#“and because of that - I love this character very much. Because of what they COULD be.”

[mariasont]

Laced With Love - A.H

summary: while hotch is away on a case, you do nothing but shop, and when hotch insists you use his card who are you to disobey him? especially when what you buy benefits the both of you

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader spending hotch's money (it's giving sugar daddy af), so much teasing, fingering, oral fem receiving, hotch worshipping reader, some inappropriate comments made in front of morgan accidentally, they both just completely forget about dinner and don't mention so ya know my bad, dirty talk, soft dom hotchy poo

wc: 3.5k

You had a little problem.

It all started innocently enough: one coffee to-go, a quick window shop in your favorite boutique, and somehow that led to you walking out with a bag containing the most adorable pair of heels that you couldn't leave behind. Then it snowballed—another store, another bag. A perfume counter. A cute sweater that was on sale, and, well, that one really didn't count because it was practical. It was warm. Functional, even.

Okay maybe you had a big problem.

But it wasn't until your phone buzzed in your bag, pulling you out of a deep debate over whether you needed the floral dress you were holding, that you realized just how many bags were hanging off your arms.

Mr. Bossman flashed across the screen.

The name was completely ridiculous (and more than a little outdated now that he was your boyfriend), but it fit in a weird, nostalgic way. He'd been away on one of those long-distance cases, the kind where you weren't needed, and you'd been counting the days (and minutes) until he'd call. 

You grabbed your phone so fast you almost dropped the dress.

"Hi!" you answered, a little too quickly, your voice so giddy and sugar-sweet it could've given you a toothache. He always teased you for it, but right now you didn't care.

"Hi." His voice was warm, a little rough around the edges with exhaustion. "Just wanted to call and let you know I'll be home tonight."

Your heart practically leapt at his words. "Really? Finally! I thought I was going to shrivel up and die from boredom without you here. Okay, maybe not die, but like... what's the point of anything if you're not home to tell me I bought too many candles?"

"I'm not sure how you've lasted this long," he said. "Should I be worried about the state of the house? Or your bank account?"

"First of all, rude. Second of all, if you are so worried, maybe you shouldn't leave me alone for that long. Ever thought of that, Mr?"

His laugh came through the line, short and deep, and it hit you square in the chest. You closed your eyes, leaning into the sound like it could somehow bring him closer. You could see him so clearly--the way his face softened in a way that made him look ten years younger, the way his shoulders would drop, the way his eyes would crinkle. You missed him so much it hurt.

"Poor thing," he teased, still chuckling softly. "What's a girl to do when I'm not there entertain her? Besides spend my money, I mean."

"Don't worry, Aaron, your money is perfectly safe. My super respectable paycheck—you know, the one you sign—is covering me today."

"Hmm," he said, his voice still muffled. "Sounds like your boss is paying you too much."

"I don't know... I think you're getting a pretty good deal considering I keep you very taken care of. Would you like me to prove it later?"

"Hotch, tell me I did not just hear that."

You froze mid-breath, your hand flying to cover your mouth as a wave of heat rushed to your cheeks. That was Morgan’s voice.��Morgan. You felt like a cartoon character with steam pouring out of your ears as your face burned red hot.

A nervous little squeak escaped you just as you heard Aaron fumbling with the phone, his voice clipped as he said something you couldn’t quite make out. There was a muffled shuffle, the sound of a door shutting, and finally, the blessed beep that meant he’d taken you off speaker.

"Christ, honey."

You peeked through your fingers, cheeks still burning as you tried to decide if you should laugh, cry, or maybe just dig yourself a hole and live there forever.

"So," you said, hesitating for a beat, "scale of one to ten, how dead am I? Should I preemptively file an HR complaint against myself, or just let Morgan handle my inevitable downfall?”

You heard him exhale sharply, the creak of a chair following as you pictured him leaning back with that half-smile he always gave when he was equal parts amused and exasperated.

“It’s fine. It’s a little embarrassing, sure. But nothing Morgan hasn’t done to himself ten times worse. He’ll give you a hard time for a day or so, Garcia will laugh, and then they’ll let it go.”

There was brief pause, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “That being said, maybe think twice before making explicit promises while I’m at work, honey.”

You bit your lip, your gaze dropping to the shopping bag in your hand as you toyed with the strap absentmindedly.

"I mean, it's only fair I keep my promise now," you said softly, barely loud enough for him to hear. "It's the least I can do."

You heard a faint sound in the background—maybe him clearing his throat—before his voice dropped an octave. "You're already on thin ice today. Don’t make promises you can’t deliver on."

You let out a little huff, batting your lashes instinctively even though you knew he couldn’t see it.

"I don't know why you're doubting me, Mr. Hotchner. You should know I'm very serious about keeping my promises."

"You know, you're not making this easy on me, " Aaron muttered, his voice low and gruff. You could hear a faint groan, followed by what sounded like pacing on the other end. "Alright, I've really got to go now. Behave yourself. And how about you use my card for the rest of the shopping trip?"

"No, Aaron, I can't!" you said quickly, shaking your head as if he could see you. "You'd never trust me again with your card after the damage I'd do. Besides, you're already going to be shaking your head when you see what I got with my own money."

Aaron sighed, his voice going into that low, authoritative tone that always made your stomach flip.

"You will use the card." There was no room for argument in his words. "I want you to. End of discussion."

And just like that, the call ended with a click. You stared at the screen for a moment as if it might magically reopen the call so could argue your case one more time. But, of course, that didn't happen.

He’d told you to use his card—he demanded it, actually—but your fingers still hesitated, clutching the little piece of plastic like it was about to bite you.

You glanced at the white lace lingerie folded neatly on the counter, the delicate fabric practically winking at you. It wasn’t just pretty—it was the kind of perfect that made your heart flutter. Normally, you’d talk yourself out of something so indulgent, but this time? Well, Aaron had practically begged you to buy something… and you couldn’t think of a better way to treat both of you.

You only hesitated for the briefest moment before swiping his card, your heart doing a little flip as the cashier folded the lingerie into tissue paper with careful hands. It felt like a tiny secret between you and Aaron—a very fun secret.

By the time you got home, the sun had started to dip below the horizon, and you knew you had some time before Aaron made it back. He always gave you a pretty reliable ETA. It was the perks of dating someone so anal.

You lugged your shopping bags up to the bedroom, your arms aching a little, but in the best way possible. Once in the bedroom, you started unpacking everything like it was Christmas morning. Dresses went in the closet, shoes were lined up neatly, and you stashed the receipts in the nightstand just in case Aaron did ask how much damage you'd done.

Then you pulled out the piece—the one you'd bought with him in mind. The silk felt decadent under your fingertips, and the delicate lace was almost too beautiful to wear. Almost. It fit like a glove, hugging every inch of you like it had been tailored specifically for this moment. 

Feeling pleased with yourself, you made your way to the kitchen and slipped into your favorite frilly apron, tying the bow neatly at the back. Cooking wasn’t exactly your specialty, but you were determined to make this work. Pasta seemed foolproof enough (right?), and you threw together a salad and garlic bread for good measure. By some miracle, nothing caught on fire, and the kitchen actually smelled amazing.

You found yourself glancing at the clock every few minutes. When you finally heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, you glanced over your shoulder, heart skipping a beat.

"Hi honey!" you called sweetly, pretending as if standing in the kitchen wearing practically nothing was the most common thing in the world.

Aaron stepped inside, the door clicking behind him, but the second his eyes landed on you, he froze. His tie was loosened, his sleeves slightly wrinkled, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it at least a dozen times today. But none of that mattered now—he stood there like he’d forgotten how to breathe, his dark eyes drinking you in.

You smiled at him, slow and innocent, brushing your hands lightly against the counter. "Dinner's almost ready."

"Sweetheart..." His voice was deeper than usual, strained and almost ragged, like he was trying to pull himself together and failing miserably.

"Yes?" you replied, acting as if you didn’t notice the way his eyes were glued to you while you turned off the burner and set the pan aside.

"What..." He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as his gaze dragged down your body, lingering shamelessly on the curve of your ass. "What are you wearing?"

You turned to face him fully, the delicate lace tugging just slightly as you moved, drawing his eyes lower without him even realizing it.

"Oh this?" you said, gesturing vaguely to the piece. "It's just something I picked up today. You told me to use your card, so I thought I'd get something you'd like."

His jaw tightened, eyes scanning you slowly before lingering on the pink bows peeking out over the apron. "You used my card on this?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, your hands gliding down the soft lace as you took a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. "I figured it was an investment. You know, for both of us."

Aaron groaned, low and frustrated, pinching the bridge of his nose for a brief second before letting his hand drop.

“Using my card for this…” His voice was rough as he closed the space between you in one long stride, his hands landing on your waist and pulling you flush against him. His lips curved into the faintest smirk as his voice dipped lower. “Was the one thing you’ve done right today. Now take this off—slowly, sweetheart—and let me see exactly what I bought.”

He pinched at the bow on your apron, his fingers tugging lightly, but you stepped back just enough to be out of his immediate reach.

“If you were that eager to see what I bought,” you teased, your fingertips grazing one of the straps of the apron, “maybe you shouldn’t have left me waiting so long.”

You slipped one strap off your shoulder, letting it fall halfway, then paused, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to come closer.

"Trying on pretty things, waiting for me to come home—must've been absolutely draining," Aaron shook his head slowly.

You pouted at him, pushing your bottom lip out just enough to make his eyes soften. He chuckled quietly, stepping closer until his hands braced the counter on either side of you, caging you in.

 "But you know what? I missed you too. And seeing you like this... makes being away feel like torture."

Your pout melted into a glowing smile as your hands found their way to his chest, your fingers brushing lightly over his shirt.

“You mean it? You really missed me?”

"Of course I did." His hands cupped your jaw gently, his thumbs brushing along your cheeks as if he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His other hand moved slowly to the bow at your waist, pulling the knot loose with an easy tug. "Now, angel, let me see what else I've been missing."

The apron slipped to the ground, forgotten, as Aaron’s eyes locked onto you. He blinked once, then twice, his expression unreadable except for the slight parting of his lips, like he’d been robbed of air.

His gaze traveled over you like a slow caress, taking in the way the lace hugged your curves, teasing him with everything it didn’t quite cover. His eyes lingered on your chest, where the sheer fabric exposed the peaks of your nipples, and you caught the subtle hitch in his breath as he swallowed hard, his jaw clenching slightly.

You tilted your head, letting your expression soften into something sweetly innocent as you leaned back against the counter. The lace shifted with the movement, exposing just enough to make his jaw tighten. Then, just for a second, you parted your legs, catching his sharp inhale as you gave him a soft, almost shy smile.

When he realized what wasn't under the lace, his eyes snapped back up to yours. Without a word, he dropped to his knees, hands sliding over your thighs until they rested just above your knees.

A soft gasp escaped your lips, heart skipping several beats as you stared down at him. You hadn't expected this. Not the way his knees hit the floor like it was second nature, not the way his palms spread wide against your skin, thumb brushing over the curve of your inner thighs as he looked up to you.

He must be exhausted, that was your only explanation. But then his hands pressed harder into your thighs, and the thought evaporated. His eyes weren't clouded with exhaustion—they were focused, like he was memorizing every inch of you. 

Your stomach twisted sharply, your legs suddenly feeling like they couldn’t hold you upright anymore. He was looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. That singular thought settled in your chest, blooming like a flower, before curling low in your belly, leaving you breathless.

His lips grazed your thigh in the softest of touches, like he was savoring the moment. Slowly, he pressed another kiss, firmer this time, his fingers tightening around your thighs as his grip became more insistent. He kissed you again, higher and slower, his nose grazing your skin, breath fanning over you. A deep, contented hum rumbled from his chest.

"What have I done," he murmured, his voice rasping like the words have been pulled from his chest, "to deserve this? To deserve you?"

His eyes flickered up to meet yours. "Tell me, angel, because I'd do it a hundred times over if it meant to have you like this."

You wanted to tell him everything—the depth of your love, how he made you feel like the luckiest person alive—but the words lodged in your throat.

"Aaron... I... you're just..." you stammered, voice trembling as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter. 

Before you could gather your thoughts, he lifted one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, fingers digging into your skin. His lips brushed higher, dangerously close to your exposed cunt, and a soft, broken sound escaped you.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration shooting straight through you. 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" His breath was hot against your thigh. "You always have so much to say. Don’t tell me you’re out of words already. I haven’t even started.”

"I was going to tell you how—oh, gosh, Aaron—"

Your words you had been trying to string together scattered completely, replaced by a shaky moan as his mouth pressed firmly against your clit. Your breathing stuttered, your chest rising and falling as waves of pleasure coursed through you, drowning out every thought but him.

His mouth was everywhere—warm, insistent, and impossibly skilled as his tongue traced over your clit with maddening precision. He worked like a man possessed, drawing sounds from you that you didn't even know you were capable of making. He was too good at this—too good at knowing exactly where and how to touch you, too good at making you fall apart with just his mouth.

Then he shifted, his hand gripping your other thigh as he lifted your second leg over his shoulder, leaving you completely at his mercy. The sound you made was somewhere between a gasp and a moan, your hands flying to his hair as your head tipped back.

Your back pressed against the edge of the counter awkwardly, a dull ache building in your lower spine, but it was nothing compared to the torrent of pleasure radiating through you. His tongue moved in devastating accuracy, his hands gripping your thighs like he was gluing you to himself. Your chest moved in shaky breaths, his name slipping from your lips in trembling cries that you couldn’t hold back.

"If I'd known this would be my reward," you gasped, tugging hard at his hair, your words faltering as your head tipped back. "I'd have emptied your whole wallet—oh, fuck—“

His lips closed firmly around your clit, pulling firmly in a way that destroyed your sentence completely. His hands tightened on your thighs, keeping you locked exactly where he wanted you.

"You must really mean it if you're cursing now." His tongue flicked over you again, making your back arch sharply. "Didn’t know you had that in you... let’s see what else I can get you to say, angel."

A warm flush spread up your neck and into your cheeks, heat rising faster than you could control. "I didn't mean to--"

You were cut off once again as his finger slid into your pussy. Any trace of embarrassment was gone, swept away by the overwhelming need pooling deep in your core, leaving nothing but raw desire in its place.

The pressure, coiling low in your stomach, was building so fast you could barely keep up with it. Every tell-tale sign was there—the trembling of your thighs, the way your chest shuddered in shallow breaths, and most incriminating of all, the words spilling from your lips before you could even think about them.

"I love you," you gasp, the desperation clear as ever. "I love you so much, I love you—Aaron, oh—"

He groaned against your clit, his tongue pressing hard as though your words were the fuel he needed to pull you apart completely. His finger curled again, hitting that spot that made you vision blur. His eyes flicked up, and you could tell he knew exactly what was happening. He always knew.

"I know, angel," he murmured, his voice muffled against your skin. "Now show me just how much."

Your orgasm hit you with staggering intensity, a wave of heat and pleasure crashing through you that left every inch of your body trembling. Your breath came in uneven, stuttering gasps as his name spilled from your lips, over and over, like a mantra you couldn’t stop repeating.

"That's my girl," Aaron murmured, his lips brushing against your sensitive skin as his finger worked you through the waves.

His lips pressed on last kiss to your thigh before he straightened, his hands immediately wrapping around your waist like he predicted you'd collapse without him. As soon as he lifted you, you clung to him like your life depended on it (and in that moment you were sure it did), your arms winding around his neck.

Everything felt distant, like you were floating somewhere above yourself. Your head rested limply on his shoulder, your lips brushing against the side of his neck. Your fingers curled weakly against the fabric of his shirt, and for a fleeting moment, you weren’t even sure your body had substance anymore—you felt soft, boneless, entirely his.

Aaron tapped the back of your thigh gently. "Come on, sweetheart, up."

You tried—really, you did—but your body wasn't cooperating. Your legs dangled uselessly, and you let out a soft, half-laugh, half-whisper. "Can't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. 

"Hopeless," he teased. He hoisted you up before you could process it, his shoulder pressing into your stomach as he flipped you over it. A surprised squeak escaped you, but his hand was already bracing your thigh as he started up the stairs. "I guess I'll just have to do all the work, as usual."

"You're so strong," you mumbled dreamily, your head lolling against his shoulder. "Like... disgustingly strong. It’s so hot."

Aaron laughed, his hand smacking your ass. "Keep talking like that, sweetheart and I'll start using you for my next workout routine. And I guarantee it'll be something you'll feel tomorrow."

"Mr. Hotchner!" you gasped, your voice half-indignant and half-giggling. "And you act like I’m the inappropriate one in this relationship!"

Aaron chuckled, shaking his head as he carried you into the bedroom. He lowered you down, tossing you onto the bed just hard enough to make you bounce lightly against the mattress. You let out a soft laugh, body sinking into the covers as you looked up at him. 

“The difference is, I have the good sense not to say things like that on speakerphone.”

You let out a small laugh, raising your eyebrows. “And you should have the good sense not to trust me on speakerphone. Really, Aaron, rookie move.”

He stood tall at the edge of the bed, his fingers slowly loosening the top button of his shirt as he tilted his head. "“That’s fine. We’ll call it even—after you make good on that promise."

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[kuroshitsuji-wiki]

It's Yana Toboso's birthday! (January 24, 1984)

Yana forgot her birthday this year...

... so there's even more reason to congratulate her and celebrate!

Some trivia:

She chose her penname "Yana Toboso" to indicate what kind of manga she wanted to create: Because there are so many mangas whose central themes are dreams, hope, friendship, and love, she wanted to make a manga whose focus is the opposite. "Yana" derives from "iya" (unpleasant, detestable, disagreeable; here: unpleasant/nasty child), and "toboso" is meant to signify importance: a "toboso" is a cavity in the frame of a door used as part of a pivot hinge; as doors wouldn't work without hinges, hinges are important objects. "Yana Toboso," therefore, is meant to mean "the hated/bad child is in the middle" (憎まれっ子がど真ん中にく る). (Character Guide, page 146)

Yana once stated that Ciel resembles her the most out of her characters. (Character Guide, page 147)

*cough* Obviously.

Exhibit A:

(Downstairs with Kuroshitsuji VII, from Volume 17)

(Chapter 76)

Exhibit B: The iconic Pancake Saga from 2018!

Yana's grandmother encouraged her to become a mangaka, and her mother pushed her to submit her work to a publisher when she was 20. Both have since passed away. (sources: akumadeenglish, The Japan Times)

She is a fan of the band L'Arc-en-Ciel (source). HYDE, the vocalist of that band, wrote the opening for Season 5. Yana was obviously very happy about that!

Yana contemplated making "fluffy spin-offs" to Kuroshitsuji, e.g., "a gourmet manga featuring the canteen of the Shinigami dispatch association HQ, or a manga where the Indian butler cooks curry or the black butler makes sweets, or where the servants make small discoveries." However, she dropped those ideas because her "fluffy concepts" kept becoming ominous after a few chapters. (source)

Kuroshitsuji was not meant to be set in 19th-century England from the beginning. Mr. K and the chief editor eventually suggested England as the setting. Yana, who did not know much about England (and could not find many materials early on; source: Downstairs with Kuroshitsuji II in Volume 2), especially not about 19th-century England, and did not believe the manga would be a hit anyway, then cooked up the wonderfully anachronistic Volume 1. Since then, Yana has become more knowledgeable about Victorian England, got a historical advisor (Rico Murakami) who also, sometimes, translates sources for her (source: Downstairs with Kuroshitsuji Special in Volume 15), has been (re-)learning English, and visited England twice. The manga has, thus, become significantly more historically accurate over the years. Still, as it's a fantasy manga, Yana likes to incorporate anachronistic elements for story purposes (e.g. Grim Reaper tech and possessions, Wolfsschlucht) anyway (or simply because she wants to; e.g. the idol groups, I suppose). Anachronisms have, thus, shifted from accidental to deliberate.

Sebastian's mobile phone will be forever iconic, but it has been retconned for over a decade now.

And The Wild Earl lost more than his head was cancelled when all TVs were thrown out of the continuity with the end of the Indian Butler Arc (TVs are last mentioned in Chapter 23).

May we learn many Victorian things alongside Yana in the next years too!

(Downstairs with Kuroshitsuji II, Volume 2)

And may she have a happy, restful birthday so that she doesn't forget it again^^' (And the best of health^^)

[dippedinmelancholy]

Honestly pre release I was just so spitefully supportive of Veilguard, because the critics speaking out were just so gross and stupid about the anti woke bullshit, but after sitting on it for a while, this is a huge reason I’ve fallen into kind of “meh” territory?

Despite the fact that for Inquisition, you end up making a lot of headcanons to flesh out your MC, the story absolutely never falters in the narrative that YOU are the main characters, the companions are all with you, but largely they look to you for guidance. You can shape them, and their stories, based on how YOU interact with them. How you treat them, how you treat the world, how much compassion you have for things that are different than you. You got shoved into the role of Inquisitor with no power, but you are the focus of the story and ultimately the only person who can save the world.

That just . . .absolutely cannot be said of Rook? They’re a person who has like, vague background of “rebellion for the right cause” in their chosen faction, which is meant to be a mirror to Solas. Except repeatedly Solas’s actions are painted as black and white rather than THIS IS WAR and war is brutal and painful and endless, and the Evanuris are a threat beyond what any person in modern Thedas can comprehend. Rook often feels like a secondary person with no true reason for being in charge? Their placement within the faction they come from makes them sound very young to begin with, with no real reason as to why Varric has put you into place as his second in command.

This could have been made better if they expanded thematically on the line Varric says when he introduced Rook to Neve.

“Rook, like the chess piece?”

“Yup, one of the strongest pieces on the board, but tends to think in straight lines.”

Expanding on that, on showing Rook just being so immensely stubborn and only seeing what’s directly in front of them, having such a powerful personality being one of the reasons all of your companions listen to you and follow your leadership, and yet another mirror to Solas, who sees his goal as so important nothing else matters, could have made Rook more engaging and entertaining and enthralling. But that never happens.

Rook is there, and it’s the companions who seem to have the majority of the focus. To an extent, I understand, everyone loves new companions and fleshed out companions with complexity are always amazing.

But Rook doesn’t feel like the leader or hero of the story. I stand by my opinion that it should have been the Inquisitor with Varric. It would have made Varric’s death more impactful and meaningful. The Inquisitor, going by ‘Rook’ as they try to track down Solas. Having a connection to his power, literally flowing through their body for so long, could have easily been used for a plot device for why Solas can’t use magic to enter their mind until the blood magic happens. With the ending of having their arm removed, the magic ripped from their body, easily justifies their power being a “starting” character level, and no matter what you choose to do with the Inquisition, you are not in control of it by the end of Trespasser.

There’s just so much that could have been done to make this a much more complex and compelling story that just . . .wasn’t.

What’s really jumping out at me on my second playthrough is that the writers of the first three games understood that your character was the main character. The Veilguard writers clearly thought that the main characters were their characters, the companions.

Every scene is about setting the companions up as cool or competent or sympathetic. Often, this is done at Rook’s expense. The companions get all the witty one-liners; Rook’s attempts at humor not only frequently fall flat, but are frequently called out for falling flat (even when they’re completely automatic and the player has no say in them).

The companions have all the knowledge and skills; Rook just brought them all together and gives them all pep talks so they can focus. I’m trying to edit out all of the comments where Rook is like “Um… what????” from my videos, and let me tell you, it takes WORK. There are A LOT of them. I can count on one hand the number of times when the Inquisitor or Hawke comes across as dumb, but it seems to be a built-in, unavoidable part of Rook’s character. I have not selected a single “purple” option in all of Act 1, and Rook is still coming across as the kid who tries to be the class clown to cover for the fact that he’s always confused. Rook’s role in most scenes is to say “Uhhh… what?” so that the companions look smart.

Rook is always the one offering sympathy and never the one getting it. No one actually comes to comfort you after Varric’s death. No one asks you how you’re feeling about having to lead the team now that Varric is gone. No one tries to reassure you or give you advice for dealing with the trickster god haunting your dreams. We’re told that Neve could keep Solas out of your head, but she never actually offers to do this for you. No one comforts a Shadow Dragon Rook when Minrathous is destroyed or a Grey Warden Rook when Weisshaupt is destroyed. Rook’s problems don’t matter. Only the problems of main characters matter.

Rook is a secondary character in their own story.

[always-just-red]

Hello! Y'know that one line of Sylus talking about his muscles saying "They're not real. But they move." The way he casually admits to not being entirely human

Could I request something angsty where Sylus has an uncanny valley aura about him where you just FELL something's not right and Sylus is all :( cause he can't make the MC feel comfortable around him but it's not like he can fix it either

Just a quick little fic for this whilst I work on a longer fic! Realised like two paragraphs in that I had the opportunity to do the most evil thing ever, so I did!! 😇 I'm really proud of this one guys pls show it some love! And thanks for the prompt, anon! You are my co-conspirator in all this evilness, mwa ha ha DISCLAIMER: This work does not reflect the feelings of the author, who would die for Sylus! Wants to hold Sylus's face in her hands and tell him he is everything good and pure in this dark, cynical chess game we call life! 😎✨

Monster

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Summary: A Deepspace Hunter's instincts never lie...

Genre: angst oh my GOSH so much angst

Warnings/Additional tags: f!reader, AU I guess as this is a different spin on an existing scene, *passes you some tissues* here you might need these! 🥰

| Word count: 800 | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

You know monsters.

Earth-shattering. Sky-shearing. Teeth, reckless: always striving for something soft to sink into. To make a home in and to eviscerate. You’ve been grazed by it— kissed by that violence more times than you can count— and you are not soft anymore; there isn’t space for it. There are scars and then there’s armour, the kind you carry with you, the kind you couldn’t shed if you tried, and you haven’t tried, because why would you?

Horror isn’t loud and cataclysmic, it’s quiet. It’s those few seconds before your Hunter’s watch signals a fluctuation of Metaflux. A premonition, trained, or maybe just human instinct, raw and vulnerable: something is wrong, here. That prickle on your skin— the tip of that claw, raked, snaked down your spine. You feel it whenever a Wanderer lurks in the shadows, or beneath a stretch of water that’s unfathomably deep and far, far too still.

Sometimes, you feel it when you look at Sylus.

I know monsters.

Before you, a fragment of a mural tells a very old story, and beside you, a red-eyed man is thinking of flowers. It’s late, and the museum is quiet. You look at the fragment’s centre, where a female warrior is plunging a blade through a dragon’s heart. “Look,” you say, nodding at the figure with a half-smile. “My predecessor.”

Sylus hums thoughtfully. “What makes you say that?”

“Because that looks like a standard Tuesday to me. Some things never change, huh?”

But other things do. With a chuckle, Sylus draws closer to you. The rumble of his laughter is warm and familiar, and his hand is near yours as he bends to examine the mural. He wants you to take it, to thread your fingers through his like you do when you resonate, when you need his power and he needs yours, except neither of you need it now. Why, then?

You know. Of course you know.

The man is all softness, voice and gaze like an afternoon sun in late summer that lulls you to sleep with thick, golden light. Always trying to evoke a dream. It’s weakness, it’s the dragon on the mural with a split heart, bleeding, and you’ll never understand why Sylus wears his on his sleeve.

It’ll be the death of him, one day. It’s set in stone. Right here.

When Sylus touches you— when the tip of his finger catches yours and makes an honest, desperate request— you don’t pull away. Something inside tugs at you, warns you, tells you a monster without a sword in its chest is one that can bite. What colour of blood would your hands prefer? His? Your own?

Your veins are cold and something is wrong, but no, you don’t pull away, because Sylus knows monsters too. Some declare themselves with twisted horns, razorlike wings and a long, barbed tail. Others declare themselves with something as subtle as a touch, withdrawn.

When Sylus steps away from you, that gash of dread closes up inside you. Heals like his wounds: no mess, no scar, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He’s had a long time to look at the mural, and he smiles wistfully at the woman at its centre. “Some things never change,” he echoes, and it sounds as though there’s blood in his lungs, his throat, and that he has to swallow it down to say anything at all. It must sting.

“All in a day’s work for a Deepspace Hunter,” you joke flatly. You’re not even sure Sylus hears it.

Both of you stare at your fragment of history: an execution, a liberation. A matter of perspective. “Maybe…” Sylus begins, but then thinks better of it.

“Maybe what?”

He’s seeing something you don’t.

“Maybe what, Sylus?”

He spares you a glance. “The pose,” he says, indicating the warrior. “It’s ambiguous. Perhaps she isn’t slaying the beast, she could be—”

“Saving it?”

You’re considering a new perspective. Tapping a finger against your cheek as you lock eyes with your history— that elusive dream— ever oblivious to what’s behind you:

There’s a look of sheer, infinite longing— a gaze that’s been empty of you for too long, so sick of starvation, and determined to have its fill in the few, fleeting moments it can. It’s ravenous: dangerous, sharp, and irrevocably yours, if you would only turn around.

There are teeth and claws, but they’re all of them tame, and that makes them soft, doesn’t it? You could trust them on your skin. Turn around.

You do, and you are not the girl from the mural who tucked wildflowers into his hair and who sung him a song he still hears in his sleep. Sylus’s heart aches.

You are the girl from the mural who’s slaying a dragon, because it’s the oldest story, the only story.

Your eyes harden.

“Who would pull out a sword to save a monster?”

[neverpathia]

crappy rant/analysis about the Voice of the Paranoid because I'm very normal about him

with that said.

It's pretty clear that he's not just scared. Anxiety isn't his only personality trait, and the game makes it incredibly prominent that he's no helpless victim. He's a starved animal backed into a corner, straining his chain thin, clawing and biting. He's desperate and frantic and charging at it all with nothing left to lose.

But I don't really think people talk about his spite and resentment as much, and it's a little surprising given how much he moulds it to his advantage. Still, he's not just sassy for the hell of it: he genuinely hates what he's being forced to do. He's incredibly frustrated. He's very, very done with your bullshit—and that includes his own bullshit too, because he's the scared part of you (Quiet) that turns your fears into reality.

So he despises everything that he's being put through (by you, himself and the other voices), and I think he definitely despises the rest of the Quiet to some extent. He's mainly driven by sheer desperation, but petty spitefulness is also very much involved—in Nightmare, he gets very quick to snipe at Hero despite having a job to do. He even prolongs the argument for a while before Narrator urges him to resume the chant.

And I think that just like the Contrarian, the Paranoid hates what he himself is too. Granted, @/sssilverspades and @/salty-an-disco brought this up, but all the voices probably have that same capacity for self-loathing and I think he's no exception.

He's the most perceptive voice, but at the same time he twists his perception against himself a lot. He's the reason Nightmare happened. He's the reason his fears manifest. And given how quick he was to figure stuff out in Cage and Apotheosis, I think he'd figure that his biggest problem by then was himself.

It's because he's not okay that they could stand a chance against Apothy...but it's also because he's not okay that she happened in the first place. He's very far gone here. At that point, there wasn't much left for him to do but pretend it all away—just a dream, just a dream—and shut his fears off.

He wants it all to be over with, which is especially apparent at the end of Apotheosis's Grace ending, or at the beginning of Nightmare-Wraith. He's doing what he can and keeping it going, but it's not because he wants to. It's because it's the only thing he's even capable of doing anymore. And it's turning him bitter, turning him resentful.

This is what you've done, and he's a part of you. He's regretting and atoning just as much as he's fighting, yet it's what he must do.

Let's not completely rid him of accountability, by the way, which is another thing I wish fandom acknowledged more. You often get him by abandoning the Princess and denying her what she wants. This is what you did: what he did from beneath you. And he's suffering for his own actions.

This is what fear does—it's perfectly natural to be scared and anxious, but you're not the only one it affects. Let it fester, and you lock yourself in. Let it fester, and you hurt yourself more and more. Let it fester, and you lash out against this hurt. Let it fester and you turn others as hollow as you've become. Fear helps no one. All you can do is amend and atone, which in a way is kind of what he ends up doing sometimes. Or you get Moment of Clarity.

As much as I love him, it's a bit hard to see people just praising him for being the goat (even though he is lol) because of how much he helps. Yes, he's a very useful voice. But he's the very reason he has to be useful, not that he even wants to be here.

I might just be completely misinterpreting his character here, though.

[hugheses]

I think there was a bit before this but this is most of it.

Transcript below cut

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, I think both of our older brothers played together growing up, so I think somewhere along the way we met. But I think I played a tournament in Toronto with the Bulldogs, with Jack, and that was kind of the first time I was like, I think I'm a pretty bad hockey player. But, I mean, the whole family's great.

They love the game, they're so passionate about it, but obviously from any age you knew Jack was going to be something special.

[Amanda]

What was it about the way he played from that young age that you could see that? Because you're not such a bad player yourself, too, you know?

[Cole]

I mean, just the way he skated. He could always handle the puck well, move the puck well, but I think it's just like the skating talent, everybody at that age could kind of move around, but he was like, probably skated the same way he does now, just a little bit slower back then. You know, he's very special, and it's cool to see how far he's come, but for sure always special to watch.

[Amanda]

And I know that you guys speak to each other, you're still really good buddies, right? So tell me what the Hughes brothers are like when they're up at their cottage. I've heard the stories, the boat, the house, all that.

What's it like when you guys get away together, away from this game?

[Cole]

I mean, it's pretty much anything that we can play a game at. I mean, I just moved five minutes away from their place, so it's even worse than it was. I mean, they're just chill guys.

I mean, they like to compete or whatever, but surprisingly really good cooks and guys that take care of themselves. Obviously, it's always fun being on the boat and kind of messing around, but I think at the end of the day, everybody's just looking out for each other and having a good time. But summertime is fun for sure.

[Amanda]

They are very competitive, as I'm sure you are as well. So what brings out the most competitive spirit? Is it pool?

Is it something, you know, water ski- What is it that brings out that summer competitive spirit the most that gets a little heated?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, obviously that pool table's gotten the most use I've ever seen out of something. It's a chalkboard with so many names about how many wins they have. It's either that, ping pong.

Otherwise, we're on the boat. But some nights can get a little bit more fun than that. But again, everything's just out of fun.

I think we've got a good group of guys over there, and everybody just likes hanging out with each other.

[Amanda]

And what's Luke like away from the arena? I mean, he's got a real competitive drive too, and I've heard that he is the best at pool. He's shaking his head, by the way, for people who can't see.

Cole is shaking his head. Is he actually the best at pool?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, he's tough to beat. I think everybody's chasing him. I mean, I think he's got his own pool stick.

I don't want to confirm that, but I want to say everybody's chasing him down. If you don't know that, he'll probably tell you. No questions asked.

He's also a guy who never stops eating.

[Amanda]

You know his nickname is Rusty, right? Do we know where that originates? I mean, obviously I know it's from Ocean's Eleven and Brad Pitt's character, Rusty, who in every scene he's always snacking on something or whatever, but it's kind of crazy.

[Cole]

I think he's going to fill himself out pretty well moving forward here.

[Amanda]

And then just as friends, what do you enjoy most about competing against them?

[Cole]

I mean, honestly, they're really special at what they do. They love what they do. It's pretty cool to be able to get to train with them and kind of compete against the best, and that's kind of what you want.

So to be around them, golf with them, do whatever, it's definitely good to just stay competitive in the offseason, but also have guys like that you can lean on and talk to throughout the year.

[Amanda]

All right, we'll do this quickly. Out of the three of you, we'll leave Quinn out of this because he's not involved here. So out of the three of you, who is the best wakeboarder?

[Cole]

Jack.

[Amanda]

Who drives the boat the best?

[Cole]

Probably Jack, too. Luke's pretty good, but I think everybody's more comfortable when he's not behind the wheel. Do you have your boating license? Are you able to?

I've driven their boat a couple times, yeah. I've got to get one for myself, but I probably trust myself more than Luke.

[Amanda]

Best baseball player, if you play?

[Cole]

Me, 100%.

[Amanda]

You?

[Cole]

Yeah, we used to play in high school. I know they all played growing up, but for sure me. We'll have to settle that this summer in a batting cage or something.

[Amanda]

Do you guys play basketball at all together?

[Cole]

Oh, yeah, we used to play two-on-two, one-on-one. If a guy gets out of hand, I think me and Alex Turcotte won a two-v-two this summer. We beat Luke, which is surprising.

Getting him down low, it's tough to defend, but you can get him moving on the outside. You can't keep up. He for sure got his fair share of points on me down low, which is not fun.

[Amanda]

Two-on-two, who is Luke? Is it Luke and Jack? Is it Luke and Quinn?

[Cole]

I don't know who he was with. I mean, we have a huge group, like Larkin, Norris. Glendening, too.

We had a bunch of guys that were just like dogs in a paint. It was crazy. Me and Turcs won, and I was like, there's no way we just did that.

We needed to be on the shelf for two weeks afterwards. That was probably the most sweat I've ever had today, for sure.

[Amanda]

Lastly, Ellen has told me this story, how when they were growing up, that Ellen and Jim used to tell Quinn and Jack, please just try and pass the puck to Luke once in a while. Let the guy do it once in a while. I know you're laughing there.

What does that tell you about these brothers, that family? Does that not check out when it comes to Luke and the boys?

[Cole]

Yeah, I mean, obviously, being the younger brother, I'm a younger brother, too. That's just how it is. But now I think everybody's old enough that it's kind of getting out of the question a little bit.

But he for sure is always the last one for stuff. I feel like I always hear Ellen kind of tell him, just get Luke in on something. Get Luke involved a little bit more.

But Luke's great, a really good human being, to be honest with you. Definitely needs a little bit more respect, I think. And I'll give it to him this summer, for sure.

But I think he's being able to move into the house this year. Now that he's played a couple more games, so that's huge.

[Amanda]

Thanks, Cole. Really appreciate it.

[greentrickster]

@kactusnz #nice easter egg #naming her Gytha #gytha OGG she might become

I'm not sure if the Nanny Ogg thing actually counts as an Easter Egg or not - I did get the name from her, yes (as a couple of you have spotted now), because I wanted a character who shared certain character notes as her (and thus used nanny as a starting point) and also a period-sounding name, but I actually WENT with it because of what 'Gytha' means.

Which, depending on which website you ask, is either 'gift,' 'warlike,' or 'beautiful/beloved.'

And that described the sort of woman I wanted her to be perfectly.

Her being the one to accidentally encounter Adam in the kitchen is a gift. She does not sit back and accept circumstances she finds improper or lacking, and is undaunted by challenging circumstance; though it's in a manner befitting a woman of her class and era, she is very much a fighter at heart. And she is meant to love, and to be loved in turn.

Though, I must be very clear, she is not a physically beautiful woman. At least, not the sort of beauty you could capture in a photograph. Rather, Gytha is the sort who must be painted to be beautiful. So that you may see her through the painter's eyes, and in this way understand that she is beautiful, not because of her features, but because she is loved, for to be loved is to be beautiful.

This is a truth she is still trying to teach Adam, but it's not an easy task.

That's okay, though.

She is Gytha, and her gift is that, no matter the opposition, she loves.

Frankenstein AU where the Creature, upon returning to seek terrible vengeance on Victor after realizing the tragic existence he's been forced into, takes a few days extra to actually, you know, observe Victor and see what he's like, to learn how best to enact his revenge. And he comes to the conclusion that, "Actually, I don't need to do anything, this idiot's going to ruin his own life without any outside interference, and I kinda wanna see how he does it."

Victor then proceeds to continue with his previously demonstrated levels of making good life choices, while now also constantly looking over his shoulder for his Creation and having the vapors at every little thing because oh noes, it's The Monster come back to Get Him-!!!

The Creature: (watching all this unfold through binoculars like it's a soap opera while sneaking in to help himself to Victor's larder and library when he feels like it, and also occasionally hiding small but vital objects, like Victor's keys or shaving blade, in weird spots in the house) Wow, it really does take an incredibly smart man to be quite this stupid, doesn't it?

[barblaz-arts]

Hi! :) Back when viv was still developing hazbin and making speed draws, she would often draw art of vaggie with these unique eyes surrounding and staring at her, and the art would display vaggie feeling annoyed or uneasy. I find it still very interesting and was wondering if these were eyes that represented all the demons she killed and her guilt? or had to do with something else entirely. We’re still not completely sure if these are still present in current hazbin rn but I was curious on what your take, theories and over all thoughts are on it! Love your comics and AUs on Chaggie sm and can’t wait to see more!

Oh yeah that! I always did find that pretty neat when it came to her earlier arts. Even more interesting, is that this concept was carried over even in one of her trading cards.

I think the eyes are meant to represent a lot of things tbh, especially since eyes in the show had been associated with both Heaven and Hell.

Let's look at Hell's side first.

Your interpretation about the eyes being the demons she killed I think is one of the things it's supposed to mean. I don't know the source, so I dont consider this info canon, but I found out somewhere that the eyes that can be seen all over Hell is supposed to be what remains of the demons the Exorcists have killed. Like being cleansed by angelic steel can't completely erase them but simply make them part of Hell, if no longer sentient.

I have my doubts though, because in the intro backstory, the eyes seem to have already been in Hell before the Exterminations began.

And in the intro, the eyes showed up specifically after Charlie talked about Sin worming its way to humanity because of what Lilith and Lucifer convinced Eve to do. If this timing is in any way relevant, the eyes could be related to Roo aka The Root of Evil instead.

I'm not sure if other characters were drawn with these disembodied eyes as much as Vaggie has been. But at the very least, I think Vaggie's the one drawn the most often with them.

Anyways, considering all this, the more obvious and plausible answer could be that the eyes was just Vivzie's way of foreshadowing her guilt over Exterminating demons. But if Vaggie can be allowed to be more involved with the biggest bad of the show in a more direct way than just her close proximity with the main protag, then maybe it's even meant to foreshadow even more than we already know. I don't have a lot of hope for this tbh. It's not like Vaggie was a very important angel. Exorcists gave me the impression that they could be pretty low in Heaven's hierarchy. So like, idk why this could foreshadow a connection with Roo, but it is a super interesting thought to entertain lol

Now on Heaven's side though, the eyes could also just be for a touch of tragic irony I guess. Angels in the old testament looked a lot closer to this...

... Lotsa eyes and shit. And that's why the seraphs like Lucifer, Sera, and Emily could manifest multiple extra eyes in their "true forms".

But Vaggie was stripped away of everything that physically made her an angel. Lute took away her wings, halo, and even one of her goddamned eyes. Ain't it ironic that she has only one eye when the most powerful angels have been shown with a whole dang lot? Seems to me like it was another cruel way of Lute's to show that Vaggie "has no place in Heaven". And the eyes haunting Vaggie could be a manifestation of her thoughts of it being true.

So to tie this all together(except for the Roo thing), you're right. It could be the guilt over what she did to Hell's denizens. But it could also be an ironic, symbolic reminder that she was an exile of Heaven.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

okay sebastian reacting to mc learing gaelic for him. we know that he probably speaks it due to his parents and being Scottish i just imagine him reacting like that guy when his girlfriend

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAZlsjsy2mG/?igsh=MWp5NXo5OGJ6Z255cg==

Mo Chridhe | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Ancestry says I'm 0% Scottish but I did my best BAHAH

Words: ~1,700

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Established Relationship, Fluff, Very Fluffy

The soft rustle of leaves and the gentle hum of bees buzzing around the early blooms filled the courtyard, mingling with the distant chatter of students enjoying the newfound spring weather. You sat cross-legged on the cool stone bench, your Charms textbook open in your lap and a half-finished essay balancing precariously on your knee. The warm sunlight felt good against your skin, a welcome change after the long, dreary winter.

Sebastian, on the other hand, wasn’t paying any attention to his homework.

He lounged beside you, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench as if the very idea of studying offended him. His open Transfiguration book sat abandoned on the ground, pages fluttering slightly in the breeze. Instead of working, he was leaning in close, prodding at your quill with his finger like a bored cat trying to get a reaction.

“Come on,” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, teasing lilt. “How many hours are you planning to spend on that essay? You’ve written enough to fill three scrolls already.”

“Two scrolls,” you corrected without looking up, deftly shifting your quill out of his reach. “And unlike you, I actually plan to finish my assignments before midnight.”

Sebastian let out a dramatic sigh and tilted his head back to squint at the sun, the soft curls of his hair catching the light. “The best ideas come to me under pressure.” He grinned, his gaze shifting to you. “Or haven’t you noticed?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “The only thing I’ve noticed is that you’re terrible at staying on task.”

“I’m excellent at staying on task,” he shot back, straightening up slightly. “And my current task is making sure you don’t spend the whole afternoon scribbling away when you could be enjoying this beautiful weather.”

You glanced up at him then, raising a skeptical brow. "Enjoying the beautiful weather, or entertaining you?"

“Both, obviously,” he said, flashing you that signature smirk—the one he knew was impossible to ignore.

You groaned and went back to your essay, refusing to let him distract you any further. But he didn’t seem to take the hint. Instead, he shifted closer, resting his chin on your shoulder with absolutely no regard for personal space, his woodsy scent wrapping around you like a blanket.

“What’s this one about, then?” he asked, his breath warm against your ear. “Another thrilling analysis of wand movements?"

You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “It’s on advanced offensive charms,” you said. “And if you don’t let me focus, I will hex you with one.”

Sebastian chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your shoulder. “Advanced offensive charms? Why bother writing essays about them when I could just give you a live demonstration.” He lifted his wand and gave it a dramatic twirl, the tip sparking faintly.

You reached out, swiftly catching his wrist before he could attempt anything. "I've had enough detention his month because of your antics, thank you very much."

Sebastian made a show of pouting, his wand still poised in his hand. "Detention builds character, love. Besides, you can’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our last one—scrubbing those cauldrons gave us plenty of quality time together.”

You raised a brow at him, your lips quirking into a sly smile. "Oh, yes, nothing screams 'quality time' like scrubbing years of potion residue out of the bottom of old cauldrons. Truly romantic."

Sebastian grinned, his chin still resting comfortably on your shoulder. "You’re saying that now, but I distinctly remember you cornering me in the—"

"Alright, alright!" You cut him off, heat rising to your cheeks as you waved your quill at him in warning. "No need to revisit that memory in public, thank you!"

Sebastian’s grin only widened, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the matter? Embarrassed?” he teased, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I’m pretty sure you were the one who—”

“Sebastian,” you interrupted again, trying to keep your voice steady as you pointedly avoided his gaze.

Sebastian's grin turned wolfish as he tugged on your tie, pulling your face closer to his. His eyes sparkled with mischief, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always made your stomach flip. "You know, you’re adorable when you’re flustered," he murmured, his breath brushing against your skin.

You swallowed hard, your heart thundering in your chest. Usually, when he got like this—bold, unrelenting, and utterly incorrigible—you'd be left scrambling for a retort, something, anything, to wipe that smirk off his face. But not today.

Today, you were prepared.

Ever since you'd overheard Sebastian mention, offhandedly, how his parents used to speak Gaelic when he was young, you’d been secretly learning the language. He’d spoken of it with an odd mix of nostalgia and melancholy, lamenting how rare it was to hear it anymore. That wistfulness had stayed with you, and you’d spent countless late nights practicing phrases in secret, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him.

And now, with him leaning so close you could feel the warmth radiating off him, you seized your opportunity.

You smiled sweetly, letting your fingers curl around the hand still gripping your tie. Then, in a voice as calm and steady as you could manage, you said, “Sguir dheth.”

Sebastian froze, his grip on your tie going slack as his eyes went wide. For a moment, he just blinked at you, completely thrown off. It was rare to see him so utterly speechless, and you relished every second of it.

“What did you just say?” he finally asked, his voice an octave higher than usual.

You tilted your head innocently, your lips curving into a sly smile. “What’s the matter? Don’t recognize your own roots?”

He gawked at you, his expression cycling rapidly between shock, amazement, and something that looked like pride. “You—you’re speaking Gaelic?” he sputtered, his voice rising. Then, before you could respond, he sprang up from the bench, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You’re speaking Gaelic! You learned Gaelic!”

You leaned back, raising a brow at his sudden burst of energy. “A little bit.”

“For me?” he demanded, his grin splitting so wide it could’ve rivaled the Cheshire Cat’s. He dragged a hand through his hair, looking equal parts stunned and giddy. “I don’t believe it. You—you actually learned Gaelic. Do you have any idea how bloody amazing that is?”

You laughed, caught off guard by his sheer enthusiasm. “It’s not that big of a deal, Sebastian—”

“Not that big of a deal?” he interrupted, throwing his hands in the air as if you’d just said the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. “Are you mad? No one speaks it anymore! I don’t even speak it anymore! And you—Merlin, you—you just casually drop it on me like it’s nothing?!”

He sat back down beside you with a thud, his excitement undiminished. He leaned in close, his hands gripping your shoulders now as if to steady himself. “Say something else,” he demanded, his eyes alight with curiosity and joy. “Come on, anything!”

You couldn’t help but laugh again, his boyish excitement infectious. “Tha thu nad amadán mòr,” you said, your tone teasing.

Sebastian’s jaw dropped, and then he burst into a loud, delighted laugh, throwing his head back as he practically doubled over. “You just called me an idiot!” he said, between wheezing laughs. “Unbelievable. You go through all the trouble of learning my ancestral language, and the first thing you do is insult me.”

“Seemed appropriate,” you said with a shrug, biting back a grin. “You make it so easy.”

Sebastian shook his head, still laughing as he pulled you into his chest. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or offended,” he said, still grinning.

“Just be flattered,” you said, your voice softer now. “You seemed so nostalgic when you mentioned it, and I thought… I don’t know. Maybe it would make you happy.”

He pulled back then, his teasing demeanor softening as his gaze searched yours. “Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You—you didn’t have to do this. Gaelic, Merlin. I’m never going to shut up about this.”

You searched his face, your breath hitching as your eyes caught the faint shimmer of unshed tears pooling in his. It was barely there—so subtle you might have missed it if you hadn’t been looking—but it struck you like a bolt. Sebastian’s usually self-assured confidence had softened, leaving behind something raw, unguarded, and achingly sincere.

Gently, you reached up, letting your fingers graze his cheek in a tender, grounding touch. “Of course I’d do this for you,” you murmured. “I’d do anything for you, mo chridhe.”

At that, a tear slipped free, trailing down Sebastian's cheek, though he didn’t seem to care. Instead, he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “Merlin's beard,” he murmured, his voice muffled but filled with warmth. “How am I ever supposed to top this?”

You laughed softly, your arms winding around him in return as you rested your chin on his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. You always do.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his grin returning through the lingering emotion. “Oh, I will,” he promised, his tone lighter now but no less genuine. “But first, I’m going to spend the rest of the day telling everyone who’ll listen that you learned Gaelic for me. Everyone.”

“Sebastian, no—”

“Oh, absolutely yes,” he said, his grin turning wicked. “And you’ll just have to live with it, mo chridhe.”

You groaned, but the fondness in your expression betrayed you. “Fine. But don’t expect me to bail you out when Ominis gets annoyed.”

“Worth it,” he said, pulling you close again and pressing his forehead against yours. “Completely worth it.”

[reingkings]

Gi-hun can’t hold grudges, and what that means for Inhun/457.

I was thinking of this the other day. I myself don’t consider myself to be the type of person who holds grudges, but looking at Gi-hun I feel like he puts me to shame.

Disclaimer: I don’t hate the following characters this is just an analysis.

Example A: Sae-byeok. We all love her in the fandom, but if you think about it– Gi-hun only knew her a couple of days. The first time they met, she stole from him causing him a lot of trouble. When they met again, she didn’t even apologize and was generally rude. And yet, Gi-him was willing to put his life on the line to defend her from 101. And then, he was willing to fight Sang-woo for her. He goes on to take care of her brother for her.

Example B: Speaking of Sang-woo, he betrayed Gi-hun pretty early on during dalgona. I think to some extent Gi-hun knew this but he still let it go. He only got angry when Sang-woo pushed the other player during the bridge game, then with Sae-byeok. And yet, even in the end when Sang-woo tried to kill him (and stabbed him through the hand) and he needed the money for his mother’s treatment. But he was willing to leave the money so they could both leave alive.

Example C: The loan shark. Dude literally beat him up, humiliated him, and made him sign an agreement to sell his organs. And yet, in season 2, Gi-huh is willing to team up with them and pay them to help find the Salesman.

Example D: Jung-bae. Jung-bae is definitely another favorite, and I think we definitely have a bias towards him, but objectively he was not the greatest friend. For one, he was the one who introduced Gi-hun to horse racing, precipitating Gi-hub’s money troubles. When Gi-hun needed his help, he also didn’t lend Gi-hun money for his mother’s treatment (I don’t think he necessarily was to blame for her death, but it is a huge disappointment). They fell out of contact and reunited in the game, where he betrayed Gi-hun again by voting O. This is particularly cold-hearted when you think about the fact that the money pool would only only climb if more players die the next game. That’s what the O’s bank on. Yet, Gi-hun was never able to stay angry, and trusted him to the very end.

It kind of shows that Gi-hun can’t really distinguish from good or bad, and he is uniquely soft-hearted. If someone kicked while he was down, he would probably apologize.

To someone like In-ho, who pretty much seems to be the opposite of Gi-hun in every possible way, I think this kind of attitude makes him angry. But I think at the same time it’s what causes his obsession. In a self-indulgent evil world with bored rich people, organ traffickers, and cannibals (probably) — a person like Gi-hun is an impossibility.

Therefore, in order to satisfy his curiosity, In-ho has to test the boundaries of Gi-hun’s humanity. He’s willing to indulge Gi-hun without letting him escape. (For example, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the Salesman was at the airport when Gi-hun was ready to leave for America. This has In-ho written all over it). He lets Gi-hun join the games, but he won’t let him keep the tracker. He lets the players vote each round, but ensures the X’s are never the majority. He lets Gi-hun stage a rebellion, but won’t let him succeed.

And yet, In-ho would rather let Gi-hun think he died than reveal to Gi-hun that he is the Frontman – arguably something that would hurt him even more.

Is this subconsciously a way out that he’s leaving himself? He knows Gi-hun could forgive him being a coward, because Gi-hun is capable of forgiving anything.

Or is it something worse. I think if you meet someone that can forgive anything, then the most special existence that person — isn’t it the one person they are capable of hating?

[ichabodcranemills]

Obviously the difference between every single innie and outie is fantastic, but because Helly is my favourite character, she’s the one I’m fixated on, and I’m completely fascinated by it.

Helena’s voice is so much softer and polished than Helly’s—and I love Helly’s voice, it’s deep-ish and relaxed, then Helena’s is perfect corporate-cadence boss-lady— and she walks with so much confidence and she’s so competent and in control, BUT.

Helena is also TERRIFIED.

And you see it quite subtly in her eyes and slumped shoulders (and more obviously in the elevator scene). She’s afraid of her father, of jeopardizing her company and of Helly. She is terrified of Helly, but she goes back to the severed floor because she is more afraid of being a disappointment than of another suicide attempt and that fucks me up.

And Helly isn’t afraid! She’s angry and she hates everything—and I think they’ll do something to her that’ll frighten her for real in the future—but where Helena has that very rehearsed confidence of a rich executive, Helly is actually confident in the things she wants, fearlessly. And that’s inside of Helena!! It’s innate to Helena as well, but living under the shadow of her father and Lumon has chipped that away. And like… I wonder if Helena will see this. She hates Helly, for sure, but I think it’s pretty obvious she envies her as well, and what I hope for is that she realises she could have some of that back.

[mulderscully]

i've seen people talking about how drastic the change between cooper and audrey's relationship in s2 is and realize people don't know the lore.

regardless of how you feel about their relationship, the intention that the writers had in s2 was for cooper to fall in love with audrey. eventually this was going to lead to an affair. they have said this multiple times. aside from who killed laura palmer, their most popular storyline was cooper/audrey and when abc pressured lynch and frost to reveal the killer early (which lead to the show's cancellation) they planned to lean on anticipation of the storyline to get them viewership. mark frost has said that they planned on five seasons for twin peaks.

in 1990 kyle maclachlan was dating lara flynn boyle who plays donna hayward, lara became upset that kyle had so much chemistry with sherilyn fenn (who was 25 in real life) so their entire relationship is axed. not only any romantic scenes, but ALL their scenes. after 2x12 kyle and sherilyn never share any direct scenes together. kyle did share that he felt cooper would not have a relationship with 18 year old audrey which i agree with but then they come in and essentially recast heather graham to play a 20 NUN, barely older than audrey herself, to be his love interest in audrey's place. everything that happened with annie at the end of s2 is a placeholder for audrey. and i'm certain it's why we do not see annie in the return but come to find that audrey has been in a somewhat similar situation to cooper for 25 years. it's fascinating to say people say they don't ship cooper and audrey because of the age gap - a very valid squick - but still like their relationship and miss it when it's gone. it shows how their dynamic was embedded into the show and it does say something about dale cooper as a character that this was the original storyline.

it shows how much a network like abc cut what david lynch and mark frost were trying to say at the knees and how cutting off two strong storylines bc of behind the scenes stuff and what execs think audiences want really harms a show as popular as twin peaks can be it's demise. if they hadn't pressured david lynch to reveal the killer early, then they could have carried that on to at least season 3 and do the timejump they planned and who knows how differently we would remember twin peaks now.

[edwardteachswombtattoo]

The interior of Ed and Stede's relationship is well-tread both in analysis and the show itself. We know why they fall for each other, how they fall for each other, when they fall for each other. We've been inside their heads. We could, if we wanted to, probably compile a rough timeline of events from Point A (Ed hearing of Stede's existence) to Point Z (Ed and Stede retiring from piracy to open an inn). Has anyone done that? Someone should do that. I might do that.

But a thread the show keeps pulling on from their first meeting all the way to the end of Season 2 is the persistent showing that no one else seems to fully understand what Ed and Stede have going on.

There are exceptions to this. Lucius with his emotional intelligence and arguably the whole crew of The Revenge understand that Ed and Stede feel something for each other that is somewhat outside the framework. The Revenge is a safe space where they are allowed to explore and hold feelings like that and their influence (Stede's, but really the whole crew's) outgrows the ship and spills out into the wider culture of piracy. They don't fundamentally change the whole culture of piracy, but their influence forces characters who would otherwise be immovable and rigid in their personal philosophies (Anne and Mary Read, Zheng Yi Sao, Auntie, Ned Low's crew, etc.) to rethink their relationships with each other.

I already made a post about Jack and how he seems to think Stede is just a passing fascination, so I won't repeat myself. But this is not the first nor will it be the last time a character fundamentally misunderstands how much Ed cares about Stede. Izzy in Season 1 legitimately believes that Stede's death will force Ed back to normal, to the extent that he does not even try to comfort or console Ed during Stede's almost-execution. And he is caught totally caught off guard when Ed gives up his life to save Stede's.

Ned Low demonstrates an awareness of something being there, but he dismisses it the same way Jack did: Ed only cares about Stede because he's new and interesting. Ed will move on once that shiny new pirate smell wears off. "Ed only cares because you're interesting" and "Ed only cares because you're inexperienced".

These are easy assumptions to make when you only have one half of the picture. And when you don't understand that Ed exists as a multi-faceted whole thinking person outside of his Blackbeard persona and piracy. The distinction between "Blackbeard" and "Ed" was made very early on (Ed introducing himself as "Ed") and reinforced later with "His name is Ed". When other characters refer to Ed, it's useful to ask: are they talking about Ed or Blackbeard? Ed and Blackbeard are not fundamentally distinct personalities, but Blackbeard is a performance and a mask Ed puts on. His arc at the end of Season 2 deals with reconciling his past, Blackbeard, The Kraken, and all these other facets of himself into one cohesive person who is just called Ed.

Yeah, Ed is fascinated by Stede's things. His fabrics, his wardrobe, the model ship, the secret passages, the books. But even from their first meeting, Ed and Stede are not just connecting over Stede's clothes and his books. Ed is sharing his love of soft things with someone for probably the first time in his life, he's being vulnerable and truthful. He remains guarded through their first interactions, but he's being more open and candid than Blackbeard would be. "Do you fancy a fine fabric?" is not a question Blackbeard would answer honestly. And when Ed casually makes the reveal ("I'm Blackbeard") in the auxiliary wardrobe, Stede does not treat him any differently after the fact. Everyone else is like "big scary pirate Blackbeard!!" but Stede is like "That's Ed :) He's my friend :) He's very cool and he likes fabrics and did I mention he is my friend?? :)"

Ned Low, Izzy Hands, and Jack all ask the question Why does Blackbeard care so much about this fucking muppet? and collectively decide it must be because Stede clearly does not know what he's doing and/or he has a lot of cool stuff and Ed is into that shit. And there is a part of Ed who probably did at one point think it was just Stede's stuff he was into, that he just wanted what Stede had and then realized it was not about the fancy stuff it was about Stede as a person. That is why Ed starts to really fall for Stede at the end of "The Best Revenge is Dressing Well". They have their intimate moment and Ed is like oh fuck I might be in love with this guy for real oh fuccccck I want to kiss him so baddddd oh shit oh fuck. I've always been of the (maybe controversial? idk) opinion that Ed was flirting during their first meeting and making it obvious as possible he was DTF if Stede was into that, which is the maximum amount of physical intimacy and wanting Ed could allow himself to express without getting scared. He wasn't full bright lights in love with Stede at first sight, but he was infatuated at first conversation.

Interestingly, we never see this on the other side. It is always assumed that Stede just doesn't understand Ed, that he doesn't understand how Ed really feels about him and if he only knew The Real Ed (Blackbeard) he wouldn't have so many soft feelings. In Season 2, Stede is continuously confused when people suggest Ed might try to kill him. Because Stede alone knows that the last time Ed tried that, he ended up having a panic attack and hiding in Stede's bathtub. Izzy tries to pull the whole "you don't know him like I do" and Stede rebukes that fucking instantly by describing Ed's entire mindset in a single sentence while Izzy was just last season struggling to understand Ed's sudden shift in behavior. Izzy sees a change in Ed's behavior and is at a loss to understand, while Stede sees a change in Ed's behavior and instantly clocks what is going on.

"You don't actually know him" is how outsiders rationalize Stede's feelings about Ed and "he's just a momentary bit of fun" is how outsiders rationalize Ed's feelings for Stede.

The key to these intimate moments between Ed and Stede is that they really are between Ed and Stede. Ed never shares these memories with anyone. Even when he's talking with Mary Read in "Fun and Games", he brings up the stabbing because it's relevant and then tries to brush it off a little by saying he had to force Stede to do it and calling Stede "fragile". He does not even allude to the intimacy of that moment and his own being vulnerable. Stede and Lucius are the only people Ed reveals those parts of himself to.

[redhoodfucker69]

Honestly people like to compare her to True Mandalorians quite a bit but... Honestly? I used to be team True Mandalorian. But nowadays... Satine's stance does make more sense.

Yes, True Mandalorians struck what was as close to a balance could be between the old ways and the way war was worshipped without being an actual empire. They had morals. They had rules. But, at the end of the day, they were highly effective mercenaries. They were effectively stateless, wandering vagabonds, relying entirely on their pay from acting as mercenaries to sustain themselves. That can be very sustainable... but not for a whole people. It's simply not the same. Were they terrorists? No. But they weren't exactly the moral authority, either. If you meet a white American that actively worked as a military contracted mercenary in Iraq or something, you're not going to think he's a good person. No, you're gonna think he was an actual psycho, even more than a regular Iraq War veteran. Mercenaries are not good people.

Were they better than the terrorists with grand plans of galactic domination? Yes, absolutely. There was always gonna be a need for mercenaries in the galaxy, and if they didn't do it, someone else would. Flat out. It's less overarching grand evil, but it is still very much every day evil you accept as normal.

Even with Galidraan, yeah, they were framed, but the governor was very much stylized as corrupt, and the insurgents they were there to fight were very much stylized as legitimate freedom fighters fed up with their government. They were never meant to be woobified and defanged by fandom. They were not supposed to be the good guys. But, they were.

Listen. I love the True Mandalorians, as they are. Not the popular fandom depiction of them. I think they're complex and fun. But... The idea that Jaster Mereel should have taken over Mandalore is... mm. Well. Could he actually have done it? Would it have gone well? Why do you want the commander of a private mercenary army to be Mand'alor? Yes, Jaster very much had popular support without even the darksaber. That does not mean he was in any equipped to lead and manage a complex government system. Satine was. Talk shit about politicians all you want, but the fact remains that it is a career that requires training and intimate understanding that the sewer system needs to be maintained and trash needs to be collected in a timely fashion and schools need to be funded and parks need to be built and agriculture needs to be developed and trade needs to be negotiated and EVERYONE needs to be happy within reason, not just the people that agree with you. It needs the knowledge of putting qualified people in the appropriate positions. You think Jaster could have managed all of that? While being a warlord and effectively spiritual leader of his people? Be so for real. Different people are good at different things. Different positions in life require different education.

There was a reason Satine was chosen, and to say it was just because the True Mandalorians were wiped out does her a disservice, and frankly, does them a disservice, too. Enjoying characters doesn't necessarily take more than surface level understanding. But you should still take the time to read into it and come to love the flaws evident in their characters and appreciate them for making them that more complex and alive. And the True Mandalorians had flaws.

Frankly, I would love a story where the True Mandalorians survived and Jango had to go up against his toughest opponent yet after taking care of Death Watch: a woman that knows what the hell she's talking about, and more than him, and he CAN'T solve the situation with a blaster this time.

Why do you think Satine (a pacifist who encourages diplomacy) did not try talking to them? @soliloquy-of-nemo

In “The Academy” Satine has wants the kids taught that “It’s every citizen’s duty to challenge their leaders, to keep them honest, and hold them accountable if they’re not.”

In “Voyage of Temptation” Satine tells Obi-Wan that “Even extremists can be reasoned with.” If she doesn’t consider Death Watch extremists, I don’t know who would qualify. This suggests she still has hope for a peaceful outcome with them.

In “Duchess of Mandalore” we learn that Death Watch cannot take over Mandalore without the “will of the people” which is part of the many pieces of evidence that Satine’s pacifist rule is favoured by the majority of Mandalorians. We also get “They are not powerful enough to destabilize our government. We will resolve this without conflict.” and “The Mandalorian government holds no secrets from its people.” Does any of this sound like a dictator who refuses to seek a peaceful mediation with her enemies?

I mention that Satine’s pacifist rule is favoured because in that episode she also tellingly states that “You would trample our right to self-determination.” about a Republic occupation. We don’t know if Mandalore is a democracy (I have trouble picturing them at the voting booth, but who knows) but what Satine represents is an attempt to decentralize power (she has a Prime Minister, a Council, does not call herself Mand'alor which seems to be an old-fashioned power grab move of ultimate rule when others do it.) Satine is a strong leader with a clear vision, but she doesn’t wish to rule with an iron fist: she wants Mandalore to develop naturally into a people who choose non-violence. This is why we see her care so much about education of the youth, and that those youth be taught that it’s morally correct to hold your government accountable and fight corruption everywhere it appears.

In “The Lawless” it’s clear Bo Katan and Satine haven’t spoken in some time, and we’re told “There was a time when we weren’t enemies.” Are we to assume that even when they were still sisters who spoke, Satine never tried to explain or communicate her ideas to Bo Katan? That they never had debates, never tried to compromise?

And compromise is a tricky word, because to believe that they could have just talked it out, you have to fundamentally fail to understand what Death Watch are fighting for. What compromise do you think they wanted? They believe in ‘might makes right.’ They believe the strongest should rule Mandalore, and that they should return to the glory days of warfare past. To let ol’ Pre tell it:

“We are the Death Watch, descendants of the true warrior faith all Mandalorians once knew. Now my people are living in exile because we will not abandon our heritage. Our people were warriors. Strong. Feared! Now they’re ruled by the New Mandalorians who think that being a pacifist is a good thing. They’ve given away our honor and tradition for peace. Duchess Satine and her corrupt leadership are crushing our souls, destroying our identity. That is our struggle.”

Does this sound like a guy who’s gonna compromise on some things? Say, “Jeez, Satine, I agree we should stop bombing each other but hey can’t we have a little conquest, as a treat?” It’s not like Mandalore was wholly demilitarized. Satine has guards. We see armor and weapons. She believes in a person’s right to defend themselves. What Vizla wants is for them to be active combatants – to be “feared” and to reject peace. They are, frankly, fascists, and saying Satine could have found common ground with them suggests that they have a point, and they don’t. What they want is fundamentally morally corrupt, and it is a credit to Satine that she continued to strive for peaceful resolutions with them in order to not betray her own ideals, but never gave in to their demands.

Also they’re a terrorist group composed of a small minority of the population called Death Watch who are shown to favour assassination, torture, DROID torture (?!), abuse of captives, militarized occupation of civilian populations, bombings, etc., etc. … I’m pretty sure the writers didn’t create them to represent a reasonable opposition, the way they sometimes did with the “heroes on both sides” of the galactic war.

[hoonieyun]

so lovey dovey

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader genre: fluff and romance warnings: consensual skinship, drunk!jake, kissing, kinda suggestive, 18+ inspired by jake's live where he says "when i'm drunk i become lovely & cute" as if he isnt always lovely and cute >_<

hoonieyun notes: some fluff because why nawt.. im slowly amping all of the angst in the up coming fics for february so i'm making up for it now by posting a few fluff and romance drabbles :3

wc: 1037

jake was sprawled across your couch as he takes occassional sips from his glass of beer. it wasn’t often that jake drank but tonight he invited the guys over for game night and that usually entails drinks and a bunch of food. you didn’t mind doing your own thing on the side as you lounged in the comfort of your bedroom, every now and then making an appearance to make sure everyone was good and not fighting for losing or winning or even stealing some of the food for yourself. 

and that’s what you were about to do right now. you had just finished your small bowl of tteokbeokki and it certainly wasn’t enough so you decided to grab some more. you walk out of you and jake’s shared bedroom and find the group of guys arguing over mario kart. 

jungwon claiming that niki cheated, jay not paying attention to the argument because he came in 1st place, and jake who was already staring at your figure standing in the hall.

“hi, baby” he says, drawing out the last part of the petname. 

“hi, jakey. i just want some more food.” you chirp as you approach and he instantly takes your bowl to fill it with more food. “you sure you don’t wanna come join us?” he asks, handing you back your bowl. 

“mmm…” you ponder, looking over to niki and jungwon who are still arguing and sunoo who was having too much fun laughing at the two younger guys bicker. before you could even answer, jake is pulling you into his lap and whispering into your ear, “please, stay.” he says. his breath was low and warm and it sent tickles down your back. you nod in agreement and his smile widens at your response. 

jake loved having you around at all times, even when you two weren’t necessarily doing anything, he just loved having you near him. 

the guys often teased him that he was too whipped or down bad for you and jake would just brush it off. of course he was down bad for you, every man should be down bad for his girlfriend, if he wasn’t then he was doing something wrong. 

you silently eat your food as the games continue, heeseung using his eldest privileges to change the game to which jungwon groaned as he wanted another chance at mario kart. 

you weren’t sure what game they were playing but they all took turns passing the controller around to kill monsters and what not. and when it came to jake’s turn, the guys would groan in annoyance after jake causes them to die and lose the game. 

all of them turned their attention to jake who was too busy staring at you eating your tteokbeokki to pay any mind to the game they were playing. 

“dude, you just let us die!”

“earth to jake?”

“hellooo?”

they all tried to get his attention but he was too immersed in you to notice. eyes sparkling as he watches you fondly and lovingly. a cute habit of his whenever he got drunk or even the slightest bit tipsy. 

he would get very cute and lovely and wouldn’t be able to get you out of his head as if you weren’t always occupying his mind. 

“jakey, the guys are talking to you..” you say, blinking a few times at him and his smile widens when he hears your voice. 

jake doesn’t even glance over to the guys, he just sloppily passes the remote to one of them in which sunghoon catches it and continues the game after jake has caused their character to die. jake had you in his lap, gently rubbing your thighs as he rests his head on your back. humming occassionally whenever you leaned closer into his touch. 

“can you ask them to leave.. i wanna be alone with you.” he whispers into your ear. 

“why can’t you do it..” you whisper back and he explains that if you tell everyone to go home they’ll listen because you’re a girl but if he does it they’ll all just ignore him and want to continue game night. you think about it for a second and he’s absolutely right. so you give him a nod and a small kiss on the forehead to which jake gets flustered and shy over, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he blushes at your actions. 

you decide to stand up and do an exaggerated yawn, “gosh, i’m exhausted, what time is it?” you say, looking over to the clock on the wall and just like that– the guys take the hint and start packing up all of the things. they each help with putting things in the kitchen to throw away or to be washed and soon enough they were all saying their goodbyes and filing out of your shared apartment with jake. 

“finally.. i can have you all to myself.”  jake says, a pout on his lips as he pulls you into a hug. he brings the two of you to your bedroom, not letting go of you once. you try to get out of his grasp but he begins to whine and pout, “relax, jaeyunnie. i’m just turning off the lights.” you say and he jumps up from his spot on the bed, running over to the lightswitch and flicking it off before running back to bed and cuddling up to you. 

he nuzzles his head on your shoulder as the two of you cozy up to one another, placing several kisses on your neck and cheek. “i wanna stay like this forever.” he says. you just love whenever he gets like this, so cute and lovey dovey. his ears and cheeks a shade of red from the alcohol and his need to express how much he loved you and loved being near you. 

“goodnight jakey..” you say, waiting for him to say it back but you’re met with the sound of his snores, causing you to chuckle, pulling your phone out and snapping a photo of how cute he looked while sleeping, ears still red and his face slightly buried in the crook of your neck. 

jake, your cute and lovey dovey boyfriend.

ᡣ•.•𐭩♡ @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @firstclassjaylee @leipforggy

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[andy-15-07]

Hello! Can you make a Paul Mescal story where Y/N is a famous actress and singer, she was dating a friend of Paul's and their breakup wasn't very friendly, so she and Paul didn't get along very well. They're making a movie together (it could be Gladiator II where she's the sister of the emperors) and they're going to be a romantic couple throughout the movie. It's practically an enemies to lovers (an +18…🫦)

Set on Fire

PAIRING:Paul Mescal x reader

WORD COUNT: 2119 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Paul Mescal Masterlist

The roaring heat of the Moroccan desert felt like a furnace, the sun glaring down mercilessly on the film set. Y/N adjusted her tunic, cursing the sweat trickling down her back. It was day four of filming Gladiator II, and things were already tense. Not because of the epic stunts, the heavy costumes, or the sweltering heat—but because of Paul Mescal.

Paul Mescal, the golden boy of the film industry, the one everyone adored, except her.

“Y/N, ready for blocking?” the assistant director called.

She nodded, plastering on her professional face. The cameras were about to roll, and she couldn’t afford to let her personal feelings show.

Paul was leaning against one of the makeshift pillars on set, his leather armor glinting in the sun. He looked every bit the part of a grizzled gladiator, with his tousled hair and piercing eyes. Y/N hated to admit it, but he looked good—too good.

“Try not to trip over your lines this time,” he said, smirking as she walked past.

Her eyes narrowed. “Try not to get winded during the fight scene, old man.”

Paul chuckled, the sound low and infuriatingly attractive. “Touché.”

The tension between them wasn’t just about ego. It went deeper, stemming from her past relationship with James, one of Paul’s close friends. Their breakup had been public, messy, and filled with more drama than she cared to relive. Paul had made it clear whose side he was on, and they hadn’t exactly been cordial since.

“You two have so much chemistry!” the director gushed during a break. “It’s electric! Keep it up!”

If only he knew.

Later, after a grueling scene where their characters confessed their forbidden love, Y/N stormed off the set, fuming. Paul followed her, his boots crunching on the gravel.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded, grabbing her arm.

She wrenched it free. “What are you talking about?”

“You didn’t lean into the kiss.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted me to throw myself at you.”

Paul’s jaw clenched. “It’s called acting, Y/N. Maybe try it sometime.”

“Don’t lecture me about acting, Mescal. You’re not exactly Daniel Day-Lewis.”

Paul stepped closer, his voice dropping. “You know what your problem is? You can’t separate real life from the script. That kiss—it’s not about you and me. It’s about the characters.”

Her heart pounded as he loomed over her, his blue eyes blazing. “Maybe you should stop pretending you’re above it all, Paul. You’re just as involved in this as I am.”

Their animosity hit its peak during a late-night rehearsal. Alone in the empty studio, they ran lines for a heated argument scene.

“You think you’re better than me?” her character shouted.

“I don’t think it—I know it,” Paul shot back, his voice dripping with disdain.

The energy between them was raw, almost too real. As the argument escalated, their voices echoed in the cavernous space.

Suddenly, Paul grabbed her by the shoulders, pulling her close. “Do you hate me, Y/N? Or is it something else?”

Her breath hitched, her scripted lines forgotten. “What are you doing?”

He smirked, his voice a whisper. “Getting into character.”

Before she could respond, he kissed her. It wasn’t gentle or rehearsed—it was fiery, filled with the frustration and tension that had been building between them for weeks.

When they pulled apart, both were breathless.

“That wasn’t in the script,” she muttered.

Paul grinned. “Improvisation.”

The air in the empty studio was thick with the aftermath of their kiss. Y/N stared at him, her breath catching in her throat. Paul, his eyes still dark and intense, reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face.

"I... I don't know what that was," she stammered, her voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Me neither."

He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. "But I want to know more."

Y/N felt a shiver crawl down her spine. She closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment. He tasted of whiskey and regret, but also of something raw and undeniable. He tasted of hope.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze searching hers. "Come to my room later," he whispered, his voice husky. "I want to see you again."

Y/N nodded, unable to speak.

Later that night, she found herself standing outside his hotel room door, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She took a deep breath, then knocked softly.

The door swung open, revealing Paul in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, his hair tousled. He smiled, a slow, seductive smile that sent a jolt of excitement through her.

"Come in," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the city lights outside. He pulled her inside and closed the door behind him.

"You came," he said, his voice a low murmur.

She nodded, unable to speak.

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. "You're beautiful," he whispered, his gaze sweeping over her.

Y/N felt a flutter of nerves, a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She smiled, a shy, uncertain smile. "You're not so bad yourself."

He moved towards her, his steps slow and deliberate. He knelt in front of her, his eyes locked with hers. "Let me show you how beautiful you are."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, then moving down her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Y/N closed her eyes, surrendering to the moment.

He leaned in, his breath warm against her lips. She parted her lips, and he tasted her, a slow, tentative exploration that quickly turned into a passionate kiss. His hands moved to her waist, pulling her closer, and the kiss deepened, their tongues dueling for dominance.

Y/N broke the kiss, panting slightly. "Paul..."

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense. "Let me," he whispered, his voice a low growl.

He began to unbutton her shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly with the unfamiliar buttons. Y/N giggled, helping him. He finally managed to free her from the confines of the fabric, revealing the delicate lace of her bra.

He traced the lace with his fingers, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "You're breathtaking," he murmured, his gaze lingering on the swell of her breasts.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing against her skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her. He gently cupped her breast in his hand, his thumb circling her nipple, eliciting a soft moan from her lips.

Y/N reached down, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against her palm. She moved lower, her hands exploring his broad shoulders, his toned abdomen, finally resting on the waistband of his jeans.

He watched her movements, his breath catching in his throat. He reached down and unbuttoned his jeans, his fingers fumbling with the clasp.

Y/N, emboldened, took over, her fingers deftly undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans. She slid them down, revealing him in all his glory. He was even more impressive than she had imagined, long and thick, throbbing with anticipation.

She reached out, her fingers tracing the length of him, feeling the warmth of his skin. He gasped, his eyes widening.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

She leaned down, her lips brushing against the sensitive head of his penis, eliciting a low groan from him. She circled him with her tongue, tasting him, exploring him.

He gripped the sheets, his body trembling with anticipation. She moved lower, taking him deeper into her mouth, savoring the taste of him, the feel of him filling her mouth.

He arched his back, his head thrown back, a series of low moans escaping his lips. He reached down, his hands gripping her hair, pulling her closer.

Y/N continued to pleasure him, her movements slow and deliberate at first, then increasing in speed and intensity. He felt a wave of pleasure wash over him, his body trembling with the force of it.

He cried out, his hands tightening on her hair, his body arching off the bed. He felt a release, a surge of pleasure that left him weak and breathless.

He collapsed on top of her, his chest heaving, his heart pounding. Y/N held him close, stroking his hair.

"That was..." she began, her voice husky.

"Incredible," he finished for her, his voice a low growl.

He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. "I want more."

Y/N smiled, a lazy, contented smile. "I think I do too."

He rolled off her, his eyes still filled with a lingering afterglow. He reached for her, pulling her close. "Come here," he whispered.

She moved beneath him, her body fitting perfectly against his. He lowered himself onto her, the initial touch tentative, then deepening with a groan.

Y/N arched into him, her nails digging into his shoulders. The sheets rustled, the air thick with the scent of their arousal.

He moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hands exploring her body, eliciting soft moans from her lips. He found the sweet spot on her neck, nipping and sucking at her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake.

Y/N reached down, her fingers finding the sensitive skin beneath his waistband, circling him gently. He gasped, his grip tightening on her hips.

"Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "You're incredible."

She leaned up, kissing him deeply, her tongue tangling with his. He responded with a ferocity that matched her own, his hands moving lower, exploring the hidden depths of her body.

Y/N felt a shiver crawl down her spine as his fingers found the most intimate parts of her. She arched into him, her body trembling, a low moan escaping her lips. Paul's eyes, dark and intense, met hers, and she saw the raw desire mirrored in their depths.

He moved inside her, slow and deliberate at first, then with increasing urgency. Y/N cried out, her body arching against him, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. She felt him inside her, every muscle tightening, every nerve igniting.

The world seemed to fade away, replaced by the sensation of his body moving within her. It was a primal, overwhelming experience, a release of all the pent-up tension and unspoken desires.

Paul followed soon after, his body trembling above hers as he erupted inside her. They lay spent, their bodies slick with sweat, their breaths ragged. Paul held her close, burying his face in her hair.

"That was..." she began, her voice husky.

"Incredible," he finished for her, his voice a low growl.

He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. "I want more."

Y/N smiled, a lazy, contented smile. "I think I do too."

And as their bodies began to stir again, they knew this was just the beginning of a passionate, unforgettable affair. This time, it wasn't just about physical pleasure; it was about emotional connection, about exploring the depths of their intimacy and discovering the true meaning of passion.

They continued to make love throughout the night, their bodies moving in a rhythmic dance, their passion building to fever pitch. They explored each other's bodies, their hands and mouths a whirlwind of sensations.

In the morning, they woke to the gentle rays of the rising sun, still entwined in each other's arms. They lay in comfortable silence, the aftermath of their passion a warm, comforting glow.

Paul leaned down, his lips brushing against her hair. "Good morning," he whispered, his voice husky with sleep.

Y/N smiled, snuggling closer to him. "Good morning."

They spent the rest of the morning in bed, lazily talking and laughing, their bodies still tingling with the afterglow of their lovemaking.

As they lay there, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of something special. The tension that had simmered between them for so long had finally been released, replaced by a deep, passionate connection.

She looked at Paul, his face peaceful in sleep, and a wave of happiness washed over her. She had never felt this way before, so completely and utterly connected to another person.

She knew that their relationship wouldn't be easy. They still had to overcome the lingering effects of her past and the initial animosity between them. But she also knew that they were strong enough to face whatever challenges came their way.

As she drifted back to sleep, she held onto the feeling of Paul's arms around her, the warmth of his body against hers. She knew that this was just the beginning of their story, a story filled with passion, adventure, and love.