spanking, manhandling, size difference, dumbification + praise, finger sucking, breeding

note: um…hi. bye. this is actually just pure filth LMAO i’m not joking don’t judge the pacing okay. not proof read i can’t read this again ૮ ྀི◞ ⸝⸝ ◟ ྀིა

bot version

for a hybrid who hit the jackpot by having the sweetest owner, you weren’t satisfied.

if someone searched for an example of the word ‘insatiable,’ you’d probably be on there. a pretty picture of you posing with your ears perked up and a pearly smile on your face.

leon had been through so many rough patches in his life, but he was mentally getting as better as he could get: he had turned away from depending on bitter tasting-alcohol, became a bit more comfortable admitting that he needed support, and didn’t have that sunken look in his eyes anymore.

anyway. point is, after his progress, he decided to get you. what could go wrong with a cute puppy hybrid who he wanted to dote on and have as a sweet companion? maybe one to curl up with and watch his favorite movies, someone to have so he wouldn’t come home to an empty house.

everything was fine the first month. you were clingy and affectionate, curling up by his side every night and following him around the house like a shadow with an eagerly wagging tail. how cute, he always thought. when he sat to watch his movies, you always either willingly sat on the floor and clung to one of his legs or sat on his lap to hug him, not even watching the movie yourself. all you really needed was for him to pat your head and kiss your forehead.

but you had been more…well, needy, as of late. clambering all over him 24/7 and chasing his lips. he’d always laugh breathlessly before gently pushing you away whenever he needed to take a breath, you’d pout at him all the while.

he didn’t get hard often prior to this happening, mostly because his libido was pretty low at this point. the most he would get was some morning wood or some random ones popping up time to time. healthy. he never had his face buried in some dirty videos now that he was older and had better things to do. give the guy a break, google and twitter wasn’t his forte.

but god almighty. you had his hormones rushing as if he was young and opening up a porn magazine for the first time. it felt taboo back then up until he strayed from religion. this time, it felt wrong because he was genuinely unsure if you knew how provocative you were being.

the worst thing about it is that you so shamelessly called him daddy. it was really cute at first! like yes, he’s taking care of you so it only made sense right? even if technically you were too old to be addressing him that way, he brushed it off, the nickname made him feel happy.

but the name had been paired with more…lewd acts of yours. his head started linking the term coming from your puckered lips with the heat in his stomach.

“y’smell so good, daddy!” you’d say as you buried your face against his chest and sniffed at him, squirming all over his lap. for fuck’s sake, his cock came to life.

“you’re so strong, daddy. but i feel like i never see you work out, how’d you get this much muscle?” you’d ask as you massaged his biceps with a starry-eyed look. then you’d chomp down on one like the bad girl you were. geez. it got him feeling all dirty.

you on the other hand, thought you were doing the right thing. you wanted him to like you beyond him pampering you. you couldn’t help it, leon was so nice and kind and handsome and doting and funny (not really) and attentive and strong. okay, way too many ‘ands,’ let’s stop there.

you didn’t see him as a mere caretaker anymore, you wanted him as your mate! he was the perfect candidate — strong, protective, caring, intelligent, and you could just sense that he’d get you knocked up first try.

he smelled so good all the time too, it made your clit throb every time you caught the scent. the concoction of his faint aftershave, strong cologne, and his natural scent was like some kind of aphrodisiac that reached your cunt faster than viagra could.

you had leon thinking with his dick more than his brain these past weeks. and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

every night, the minute he heard your steady breathing and the adorable sleepy noises you made, his hand was already slipping underneath the sheets to palm his cock, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. then his hand would tug down his boxers, sucking in a breath as he wrapped his hand around himself, gently bucking his hips up against it.

his thoughts were vivid, stimulating all his senses at once. smelling your natural scent mixed with the shampoo and soap he bathed you with. hearing you whine and call him daddy. feeling your hands paw at all parts of him and claw at his skin, the softness of your ass, tits, and thighs as he fondled you. tasting the flavored chapstick you put on your pouty lips every day, the salt on your skin, the sweetness of your cunt and what it wept. seeing your eyes roll back and drool dribble down your chin because you couldn’t even think enough to swallow. what a stupid pup. his pup.

and there were way too many memories fueling his fantasies.

park incident:

leon was a good owner, he took you new places to walk whenever he had the time. today was no different, he chose a beautiful park with a lake, just walking you around the vastness of it.

an hour passed, you were content. keyword, were. there was a woman coming over, a nice smile on her face and her eyes set on leon.

oh. hell no.

you were visibly mad and clung onto leon’s arm with an iron grip, trying to get him to walk you away from the direction of woman. but your attempt was like a feather, completely ineffective. your ears flattened against the top of you head.

don’t talk to him. don’t talk to him. don’t talk to him.

but the lady did, fluttering her lashes at your owner and asking him what breed you were. as if she actually fucking cared, that was probably just a conversation starter to get his number.

before you knew it, you were growling at her.

leon tugged at your collar, a nonverbal gesture as if to say: ‘stop that.’

“i’m so sorry, she’s usually the sweetest little angel.” leon told the lady, a sheepish smile on his face as he brought his free hand up to stroke your head, hoping to calm you down. “say sorry, girl.”

your nose scrunched up at his unwanted instructions and glared at him incredulously, though you looked more like a kicked puppy than anything else. sorry. sorry? why should you have to apologize? she should be getting on her damn knees and apologizing for even breathing near leon. what a pain.

“but daddy!” you bit back a complaint, sulking and rolling your eyes. “‘m…sorry.”

“that’s my girl, you’re just in a bad mood, hm?” he encouraged you to give some more meat to your vague apology.

you nodded. “mhm, i’m just not feeling well today, ma’am.”

and oh boy. the drive back home was uncomfortable. leon would never yell at you, he was a softie for you. and he wasn’t particularly mad, just…feeling uneasy because you had never growled at a stranger unless it was someone who was trying to pet you without your permission.

it turned him on too, much to his embarrassment. driving with a hard-on was difficult.

laundry incident

leon was a little on edge on his drive back home, mostly because he had told you he would’ve been home two fucking hours ago. yet here he was, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel of his car, waiting for the light to turn green.

and of course you were anxious! your eyes had been trained on the clock, just waiting to hear the familiar sound of him pulling into the driveway and opening the garage. but it hadn’t happened. one minute felt like thirty, you really had no sense of time.

with tears in your eyes, you went upstairs, sniffing the air a bit to pinpoint where his scent was the strongest. poor thing, you just needed some comfort. you eventually stumbled to his laundry hamper, turning it upside down to get all the clothes onto the floor and then tossing the bin elsewhere.

you made yourself comfortable on top of the pile, clinging onto one of the jackets that was there and bunching it up against your face. it made you feel so much better, but along with that came some warmth that pooled in your lower abdomen, making you whine as you sniffed at his lingering scent. you felt light-headed, like his smell alone was giving you some kind of high and making your body all tingly. you had half the mind to stuff some of his clothes between your legs and rut against it like an animal. but you didn’t.

you kept nuzzling against it, so distracted and caught up that you didn’t even hear the series of sounds you had been waiting for — garage door, jangling keys, your owner’s familiar footsteps.

leon sighed when he wasn’t met with your usual bombardment of affection, and he let out a whistle, the same one he always used to call you over with. but he didn’t hear you scamper on over to him. he checked all the rooms downstairs before heading up, and yeah, he saw you there on his bedroom floor, looking all pitiful while cuddling against the mess of a pile you had made

“oh, sweetheart.” he murmured tenderly, making his way over and kneeling down, cautiously stroking your head. your tail wagged in response, your ears perking as you sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck, whining against him.

“sorry for not giving you a heads up, sweet girl. did you miss me?”

“mhm, i missed you so much. it felt like you were gone for a whole month.”

you were so dramatic, all he could do was bite back a chuckle, he didn’t want to make your worries seem like a laughing matter.

“i know, i know.” he kissed the top of your hand, his hands sliding down to your hips to keep you against him, wanting to console you for a while.

his clothes didn’t compare to actually having his heavenly presence, you pressed your face against his neck, your nose brushing against his pulse point as you breathed him in over and over, cute little whines and grunts escaping you, so happy to have him back. you needed to make sure he was okay! to make sure he didn’t smell like someone else.

“easy, girl, easy.”

he was losing it, having a pretty pup like you squirming against him and making those sweet noises wasn’t easy. sure, you had always been whiny when he came home late, but you had never been like this.

it was hard to tell whether his absence was giving you unhealthy attachment issues or if there was another root to the problem. leon wasn’t exactly the best at initiating such discussions.

bath incident

you were a lot of work. leon should’ve just put you in the bath and left you to your own devices the very first time. but no, he didn’t. what if you got soap in your pretty eyes or somehow drowned? unlikely, but with a curious puppy hybrid, anything was possible.

ever since then, you always need him to bathe you. but you were in no way decent about it.

he was catching up on some emails sent to him on his laptop when he heard a soft pair of knocks on the door. you, of course. “come in, baby.”

he wasn’t expecting for you to be stripped down though, your nipples hardened presumably from chilly gust of his AC, and a patch of hair down below because he was always too scared to shave you down there, what if he accidentally cut you? he resorted to just trimming it. it was cute though.

“christ.” he hurried up and shut his blinds, were you crazy? it was night time, the room was illuminated, anyone could’ve seen you. you were going to give him grey hairs, yeah he was already heading that way but you were speeding the process up!

he babied you though, letting you lead him to the bathroom by tugging on his sleeve. he listened to you chatter about your day and about a new collar you wanted while he filled the tub and made sure the water temperature was nice.

it was hard not to take peeks at you as you sunk into the water once it was ready. he was a man. and you were pretty, a bit too much.

like always, he used a washcloth to clean you up — using his free hand to hold you steady. your tail always splashed water and made a mess on the tiled floor.

“you’re splashing all the water.” leon noted, leaning down a bit to kiss the crown of your head. he truly had no backbone when it came to you.

“i can’t help it! my tail moves on it’s own.”

“maybe this is a sign for you to start taking showers instead, hm? it’s less of a mess, quicker, and i’m sure you wouldn’t even need my help.”

“um…no.”

“no?”

“i always need you, daddy! it wouldn’t be fun getting cleaned up with you.”

and to make matters worse, even after he finished cleaning you up, you were still nagging at him, he sat on the edge of his bed and waited as you got into your nightgown.

“i feel sore.” you whined, going over to stand in front of him, your tail tucked between your legs.

“sore? but we didn’t even go on a walk today.” he held onto one of your hands, bringing it to his lips to kiss your knuckles. “want me to massage your legs?”

“mm-mm.” you shook your head and cupped your own breasts, squeezing them. “i’m sore here, don’t know why. help me?”

your chest always ached for a few days every month. you hadn’t really attributed it to the fact it always hurt just before your period, though.

leon bit his lower lip. he really shouldn’t indulge you. his fingers were twitching a bit, his mind already imagining the plushness of your mounds..

“such a spoiled princess….sure, c’mere.” he scooted back a bit, spreading his legs to make space for you to sit on the matress.

slowly running his hands up your torso as you sat down with your back facing him, he eventually reached your tits, kneading at the soft flesh. like pillows, he noted. they’d be nice to nip at and use as a stress reliever. if only. god, he felt like those perverted people who bought PC mouses with character’s tits on them.

“that feel okay?” his question was a murmur against your ear. you nodded and squirmed back against him, resting your head against his shoulder and going limp. “mhm, keep going.”

maybe you didn’t notice the way there was a bulge pressing against your backside, or the way leon’s hands squeezed you a bit harder whenever a soft mewl escaped your lips.

whether it was arousal or actual relief from your soreness, he didn’t know. but your nipples were hard again, his room wasn’t cold anymore so clearly it was because they were being stimulated by his fingers.

maybe if leon was also a hybrid with an exceptional sense of smell, he’d smell the honey your cunt sobbed for him. your panties felt all sticky and uncomfortable, your clit throbbing like it had a heart of its own.

he couldn’t help himself, he gave your nipples a pinch, hearing you squeal after and arch your back. “daddy!”

“…sorry, princess.”

yeah, he jacked off that night.

————

the point is, there was only so much leon could take before he fucked you stupid. but maybe that’s what you wanted him to do, considering you were getting all dolled up with nowhere to go, just stuck in the house with him. you didn’t want it any other way.

descending from the stairs, you went on over to the living room, taking your favorite seat between his knees, your legs folded on the fuzzy rug below that you had begged him to buy when he took you to the furniture store. said it was soft enough for you to sit on the floor with it. he told you that you could just sit with him on the couch or his lap, but you liked sitting by his feet. so, he got it specifically for you. oh, how spoiled you were.

his taste in decor had always been simple, but now his place was filled with all the things you wanted — plushies, frilly couch pillows, cute figurines of characters you didn’t even fucking know. what a poser.

leon’s thighs were massive, the sight of them all spread had you swallowing some of the saliva that had immediately welled up in your mouth. you had seen his dick several times, you always wanted to stroke it and suck it, how could you not? you were sure it would fit perfectly in your mouth.

your skirt was so fucking short and frilly that it was riding up your ass because of the way you were positioned, had leon been behind you, he would’ve gotten a perfect shot of your lacy panties (and the way they were already soaked.)

looking down at you, he failed at suppressing the burst of heat that shot down to his stomach from how tempting you were, gazing up at him with those pretty eyes that seemed to be asking for something, but he was unsure of what.

his hand settled on top of your head, stroking the area between where your cute ears were all perked up. “look at you, all dolled up and pretty. need something, sweetheart?”

your tail was already wagging at full speed when he pet you. you nodded eagerly. “want your attention, daddy.”

the word fell from your lips in such an emphasized way. you would sound so lewd squealing that out as he buried his cock inside you over and over. maybe he should get help.

“you’re so needy.” with a click of tongue, he, gave one of your ears a gentle flick. “i always give you all my attention. when’s the last time you’ve left me alone for more than five minutes? last time i checked, i spoil you rotten.”

you frowned at that but he did have a point. still! you needed more, you were so greedy. maybe if he was good at dishing out some discipline, you’d be better. anyone looking into the situation would’ve wondered why leon never put you over his knee, he could easily manhandle you with the strength he had built through the last two decades.

“don’t pout, when have i ever neglected your needs?” he asked. leon grinned and patted his lap. “come here..”

his hands snaked down to hold onto your hips as you followed his instructions eagerly.

“this better?”

“yup! you know i like being close to you…what are you watching on TV?”

“i was just browsing some channels, can’t find any that are playing a good movie though…i might just have to get my dvd box back out and just rewatch a movie. cinema is dead these days, it was better back then.”

“old man.” you snickered, laughing at his complaint.

“you wound me.” he was being dramatic. “trying to break my heart, princess?”

with a giggle, you shake your head before burying it against the crook of his neck. “no, i love you.”

there was tension in the air, he was sure today would be his breaking point.

he tried to get his mind off the way your warm breath was fanning against his skin, and the way you were sniffing at him.

what leon couldn’t ignore though, was the very discreet and quiet squelching he heard whenever you shifted your hips, paired with the dampness that was seeping through the fabric of his pants from where you sat atop him. you were wet. fuck. and not just a little wet. no, you were dripping. he didn’t even know women could be this soaked without actually being touched.

“stay still. you’re so restless.” his fingers dug into your hips, trying to keep you in place. you were always squirmy, moving around like you had just downed two energy drinks. he sounded breathless, your ears perked up.

your cheeks huffed out, your clit no longer getting any stimulation, only some pressure at being pressed snugly against some hard part of his pants. you clenched a bit to try to get some more, even a scrap.

“nooo, but it felt so good.” you whined, your tone of voice tugging at his heartstrings. “more, please?”

he shouldn’t. he really, really, really shouldn’t. but he did, you pushed his limits way too much these the past weeks. he was weak, and his sweet (bratty) puppy was seeking some pleasure. it would be sad to just leave you like this, wouldn’t it? you were ready for him, he was sure foreplay wasn’t even needed for his dick to painlessly stretch you out.

“you’re such a brat, y’know that? always all over me like i’m immune to your charms. was this your plan?”

of course you nodded with a coy smile before nipping at his neck.

taking a sharp inhale, his hips bucked up, making your toes curl at the abruptness of the feeling. it felt more exhilarating when leon was the one directly giving you that pleasure, more so than when you rut against some pillow. or maybe it was because you could hear his grunts and hitched breaths, clearly this felt good for him too. you were giving your owner pleasure, this was mutually beneficial!

you were using his lap as if it were some kind of trampoline for your plush ass, dry humping him like the puppy hybrid you were, using him for your hearts (clits) desire..

pulling your face away from his neck, you cupped his face and kissed him sloppily, too turned on to do it properly. leon’s eyes shut, returning the passion with fevor. when you leaned away, a thin string of shared saliva snapped.

“daddy, i wanna touch you and suck you.” your hand snaked down to rub over his jeans, it was obvious what you wanted. you got back down onto the floor, looking up at him expectantly.

“fuck…you’re impatient.” he leaned down and gave you one final kiss before leaning back, fumbling with his belt and zipper, pushing his hips up a bit to get his pants down to his knees.

you looked all starry-eyed, mouth agape at the sight of his dick. it had a curve to it, you licked your lips. you were on him in an instant, sucking on one of his balls, letting it out with a soft ‘pop’ and doing the same to his other one. they felt heavy, that’s for sure. maybe his seed would be strong enough to get you all swollen and round first try, fuck, you wanted it.

“you’re so hot…” he watched you with lidded eyes, his stomach tensing at the sensitivity. listen, he hadn’t felt a tongue on him in years, give him a break.

he gave your fluffy ears a scratch, holding his breath when you licked a strip up his shaft and finally wrapped your pretty lips around his dick. all his nerves felt fuzzy, the thoughts being knocked out of his head.

the background TV sound faded out, replaced with the sound of his tip hitting the back of your throat.

leon hissed when he felt your teeth brushing against the sensitive skin of his cock, and his fingers instinctively tugged on your hair to pull you back.

“careful with your teeth, princess.” you were new at this, it was to be expected.

“‘m sorry.” you tell him, your ears pinning back a bit from the thought of hurting him, like it was some kind of sin. you got right back to sucking him dry, mindful of your teeth, going down until the tip of your nose felt his hair.

“juuust like that.”

your tail flicked to and fro in response to his praise, doing the same thing over and over until you had to pull back for air, taking deep breaths, your brows furrowed.

his grip on the base of his cock was loose, and he gently slapped it against the side of your face. pat, pat, pat. geez. what a perv he must be, because he felt lightheaded from how hot the sight was. you were looking up at him through your lashes, just taking anything he did without any questions.

and it’s because you liked it. there was something exciting about knowing you were seeing a vulnerable side to him. a part of him that random woman you growled at when he took you to the park wouldn’t see.

“what do you need?” he had to ask, you were staring at him so devotedly, your eyes lit up as you looked at him.

“you.”

leon could’ve just fucked you in the living room. but he was sweeter than that, he wouldn’t just push you onto the floor or couch…maybe in the future if you were being particularly bad. but this was your first time, and he was somewhat of a gentleman.

standing up, he slung you over his shoulder with ease, taking you to the bedroom and placing you onto the soft sheets of the mattress.

he fumbled with his clothes, pulling his shirt over his head, but it did nothing to make his burning body cool off. you followed suit, stripping and getting into position.

leon’s eyes glazed over when he saw you: face down, ass up, back arched, already squirming a bit. he hadn’t even given you any instructions, you had just gotten into doggystyle position as if it was your nature. well…it kind of was.

getting on the bed and kneeling behind you, his weight sunk the mattress down a bit as he settled between your spread legs. his palm splayed over your ass, fondling it a bit before he gave one side a soft smack.

you yelped at that, your body jolting a bit.

“so dramatic,” he snorted, grinning at your reaction and giving you another pat on the other side. “i was being gentle.”

he stroked himself a couple times before pushing the head of his cock inside you.

he was about to ask if you were in pain so he could take it slow, but you were already throwing your ass back onto him and taking him whole. “feels so good…”

he watched your ass bounce and meet his hips before he leaned down so he could put one of his hands between your shoulder blades, keeping you still while he shoved his dick in and out of you.

his balls kissed your clit with force every time his hips pressed against yours, making you squeal. your calves kicked a little involuntarily, so cute.

the noises were obscene, like something only a high quality microphone could properly pick up.

you were so wet, his sheets would be a mess later, how dirty. vocal seemed to be your middle name, with the way you were sobbing out for him without a care in the damn world. as if you were in some studio with sound-proof walls, which you absolutely weren’t.

“daddy, daddy, daddy!” your voice was getting all high pitched.

“yeah, keep crying for me.” his hand tangled into your hair, tugging it so your noises were no longer all muffled from the way your face had been pressed against the pillow.

“so pretty…you were made for this, weren’t you? made to take my cock? bet i could slide it in easily whenever and you’d drop whatever you were doing.”

where the hell was this dirty talk coming from? leon was sure he’d feel embarrassed after this was all over but right now his mind could only think of how your walls swallowed him.

your answer was a long series of whines, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull as his cock pressed in deeper, fitting so snugly inside you and hitting that spot that indirectly stimulated your clit.

he gave your ass a slap with his other hand. “good girls answer when they’re asked a question. use your words.”

“yes!” your voice sounded so broken and hoarse. “i want it, daddy. w-whenever…whenever you want…’m yours, y’know that.”

“atta girl, so eager to please your owner.” his voice was smoother now, he guided you down until you were laying flat on your stomach. he pressed his chest against your sweaty back, enveloping you whole.

you were in heaven, the room filled to the brink with leon’s natural scent, it made your head spin. he pressed some kisses to the side of your head, lazily thrusting into you as he took some time to smother you with some sweet affection.

“such a good puppy. you don’t even have a single thought inside that pretty head of yours, hm? fucked you stupid? thought your breed was supposed to be smart.”

pitiful mewls emitted from your throat, your hands holding onto the pillows like your life depended on it. there was so much going on, your brain was turning to mush.

he held onto your jaw, pushing his middle and ring finger into your opened mouth, they got lubricated immediately, your lips closing around them as you started sucking eagerly like you had done for his cock.

he let you use him like a lollipop for a while until he pulled his fingers out your mouth.

“bet you just wanna be bred, huh sweet girl? wanna get knocked up and have my babies?”

those questions had you sobbing, “yes, yes, yes! want you to fill me up!”

he brought that same hand down underneath your hips, his hand trapped between the matress and your cunt, and rubbed tight circles on your sensitive clit. you trembled, your eyes tearing up from how earth-shattering it felt. you instinctively rut down, being both split open and having your bud being toyed with.

“daddy…daddy, don’t stop.” god, you were drooling all over his pillow.

“yeah, you gonna cum soon?” the answer better be yes because there was no way he could hold back for much longer. his time was running out, he was losing it.

“mhm, gonna cum.”

he had to see your pretty face, he flipped you onto your back, wasting no time on spreading your thighs and pistoning back into you, his thumb rubbing at your clit. your collar jingled with each thrust, your toes curling and your stomach clenching.

your head tilted back, his free hand wrapped around your throat, applying very light pressure there and playing with the adornment on it. you looked like a goddamn mess, hair all frizzy, lips wet and swollen, tits bouncing, your ears pinned back, eyes glossy and shedding some tears.

he gave your clit a few spanks, each one making you squeal loudly, your eyes rolling back.

you held onto his forearm for support as your body trembled in waves, your cunt squeezing his dick so tightly that he couldn’t move in and out of you as fast. leon groaned, his balls feeling tight before he finished. he hadn’t climaxed this much in years, his hips stuttered against yours every time he emptied another string of cum inside you.

he slumped against you, the room filled with quiet panting and your whimpers. your legs wrapped around his torso, not wanting him to move.

“love you…”

“i love you too, princess.”

“can we go again?”

“…you’re so fucking greedy.”

[rosy-crow]

Can I please add your tags here too because YES YES YES FUCKING PREACH

More cringe memes. Lucrecia Edition.

[nymphomatique]

special affair

dbf!miguel o’hara x fem!reader

art credit: _insomniac_red_ on ig. pictures are for mood setting, reader has no specific race or physical descriptions.

cw: a lil angsty, this is just shameless smut im sorry guys i don’t know what came over me, daddy kink, dbf!miguel <3, unspecified age gap but reader is legal, rough sex, squirting, unprotected sex, miguel is not a good man, conflicted reader, creampie, lowkey breeding kink, degrading language, choking/breath play, face slapping, spitting, mentions of oral (m), overstimulation, crying/dacryphillia, pubic hair grinding? lmao idk, reader is alluded to being in sub space. not proofread lol. 18+ only.

wc: ~1.5k

❤︎ an: hi my loves!! this is a sorta part two to this drabble, but can be read as a stand alone one shot. tbh i wrote this w my pussy.. i’m ovulating rn i’m so ashamed of myself 😔 nevertheless, enjoy! if you guys want more don’t hesitate to lmk!!

from that first night he fucked you from behind, you knew you strayed too far from the status quo in your life, you’re at the point of no return. that night, when he finished pounding you from behind and defiling you further with his seed all over your back and ass, you had laid in that position— spent and on your stomach- for the rest of the night, silently sobbing. you had betrayed your father, that much you were aware of the day you started rubbing at yourself meekly in the dead of the night thinking about his best friend.

you had long come to terms with that guilt, accepting whatever image of a burning inferno there is in the afterlife. what you cannot come to terms with, is the fact that he- miguel- had actually fucked you, indulged in what you considered your own taboo thoughts, ripping them from page and making your crude thoughts a sick reality. the worst part of this all is that amidst it all, the mental beratement, the nights you spent crying, the sick feeling the memories of miguel’s cock stretching you absolutely thin, showing you a climax like no other— you want to hate yourself for it, for being weak. for being such a bad girl. but you didn’t know why your body decided to betray your brain, the physical craving for the older man’s body possessing you whole. you can’t bear this feeling, holding it up inside you and trying to keep it at bay. fuck- you needed to talk to someone, you had to, even if it’s the last person you want to speak to.

nevertheless, you end up two houses down, sniffling and heaving in the dead of the night, knocking the door as hard as your trembling hands would let you. the door swings open and at the sight of him you keen, your body aching at the sight of the burly muscles covered in sun kissed skin. dark brown hair streaked with grey at the temples. a slight five o’clock shadow, he must not have shaved this morning. and then you look into those eyes, swallowing you up whole and you begin to tear up again. miguel is silent, leaning against the door with messy hair, glazed eyes and clad in boxers, and boxers only. fuck, you shouldn’t have come here.

“I-.. Miguel, it hurts,” you sob quietly, aflame with shame and embarrassment at how little resolve you had. He grabs your face with his warm hands and you’re trembling now, ready for him. your lips ghost for a moment before he breathes out. “i’m not a good man, sweetheart. if you don’t say no, i’m gonna break you.” he sounds sincere with his words and his eyes go stern. you wish you had some self of self control, or maybe having better discernment. but the only thing you say to him only confirms what you already knew about yourself; you’re a terrible fucking person. 

“violate me.”

your lips are smashed against each other, tongues dancing and it feels so good to be in his embrace again. your tears fall down your cheeks, meeting at the junction of your mouths in a pool of saliva. miguel groans and you know why, remembering what he had said to you the last time.

“i like when you cry.”

you’re grabbed up at the hips, legs wrapped around a thick torso, pressed up against a firm chest and a heavy cock. the moments up to the bedroom are cloudy, drunk off his lips against yours. you come to slightly when cold plush sheets hit your back and a pair of lips leave yours. you whine, yearning for his touch again. he looks down at you, bringing your right foot to his mouth, he licks lightly up the sole- kissing the ball of your foot before he leans down, caging your between his elbows, face to face.

“you gonna be good for your daddy?” he asks softly, kissing between the bridge of your nose once. 

“y-yes,” you breathe out with a slow nod. 

“mmm. gonna let me violate this tight little body too?” he asks, still soft in tone and you think you’re gonna go crazy by the end of the night. “yes, daddy,” you murmur, lost in his eyes. 

“sick fucking little girl. but that’s how i like it,” he chuckles, kissing you softly before getting up stripping you bare.

“letting your daddy undress you like a good girl. so obedient f’me,” he coos at you, touching you softly and you’re almost in tears. you need him. and you let it be known. a lone tear falls down your cheek and you mewl, “n-need you to make it better down there, daddy.”

his large hand engulfs you cheek, thumb wiping your tear softly before squishing your face, putting his tear stained thumb in your mouth. “you think you’re a big girl now, hmm? telling your daddy what to do?” you look up at him teary eyed, suckling his thick finger.

“you take what i give you, when i give it to you.” he squeezes you cheek a little harder before softly slapping your cheek and you squeak at the contact. a rough laugh leaves miguel’s mouth at your reaction. “you have no idea how bad i’m gonna treat you, baby.”

you’re non verbal at this point, mouth agape and leaking saliva down your jaw seeping into the sheets and the junction of your neck and chest. a hand slaps your cheek again, you’ve lost how many that is now. “i fucked you stupid already?” miguel laughs, hard thrusts sending you flying up the bed. his hands on your hips bring you down back to him each time, poking you right in that sweet spot in your pussy. you’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve head, body wracked and numb with pleasure. throat hoarse from the near-violent throat fuck he gave you.

a glob of spit hits your forehead and you groan a bit. the one thing you’re sure of is that you look a goddamned mess. a crude picture of the activity you’ve been partaking in for the past two hours. a hand leaves your hip to wrap around your neck and squeeze roughly, making you gasp for air, your body finally moving.

“there we go, got you moving now. thought i fucked you to sleep for a second.” 

your eyes are glossy, at the lack of air and building pressure. your hand meekly wraps around his wrist as he fucks into you. you know you shouldn’t like the way he toys with you like this, waking the line of torment and pleasure with no care in the world. but you do. and you can’t deny it anymore.

“you’re tightening up on me again. you gonna cum for me again?” miguel asks you, and he laughs after knowing you can’t even answer him. “sick little girl. you like it when i choke you? make you feel weak? worthless?” 

it’s barely audible, but the moan you let out vibrates in your neck and miguel can feel it with the hand pressed against your throat. he throws his head back with a groan. “nasty, naughty girl. fuck baby, gonna cum in that little pussy.”

you’re almost there, and quite frankly impressed that you haven’t fully passed out yet. your head feels light, and you begin to tremble violently, gushing out spurts of liquid as your head falls to the side. if this is hell, you’re not so sure you could give this up for heaven. your eyes close and you feel so close to falling asleep when he removes his hand from your neck, grabbing your head by the nape of your neck, craning you up to where you can see his thick cock slip and slide between your thighs. you groan at the image. 

“need you awake to see me cum in you, don’t i?” miguel groans. “you like watching me fuck you, like letting me dirty you.”

 his tuft of black pubic hair rubs against yours as his thrusts become increasingly sporadic and intense, and it has you trembling at the stimulation it gives your clit. you weakly squirt each time his pelvis brushes against your clit, your body letting you know you have only so much left in you before you’re drained empty.

“fuck, love it when you wet the bed. my pissy little girl. daddy loves the messes you make.” he’s nearly breathless and you pray he’s going to cum in the next minute, the ache in your neck and dull sensation in your pussy building slowly.

“c-cum in me. wanna give you a baby,” you moan, looking up from the fast thrusts and into miguel’s eyes. 

“fuck! so n-naughty, baby. gonna give me another one, huh? fucking take it, then.” with a final thrust, you feel the warmth of his cum shoot and blossom somewhere deep within you. you moan weakly, one final weak spurt of squirt coming out of you. miguel pulls out and you watch him look at the mess he made of you and your pussy, covered in spit, cum and the beginnings of handprint bruises blossoming on your hips and ass from how hard he gripped and spanked you. 

you can feel his cum slowly trickle out of you, and your body feels like it’s no longer your own. after so many orgasms, your limbs are on fire, and you can do nothing but breathe and weakly murmur a “d-daddy..” while your eyes close.

tags: @realhotgirlshitah @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @maxiethestrange

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[hueseok]

( 01. ) GOOD GRACES.

kim seokjin doesn’t believe in luck. he’s someone who knows that in order to have good things coming your way, you have to work damn hard for it. however, that might not be the case when it comes to bad luck, because after a video of him goes viral wherein it looks like he’s screaming at someone’s grandma, he begins thinking maybe luck does exist—and it just so happens that he’s now being subjected to a lot of unluckiness.

he’s being cancelled. his career is getting destroyed. his manager is forcing him to take a hiatus. and on top of that, as if things could not get worse, the only hope he has on redeeming everything he worked hard on depends on you, the director’s daughter of the theater show that could propel him back to where he used to be.

that should have been a piece of cake. if only you weren’t his ex who he dumped via phone call and got threatened by to never show his face to ever again...

pairing: seokjin x reader

word count: 4.2k

rating: NC-17

content: fluff, light angst, humor, exes to enemies to friends to lovers au | ft. theater actor!seokjin + himbo energy!seokjin lmao, podcaster!reader + nepo baby!reader

warning/s: lots of swearing | lots of internal monologue by seokjin? lmao

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 01. there are worse things i could do !

seokjin never thought that the downfall of his career would happen because of a misconstrued video of him going viral where he was apparently yelling at a poor old lady in a grocery store.

but here he is, getting canceled on twitter and being informed by his manager that he was taken off the projects he was scheduled to do for the upcoming year, the brands who were once so keen on getting him on board suddenly backtracking and terminating the previously signed deals that were already discussed.

regardless of how he tried convincing yikyung, the said manager, that he wasn’t actually fighting the woman who was probably the same age as his grandmother on that short clip—and that all of this was just a stupid a misunderstanding, he’s told it’s too late. the public already made up their mind; they all hated him, and there were several gossip blogs publishing articles that had ‘receipts’ of his apparent bad and diva behavior over the span of his career.

“look, namjoon and I are working on it,” yikyung says, explaining that the PR and legal team are already in the midst of taking care of the whole problem. “but for the meantime, the best you can do is lay low for a while, buddy.”

“what?” seokjin exclaims. “are you saying—”

“you’ll be going on a hiatus.”

“hiatus,” he repeats, enunciating every syllable like he heard it wrong. he feels like he’s going to vomit, the whole room he’s in right now spinning before his eyes.

“yes. hiatus.”

god, seokjin hates that word. he’s been working his ass off since he knew how to act and sing and was the absolute fucking best at it. and now they’re putting him on a hiatus? it’s ridiculous. it’s unfair! he isn’t in some kind of boyband or anything, but he’s pretty sure that they use that term to sugarcoat the fact that the members are quitting the industry or going solo which doesn’t make sense for him so the former category is probably more applicable to his situation at the moment and—

“it’s temporary,” yikyung continues speaking, as if reading what’s going in his mind. “at most, it’ll be a year.”

that still doesn’t calm seokjin down. “you’re benching me for a year?”

“at most.”

“does it really have to be that long?”

“yeah, if we see that it’s necessary enough.”

“i don’t think a year is necessary.”

“we don’t know that yet.”

“but if you keep me away from the public that long… it's going to kill my career!”

yikyung gives him a pitiful look. “it's already dead, jin. let’s be real here.”

he gasps, genuinely offended that his manager would say such a thing. “take that back.”

“look, i’m not happy with this either,” yikyung says, “but the public needs to forget that video. It’s what everybody is talking about, it’s what every director or sponsor that’s asking us about too—nobody would want to associate themselves with your name anyway while the story’s fresh, so this hiatus won’t kill it. doing this hiatus will just induce your career into a coma. you’ll be like sleeping beauty.”

“then who’ll be the fucking prince?”

“a mindblowing project that’ll remind people that you’re the best leading man in the theater world.”

seokjin lets that sink in.

just days ago, he was being blasted with offers to do commercials and new productions due to the successful run of chicago where he portrayed billy flynn. A lot of columns praised his versatility, saying that despite reservations on how he was going to perform, he nailed the part and captured the audience’s hearts with how he made that character his own. it was the biggest ego boost he had in a while considering he was so passionate in bringing billy flynn to life and pulling off the long note he had in we both reached for the gun—now though? all the happiness that he felt before? all the acclaim he reckoned could last him a good few months to stay motivated in doing this? it’s being buried to the ground; he feels as if everything is crashing down and every good thing in his life is fading away.

guess it’s true that being too happy can cause too much sadness after.

“a year goes by so fast, you know,” yikyung tells him. “keep yourself busy. pursue other hobbies. the next time i’ll call you, i’ll make sure it’s about an offer that’ll jolt your career awake again.”

and so with no other choice, really… that’s what seokjin did.

he decides to follow yikyung’s advice and take a train back to his hometown with the plan to help his aunt run the small grocery business she had, residing there until circumstances appear better for him. he figures this break might be better than he thinks, taking into account the fact that he’s been working nonstop since he began landing solid roles years ago. maybe a restart is what he needs; maybe he can use this as an excuse to do other stuff and pursue other hobbies like he was suggested to do.

in the first month of his forced hiatus, he becomes some kind of apprentice at his aunt’s mentioned grocery store. he meets taehyung, a young man who looks way too handsome to be only arranging packed and canned goods in the aisles of the shop as another helper of his aunt; taehyung also apparently recognizes him, asking if he’s that “theater star harassing an old lady” he kept on seeing on tiktok which seokjin’s always quick to correct. taehyung never looks convinced though, regardless of how much seokjin explains, but he at least doesn’t treat him shit for some groundless scandal.

then in his second month, he begins to try pottery. there are classes for it in the same town, a 10-minute drive away and the instructor happens to be a family friend. however, after five sessions, he realizes that he’s horrible at the task and can’t produce anything that’s worth selling or admiring even. that doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy it though, ‘cause he does, and he still attends each class or goes on his own for the following months to use this activity as catharsis.

for the third month, he starts painting; on the fourth, he volunteers to walk the golden retriever that an elderly couple neighbor has; when the fifth month comes, he begins jogging around the area, continuing that until the sixth and seventh as he progresses to running—and then on the eight month, while he’s tending to the crops he’s growing at his aunt’s backyard, he finally gets the call from yikyung that he always pretends not to care about.

hurriedly taking off his gloves that are covered with mud, he picks up his phone from the table and answers his agent’s call. “please tell me you have something,” is what he says, not even concealing the desperation in his voice.

“i have something,” yikyung confirms, sounding excited.

“holy fuck,” he whispers to himself. he’s pacing around now, thrilled and anxious, praying to the gods of every religion that this will be a good offer. “what is it? tell me quickly.”

“they’re doing grease,” he says and seokjin does an impromptu super mario impression, just jumping all over the place because of the mention of the famous musical, the kind of musical that he knows would definitely benefit him if he wants to be within everybody’s radar again. “they already have a sandy young—it’s the producer’s niece—so now all they’re looking for is the rest of the cast. I already got you an audition for danny zuko and it’s two weeks from now.”

“god, i fucking love you, yikyung.”

“i’m amazing, aren’t I?”

“the best. you’re a goddamn gift from above.”

“and it hasn’t even been a year,” yikyung proudly points out. “you’ll be absolutely back on your feet after this project. your scandal has died down, anyway. not a lot are talking about it, and some of your fans are getting better at defending you, sharing encounter stories of their own to support the claim that you aren’t a dick who has a fetish in getting into a bickering war with an old woman.”

seokjin rolls his eyes. “never describe it that way to me again.”

yikyung chuckles. “i’ll hire a cleaning lady to clean your apartment here in the city maybe this weekend. when do you think you’ll arrive?”

“some time after the weekend. i’ll have to take care of a few things before i go.”

“like what?”

“well, believe it or not, i actually made some friends here.”

“damn. i told you this hiatus was going to be good for you.”

“yeah, you are right about that. i think it was healing for some reason. aside from the first weeks of me being depressed as fuck.”

“so, what does that mean? does this mean that you think you’ll nail the audition?”

seokjin grins. he isn’t cocky for nothing. even though it was advised to him before to lower it down a bit so that he wouldn’t come across as a complete ass, he knows he’s great at this pursuit of his. he’s charming, he has an amazing voice, and he can pull off any choreography instructed to him regardless of his initial lack of dancing abilities. being a hard worker makes you that way, and it’s what seokjin thinks will always help him in every endeavor he runs after.

“you bet, i will.”

“how’s your voice? your joints? do you need to warm up?”

“i’ve been singing for the community here every tuesday and thursday. i also haven’t been physically inactive like you think i am. i’ve been exercising regularly, improving my stamina and all that shit.”

yikyung doesn’t answer for a few seconds, a silence that seokjin translates into his manager being impressed that he hasn’t let go of himself despite the circumstances.

after a few more clarifications and reminders, the call ends and seokjin flops down on the wooden chair close to him, this goofy and giddy smile erupting on his face. it doesn’t occur to him until this moment that he’s been wishing for a miracle like this to come along because he’s been missing performing on stage like he used to do during shows and even when he’s in dance studios for the rehearsals. yeah, having a reason to take a break was nice too as he expressed, but nothing beats doing what he loves to do.

and playing danny zuko? wow, talk about a huge upgrade from being mandated by his management to disappear from the public to potentially being cast as one of john travolta’s famous roles. of course, the challenge with this is that he has to make sure that he actually gets the role, which he’s optimistic that he’ll be fine with.

his reputation may be questionable once he comes back, but there’s no denying that if there’s anyone who can emanate an arrogant greaser who cares too much about his image—it’s him.

****

seokjin’s aunt was devastated when she discovered that he’s leaving. she tried to persuade him to stay longer (if not for her, for the plants and the grocery store—and maybe the crowd of people he would sing for whenever there was an occasion in the neighborhood). however, regardless of her insistence, seokjin cannot be budged; he’s been waiting far too long for this to have second thoughts about it, to be swayed from this provincial life he has come to love and genuinely enjoy.

“are you coming back?” taehyung asked him when the news of seokjin’s immediate departure got to him too. “because if you aren’t, can I have your bike?”

seokjin rolled his eyes. over the course of his stay, taehyung has become some sort of little brother he never had. “i’m coming back. just to visit though,” he said. “so you can have my bike.”

on the weekend before he left, he spent time with the people he befriended. he arranged a bingo session with the elderly; he ran laps with that golden retriever he took on walks every morning; he did his last piece of pottery with the instructor he also became friends with; then, on his very last night, he shared a few drinks with his aunt and taehyung, promising them that if he gets the part, they’ll have front row tickets to the show.

if not, he’ll jump off the bridge because he doesn’t think he has a face to show to anyone anymore. 

he earned a slap on the arm by his aunt with that one.

everything went smoothly when he came back to his old apartment the following morning, freshly cleaned like yikyung promised. nonetheless, seokjin felt it was necessary to check every nook and cranny of the place to verify that, even going as far as examining the decorations, memorabilia, and picture frames he had on display, his finger being swiped on the most random areas to make sure that every corner was polished. nobody lived here for eight months in his defense, and he really could catch a bad case of allergic rhinitis in the case yikyung was lying. he couldn’t have that. he had his voice to take care of; there shouldn’t be snot or phlegm getting in the way of the full prowess of his vocals.

for the next few days leading up to the audition, he did everything he can to assure that he’ll be in his best state when his time to shine comes. he practiced the song sandy, a solo piece sung by danny zuko, and rehearsed the lines for the scene where danny and sandy first meet again at rydell high.

in those hours he spent talking to himself, warming up his voice, making sure that he shaped his words right and exuded the energy of the greaser he’s aiming to play, he started thinking again that he seriously got a huge chance in landing this role. he’s superb at acting; he’s certain that he has the voice needed for this part; and not to mention that he’s got the looks for it, alright. his handsomeness is certainly one of the aspects that makes him so marketable as an actor.

plus, he manages to get a positive outlook regarding this because yikyung has been great in encouraging him, sending him inspirational quotes that sometimes were borderline annoying because it had nothing to do with his situation but still touching in a way.

like right now, as seokjin waits in the holding room of the theater for the audition, he receives a message from his manager with a GIF of a maneki-neko with an oversized arm and the quote by dr. seuss saying, “you have brains in your head. you have feet in your shoes. you can steer yourself any direction you choose. you're on your own. and you know what you know. and you are the guy who'll decide where to go”.

it is a little aligned to what he’s going through right now but seokjin can’t help but still grimace in distaste.

“kim seokjin?” the casting assistant calls, and he snaps his head up from the screen of his phone to peer at the person who called him.

he stands, gaining the attention of the casting assistant. “here.”

“great. follow me please.” she smiles and begins walking to where the stage is without checking whether seokjin followed her or not. 

he does, as quickly as possible, thankful because he can finally get away from that enclosed space with fellow auditionees who were either gaping at him or chatting him up, asking about the hiatus he did. he’s smart enough not to give any specific details, instead saying the standard “mental health break” or “sabbatical leave” that they seemed to buy.

walking across the stage, his eyes squint a bit at the spotlight directed to him. then, stopping at the center, he averts his gaze to the two people who are sitting on the front row seats. hyunbin park the director and seungjoon ahn the producer. they both appear serious, like they’re bored, or like they’ve been unimpressed by the roster of auditionees they’ve been having so far.

it creates a spark of hope for seokjin who’s confident that he might just be the person that’ll blow their minds for today. even though this is his first time performing in front of a professional again, he’s learned over the years to trust his skills more, and he knows that he’s definitely adept for the tryout happening at the moment.

“kim seokjin, isn’t it?” mr. Park says. he’s the more intimidating one out of the pair. he’s famous for having directed a lot of shows that got to win several trophies in every award giving body that catered to the theater industry. aside from this production being an anticipated project of his, he’s scheduled to direct a movie with a star-studded cast.

seokjin nods. “yes, that’s me.”

“wait a minute, i know you,” says mr. ahn, an index finger pointed towards him. this man doesn’t look that much older than seokjin. give or take about only five years his senior. “i’ve seen you somewhere. where have i seen you?”

seokjin swallows hard. fuck, fuck, fuck. kill me now. bury me in the ground. shit. i hope he doesn’t realize that i'm—

“ah! i remember.” mr. ahn laughs, turning to mr. park. “isn’t he the guy who played corny collins three years ago or something?”

a huge breath of relief escapes seokjin.

mr. park nods unsurely. “yeah, I think so. did you play corny collins, son?” he asks.

“i did.”

their faces significantly brightened.

“well, i’m looking forward to your audition, seokjin,” mr. ahn says. “i watched the media preview of hairspray back then. i was a great friend of jiyong.”

jiyong was the director of the said show.

“you may begin,” mr. park adds, gesturing for him to go ahead before readjusting the glasses he’s wearing. “break a leg.”

seokjin flashes a dazzling smile and begins.

****

yikyung: how was it? yikyung: the audition should be over by now. yikyung: tell me how you did! yikyung: i’ll be like this for the whole day until you reply. yikyung:

seokjin: do you think sending gifs is cool? seokjin: bc it’s not

yikyung: you didn’t answer my question?

seokjin can’t stop grinning. he’s had this grin since he finished the audition and walked out to the lobby, his mind replaying the events that took place during his performance and the reactions of the director and producer after he was done.

even though the two didn’t make their verdict apparent, seokjin had a feeling that he was going to get cast in this show for the reason that as soon as he finished belting the last line of the song sandy, mr. park and mr. ahn shared a look with one another, their eyebrows raising in what comes across like understanding.

now, quick disclaimer, seokjin doesn’t read minds, but he’s pretty sure that that’s a good sign. he’s done his fair share of auditions and seeing an interaction like that from people who are in charge of casting always raises the chances that he’ll end up in the project. it’s a really big tell from what he thinks—and it’s what’s prompting him to almost skip like a little girl while walking to the café nearby where he’s planning to treat himself with the mouthwatering strawberry cream croissant he saw on their display earlier, nothing in his mind other than fantasies of receiving a call as soon as he gets home confirming he got the part.

maybe i should start incorporating black leather jackets into my wardrobe more… it is what danny zuko wears half of the time in the film and since i’ll be danny zuko, it can be some kind of way i’ll be able to internalize the character and be fucking amazing in this…

clearly, doing an inner monologue isn’t advisable when you’re walking along a busy street filled with people who are obviously in a rush to get to where they’re going.

because as he continues marching forward, taking a quick turn to the café he’s aiming to go to, his thoughts everywhere aside from the path he’s strolling on—his arm bumps against someone’s shoulder, ceasing his daydreaming and causing him to glance back, about to utter a quick apology if it wasn’t for the sight that greets him when he does.

he wrinkles his forehead, gazing at you.

there’s no doubt in his mind that it really is you who he’s looking at, but due to the fact that it’s been approximately 9 years since you last saw each other, seokjin asks himself whether this is legit or is his imagination taking a sinister route and letting him imagine how it would be like to meet the person he doesn’t want to see on a perfect day.

“well, shit,” you say, staring at him with the same surprised yet puzzled expression. your features look more mature, your hair is styled in a different way, your choice of clothes is more sophisticated—yet despite the subtle changes, you’re still as attractive as you were when he last got to see you. he might even dare to think that your attractiveness leveled up as well. “i’ll be damned. it’s you.”

seokjin feels his throat closing up, reality sinking in that you’re really here in front of him. “____?”

“i’m flattered that you remember.” you chuckle. “or that you’re not pretending to have amnesia to escape this conversation at least.”

to be fair, if it registered to him a few seconds earlier on who you are, he might have done exactly that.

but of course he doesn’t admit it. his ears just turn red while he utters a lie. “that’d be silly. it’s not like you’d believe me if i said that.”

“touché. but i still reckon you’d do it. you are an actor.” a smirk makes its way to your lips. “how’s that going, by the way? last time i heard, you’re being murdered on twitter and being called a world class asshole.”

he winces slightly. “that’s an exaggeration.”

“i don’t think so. you are on hiatus because of it, aren’t you?”

“not anymore.”

“oh?”

“you seem disappointed,” he retorts. “then again, i wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been praying for my downfall ever since you-know-what happened.”

“you-know-what? do you mean when you dumped me?” you explicitly say, not even missing a beat after he was done speaking.

yes, you’re an ex-girlfriend. sadly, an ex-girlfriend he knows he didn’t treat well because of what you just reminded him of.

he presses his lips together, gathering all the confidence he has left. “yes. i do mean that. and i am sorry about it. truly.”

“you dumped me over the phone.”

“i’m aware of that too.”

“you didn’t explain why you wanted to break up.”

a pause. “yes, i didn’t.”

“and just because we coincidentally met again after so many years, you finally apologize?”

“that’s about right.”

“it doesn’t sound very sincere to me.”

he widens his eyes, surprised that you’re not letting this go as easily as he thought you would. from what he remembers, you’re the type of person who doesn’t hold grudges; you’re the type of person that everybody would say was genuinely good. in fact, it’s what he was mad about years back when you were still together—how you often let other people take advantage of your kindness, often putting you in a position of being a doormat or an emotional punching bag.

but that’s almost a decade ago. he feels bad that he’s not sure whether to be proud of you or to be a bit frustrated that he’s on the receiving end of this.

“anyways,” you add after the excruciating awkward silence, “as much as i want to give you a piece of my mind, i have to go. i’d say it was nice seeing you and that we should catch up sometime, jin, but that would be a lie.”

seokjin’s supposed to let you go despite his conscience eating him up. he’s not entirely stupid, it’s apparent that it’s better not to reopen healed wounds, and judging from the manner you spoke to him, you don’t want to give him an opening to enter your life again.

but then your phone rings, which you’re holding on one hand while the other holds a paper bag from the coffeeshop. And then, seokjin sees it—sees mr. park’s face on the screen with a caller ID named ‘dad’, that he can’t prevent himself from staying still and allowing you to leave without explaining what he’s witnessing right now.

“wait,” he holds your elbow as you’re trying to walk past him, “your dad isn’t mr. park, is he? i know your dad. He’s not hyunbin park.”

you blink at him, confused at the random question, however a wave of understanding swiftly washes over you. he watches you grin all of the sudden, eyes twinkling in amusement. he’s familiar with that expression, and it’s scaring him to death because he now has a pretty good idea on what your answer is going to be.

“you’re here in the city because of an audition,” you state, tone so sure that it makes him sweat. “don’t tell me… You’re auditioning for grease?”

he doesn’t tell you he’s auditioning for grease.

your grin widens even further, your next sentence inducing a sensation that might be a heart attack.

“then you’ve met dad. he is hyunbin park, the director.”

fuckity fuck fUCK FUCK!

note. AHHH first chapter is out! i hope y’all like this because i’m happy with how this turned out hehe. this drabble series will only have 10 episodes and i’m gonna pray that i get to finish this before the year 2024 ends 😭

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

[spxllcxstxr]

Kintsugi • K.R

(Gif not mine)

Request: Pls pls I need Kendall x young reader wife with a kid living in a remote place away from all the post waystar drama — anon

Summary: Six months later, Kendall still believes he's broken

Warnings: fem!reader (referred to as girl and mommy), usage of mommy and daddy but in pure parental terms, you have an unnamed daughter, rehab mention, kendall takes meds and goes to therapy now, past suicide implication/mention?, normal ken stuff, spoilers for the end of succession

Word Count: 1.2k (I didn't think it was gunna be this long lmao)

A.N: this was a little angsty im not gunna lie lmao, I’m going feral over this request—I just want Ken to be HAPPY, not enough happy Kendall gifs, also i am not entirely great with writing modern bros so like sorry about the characterization? first kendall piece so if you have any tips let me know, hope you all enjoy!

Kintsugi - a Japanese art form that involves repairing broken pottery with gold

•

"Ken? Ken honey do you want to join us at the beach today?" Your words cut through the painful silence of your master bedroom, shrouded in darkness despite it being past noon.

Kendall gives no indication that he heard you; no vague grunt or shift in movement. He just lays there--the blanket covering everything below his nose as his eyes stay closed. He isn't sleeping, you've been married to him long enough that his shuddering breaths and still as stone rigid posture was a poor attempt to convince you otherwise.

It’s like he thinks the blanket is the only thing holding him together. Like if he leaves that spot he’ll crumble to pieces right in front of you.

Your heart drops just looking at him. Being away from the city had obviously done some good, along with his month long visit to rehab, but Ken was still…healing.

You kiss his forehead before leaving, telling your disappointed daughter that daddy wouldn't be joining you today.

"It's one of daddy's bad days?" She asks once you feet hit the sand. Her childish voice laced with her innocence almost makes you tear up.

"It is, sweetie..." You nod, before quickly distracting her with placing your towels down and bringing out water bottles from her little pink lunchbox.

The ocean is what occupies her little body for the first hour or so. She jumps over the little waves and collects sea shells. Like what any parent would do, you snap photos of her with the biggest grin on her face.

Eventually, though, the two of you end up in the sand, using her plastic bucket and shovel to build a castle fit for a queen. She's actually not half bad, you notice, as the usual clumsy movements of a toddler are no longer present when she details her sandcastle.

“How’re my girls?”

You look up from the sand beneath your fingers to see your husband, clad in shorts and t-shirt.

“Daddy!” Your daughter shrieks, practically stomping all over the sandcastle the two of you were working on to get to Kendall.

She hugs his knees, squeezing them between her little arms, and he crouches down to hug her back.

Your husband smiles and it’s enough to convince your daughter—but not you.

He's tired, you notice; though it wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out. At just a glance it looks as if your husband has aged 50 years in six months. His eyes are sunken, not mention the dullness of his usually bright brown eyes. Kendall's normally sun-kissed skin now a deathly grey, which makes sense, he has barely left your bedroom much less the house. It’s almost as if someone had taken a spoon and hollowed out everything that made him human. Frown lines are etched into his face, your heart almost shatters at the overpowering aura of sadness and despair surrounding him.

Six months isn't enough time to wash away the years at Waystar.

You smile at him as your daughter takes his hand and drags him to the crumbling sandcastle.

Once he sits down he kisses you, placing a large hand on the side on your face. You taste the mint of the mouthwash he must've just used before his trek down here. Kissing Kendall was addicting, it always was, but with your daughter's groan of disgust you slowly pull away from him.

"Oh don't be like that kiddo, that's just what mommies and daddies do when they're in love." Kendall teases, ruffling her hair in the process.

She sticks her tongue out before turning her attention back on the ruins of the castle in front of her. Instead of crying about the state of it, she happily starts rebuilding with the help of you and Ken.

One eye never leaves his figure.

This sort of mood swing isn’t uncommon, for years you’ve experienced Kendall’s drastic moods, but this certainly wasn’t one of his highs.

The sandcastle slowly morphs into a sandkingdom; once she starts she never wants to stop. That is, until your daughter finally gets tired after the sun sets and she curls into Kendall’s lap.

You know you should get back to the house, it’s late, but it’s just too peaceful out here, alone on the beach.

Careful not to stir the little girl in his lap, Kendell leans his head on your shoulder, shifting closer to your warm figure. The stars flicker above you--a sight you almost never saw in the city. You take a deep breath before kissing your husband's recently buzzed head. Kendall hums, nuzzling even closer into you, like he was trying to burrow underneath your skin so you never had to leave him.

"I love you, Kendall. And we're ok." You whisper, the words getting eaten by the crashing waves just feet away from the two of you. Still, he hears you, you can tell by the sniffle against your shirt. Your daughter groans in her sleep, shifting.

He swallows roughly at your words.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/n)…I fucked it.” Ken chokes out quietly, trying not to disturb the child. “I fucked it and I’m broken.”

His tears seep into your shirt. You angle your head down, your nose brushing against the top of his head.

"Oh Ken honey..." Your own lip wobbles at your husband's vulnerability. "You're not broken...you were never broken..."

"Then I'm--I'm fucking cracked, (Y/n)! I'm just not whole anymore! I don’t know if I ever was!"

Thoughts race through your head. Kendall had been doing better. He was consistent with taking his meds and he went to therapy every week. What if he tried to--? You clutch him closer to you, trying not to make yourself spiral when Kendall needed you.

His body shakes with silent sobs, your daughter still peacefully sleeping, unaware of the world around her.

The cool ocean breeze dances across your skin. You take a deep breath.

"Have you ever heard of kintsugi, Ken?"

"What? I'm having a complete breakdown and you're asking me about whatever the fuck that is?" He huffs, annoyed.

"Just listen to me Ken, it'll go somewhere." You kiss the top of his head to comfort his suddenly tense figure beside you. He eases at the contact. "I read in some stupid magazine that it's a Japanese technique where they repaired broken pots and stuff with gold." Kendall lifts his head to look at you. His eyes are red with unshed tears and his eyebrows are furrowed, listening to you. "They were made whole again; made more beautiful and were stronger than before."

Kendall purses his lips as you bring a hand up to stroke his tear stained cheek. Your other hand lightly strokes through your daughter's hair, careful not to rouse her.

"We'll be your gold, Kendall."

All at once the tension leaves his body, tears cascading down his face. His once dimly lit eyes brighten to reflect the stars above.

"Right," He nods, almost like he doesn't know how to respond to what you just said. "My gold..." His eyes flick between you and your daughter before his head settles back onto your shoulder, almost as if he couldn't take anymore emotions for the day.

You sigh, leaning your own head against his. Closing your eyes, you let the sound of the waves wash over the otherwise silent night.

The stars still shine above you and the saltiness of the ocean tinges the air.

You were all going to be alright.

•

[showtoonzfan]

Also yeah this new Hazbin cast is not it man. I’m sorry. Most of them either sound flat, don’t fit with the character design, or are just not as good as the original. Angel and Alastor I especially don’t like, Alastor sounds so nasally and Amari just can’t top Bosco’s performance, with Bosco not only was he good but when Alastor was threatening, he SOUNDED threatening. I may have made fun of Al’s design, but Bosco’s voice is what made the character interesting and threatening for me. With Amari’s voice he just sounds beyond silly and I can’t take him seriously.

Blake Roman is literally just intimidating Kovach, except this time Angel just sounds forced and awkward. It makes you wonder why Viv just didn’t get Kovach back since it’s obvious she wanted to find someone so similar to him, and then you realize…oh yeah, Kovach wasn’t on Broadway or is a big singer. Micheal was really good at what he did as Angel too as everyone has already said so Viv fumbled the bag SO hard with these two it’s sad. I’m especially pissed about Alastor cause Bosco was the reason he was my favorite character and now he sounds so cringe.

Husk and Vox are played by two very talented actors/singers but their voices just don’t fit with the character design, though I’m not that against Christain Borle as Vox, the voice doesn’t fit the twink design but at the very least they got a man who sounds like a full grown adult playing a full grown adult lmao. Husk is a different story however, because it feels like Keith was picked to play him just because he was famous and nothing else. Back in the pilot, Viv had a specific voice in mind for Husk and she found it, aka Mick. He perfectly came off as an old washed up grumpy alcoholic, and Keith’s voice kinda just…erases all that personality. Sure Keith’s voice sounds cool but that’s it, it’s style over substance.

I wish I could say more about Charlie and Vaggie but I’m not sure what to say other then they kinda sound forced and awkward too, and I hate saying that cause they’re also played by two very talented actresses. Stephanie B played Mirabel from Encanto, she’s had voice acting experience before so I hope she ends up sounding good in the actual show. Erika meanwhile…I hate to say this but other than her singing voice there’s nothing really special about her as Charlie compared to Jill Harris, though even with Jill I never felt any strong feelings towards her performance.

Adam meanwhile, dear GOD I was right about him looking bad in animation form, his design sucks so fucking much. Fans were right, that’s Alex Brightman’s voice, he seems to be using his normal voice but just a tad deeper. He’s the only one who’s a fine choice, though I really wish we got to hear him as Pentious here!

But yeah in terms of the voice cast I’m just disappointed man, really disappointed. It makes you really realize how talented the pilot cast was. They were so good cause they were all chosen for a reason that wasn’t just “they’re famous” and it fucking sucks how bad Viv fumbled everything.

[phntmeii]

If you write for e42 miles could you write some hcs for him

♡ Dating Earth-42 Miles Morales Headcanons:

❝ I'm Miles Morales. But you... you can call me the Prowler. ❝

[SFW + Fem Terms Used]

A/N: That accent went crazy for the movie ngl. I’m so hyped for more of him ahhsidjs. Sorry for this one being a tad shorter just because we didn't get to see enough of this ver. of Miles </3 Also, requests are open ofc :) ty anon!!

🕸️ This version of Miles is much more serious about his work and how busy he can be. He didn’t think he had time to look for someone.

🕸️ Then, there was you. Miles couldn’t take his eyes off of you, just watching as you passed by. He’s having an internal conflict because he doesn’t want to invest himself in someone just to lose them but he can’t stop thinking about you.

🕸️ So he ends up defaulting to just watching you from afar for a while to try and learn what's special about you. And with each day, that feeling grows until he just one day does it and talks to you.

🕸️ He's confident but quiet. A lot of his sentences are short and to the point. He looks down at you as you talk, keeping his eyes on yours. He's giving his full attention to you.

🕸️ He also does the thing of having his hands in his pockets and leaning down to hear you better. He knows exactly what's he's doing.

🕸️"Shit... desculpa, ma... didn't hear you. Say it again for me?"

🕸️ I think this version of Miles would be the least obvious with his feelings at first. Half the time you can't tell if he's actually into you or not because he seems disinterested most of the time but when he's in his room, he's sat listening to love songs and picturing different scenarios with you.

🕸️ His mother taught him right so when he does ask you out, it's not a casual text of "will you be my girlfriend" or something basic like that. He's taking you out at night to somewhere with a nice view where he has your favorite flowers, then he asks.

🕸️ He isn't too big into PDA. Not because he doesn't love giving you his attention but because Miles is a very chill and settled guy in public.

🕸️ Most of his "PDA" are small things like hand holding and whispering romantic things into your ear.

🕸️ Yes, many of his pet names and flirty comments will be in Spanish just because he knows you like it. He usually defaults to "mami" or "mamas" when talking to you.

🕸️ Once he's more comfortable, he likes to be a tease because he knows it sets you off especially if you're busy. He'll just open up your window and sneak in while you're doing your work just to feel you.

🕸️ He'll have a dumb grin as you smack him away, putting his hands up in surrender. "Ay, lo siento, mami... Didn't know my girl was so focused."

🕸️ There are some times where he just sweeps you away from your work any way because he wants to spend time with you. He'll never admit to being clingy despite doing that.

🕸️ Definitely the type to do shit just to try and piss you off cause he thinks he’s funny. He’ll rest his arm on top of your head, make jokes when he sees you’re annoyed and act like he’s the one wearing the pants in the relationship to friends when in reality, he’s all too obsessed with you and treats you like royalty.

🕸️ In public, acting like the man, meanwhile in private, he’s all “yes ma’am omw o7”. LMAO

🕸️ Miles can instantly tell when you're in a bad mood. A slight change in the way you text and he's already thinking about how to fix it.

🕸️ "good morning mamas 💜" "morning" "tf is 'morning'?? nah, start over." "what?" "my girl not starting the day like this. im coming over."

🕸️ Miles' main Love Languages are: Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.

🕸️ Miles needs to be around you which is why he'll sneak off to see you. It doesn't matter if you're busy with something, he'll just watch you and keep you company as you do it. (Although, he might try and distract you.)

🕸️ He’ll let you do his skincare or do his hair (if you know how) but he’ll likely complain the whole time even if there’s no reason to.

🕸️ Like he’ll complain about not being able to touch his face when he has a face mask on or that you’re being too rough when doing his hair even though he loves when you do this for him (He’s being dramatic.)

🕸️ “Ay- Shit! You havta fuckin’ pull that hard?” “You want your braids to look good or not?” “I want to have hair by the end of this.” *proceed to smack the side of his head with a brush*

🕸️ He’s definitely a flirty guy. He’ll text you suggestive messages when he knows you’re in public or at a family event just to mess with you. He’ll also send super romantic paragraphs to you over text when he knows you’re asleep.

🕸️ There is no insecurities allowed about yourself when you’re with Miles. The moment he hears self doubt, he’s showering you with praise because his girl is perfect in his eyes. There is no one else but her.

🕸️ "baby. i feel ugly today" "ugly?? tf are u on?" "i just feel idk like gross" "mami don't start allat. u know ur too fucking gorgeous to think like that." He then sends several 1-3 min voice messages freaking out to you about how lucky he is so you know that it is impossible for you to be "ugly" in his eyes.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[thegaybluejay]

Just for fun, here are my rapid fire rambling thoughts on the ATLA ships and platonic dynamics hehe (please don’t go full ship wars tho - these are just my opinions as a chill multishipper!)

My Favorite Ships:

• Zukka - My current brainrot and main ship!! I know they aren’t canon but I really love them and their potential okay😭I just feel like their personalities would work so well! Sokka would call Zuko on his shit and Zuko would be good at grounding Sokka when he needs it. Plus I have seen some absolutely breathtaking AUs with this ship! And fire-and-ice vibes except gay! Them <3

• Kataang - Cutiessss!! I love them! They may not be the ship I think about most often, but when I do think about them, they’re adorable! Aang is such a “my wife” guy and Katara absolutely adores him back! Also the last airbender x last southern waterbender dynamic goes HARD! I like that these two are canon!

• Yuetara - Listen I know they barely interacted but THEY’VE ACTUALLY GROWN ON ME SO MUCH LATELY AND I VERY HIGH KEY SHIP THEM! Something about like, Katara thinking about Yue when she bends is so😭Their story would be heartbreaking in the best way!! Sapphic noncanon blorbos <3

• Mailee - These two are SO cute and have so much potential rahhh!! Again, love some noncanon sapphics <3

• Batkoda - Super SUPER cute and silly and fun! The dads fr <3 Bato is either Katara and Sokka’s adopted uncle or their stepdad and I love it for them hehe! This usually pairs well with a “Hakoda adopts Zuko” AU lmao!

Other Canon/Relatively Popular Ships:

• Zutara - A good ship! I see the potential and tbh it’s very very fun to think about sometimes!!! However, some of y’all toxic Zutara stans need to leave my boy Aang alone lmao. Those who are chill tho, I rock with y’all!! Overall, I’m not opposed if it’s done well and I do sometimes seek out Zutara content! I personally do prefer writing them as found siblings tho, especially with the Azula and Katara parallels!!

• Sukka - Canon cuties!! I really like them! Suki my BELOVED <3 She’s so underrated!

• Yukka - Also canon cuties! They make me sad tho ahhhhh😭😭😭

• Maiko - Also ALSO canon cuties!! They have an interesting dynamic that I can really appreciate! And gotta love Mai <3

• Jinko - Jin my beloved! These two had a super cute dynamic during the one episode they had together lmaoooo, tho I don’t think about this ship too too often.

• Tokka - I don’t mind it if it’s them getting together as adults! But tbh I personally don’t prefer shipping them as teens and I think Toph’s crush was just a typical young girl crush on someone slightly older lol. Definitely not horrible and most Tokka shippers are relatively chill! I like to think Sokka sees Toph as a little sister tho.

Now For Some Of The Crackship-y/Less Popular Ships (based on ships I’ve actually seen):

• Zukki (Zuko/Sokka/Suki) - Power throuple fr and I love some polyamory!! While I mostly lean plain Zukka, this is extremely fun to think about and would be a great dynamic!

• Mai/Ty Lee/Suki - Saw this in a Zukka fic once and it was adorableeeeee! I may not have plans to actively write this or anything, but it’s cute! Another power throuple!

• Jetko - I don’t think they would be compatible long term, but by god they are very very fun to think about in a “Jet flirts with Zuko and Zuko is completely oblivious and they share one kiss before everything goes to shit” way lmao!

• Taang - I can respect it!! I will always love them as chaos siblings personally, but it’s a totally valid and chill ship!

• Katoph - Not a bad ship at all! I’ve only come across like one post tho lmao. Also I do think I heavily prefer them as found sisters, but that’s just me personally! Again, totally a valid and chill ship!

• Azutara - I’m very neutral on this lmao. I don’t despise it at all and it could be pretty interesting?? But tbh really not something I plan to seek out.

• Azulaang - I mean?? I’m also pretty neutral on this one. Aang would be kind to her if she was trying to get help but…idk lmao.

• Tyzula - I see the potential, but I personally think Mai and Ty Lee had a healthier and more interesting and more realistic dynamic. Just my preference tho!

(I think I just want Azula to be in therapy before I reallyyyyy ship her lmao, but NOT THE KIND OF “THERAPY” SHE WAS GIVEN IN THE COMICS)

• Zukaang - I don’t love this as a ship honestly. The canon age gap as teens is sketchy for my personal taste, tho I’ve seen people ship them in “Aang was 16 when he got frozen” AUs and that’s…better and I can get behind it a little! It would be interesting! But I think Roku being Zuko’s great-grandpa just still throws me off of this ship. I don’t have any beef with the shippers tho! I’m very “live and let live” and I have seen so much worse lol.

Can’t Forget My Fav Platonic Dynamics!

• Sokka and Aang - Two found brothers who share one idiot braincell when they interact LMAO! Love them always <3

• Sokka and Katara - The siblings ever!!

• Zuko and Aang - Enemies to found brothers!! Canon besties! I love their friendship and their parallels SO MUCH!!

• Toph and Katara - Absolutely ADORABLE as found sisters!!!! Love them!

• Zuko and Katara - I really like their development in a platonic sense and I think they’re very very fun and lovely found siblings by the end!!!! Zuko is 100% the brother that just “yeah my sister can and will whoop your ass” LMAO!

• Zuko and Toph - Also very found siblings in my head!! Only have a handful of solo interactions in canon but I DON’T CARE! I WILL FOUND FAMILY THEM ANYWAY! I’m a “Toph seeks out Zuko for sibling hugs/cuddles when she’s cold because he’s basically a space heater” truther.

• Uncle Iroh and the Gaang - Zuko needs to learn to share because that is ALL OF THEIR Uncle!!!

• Hakoda and Zuko - I thrive in this section of the fandom!! They have exactly one (1) frame together in canon, but I ADORE Dadkoda adopting Zuko! Something about it is just so wholesome and cute!!! My very very fav ATLA fics are this trope!!#LetHakodaBitchSlapOzaiAndAdoptZuko2024

• Uncle Iroh and Zuko - God they make me so ALSNDKSNXNCNSNSNXNX, y’know?

• The Gaang as a whole - Obvious I know, but I really do love them😭They all bonded sm and I adore their little family!! I eat up fanart of the Gaang cuddling like CANDY omg. And yes Suki is included in the Gaang because WHY WOULDN’T SHE BE!

Anyway, thanks for coming to my TedTalk. If you made it to the end, you get a big platonic kiss on the forehead MWAH!

[hsvh-hp]

You know I agree with you that fanon paints Lucius as a much worse father than he was and I don't like that either, but do you not think indoctrinating your child into a genocidal cult + coldly demanding that he be the best in class and publicly humiliating him about that ("if [my son's] grades don't pick up, a thief or a plunderer] may indeed be all he is fit for") is bad parenting?

Like I'm not saying "he is a bad parent" or "he is a good parent", I'm very hesitant to label parents (real or fictional) in such a one-dimensional way because parent-child relationships are so incredibly complicated. But at the same time it is very important to me to acknowledge even little things parents can do that can really have a negative impact on children. And indeed in Draco's case they do, leading him to want to be a Death Eater, to seek validation from Voldemort (when he disarms Dumbledore he talks about wanting to be the Dark Lord's favourite, he doesn't want help from Snape because he has a need to prove himself etc) and contributing to his general insecurity and need to be better than everyone & getting upset when he's not, because if he's not the best all the time then he feels really bad.

One big reason I dislike the fanon tendency to make every morally questionable parent an extremely physically abusive monster is precisely because that erases the representation of how the smaller, psychologically/emotionally damaging things they do can still be traumatising.

It goes without saying that there’s nuance. I would never say nor claim that Lucius did nothing wrong or didn’t make mistakes. By mere virtue of holding bigoted beliefs, he signaled to Draco that there were things he could do or be that might undermine his father’s love. To me, it doesn’t even matter if Lucius is otherwise perfect as a father. That small thing, in a kid as needy for love and validation as Draco is, would be enough to have him always on edge and anxiously performing his role as the perfect son to the best of his ability.

My earlier frustration was a pushback against the need to inflate Lucius’ less-great moments into overtly obvious abuse (we are very much in agreement there), as fanon seems to love to do without a hint of introspection or greater analysis. I’m so bored of complicated behaviour being filed away into a thought-terminating box called ‘abuse’, where a sole instance of someone being a grumpy, imperfect dad (the Borgin & Burke’s scene) is all that’s required to put a character on the same level as men who actually do beat their sons. It’s not given a greater thought.

For instance, you bring up Draco’s indoctrination into the Death Eaters, and his eagerness to join. This is a very interesting conundrum for Lucius to me because Voldemort is back for an entire year before Draco signs up. Lucius is in Azkaban at the time, unable to exert any influence over Draco’s decision, and Voldemort explicitly brings Draco into the fold as a form of punishment for Lucius. We have no access to Lucius’ head as readers, but he had an entire year afterward to sit and think about how he failed Draco. He’s a smart guy. I’m sure he could put it together that his bigotry came very close to costing his son his life. Considering the Malfoys sit alongside the winners of the war in the Great Hall, it speaks to me of some greater narrative reflection on Lucius’ part to have earned himself a place there.

The point is, I’ve never seen that Lucius in fic before. I crave that Lucius, who can realize his mistakes and grow or change as a result (and is brave enough not to let the lateness of its arrival dictate the terms). It’s very important to me that growth not be something exclusive to a certain age (16 and under? 18? I’ve seen people argue that Draco was no longer redeemable at 12 LMAO). So yeah, feeling alone in this sentiment occasionally bubbles up and I forget to articulate all the nuance of the subject when engaging with it. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s3 episode 4 thoughts

here we are!!! i actually turned off auto caps on my phone for this; that’s how serious this blog is getting. don't worry, i'll probably remember to turn it back on before i send an important email.

i haven’t seen an ep in a few days and i feel like it has been 80 years. the last episode wasn’t the greatest, so our time apart feels even longer.

this episode is about a guy named clyde. clyde bruckman is a hell of a name. i’m expecting a real cowboy. a guy who knows his way around a horse. he probably spits chew in a certain fashion. we shall see if i’m correct.

(editor's note: op found that clyde was not a cowboy, but something just as special... a friend <3)

we open with a man reading a magazine article on predictions, written by a celebrity psychic. we later learn that this fellow doing the reading is, in fact, clyde bruckman. and elvis being dead but buddy holly being alive has got to be one of the greatest theories i’ve ever heard. i WILL incorporate this into my belief system.

allegedly, buddy holly is going to open at a big music festival. and this is how i learn that lollapalooza was a thing even before chappell roan visited... but we all know that when she steps on that stage in a few short weeks it will blow anything secretly alive buddy holly could have cooked up in his wildest dreams. "the night the music died" <- crazy thing to say about a time before miss roan was even born. anyway...

bruckman ran into someone in the street. feels like a chekov’s gun moment but who knows.

hint: it was!

now the clumsy man is at the psychic. and he says he saw his own future and he seem himself doing things that are “out of character”. now that's suspicious~

OH??? clumsy man just killed the fortune teller and says she should have seen this coming. HUH???? clumsy murder man needs to be punished …our psychics deserve federal protection. 

we are at the scene of a murder. a different murder, because this one did NOT take place in the psychic's room. “they say the eyes capture the last thing a murder victim sees” “so what do they say about the entrails?” “yuck” LMAO i giggled a little….

they’re talking about some guy in vague terms, that he’s “unorthodox” and “a kook”, and then mulder walks in and it looks like they’re talking about him but the investigator says “who the hell are you” HAHAHA that got me as well

so the murderer left behind the eyeballs and scully says that they made a profile for the killer and i’m thinking yaaaaay they worked together <3 i love that spooky mulder, the well-established profiling expert, is willing to collaborate. but with her only.

and also the house is filled with porcelain dolls 

mulder knowing the professional name for the people who read tea leaves… unfortunately i love him so bad.

THEN the real star of the show rolls up. it’s the psychic from the cover of the magazine we saw clyde reading earlier. CROWDED w paparazzi. he's got a vague european accent going on here. hold up is that jon favreau in the background. i received no clarification on if that was him or not.

psychic is describing a guy who could be literally anyone “white man with facial hair… or not” “tattoo somewhere on his body” wow king of specifics. it's like he's in the room with us. /s

the agents are watching him do this and share a glance and i want it on a poster it’s sooo cute <3

celebrity psychic says he lost the vision from negative energy and then gets right up in the agent’s faces. they handle it pretty well, all things considered. because i would be telling him to back tf up. 

he asks mulder to LEAVE!!!! he has been diagnosed with negative energy. she leans in and says “i can’t take you anywhere” LMAOOOO so he stands outside and then the psychic says that skeptics like mulder make him sick. yeah i laughed!!! so what!

description of our guy: “white male, 17-34, with or without a beard, maybe a tattoo, who is impotent” <- wow.

back to the clyde cam. he's selling insurance. telling some guy that he is going to die in a car crash. well this is an effective life insurance sales policy. or not, because he doesn’t close the deal!! sure would have worked on me.

back home, he takes out some moldy cabbage that looks like a guy’s head into the trash. takes out his neighbor’s trash as well, and sees a vision of the dog eating her remains. (sabrina brier voice) oh!!!

(wait i just realized i reference that video all the time and have never cited my sources. if you are unfamiliar with the legendary "oh!" moment please click here)

back to the plot at hand.

clyde asks if his neighbor has enough dog food. thoughtful man. BUT he sees a body in the trash!

this episode is making me giggle <- don't remember what prompted that note but it was true.

clyde, who reported the murder, says that he knew the eyes were cut out, but she was found face down... so. how do you know that. site your sources. “well it just figures”, he says, and it absolutely, and i cannot emphasize this enough, does not

they bring him to… a murder scene. dun dun dun!

he thinks they're pranking him and asks to see their identification again (sees mulder’s badge) “i’m supposed to believe that’s a real name?” yeah get him again for me.

he sees blood at the crime scene and throws up which... yeah. that’s pretty messed up. he emerges from throwing up and starts saying and doing the same things as the earlier psychic. but then he starts getting... a bit more specific. allegedly, the woman was having sex with the killer before she met her end.

“well then, what’s wrong?” “sometimes, it just seems that everyone’s having sex except for me” LMAOOOOOOOOO clyde you are too real

scully looks soooo confused and i love it

all of a sudden, he sees one of the many dolls as a bloated corpse head, and announces where they’ll find the body then… hands the doll to mulder. which is not the first time we have seen him holding a doll. it is an interesting visual. what are they trying to tell us??

scully isn’t buying it. why does clyde know all this stuff? “i don’t believe he’s the killer”, says mulder, and she responds with, “i don’t believe he’s psychic” yeah that’s the dynamic i love. and she is sooooo pretty. 

mulder goes to the dude’s house and he knows exactly what is going on. but then clyde seems shocked it's him so we are getting mixed messages here.

he asks mulder if he wants to know how he’s going to die, and mulder says yes after stuttering a little and i’m like WOAH where is this going… but clyde responds with “no you don’t”, which, okay yeah, i don’t think i could handle that either

(he goes on to try and sell mulder insurance)

clyde says the future is inevitable. or if he does get involved… what if there is the whole butterfly effect thing? and then he immediately agrees to going along with the investigation. king of not having an answer. the indecisive representation we deserve.

mulder you’re so pretttttyy... look at him watching clyde touch some brass frogs and base conclusions off of them.

scully arrived at the door as mulder has his head FLAT ON THE TABLE lmaoooo 

so, it appears that clyde can ONLY tell how people are going to die. nothing else. now is that useful to this investigation? it's arguable. maybe they can find an angle.

clyde says that the scrap of fabric he’s holding comes from mulder’s new york knick’s t shirt (which was a thing that happened in 1x13 when he was testing that other psychic!!!! ohhhh i remember! do not think i forgot!! and i was confused as to why he would have a knick’s shirt if he was from new england... perhaps he knows no loyalty to geography when it comes to sport)

but mulder denies that it is his shirt anyway, so.

they found keychains on the bodies, and clyde is going on about all the personal information of whoever owned said keychains. it turns out he just sold the guy an insurance policy a few months ago lmaooo... but he knows he was murdered! the death power strikes again.

scully is driving. clyde is in the passenger seat. mulder is sticking his head in between them, asking how he receives his psychic transmissions. it's funny. he wants to know how being a psychic works! so is it like, visions, or dreams or something?

he then implies that mulder will die by autoerotic asphyxiation <- HELLO????? he looks at scully after receiving this news. as if she can possibly defend him against such an accusation.

they’re in the forest looking for a body and clyde explains he knew “the big bopper” was going to die.

scully says she doesn’t believe in that stuff, and even if she did, she wouldn’t believe that story. damn, just really going for his throat, huh. he seems to believe her indignation is over the fact that he liked the big bopper better than buddy holly and he defends himself.

they try to get the car out and mulder’s suit gets all dirty (this is sad to me, a mulder suit enjoyer) but gasp!!! the car is RIGHT OVER THE BODY. that has to be bad for finding evidence. so he did know exactly where it was!!!!

they have a thread from the scene, and have presented it to clyde. “but don’t you have crime labs that analyze these things for you?” he asks scully “yes. yes we do” (pointed glare at mulder) LMAOOOO but he says it takes time!!! and they still haven't analyzed the other thread. so please please please just give your powers a go.

he doesn’t want to help out, but mulder says he wants some insurance. on the fiber, not actual life insurance :( clyde was so excited to tell him the benefits of general mutual!!!

clyde is describing mulder being stalked by the killer sometime in the future, and all of a sudden scully’s up and asking him for more details like she believes it. awww. it’s sweet in a way. does she believe in psychics? no. is she still gonna take detailed notes when one says mulder is in any slight danger? yeah. and don't worry about that seeming to contradict her belief system. she is complicated beyond simple characterizations of skeptic or believer.

he seems to think that the killer will slit mulder’s throat at the investigation, but he doesn’t want to tell him. he DOES tell him that he will step on a pie before whatever happens to him, happens to him.

thank you to the subtitles for clarifying that clyde was imitating johnny carson because they reference would have been lost on me. i know, i’m uncultured, i’m sorry. i’ll google it though. okay, as i thought, he was a late night host. see? we get an exchange of knowledge on this blog, i learn about johnny carson's way of pronouncing the word "killer" and you can use sabrina brier's "oh" in conversation now.

it seems the killer sent clyde a letter saying he’ll kill him. and he’ll be dead before they can get him help :( noooo i like mr bruckman!!! :(

back to the killer. he’s getting a tarot reading and says he’s looking for a guy he’s gonna kill. the man doing the tarot reading smiles nervously, because what do you say in such a situation.

they seem to have bought clyde a pie after his earlier ramblings on the subject, and he kindly asks scully if she wants some, but she denies because she must study background checks instead of relying upon visions. he asks if she is jealous. a good banter between them.

back at the tarot place, the reader mentions a woman. MAYBE A REDHEAD...? stay away from her…

clyde is going on about seeing himself in bed with scully. HELLO??? “it’s just a very special moment neither of us will ever forget” huh. laughs nervously. what the fuck. is she gonna find him dead or do we need to call HR.

(cries editing this, now that i know how the episode ends)

it seems the tarot card guy is about to get murdered. but back at the hotel room with clyde and scully, they’re playing cards and she’s talking about moby dick and macbeth misinterpreting prophecies...

but despite the denial, SHE ASKS HIM HOW SHE DIES??? he says “you don’t” and that is exactly what i like to hear <3

she seemed really serious about it too, like she didn’t want to admit that she was curious, initially deflecting. oh best believe i WILL psychoanalyze that.

LMAOOO okay so this is the episode where mulder says the “chantilly lace” line and she makes that face. he's referring to another thread found at a murder scene, but i saw it in a gif and i have been thinking about it since then.

she slaps his chest with the file and says good luck as he goes to babysit the old man psychic. it was very affectionate. do it again.

mulder is in bed. it’s sleepover time with the old man. “you’re not one of those people that turns everything into a sexual symbol, are you?”, clyde asks, seemingly self-conscious about revealing his recurring dream. mulder says no, but i’m unconvinced.

anyway, he talks about seeing himself dead, and how his body fades away. we see a cgi decomposing body and it’s quite gnarly. maybe it's clay? and all his skin faded away and he becomes bones. kinda gross tbh. but he says he feels at peace.

there’s been another murder, so another guy is gonna babysit our clyde, and i’m thinking noooo don’t trust this other guy!!

scully says she feels bad, that clyde has convinced himself he is a psychic and it’s taken all the joy out of his life :(

okay, the guy babysitting him seems to be telling him jokes. clyde says he won’t die of lung cancer so he lights up. and i'm thinking, buddy, he did not rule out emphysema.

hang on. that is a lighter we have seen before. in the hands of old lady who shall be eaten by dogs. now is this a mass produced object or are we about to witness the end of clyde!!!!

“don’t open that door for anybody”, says the babysitter, and clyde then immediately proceeds to do so. and who is it knocking but the psychic killer delivering their room service!!!

killer is asking clyde why he does these things and it’s “because you’re a homicidal maniac” well that would explain it! and then he stabs the babysitter. but clyde has delayed his fate by telling the murder he doesn’t kill him now. seems he believes him. clever thinking.

scully realizes that the killer is the bellhop at the hotel after seeing some more lace. which mulder describes as “woman’s intuition” yea <3

back at the hotel. mulder is in the kitchen. he sees the killer with the knife. it is all going down as clyde described it. now if there really is a pie do NOT BE DISTRACTED. OH there is a pie. and he knows he has to turn around, so he turns THE OTHER WAY. noooo!!!!!

they get in a struggle!!! mulder’s bleeding, and scully gets off the elevator just in time. she shoots the murderer. no hesitation on taking a life, she will kill a motherfucker for mulder. i love that about her. 

and scully only got there because she took the wrong elevator!!! more pondering on the meaning of fate!!!!!

i love when one of these bitches is on the floor in pain and the other comes over and comforts them. i think i need that in my life just once. it would heal me.

but the question is: where is bruckman?

they go to find him and they only find a dog tied to the door?? and a letter to scully. it’s the dog from before, the neighbor's pet. the letter from clyde says to take care of his neighbor's remains. and he asks if she wants a dog, and that you can’t blame him for the dog’s actions. so they go into the room.

BUT IT IS BRUCKMAN THAT IS DEAD IN THERE. it looks he took pills and suffocated himself. scully looks so so so so so sad.

AND OMG!!! SHE IS HOLDING HIS HAND WHILE HE IS IN BED AND CRYING. JUST LIKE HE SAID WOULD HAPPEN. WAIT THIS IS SO SAD. 

so that must be why he say a head in a bag at the start of the episode, it was his own death... and the killer was right, he did get to clyde before he was caught, he just didn't attack him. huh. funny how prophecies play out.

cutscene to her on the couch WITH THE DOG IN HER LAP. and an ad from the earlier eastern european psychic is on the tv. she throws the phone at him.

A DOG!!! a dog. okay, a lot to think about, but first and foremost we have scully with a dog <3 and it sits in her lap while she watches TV. and it MAY have tasted human flesh, which i feel is a hard thing to get past, but clearly she has done it. she has done the emotional labor of knowing that fuzzball knows what human meat feels like. and she has faith that this dog will not do the same to her. that is an awful lot of trust for a new dog. but we do know she loves animals. so perhaps she trusts the puppy.

i always pictured her with a big ol mutt from the pound. but a little dog can be just as good of a friend. and it WAS a rescue. that is important!

okay. back to the episode at hand, dog aside. even though it is a BIG deal to me and i'm honestly being so brave by not going on a monologue about what scully having a dog means to me. this episode was definitely comedic, and like the earlier comedic episode, i liked it a lot! but the ending made me so sad :( it was a pretty abrupt tone shift. 

still. the episode was SO good. i kept pausing every few seconds to write things down because they made me laugh or otherwise intrigued me (thinking of scully playing cards and explaining macbeth. or chantilly lace line. or "i can't take you anywhere". i will try not to think of mulder's potential death by choking himself for my own sanity)

and i liked clyde a lot. we get a lot of one time characters who we will never see again and so it’s good when those characters make an impact in the short amount of time we share with them. 

and i’m always gonna take a light-hearted episode, as light-hearted as a show where serial killing is a daily occurrence can be. it does go to show though that there wasn’t always a consistent tone throughout the story. and i do find that interesting. i am part of a generation where we typically get 6 hour long episodes of a tv show per season, and they’re so condensed there is very little time for exploration with genre or tone. in general, i have loathed this about modern television; the death of the filler episode has been lamented by people far more eloquent than myself.

the only thing i dislike about this format- doing a silly episode- is that if the next episode ends up being really dark it’s like, woah man, the whimsy, where did it go? last season we got humbug, which was SO fresh and funny, and then within the first 3 minutes of the next episode, a baby was killed by a train. so i lowkey got whiplash. but then again, i watched those episodes back to back, so maybe having a week between them seeing them air as they hit TV would have softened the blow. feel free to chime in with your theories on the nature of genre and how pacing of episode viewing effects that experience.

overall, a very good episode. i rank it up with humbug as one of my favorites, which is again funny, because i love the extreme angst and the silly. i paused to take so many notes because i liked so many things that i think i should someday rewatch it again and get a smoother experience haha

[blossominghunnie]

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Pairing: Ex!Taesan x fem!reader x Wonbin

Genre: A little angst & fluff, exes to ?

Summary: Taesan isn’t quite over his ex and neither is she.

Warning: One curse

Notes: I did it. 😮‍💨 A little different from what I normally write but I think it isn’t that bad, lmao.

Taesan walked down the street on a cold day, on his way to work. The black haired rubbed his hands together in hopes of warming them, and then placed them on the pockets of his jacket.

As he continued to walk, he saw a café that he always passed by. Since he felt pretty cold, he decided to enter and buy himself a hot beverage.

He opened the door and stood in line, that luckily only had two more people. To pass the time, he looked around the place. It was pretty cozy and medium sized, there were also a few cats running around, a perfect spot to go when you want to have a peaceful time.

Just as he turned around to face the front, he spotted someone preeetty familiar to him.

Shit, he cursed. It was his ex, Y/n. They had broken off 6 months ago, after being together for almost 4 years.

To be honest, Taesan wasn’t over her; she was his first love and someone that made a very positive impact on his life.

But it looked like she was over him, not that he blamed her, but he would have expected her to be as broken as the boy was.

She was sitting on one of the coaches by the corner with four other people, he recognized three of them as her best friends but the other guy, that was too close to her by the way, was a stranger to him.

The black haired hoped that the girl hadn’t seen him, since he wasn’t prepared to face her just yet.

After what felt like hours, it’s was his time to order. He chose a hot chocolate, paid and waited by the counter, trying not to bring attention to himself.

Thankfully the barista didn’t take too long and before he knew it he was out of there. He released a relieved sigh and continued his way, until he felt someone calling his name.

Why God, why?, he whined on his head, shutting his eyes for a moment.

“Taesan?”

The boy sighted and turned around. “Y/n, hey.”

“How have you been?” She tried to make conversation; even if they hadn’t broken up in the best terms, the girl still cared about him and, to be honest, she missed him.

“Good, busy with work.”

“Oh, you have a comeback right around the corner, right?”

“Yeah, in a few weeks.” Taesan was surprised that she knew that, he supposed that she would have stopped listening to their music and paying attention to any news related to his group.

“Cool, hope it all goes smoothly.”

“Thanks, and you, what have you been doing?”

“Nothing much, business has been doing good.” Y/n had her own business, a cat café.

“You opened your café?” They would have always talked about it when they were together. It was just a dream back then when she worked a 9-5 job.

“Yeah! About 4 months ago. It’s actually that one.” She pointed to the place where the black haired ordered his drink.

“Oh, wow. That’s awesome, Y/nnie.” He looked at her with a smile. He knew how much she desired to run her own business. “I’m so happy for you.”

Just as he finished his sentence he realized he called her by her nickname, he cursed on his head.

“Thank you, Taesan. That means a lot.” She blushed a bit. “Well, I gotta get back. It was… nice catching up.”

The boy nodded. “It was, see you around.” There was a small smile on his lips.

“See you.”

Both of them released a breath that they didn’t know they were holding. Seeing each other really steered some feelings that had been there for months and helped with the weight they both carried on their shoulders. At least things were a little better than civil.

Taesan kept walking towards his company while Y/n returned to her establishment.

She walked towards the coach where her friends sat, taking her seat next to the guy with the long hair.

“Everything okay?” Wonbin asked looking at her.

She smiled. “Yeah, just saw an old friend.”

The boy nodded and placed his arm on her shoulders, going back to the conversation in front of him.

Y/N stayed silent, lost in thought.

What she had with Wonbin, her situationship, had a little over a month. She told him she was fresh out of a long term relationship and wasn’t really looking for another one, at least not in that moment. He understood and they just had been hanging out, getting to know each other more. It’s not like he was a stranger, he was a friend of a friend; their friend in common was Sohee, a boy Y/n had known practically all of her life, her childhood best friend, if you wanna label it.

He was a cool and attractive guy, she liked being with him. But she wasn’t really sure if she wanted something more with him, not after seeing her ex again.

Oh, love’s so complicated.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Boynextdoor masterlist || Main masterlist

[tabithatwo]

Lowkey imagine the breaking my silence meme bc it feels real for this sentiment but I don’t want to add it here okay? Are you ready? Are you prepared for me to maybe piss you off a little idk how this will be received so just keep an open mind (or don’t I can’t control the gates of your brain I guess but at least I’ve warned you!!)

I think the fact that the two main ways of categorizing jackie taylor are, when boiled down to their simplest terms,

(1) popular mean girl who is a selfish bitch who I hate

(2) loser girl failure who isn’t actually popular or talented who I love

is ummmm sort of telling.

Like. Stay with me. I’m not hating on anyone. Actually, if you’re in group one I am hating on you a little tbh and you can clock out early and start sending me that hate anon now lmao cause this post isn’t really about you. But group two! stay with me for a minute because I get you! I really do! But I want to challenge that thinking and sort of examine it.

Why do we need to twist jackie into something else to like her? Like, if you see jackie as kind and loving and generally just a teenage girl trying to do her best, right? Why then do parts of her have to be “explained away” to a degree? She’s the striker and captain of a nationals bound team. Why does she have to not be a successful athlete to align with the sweetness that you see in her? Yes, coach martinez tells her she isn’t the best on the team, but we see how they treat allie who isn’t actually up to par. There’s nothing to indicate that jackie isn’t very good. Why does she actually have to be friendless besides shauna? Yes, it’s clear those two are codependent and mostly attached at the hip, but in the pilot we aren’t given reason to think that jackie is some friendless unliked girl. She’s socializing with different people and they seem to like her plenty. When she lines the team up yeah, there’s eye rolling, but they listen to her and they seem to mostly take her compliments fondly. She’s homecoming queen, that’s decided on by people voting you in and, generally speaking, you have to be liked and known by a lot of people for that to happen (again if you’re someone who thinks she’s an evil manipulative bitch somehow, this isn’t directed at you lmao).

Why can’t a girl be pretty and decently popular and talented at her sport and be kind and lovable? Why do we see a girl like jackie and need her to be secretly bad at that shit and not widely liked to find her palatable?

Like (1) girl is either truly pretty and popular and talented, so she’s a bitch OR (2) girl is sweet, so she can’t actually be pretty and popular and talented.

That’s the formula we’re fed constantly and I’m really tired of it cause it’s rebranded misogyny that we internalize and accidentally project onto the world tbh and I’m guilty of that in ways, like I’ve been there!!!

But idk. Yeah, Jackie is awkward at times and not good at popping deer tendons and embarrassingly earnest and a lot of other things along those lines!! But you can be all those things and still be everything else she is y’know? That’s sort of my whole point.

Anyway, let girls be good at things without that making them a bitch is what I’m getting at, I guess. Because I see a lot of people defend jackie from the “she’s a mean bitch” hate by saying “no she’s not, she’s literally got one friend and she’s not even good at soccer.”

And it’s like WELL idk about that!! And even if that was true, why is THAT the automatic defense against someone calling her a bitch?? Why are those two things so heavily equated and not even viewed as a logical leap? Why is the defense not to bring up all the kind loving things we see her do, but to chip away at the traits that she possesses that we are trained to find obnoxious or hateable in women, but aren’t fucking innately bad?

Anyway just a thought! I don’t hate anyone for making a joke about girlfailure jackie okay! Some of those are so funny and legit but it’s an overall trend I’m discussing! And like the idea that to be a girlfailure in the ways that she is, she must also be not well liked and bad at the shit she loves! Just an observation! <3 <3 <3

[solarwynd]

The amount of hit tweets I've seen gloating about "no payola, organic, no remixes no versions" mannn. Tens of thousands likes stuff

I hate to bring back whatever Jungkook did with his debut in conversations about Jimin cause it was all already been said, god, but this stuff literally, honestly makes me feel gaslighted. It's like a collective amnesia.

And now Diana Ross is apparently praising jk's SNTY, which is sure, fine. But "MJ is coming through all of the moves" -- isn't it a Bit Much? Like, of all things, I personally had thought Jungkook's MJs cosplay was downright offensive. Justin Bieber and Justin Timberlake, yeah, but Michele Jackson? When BTS did MJs hommage in dynamite it was cute and fun and attractive. But Jk's takes himself Seriously and it's just.. not good? He can dance, sure, but all his style is basically highly aggressive tick-tock-hard-edit kind of dance. He lacks fluidity, detail work, ease, all that he compensates with aggressiveness and power.

And he can sing well, sure! But.. is it Anything different in tone and execution from countless other basic male pop artist and k-pop idols?тт And there's nothing bad with any of it! -- at least till you try to mediaplay yourself as This Generation's MJ.

It just makes me feel like, am I missing something? Does the Diana Ross sees something that I don't?

I'm sorry for ranting, I am actually truly enjoying SGMB rn! And I do understand that jk gets noticed because he's being aggressively put by sb in the limelight by all kinds of means and mediaplays. This gaslighted kind of feeling just sometimes gets to me, I guess.

I just really really hope Jimin will get and will keep getting the recognition and praising he deserves) Because I'd honestly (and I say it not because I'm a Jimin fan) name Jimin as the one that can have MJ's type of presence, but he actually doesn't need to name himself the next anything, because he can just be Park Jimin.

It’s definitely not amnesia with armys, it’s just that with Jimin they can say all those things confidently and know that it’s actually true lmao. The funniest thing about it though is how they would attack pjms for saying the same thing they’re saying about Jimin now for LC, because back then it was being shady. And “you can praise one member without bringing down the other.”

And honestly idk how it hasn’t clicked in their heads the clear difference in JK’s “success” vs Jimin’s. And I don’t mean them knowing how they both got it because they obviously know. But I mean finally come to terms with Jimin having more pull (without the tricks) than JK does.

About the Diana Ross thing…

It was random, but not unexpected because I know what their end goal is. I’m not saying that Diana Ross might not already be privy to who BTS as a group and maybe (and that is a hard maybe for any of them) them individually, but you can’t tell me this doesn’t come off as someone asking her to react to him and giving her thoughts on what she just watched. With other celebrities it’d come off as more believable that they brought him up themselves, but her? Nah.

But you see how all of a sudden even though you believe that JK isn’t that great or doesn’t live up MJ’s son title they’re trying to give him at first you’re questioning yourself just because Diana Ross said he was good? They’ve been doing it for a while now. Teaming him up with the big veteran names in the industry to give him credibility as an artist and performer. Obviously if these people have taken interest in him and is giving him all these praises he must be the best. It’s strategy on their end.

At no point during his debut have they ever let JK’s talent or numbers (without the payola) speak for themselves without having to push something into place. So I really don’t feel any type of way about it tbh. If Jimin gets noticed by those same people on level terms then cool, if he doesn’t that’s okay too. He’ll always be talented with or without their co-sign.

[glade-constellation]

October Takeover is finally over again, an it’t time for me to give my take on the video.

First, I’m gonna talk about LAES real quick. I like that Castor and Pollux seem to be slowly going to Lunar and Earth’s side. Castor is actually helping Lunar with his powers, which is really going to help Lunar get in control of them. I’m suspecting there might actually be a fight between the Celestials in the future over if they’re going to keep Lunar alive or not. Some of the Celestials don’t actually seem like they hate Lunar, they just hate that Lunar has powers like them.

Next, the Eclipses. I’m actually really happy Nice Eclipse is choosing another name. There are way too many Eclipses in this show. I feel bad that he decided to do it because he feels the name is tainted, but it’s going to help differentiate him as a character now. I’m probably still going to stick with calling Ruin Eclipse Ruin to help differentiate him. I love him, and I’m so very much hoping that this isn’t an act on his part. I really hope this is the real Ruin. I just wanna like, hold him lmao. He’s so confused but he’s trying his best, and he’s so nice. I do wonder about the monitor though, and if Ruin can decipher what the Virus left on it. I’m wondering if something on it may help with the Stitchwraith situation. I’d feel like whatever was left on it was still important, as the show took the time to point out that Ruin can still see and understand it.

Last, I’m going to start with Bloodmoon, because I’m going to go into some heavier topics when talking about them. I’m really hoping they redeem them. Not even add him to the “good guys”, just give them a redemption arc. Maybe an anti-hero role. Don’t kill them off. I’m so tired of the narrative of “this trauma survivor came out ‘wrong’ so they have to die”. Do you see how fucking messed up that is? To say that someone couldn’t “heal correctly” from trauma and the only “cure” is death? Fuck no. It’s disgusting. I already had to watch it happen with Eclipse and I’m going to be fucking livid if I have to watch it happen again. Bloodmoon, since first coming online, has been used as a tool to farther other people’s goals. No one has actually cared for those two except for themselves. Coming to terms with that shit will absolutely fuck up your brain. This is coming from someone who went through something similar. When Bloodmoon screamed “FREEDOM” and ran from the situation? I understood what they were feeling in that moment. I’m really, truly hoping that Nice Eclipse continues to help them past what he already did. Bloodmoon deserves a chance to know what the words “freedom” and “family” actually mean.

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

Oh man, okay so that Peter snatching ask, I feel like I neeeed more of that. How would Tony even explain Pyrite!Peter’s new situation to him? Would he even tell Pyrite Peter about DB!Peter? Aksdkfniend I don’t know if you want to go more into detail about this because it’s technically not a fic of yours so feel free to ignore this ask if this isn’t the direction you want to go with these, I’m just infinitely curious about the scenario written in that ask and figured it didn’t hurt to shoot my shot here, so to speak.

[[in reference to this ask and then this ask-- not only did it not hurt to shoot your shot, I wrote a whole-ass fic about it, lmao. CWs for abduction/long-term captivity, gentle noncon and general very 💖loving and tender💖 emotional abuse, and all of the psychological trauma that goes with it-- but there's a hopeful ending! (Also, daddykink, which I can apparently only tolerate if one of the characters in question hates it, lmao.)]]

This older Tony told him that he was picked because he's special, but Peter isn't stupid. In the brief glimpse he was allowed to see of the other Peters out there on that monitor, he noticed that most of them were older. Stronger. Actually special.

And he sees the way that this Tony looks at him. Peter wouldn't have noticed it before, probably, but it was the same expression that his brother wore when they were… together. Dark, heated, focused. Peter had loved the attention from his brother, but it scares him from this man. He's constantly on edge, waiting for the moment that petting hands or a tender kiss might slip somewhere unbearable, like being prepared will somehow give him a way to stop it.

He knows it won't, of course. He knows he can't.

He can't stop anything.

This Tony wants Peter to call him 'Dad.' Peter tries to protest, tries to say that he already has a dad, that it's strange when his own Tony is his brother instead. But Tony insists– says that he'll be a better father to Peter than Howard Stark ever was, that Peter doesn't need a brother when he has a father like Tony instead, that his brother was never any good to him anyway.

It makes Peter regret every single time he's ever complained about his dad and every single time he ever felt ignored by his brother, and he tells Tony that, that he loves his family even if they're not perfect and he misses his mom and that he wants to go home.

But this Tony doesn't care about his tears, and Peter is afraid of him, so Tony gets his way.

That's always how it goes. Peter cries, he begs, he asks to go home. When he's at his most desperate and selfish and awful, he asks for Tony to take someone else instead. And Tony holds him and pets him and coos and hums and murmurs that everything will be okay, and he just needs time to adjust, and that he's perfect. That Tony could never let him go.

Peter knows that he means it, and Tony never seems to realize that it only makes him cry harder. But in the end Peter always ends up leaning heavily into his arms, sniffling and exhausted and cried-out, so maybe it's his fault for sending mixed messages.

He does try to make the best of it, after all. He knows it makes him a coward, and that he should fight and scream and try to make this Tony's life hell until he does give Peter up, like rehoming a bad dog. But he can't, because he's not brave, so instead he sets the table and makes suggestions for dinner and smiles at Tony's jokes and picks out movies to watch from under the arm of this man who is not his father and not his brother but who he still calls 'Dad.'

"Good choice, baby," Tony says with a smile when Peter picks out Die Hard for movie night, and Peter hates the warm, pathetic glow of satisfaction that swells in his chest at the praise. But it's better than being scared, so Peter will take it, even if it makes him feel just as cheap and slimy as the actual sex.

It doesn't take long for that to start, though it's longer than Peter expects. A few weeks, maybe, though Peter's sense of time isn't great anymore. Tony had already slipped into his bed even as early as that first night, with the excuse of comforting Peter while he cried– "oh, sweetheart, don't cry, you'll be okay," he'd crooned, pressing kisses to Peter's hair while he flinched, "you'll love it here, you'll see,"– but then he never stopped, even once Peter stopped crying himself to sleep.

So one morning it happens, inevitable. Tony's wrist brushes too low when he's untangling himself from Peter as they wake, and Peter can't bite back his gasp at the pressure against his morning wood, and before he knows it there's a hand around him and lips against his neck and a warm, morning-rough voice muttering, "Let me take care of that for you, sweetheart."

Peter tries to stop it. He does. He does.

But when he gasps, "Dad, wait, please stop," Tony only murmurs, "Shh, relax, honey," and in the end it's like everything else.

Tony is always gentle with him. It's a strange contrast to his brother, who called him filthy things and teased him until he was so red he thought he might pass out and could be rough with him when Peter asked for it. Peter liked that, yeah, but he had always wished that his brother would kiss him sweetly and tell him he loved him, too.

It's disorienting to have those daydreams come to life in the form of this other, twisted version of his brother. Peter tries to close his eyes as Tony moves inside him and take what comfort he can in the soft touches and endless praise, and sometimes it works, and sometimes it puts a pit in his stomach to think he ever wanted this from his brother at all.

Even outside of bed, it messes with Peter's head the way that Tony's so nice. It makes it too easy to sink into the lie sometimes, when he's allowed to wander the familiar penthouse suite of Stark Tower instead of being locked in some basement, when Tony remembers all of his favorite treats and movies, when Tony spoils him rotten and tells him he's perfect and never, ever loses his patience.

(Even when Peter does. Even when Peter has one of his embarrassing episodes where he loses his mind and beats his fists against Tony's chest and scratches and bites until he tastes blood, Tony just holds him and sighs "I know, baby, I know," until Peter is spent. He never even raises his voice.

But he does cry sometimes. It makes Peter feel guilty, and then mad at himself for feeling guilty, and then he gets so confused that he just lets Tony bundle him away for a nap like he really is a tantruming five-year-old. Every time he wakes up he's mortified, but Tony never scolds him like he deserves. He's just sweet and gentle and forgiving, and he lets Peter sink right back into the comfort of the lie.)

Peter wonders if Tony was kind to the other Peter. He resents him sometimes, even though he knows it's not fair. It's not the other Peter's fault that he died, or that his dad is… like this. It's not the other Peter's fault that Tony picked Peter out of all the options. But even still, sometimes he thinks 'if you were still here, then I wouldn't be,' and there's some satisfaction in having someone to blame who he doesn't have to share a bed with.

But mostly– mostly he wonders about the other Peter's life. Sometimes Tony will cling to him and apologize over and over again like he can't hear Peter at all, and Peter wonders if he was mean to the other Peter while he was alive, or if he was sleeping with his actual son, too, or if he blames himself somehow for the way that he died. JARVIS won't tell him what happened, and he's too afraid to ask Tony.

But it wasn't a secret, he knows. Even if he can't find any mention of the original Peter Stark's death online, other people have to know about it, because none of Tony's employees can stand to look at him.

He wonders what they know. Do they think he's some kind of Frankenstein's monster? Do they know he's been kidnapped? Do they think he's just an uncanny lookalike, or do they know about the machine in Tony's personal lab?

(Or do they just know exactly how close their boss is to his son, Peter thinks sometimes, and it makes him want to never come out of his room.)

Or maybe they're just afraid that if they look, Tony will see something on their faces that he doesn't like, because–

He may always be gentle with Peter, but Tony is not a kind man.

He still rarely raises his voice. When he's angry with someone, his voice goes flat and ice-cold and the room gets so quiet it feels like even breathing would be too loud.

He always sends Peter out of the room before he kills someone. It's the only time anyone will look at him, their eyes wild and pleading for Peter to stay like that would save them, but by then it's Peter who can't bear to look.

Peter hates himself for the way that he shakes for hours afterward instead of doing something. He hates himself for the way that he crawls into Tony's lap once they get home, the way he tips his face up for a kiss, all so he can hear Tony say–

"I'm sorry, baby." Rough stubble prickling at Peter's temple, his cheek, his chin. "You know I would never hurt you, don't you? Never."

"I know," Peter whispers, and by the time they're done and Tony has made him come at least twice and told him again and again that he loves him, that he's perfect, that he's the only thing that matters, it will almost feel true.

(Peter thinks about the other Peters on that monitor, and how so many of them were strong and brave and stood up to people just like Tony, and he wonders how the other Peter died.)

He does save someone though, he thinks. Just once. He can't know for sure, because it's not one of the men that regularly comes to meet Tony at the tower, but he thinks maybe he helped.

The man is making excuses. He's in charge of one of Tony's projects, and he says that Tony gave him permission to take time off to take care of his mother after a surgery, and that's why the project is behind schedule. Tony doesn't remember and doesn't care and he gets angrier with every word out of the man's mouth, and eventually he stands, those silver tendrils exploding out of his suit to grapple the man down over his desk while he wails and pleads.

Tony takes a breath, and Peter knows he's going to tell Peter to leave the room, and he abruptly can't stand it.

"Daddy, don't," he says, the babyish word coming out in his desperate horror without him meaning to say it, and he hugs Tony around the waist like that means anything, like he can stop anything, like he's a version of himself that's actually strong.

Tony freezes, and for the length of what feels like a hundred rabbiting heartbeats Peter is terrified. He's never stood up to Tony in front of his men. He's barely stood up to him at all, and it never leads to anything anyway, and he suddenly doesn't know why he stuck himself out for this stranger who Tony is probably just going to kill anyway but this man has a family and Peter misses his mom so much he can barely breathe and he can't keep doing nothing he can't he can't he can't–

Tony turns gently in his grip, because Peter can't stop him, and Peter keeps his face buried against Tony's shoulder. He can still hear the sound of the man whimpering quietly from where he's pinned to the desk by Tony's tendrils, and he flinches when the weight of Tony's hand settles on his hair, gentle.

"Oh, sweetheart," Tony breathes, his voice strange– revelatory, tender, almost delighted. "Did Daddy scare you?"

The room is quiet. Peter is painfully aware of every other person listening– the guards by the door, the man on the desk, gasping in shaky breaths now instead of whimpering.

He can feel the weight of something important shifting, shifting, shifting when he nods his head, and the finality of something new settling into place when Tony wraps his arms around him.

"Get out," Tony says over his shoulder, and there's a clatter of noise as the man scrambles to the door. Tony adds, "You too," to the guards, and when the door clicks closed they're alone.

Peter shudders in Tony's arms, his body not able to reconcile the combination of relief and deep, primal fear coursing through his veins, and Tony clicks his tongue, pressing a kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"You really don't like coming to work with me, do you," he sighs, rubbing Peter's back. "I'm sorry, baby. You told me that, and I didn't listen."

He reaches to cup both sides of Peter's face, so Peter finally has to look up at him. He looks perfectly sweet, warm and fond and apologetic, and the contrast from his anger moments earlier is dizzying.

Tony strokes his thumbs tenderly over Peter's cheeks, and sighs one more time before he says, "All right, sweetie. If you promise that you'll be good, I'll let you stay in your room while I'm gone, okay? If that's really what you want."

It's so unexpected that it takes Peter a moment to understand that this is a compromise. Tony has never offered one before, and Peter had learned to stop asking a long time ago.

He rushes to gasp, "Yes– yes, please," and then, spontaneous and uncertain and thinking, adds, "Thank you, Daddy."

Tony smiles, and the chill it sends through Peter is anticipation just as much as disgust. Tony takes him upstairs to the penthouse then, and takes the entire rest of the day off work to make up for scaring him. It's almost nice, really, and if Peter doesn't like it when Tony tells him 'Daddy's got you' and 'that's right, let Daddy take care of you' in bed, it's still worth it, because–

The next day Peter gets to have four whole hours to himself until lunchtime, and then another four whole hours after that, and he can't remember the last time he didn't spend the whole day with Tony.

Things change after that.

Before, any protests Peter made would get shushed and brushed aside, Tony always gentle but never permissive. He would say that he knew best, that Peter would be okay, that Peter's way wouldn't work, and he would go on like Peter hadn't said anything at all. Requests were usually easier, Tony happy to bury Peter in gifts, but as for experiences– Tony's sense of what was too risky for Peter was broad and paranoid and stifling, and now–

It's shocking having a way to get Tony to listen to him, and Peter tries not to let it go to his head. He's careful. He doesn't ask for too much. He sprinkles in petty requests to throw off the scent of when he really, really wants something so it can't be used against him.

He acts like he really is all those dirty things his brother used to call him, and he bats his eyelashes and pouts and fawns, and he says "Daddy, please?" and "Can I, Daddy?" and "Daddy, I don't want to," and he gets what he wants.

But he knows just that won't be enough for what he really wants. Not by itself. He can't just stick out his bottom lip and simper his way into where he wants to go, so he'll need to add something else.

And Peter will give Tony this: for all that his obsession with his "son" is twisted and wrong, he really does seem to care more about making Peter come than himself. He always takes Peter in his mouth like it's a treat, but the first time Peter slides to his knees in front of him, he looks so shocked that it honestly seems like he hasn't even thought about it before.

"Petey," he says, ghosting his fingers over Peter's hair while Peter draws him out of his pants. "You don't have to do that if you don't want to, sweetie."

Peter knows it's part of why Tony is so sweet to him, but it irritates him sometimes when Tony acts like he actually buys the whole innocent lamb act, like he doesn't fuck Peter at least twice a day himself. Tony knows about Peter's brother, he knows Peter's done this before; Peter's even pretty sure it's part of why Tony picked him.

Peter takes a breath and pushes it all down, down, down, and he reaches for the part of himself that means it when he says, "I want to, Daddy."

He leans in, and if it's more bitter than he remembers– well, the aftermath is what's sweet.

It's hard to keep the request behind his teeth while Tony fawns over him after, showering him in kisses and praise and making him come so many times that Peter finally has to protest, "Daddy, no more," sluggish and sensitive and overheated.

But he wants Tony to think it's his idea, so he waits until finally, finally–

Tony chuckles and nuzzles in to kiss Peter's cheek, and he murmurs, "Okay, okay, baby. I just want to make you feel good after you were so good to me. What else can I do for you, hmm?"

Peter bites his lip and looks away, and it's not all playing shy. He's nervous, and he's really not sure how Tony is going to react, and if Tony squashes his hopes here– he can't think about that.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Tony croons, pushing back Peter's sweaty curls and kissing his forehead. "You can tell me, Petey; I know you've got something in mind."

"Can I–" Peter hesitates, and he'd like to say he's playing it up, but the way his eyes go wide and desperate and shiny is all real. "Daddy, can I… can I please see the monitor again? Please? I want… I want to see Grandma."

He doesn't know if it's a step too far and too false to call her that. Maria Stark would be his grandmother if he was actually Tony's son, and he's trying to– give a show of good faith, that even if he's still thinking about his real family he's accepted the false reality that Tony's made for them. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits to find out, and–

Tony sucks in a breath, staring at Peter in shock for the second time that night, but this time his expression resolves into regret and apology.

"Honey," he says softly, and Peter wants to scream, "I don't know if that would be the best thing for you. I think it'll make you sad, sweetheart."

No, Peter wants to say, but contradicting Tony will just make him dig in his heels, so instead he says, "I-I know, I know it will, but that's okay. It'll make me happy, too. Like getting older, right?"

He throws it in, a last-minute ad-lib; Tony jokes all the time about how sad it makes him to see Peter get older even though he's glad that Peter's growing up so sweet. It's a hit– Tony smiles, rueful, and Peter presses his advantage. He links his arms behind Tony's neck, cuddling close, all entirely-real doe eyes and quivering lips when he asks, "Daddy, please let me. Please?"

Tony sighs, and he leans in to scatter kisses over Peter's face when he murmurs, "You're getting too sweet for me, baby. All right, if you're sure that's what you want."

Peter's heart soars, and when he pulls Tony into a kiss he doesn't even have to fake enjoying it.

They go the next day. Tony is still reluctant about it, but he doesn't try to back out, and so they make their way to his private lab after breakfast.

It hits Peter harder than he expected. He knew it would make him sad, but he was imagining his mother bright and vibrant and happy. He barely recognizes the haggard woman on the screen, grayer than he left her and exhausted with grief, and it makes him cry so hard he can barely breathe.

"I told you, sweetheart," Tony sighs, rubbing Peter's back and stroking his hair, but he doesn't try to rush him out of the room early. "This is too hard for you, baby."

"I'm okay," Peter forces out between tears, because he can't lose access to this. "I w-wanted this. I'm s-so happy to see her. Thank you, Daddy."

It's going to be hard to play at being cheerful the rest of the day, he knows, but he'll have to if he wants Tony to ever let him come back to this room. Because even despite his tears, he did get what he was actually after: he watched how Tony selected a universe from the massive, awe-inspiring constellation of choices, and he memorized the coordinates that Tony punched in to pull up his true home.

And if he's ever going to get an opportunity to use them, he needs to get back in that room.

He makes it work. He's extra-sweet all day long, enough to curb Tony's concerns about the effect of their field trip on his mood, and he keeps it up after that. He pulls Tony into kisses and buttons his shirts for him in the morning. He pushes Tony back to ride him after work, their hands clasped together between them. He gets on his knees, he wakes Tony in the morning with a warm hand or slick mouth, he waits for Tony at lunchtime wearing one of his dress shirts and nothing else.

He's afraid at first that Tony might be put off by his new boldness, or at least suspicious, but Tony swallows the bait whole. He seems delighted that Peter is finally settling into his new life, eager to believe that Peter really has just grown more comfortable and mature in their relationship over time, and he even starts to trust Peter more. It's not even something that Peter asks for, but a week or two into his change of attitude, Tony gives him permission to access the rest of the suite while Tony's at work.

And that's not Peter's goal, but it does have some potential.

He does get to go back to the private lab. Peter doesn't ask for it every time, or even every other time, but Tony doesn't even hesitate to say yes, now. Peter plays up his excitement of the idea of the multiverse and of Tony's genius for making the machine; he plays up his interest in the other Peters; he checks in on his family.

And he watches the way Tony uses the monitor. He examines the construction of the machine. He pays attention to what features Tony uses when he navigates the 'verse map, and more than that, he pays attention to what features Tony avoids ever using in front of him.

He figures out slowly that his first plan won't work. As far as he can glean, the machine isn't built to have a way to send people back, and he knows he's not smart enough to figure out how to build that feature. He's smart, but even though the year on the calendar isn't even a full two decades ahead of Peter's actual universe, the technology may as well be a century more advanced– if the machine can only pull people to this universe, he isn't going to fool himself that he can change that by himself.

But still, every time he's in that room, he watches, and he thinks. He watches how Tony grows less attentive to his every move, more complacent in the idea that Peter is happy with their life. He watches how every day Tony gets closer to giving him permission to go to the lab by himself– it's not like he can use the machine to leave, after all. He watches how JARVIS sometimes lets him get away with things for a beat longer than he should, if Peter can make it look enough like an accident.

And he still watches the other Peters on the monitor. The ones that are older. The ones that are geniuses. The ones that save their cities from men like Tony. The ones that save the world.

Peter's not strong. He's not brave. He's not special.

He can't stop anything.

But he thinks he knows who can.

[amber-jinx]

With all the chaos going on with you, I’m sending you all my love and support ❤️ I apologize for not being around as much due to personal issues outside of social media, but I think I’m back for now!

Question: what do you think made Rachel intrigued with Chloe and observe her so much? And how long do you think she was watching Chloe before they started talking?

Aw thank you so much! Please don't apologise for that, everyone should have the freedom of choosing where they spend their time :) Sending back love & support as well, hopefully things turn out well at your end 💛

Also once again, hella great questions!!

The 1st question reminds me of this Rachel pov fic that I've been translating, it says:

"At first it was mere curiosity.

Most people put on their good side with purpose, but Chloe does just the opposite; She disguises herself with a bad side, opposing and mocking everything; She puts on a pissed-off expression, as if a smile would make her face rot, when actually she’s purer and kinder than anyone else, plus her personality is more interesting than I had imagined."

I think initially Rachel kinda believed Chloe to be what people speak of her. As principal Well's assistant, perhaps she also knew Chloe's on a scholarship, and that she's failing her subjects and on Well's list of high-risk students. She must've wondered,

"Why would someone on the prestigious Blackwell scholarship be so.. bad ? What happened to her?" (how come she's such a lone wolf now, people said she didn't use to be like this)

We also know Rachel secretly has a side that wants to pursue things that are off-limit/wild/dangerous, and Chloe being the one that stood out to her in this way, quickly became her subject of interest, so she kept and eye out for Chloe from a distance.

"Hey, I notice things! I can't help it." -- it's automatic at that point of her noticing Chloe

Later on, Rachel, by whatever means (like seeing the photo of Bongo the cat in Chloe's locker", started to realise that the notorious Chloe Price might not be who she really is at all. And so with a natural tendency to want to understand & read people, she's intrigued to find out more.

Ofc let's not forget, Chloe's hella good looking to Rachel. Lmao Rachel you stared at those legs a tad too long buddy.

While there's no telling how long exactly she's watched Chloe, there are some clues.

"Really? I see you acting like you're tough all the time in school." -- to Chloe, who claimed to not be an actor.

"That doesn't sound like Chloe Price" (park) - at that point in time (frustrated & on impulse) she's still wanting to think of Chloe as this bad girl to do rebellious/prohibited things with, even though she knows that's just on the surface (but she didn't care at that point)

Rachel's still a "newcomer" to Blackwell, despite being on the school photo. Perhaps she moved to Arcadia like a year ago or less, and had spent a school term along with Chloe already, given her established popularity & recognition from the school itself.

So I don't know, maybe she's been watching Chloe within the time range of two/three weeks to a month and a half?

And as we know, later she saw Chloe also at the Firewalk show, & realised they have similar interests & music taste!

Ah, a picture with crush! Look at how happy Rachel looks in that selfie 😸 & it's not here but notice how when Chloe first bumped into Rachel the latter was like, lemme take a good look at you Chloe Price, then stared at her face for 2 seconds.

Rachel: time to make a move to find how who she really is.

I find it cute that it's also kinda the same for Chloe, who realised that Rachel's more than the surface-level "pop girl with good grades".

So yeah, I sort of rushed through this post a lil bit in the midst of finals/crunch time, but I hope it still answers your question! Til next time, xo.