#I'm not sure why I can't let go of the “I was here before you and I'll be here after you're gone” attitude

[menlove]

queer paul tome pt 1: everything not related to john

okay i've been saying i'd make this post forever and it's uh. long. so i decided to split it up into four parts so i can get this first bit out and let it stop haunting me and so it's not 50 miles long.

feel free to add your own if it's not here or shoot me an ask and i'll add it :)

disclaimer: i'm not definitively saying sir paul mccartney is queer. i mean i really firmly think he is but it's all just speculation. also, if he is, there's obviously a reason he's not out about it & he deserves to have his privacy respected. i just personally find the dominant narrative in the fandom & even in larger spaces that poor pining queer john was in love with tragically heterosexual paul completely unconvincing and neeeeeed to be insane for a minute here

if this pisses u off u can simply scroll on by i do not need an essay in my notes. make your own post if you disagree.

(paul doing this for whatever reason in beverly hills, 1974- also the same trip he saw john on bc sure i guess)

this doesn't include lyrics as the main argument bc i saw a post ages ago basically saying there's nothing outside of them and lowkey i took that as a challenge because there's SO much outside of his lyrics that point to him being queer.

that being SAID, this is going to be split into four posts: not john related (most important and thus first bc there's so much documented about mclennon & john being queer, but not paul by himself), john related, paul's relationships w other men (these ones aren't all like... concrete and that's why they aren't included here but w all the context that'll come before it his relationships to certain men are..... interesting), and finally lyrics last bc some of them you genuinely can't just ignore

part 2- john related part 3- other men part 4- lyrics (those will have links once i actually make them)

also, i'm sure people have made similar posts before- i haven't seen them (other than this one an anon sent while i was writing this up which is sooo interesting but does have a lot of dead links) but if you have one you want to share feel free!

time to get into it. i'm avoiding homework by doing this.

(sidenote: not including instances of him just flirting w men bc body language can be read a lot of different ways- but if y'all wanna add any i know they're a dime a dozen like w george m., mal, random reporters, robert fraser, etc)

1- "Just kidding, Linda..."

REPORTER: You're a very, very good looking man. PAUL: [sits up straighter, making a sort of campy gesture towards the crowd, turning into a point] Get that boy's name. [Drops his hand, smiling and leaning his cheek on his hand.] Just kidding, Linda. REPORTER: [unintelligible] PAUL: What? REPORTER: I said- do you have a secret, looking so nice for fifty years? PAUL: [grins, resting his chin on his hand again and batting his eyelashes] Yes, it's the drugs, you know.

(originally posted on here by @northernsongspeels who hasn't been active in a while) this one is so crazy to me. he's so obviously flirting with that man and he's apologizing to linda for flirting with that man. like it's a conversation they've had before.

2- "Yes, boys."

this video (originally posted by @ilovedig here)

PAUL: Yes, I think the main difference is that when you are that age- which I'm sure you remember, Tom- TOM: It's back there in the dim distant past, yes. PAUL: When you're that age, that's the kind of thing to do. I mean, what you're doing is you're going 'round and you're basically looking for girls or whatever turns you on and stuff. So, uh, yeah, I- TOM: Well- well could you give me the alternatives to girls? Are there others? LINDA: [scoffs] PAUL: Yes, boys. TOM: Oh! No.

3- "He's so good looking."

Paul McCartney first read the name and saw the photo (for weeks there was just one crazy photo of Elvis available in Britain) during a free period at Liverpool Institute. Again, it was a friend with the NME, and there was an advert for Heartbreak Hotel. "I thought, 'He's so good looking,'" Paul says, "he just looked perfect." Mark Lewisohn, All These Years Vol. 1 Tune In, sourced from the Anthology TV series by Lewisohn.

4- "A Nice Person Girl"

this fun little interview... (originally posted by @amoralto idk why the archive.org capture of it looks funky but the audio is still there) take it w a grain of salt bc it can also just read as a homophobic joke but like.

August 22nd, 1966 (Warwick Hotel, New York): As DJ “Cousin Brucie” Morrow conducts brief interviews with each of the Beatles, one by one, he asks Paul to settle the rumours that have been circulating in the press about the status of his relationship with Jane Asher. MORROW: Moving over here to Paul – someone just handed me a card. I guess this is… [focusing] Last year, when you were on my microphone here— PAUL: Ask me something about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Rick Sklar? That’s my boss. JOHN: Ask Paul about Rick Sklar. MORROW: Uh, Paul, last year when you were on my microphone, I think somebody – one of your staff – announced an engagement of you and Jane. PAUL: Uh… MORROW: Do you remember that? It was announced on the air. And then I remember we said something on the air and then thousands of people from the street went, “Oh.” What is it with you and Jane now? How – what is your relationship? Are you planning a marriage, planning an engagement, are you just boyfriend and girlfriend, what is it? Tell us the whole thing. JOHN: [mutters; inaudible] PAUL: Uh. We’re just queer, that’s the scene. [uproarious laughter in background] That’s the scene. Well I mean, I couldn’t say that on the air live, you know. JOHN: No, you’ll get into trouble for it. PAUL: No, the thing is, Cousin Bruce – um, we haven’t got plans to marry yet, you know. That’s the point. And that business about somebody saying we were engaged, nobody actually said it. It was just another one of those things where someone says, “Are they engaged?” and they said, “Well, whatever it is… [muttering]” “Yes, folks, they’re engaged!” And it wasn’t true. MORROW: Well, I’m sure there are a lot of girls who are very happy with this. What would you look for, in a girl? Say you did eventually want to settle down, what would you want to – what kind of girl would you like? What would you – what would you like in a gal you wanted to marry eventually, bring home to Mommy? PAUL: Uh… Female hormones. MORROW: Female. What’ll you go for, any – what, blonde, brunette, what? PAUL: Uh, you know, anything. Anything. Girls. It doesn’t matter if they’re blonde, brunette, or anything, as long as they’ve got it. MORROW: Would you want a nice person – what? A beautiful nice person girl. PAUL: Yeah, you know. A nice person girl. (transcription directly from @amoralto, bold mine)

and again this one COULD just be a lil homophobic joke but idk man his tone here is very different and the fact that he says he couldn't say that on air & john says he'll get in trouble is just. interesting. it's Interesting.

5- "A 26 year old queer never to get married."

Half an hour later it was very quiet, except for a few sobs, and then we decided that we had to see him just once more. We opened the gates and walked slowly in. Someone rang the doorbell. Waited, no one came, rang again. Rang again. Paul answered. We just stood there. God what do we say? "Yes, what do you want?" he said, as if we'd just come to borrow sugar. C. ran out. Someone asked if it was tomorrow, and he said, "Tomorrow." It went quiet again. "What's this - Heartbreak Hotel? What do you think I am a 26 year old queer never to get married? Oh, stick around kids!" We just looked at each other. Oh God, Paul, what have we done now. All we wanted to do was stand there and talk awhile. What was the point in shouting at us like that? We stood there, tears falling but there was no sound. "Apple Scruffs Come to Dinner" by Andrew Bailey, 1970 (x), bold mine

again, like the last one, this one is very... i think he was absolutely being homophobic here, but it's a very telling outburst. like he's yelling this harsh enough to make these girls cry.

6- Harry Harrison's "gorgeous tan"

moving onto this wild quote from many years from now by barry miles about george's older brother (bold mine):

"George Harrison’s elder brother Harry had been to Christmas Island and arrived back with a gorgeous tan in his army uniform and we thought, My God, he’s been made a man of. You used to see this quite regularly, people would be made a man of."

7/8- gender neutral language

let's get into some interesting gender neutral language he uses. now, would this be Particularly compelling with a modern celebrity? not really. but most people his age really don't talk gender neutrally unless it's to be vague On Purpose. like this bit from many years from now, where before this he'd been using exclusively "girl" and "she/her" pronouns talking about hookups, it suddenly shifts to very purposefully vague (bold mine):

With a lot of those people I met and related to, albeit for a short time, I've mercifully forgotten them and I don't really remember what went on, thank goodness. There may have been a few drinks involved and I was a little merry and, you know, you slip back to someone's flat... My main feeling really is one of relief. You do feel like some of it was outrageous. But I'm glad to have had a slightly outrageous period in my life, as long as it didn't hurt anybody, because I'd always felt maybe my character was too careful. I think the great thing was I never had any deep, dark secrets. That's what the papers wanted. They wanted me to be hiding a little Miss Whiplash somewhere, and for the flat to be in my name. But it was never that. It was always a one-night stand with whoever was around and wanted to party.

this next one take w a grain of salt bc the source Is cited but looking it up online only brings up tumblr blogs. the source does seem to exist but i'm being so real i don't care enough to go and buy the source but if anyone wants to and wants to fact-check it have at it. bold mine:

Favourite Drink: If I could only choose one drink it would have to be water. When I’m a bit hung over that’s all I can take. But I still like a Scotch and Coke. I can’t overdo it any more. Four’s my maximum, four and I’m anybody’s. (official program booklet for The Paul McCartney World Tour (1989-90): Lifelines. (1989))

what's also interesting about this one is it's when him and linda were married, which gives some credence to the rumors that they maybe had an open relationship (men or not). it also makes me think of the "just kidding, linda" thing lmao. she can't take her husband anywhere or he's going to be fagging it up the second he gets 4 drinks in him.

9/10/11- the "binary" (ft. a bit of john)

this infamous quote from the lyrics in his section on "hello goodbye" (bold mine) (x):

I'm attracted to the binary. I state that quite casually, but I think there’s actually a lot more to it than my just saying, ‘I’m attracted to the binary.’ Once you get down to the scientific biological level, in my core, I probably am the binary. All of us are probably more binary than we might realise.

context being that when he says "the binary" he means duality. there's a lot of interesting stuff going on in this article, though there's some more john related stuff i'll add here too bc it's super fascinating (sorry, easier to go here than the john section!):

‘Hello, Goodbye’ shows off a binary that we took great advantage of in The Beatles. With regard to John Lennon and myself, the great attraction we had for each other was that we each had a bit the other didn’t have. John could be quite cynical. I was his opposite, in that respect. [...] I think there definitely was a sort of ‘hello, goodbye’ about John and myself. But we loved it. We loved it because John could contribute his caustic wit and I could contribute something more upbeat. Not always, we each did what the other one did from time to time. But if you had to break it down – and though it is a bit crude to say so – there was a binary tension at the heart of our songwriting together.

12- big guys at the gym

onto something more lighthearted and also just ridiculous (x):

"If I'm in a gym and all the big guys have got big weights and they're doing all the big stuff, at the end I do a headstand," he said. "And they come over to me [and say], 'That's pretty impressive man.'" ["78-year-old Paul McCartney’s fitness routine includes headstands and yoga with Alec Baldwin" by Cory Stieg]

13- gay dreams

this infamous quote which i have a bit of a different take on that i'll expand on in a sec (bold mine)

My view is that these things are there whether you want them or not, in your interior. You don’t call up dreams, they happen, often the exact opposite of what you want. You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, “Shit, am I gay?” I like that you don’t have control over it. But there is some control – it is you dreaming, it is your mind it’s all happening in. In a way my equation would be that my computer is fully loaded by now. Maybe in younger people there’s a little bit of loading to go, but mine’s loaded pretty much, so what I try and do is allow it to print out unbeknown to me. And I’m interested to hear what it’s got in there. (interview by Karen Wright for Luigi's Alcove, 2000) (x)

a lot of people use this to point to him being oblivious, which i do get, but i want to focus more on the line "it is you dreaming, it is your mind it's all happening in". like he seems interested and fascinated by the revelations we have in our dreams- hardly repressed or scared.

14- royston ellis' "break me in easy"

we've all been over the royston ellis poem and i don't want to just retype out everything that's already on this post so go check out @eppysboys' post on the royston ellis poem!

but tl;dr a bisexual friend of theirs in liverpool, royston ellis, wrote this poem called "Break Me In Easy":

Easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure I’m big time, cock-sure and brash, but easy, easy, break me in easy. Sure they’ve been others, I know the way…

which is about gay sex. he also told the boys that 1 in every 5 men was gay and paul worried that it might be him (this was back in 1960). he still remembered it line for line by 2006 which is just insane. all the sources for those are over on the linked post.

15- woody pecker

originally posted by @didwemeetsomewherebefore here (links to my blog bc the wayback machine was not cooperating right but as long as it stays up you can find the original here!)

PAUL & DONOVAN: How to suck a lollypopper, Sitting on a woodypecker, Dancing in the double-decker shoe, I don’t know, So, how do you do? PAUL: I don't know how you do it, Lordy, knows I try But every time I try to do it, My whole darn tongue gets ti(r)ed

this one is just so sillyyyyy and cute but it's just so full of innuendo like sucking on a lollypop and sitting on a woody pecker and your tongue getting tied (tired?) when you try to suck the uh lollypop. giggling his way through it with one of his boy best friends donovan too.

16- "i heard he was gay"

this fun little quote from body count by francie schwartz:

When the rotation of bike, gun, and other diversions left me alone with Billy, his first words were, "You went with Paul McCartney, didn’t you?" "I bet you just love it when people ask you about your father, don't you?" He was surprised, he half-frowned. "No, really, what's Paul like? I heard he was gay." "He might have gone that way, but he didn't. He really didn't dig fucking all that much, if that's any kind of an answer."

note here though that francie is a notoriously unreliable source on paul. she hates him and honestly makes some pretty homophobic digs at him & others pretty frequently. so it is interesting that she denies he's gay, but says he might have gone that way. given how short of a time they were together and how weird their relationship was, i wouldn't really expect him to be open about that with her- still, she noticed something there too.

17- homosexual handbook

paul was mentioned in the homosexual handbook by angelo d'arcangelo in 1968 under a list of famous homosexuals. it's very tongue in cheek and says this "may just be wishful thinking on (my) part"

and obviously not proof as the book takes a very playful and unserious tone. he does provide this little disclaimer though, which i think is interesting:

Some of the men on this list are self-acknowledged homosexuals. Some are not. All of them are generally thought to be gay. However, as many family men and notorious womanizers appear on these pages, we must—rather than question their forays into either or both sexes—congratulate them on their obvious virility.

because once again like... WHERE are these rumors about paul being gay? because the rest of this list, as far as i can tell (ngl i did not do a deep read there) are men who have/had gay rumors about them or were gay. this comes up more in the john post as well, but i seriously need to know just how many rumors there were about him being gay.

18- "the female hordes"

It was always obvious Brian was gay and we could talk to him about gay things, but he would never come out with, 'Hello, Paul, you’re looking nice today.' I was quite obviously un-gay, due to my hunting of the female hordes, and I think we all must have given the same impression. There had been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls. (from Anthology)

i know putting one of his "un-gay" quotes here is counter intuitive but listen i have genuinely never heard a gayer thing come out of a man's mouth than "hunting of the female hordes" it sends me to fucking mars every time i read it. that's the most closeted shit i've ever read in my entire life. it sounds like what a gay man would say trying to come up with something a straight man would say. and i think paul's bi, he just desperately wants me to think he's never gotten pussy a day in his damn life with this quote.

as a side-note, "all the intimate moments we shared were always about girls". now what do you mean by that man..... like shared as in verbally told stories? or do you mean it was always about the girls when you guys were...... intimate? because those are two really different things and i need to know what the hell that's supposed to mean

19/20- this poor man just wants to flirt with and kiss men can we let him

okay tumblr has nerfed me and won't let me add any more videos from tumblr but there's a video of drunk paul almost kissing ringo jokingly. posted by @stewy here and as long as it's up you can reblog it here- thank u for the contribution to my red stringing lmfao

pringo for once thank god but. i don't even have anything to say except to point and think of a slur. drunk as hell flirting with your best friend what's better than that.

and then this whole interaction between paul & elton john where they kiss on the mouth

and i could so buy that this is a straight man and gay man just being comfortable together except well see above and see the other posts but also paul's very much adapting a softer, "campier" tone around him and calling him babe/darling in a very, again, gay way. not as in he's gay For elton john lmfao but this is how to old gay friends would greet each other do you see what i mean do you understand me......

anyway that's the end of part 1 join me next time (whenever the fuck i decide to avoid doing homework again um) this man has sucked a dick i'm so sure of this. (not really don't sue me for libel paul love ya)

[makeitmingi]

When Flowers Bloom In The Dark [Chapter 13]

Genre: Romance, Mafia!AU, Violence, Angst, Slow burn

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Florist!Reader, Mafioso!Hongjoong, Mafioso!Seonghwa, Mafioso!Yunho, Mafioso!Yeosang, Mafioso!San, Mafioso!Mingi, Mafioso!Wooyoung, Mafioso!Jongho

Summary: When you appeared and wept at his mother's funeral, Hongjoong found himself wanting to find out more about you. A regular girl, who owns a flower shop in his territory and has a relationship with the mother that he hasn't spoken to in years, why hasn't he ever noticed you before?

[Warning(s): 18+ for violence, use of weapons, smoking, alcohol consumption, slight gore, gang affiliation, tattoos and character deaths. Minors DNI. This is a work of fiction and does not represent the Ateez members in real life.]

Word count: 3.3K

You stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the scarf around your neck. It was another day of going to Hongjoong's place to do your gardening duties. Also, it was the first time seeing him after you cried in his arms at his mother's grave.

"Gosh, can you be any more embarrassing?" You asked your reflection with a click of your tongue. With a soft sigh, you went to gather your stuff.

*KNOCK KNOCK*

"Coming!" You ran to open the door, thinking it was the chauffeur that was usually sent to pick you.

"Oh! Hongjoong! I was not expecting you." You blinked as he stood at your door.

"I was in the area for a meeting and thought I could come pick you instead. I hope you don't mind, the chauffeur told me what floor you live on." Hongjoong smiled, tucking his phone back into his coat.

"Not at all. I'm about done, please come in. Don't mind the mess." You said, letting him step in.

"Thanks. Take your time." He bowed his head and entered behind you, removing his shoes in the entrance way.

"I have to bring these down, it shouldn't be too heavy." You gestured before running back into your bedroom to get your socks and handphone. Hongjoong looked around the place, contrary to what you said, there was no mess at all. It was a cozy, little apartment, simple but neat.

"That should be everything... Would you like a drink? Sorry I didn't offer you one when you came in." You chuckled, putting your tools together into a tote bag.

"No worries, I'm good. I had a coffee on the way here." He smiled from his seat on your couch.

"We can go now." You said to him.

"Sure, let me help." He took one of the bags that had fertiliser in it, leaving you to carry the light stuff. Your heart warmed at the sight of the Porsche convertible, he must have brought it for you.

"If the things can't fit in the boot, I'll have them on my lap." You told him as he loaded the stuff in.

"We should be fine. It'll be uncomfortable to have things on your lap." Hongjoong said as he arranged the stuff to make space.

"There." He placed the last bag in and closed the boot. After opening the door for you to enter the passenger seat, he closed the door and ran over to the driver's side.

Before moving out of the parking space, Hongjoong put the hood down then started to drive. It wasn't as awkward anymore but you did still feel embarrassed after what happened last time. He saw you cry and you cried all over his probably expensive suit.

"Is it too warm? Shall I put the hood back up?" Hongjoong asked, having noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face.

"No, not at all. You don't have to put the hood back up. I'm enjoying it, don't worry." You shook your head, continuing to look out instead of look in Hongjoong's direction.

"Welcome back, sir."

The intercom voice sounded as Hongjoong pulled up to the gates of the estate before they opened the let you in.

"Although it's such a long walk, the greenery along the driveway makes it such a nice sight." You commented. Hongjoong let out a hum of agreement.

The others must heard of Hongjoong's arrival at the gate because you saw a butler and two maids waiting there for your arrival.

"There are stuff in the back, take it and help her bring it to the back garden." Hongjoong said, coming out of the driver's seat.

"Yes, sir. Right away." They stepped forward to retrieve your items from the boot as Hongjoong opened the door for you. You stood there awkwardly, unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You were still not used to this, you've always done everything yourself without any butlers or maids.

"Right this way, ma'am." One of the maids bowed, leading you into the house. Hongjoong re-entered the car and drove off, presumably to park his car.

"(y/n)! You're here." Mingi grinned.

"Hi, Mingi." You bowed your head, still finding yourself acting formal with the others.

"Have you eaten?" He asked with a tilt of his head, munching on the slice of toast in his hand. You mentally chuckled, imagining all the crumbs he must be dropping onto the ground.

"I have. Thank you." You smiled.

"Good. If you get hungry, ask the chef to make you something, alright? Don't go hungry." He winked and went upstairs.

"Miss, shall we leave the things here?" The butler asked as you stepped out into the backyard.

"Yes, that's fine. Thank you so much for your help." You bowed repeatedly to them. They smiled and bowed back to you before taking their leave. The first thing you did was take your notepad out to check your to-do list for today.

"Good morning, (y/n)." You turned to see Seonghwa standing there, cradling a cup of tea in his hands. He was dressed in a button up white shirt and wide pants, making him look casual but elegant.

"Good morning, Seonghwa. How has your morning been?" You asked with a smile.

"Busy as usual. Have you seen Hongjoong? I heard he went to pick you up after his meeting." He enquired.

"Yeah, he did. He dropped me off out front and I assumed that he was just going to park the car but I guess not?" You giggled as Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Another thing you learnt was that while Hongjoong kept everyone else in check, Seonghwa kept Hongjoong in check.

"Never mind him then. How has the garden been coming along?" He moved closer to look.

"Hopefully making progress. I managed to move the plants to where they need to be, in the proper soils without having to compete for nutrients. Today, it's laying fertiliser and all that." You explained.

"The plants are in good hands then." He chuckled and you nodded your head. Seonghwa's phone ringing pulled him away, the both of you bowed your heads to each other as he entered the house to answer the call. You let out a sigh of relief, still feeling slightly intimidated by him and his energy.

"Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?"

"Ah!" You yelped, jumping back and clutching onto your heart, as you came face to face with Jongho. He smiled cheekily at you before straightening up.

"You scared me, Jongho." You let out a sigh as you picked up the trowel that you dropped.

"You didn't answer my question. Are you scared of Seonghwa hyung?" He raised an eyebrow, repeating his question.

"He's a little intimidating... His aura and everything. Like a critique that you want to try and impress...? I don't even know if that makes any sense." You tried your best to explain it to him.

"I get it, Seonghwa hyung has that effect on people." Jongho nodded.

"But you know, we're not that scary. We may seem like we're scary people but we're not." He added.

"I know, I'm slowly learning that." You giggled as you used the trowel to loosen up the packed soil around the plant roots. Jongho watched you take the fertiliser and add it to the soil, using your hands to manually pack it in so it wouldn't be too tight.

Jongho stood there, watching you. He has never met a girl that was willing to get down and have her hands in the dirt. It still amused and amazed him to watch you work.

"Is there anything else you need, Jongho?" You asked, realising he was looming over quietly.

"Nope. Just watching you work, it's rather fascinating and I'm learning something new when I do." He shrugged.

"It's just taking care of the plants. It is concerning that your previous gardeners never did these. But it's not surprising, considering all the mistakes I found." You mumbled the last part.

"You're funny, (y/n)."

"I just don't like that the plants suffer at the hands of someone who is literally paid to take care of them." You sighed.

"I get it, I get it. Don't worry, that guy is gone and we have you now." He smiled.

Although, when Jongho said 'gone', you assumed it meant that the previous gardener was fired. You didn't know that Jongho meant that the guy was no longer alive.

"Ah, Jongho ah. Stop disturbing her and let her work. You should be doing your own work too!" Seonghwa yelled from the glass doors, presumably having finished his phone call. Jongho scoffed, offended that Seonghwa would suggest he was disturbing you. You giggled at their banter, they were really close.

"Well, I'll see you later, (y/n)." Jongho did conceed. You waved as he entered the house to go back to work.

"Alright, what's next?" You stood up, dusting your hands. You went to retrieve the other bag of fertiliser to move to another garden patch. These fertilisers were all personally mixed together by you.

"Grow well." You wished the plant, hoping your custom mix of fertilisers would provide the plants with what they needed.

"Maybe one day, there'll be a compost area here for all the waste." You thought out loud.

"We should, there's enough space." You turned to see Hongjoong standing there with a small smile on his face. He had gotten rid of his jacket and was in a shirt and pants.

"Seonghwa came to look for you earlier. Playing hooky?" You teased.

"Just because I wasn't in my office, he thinks I was out skipping work." Hongjoong rolled his eyes with a scoff.

"Anyway, I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch." Hongjoong said. You straightened up, digging for your phone to check the time. Indeed, it was already a little after noon, you didn't think you spent such a long time doing this.

"Sure, I lost track of time. Didn't know I spent so much time doing just this." You gestured. Hongjoong waited for you before walking back to the house.

"I'll go wash my hands and freshen up." You excused yourself and went to the bathroom to wash your hands and face.

"Ah, (y/n)!" Yunho ran to into you as you were exiting the bathroom. You smiled and waved at him.

"Are all of you working from home today? I seem to be running into most of you and it's only lunch time." You chuckled. Yunho laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I never know where my brothers are." He admitted.

"I guess you all have different schedules that it'll be hard to keep track. Poor Seonghwa." You giggled.

"Nah, I bet hyung secretly likes to nag us. Him and Hongjoong hyung." Yunho joked, the both of you snickering. Hongjoong watched you and Yunho laugh as you headed over.

When did you two get so close?

"Today is a warm day, you should take more breaks in the shade and make sure you drink a lot of water." Yunho smiled kindly. You nodded and bowed your head. Of course, Yunho noticed that Hongjoong had been looking at your interaction the entire time. But he wanted to rile the captain up more.

"This way." Hongjoong said to you. You stepped into the dining room, it was your first time here since you started working in the estate. Or rather, this was the first meal you've had with them.

Usually, you sit in the living room or garden gazebo to eat. Honestly, it was really intimidating.

"Sit wherever you feel comfortable." Hongjoong gestured.

"Really? Looks like there are assigned seats..." You mumbled to yourself. But Hongjoong gently placed a hand on your back to guide you forward, the seat to the right of the head.

"I sit here, you can sit with me." Hongjoong said. The seat felt like it would be the seat that's occupied for sure.

"Come, (y/n). That's Seonghwa hyung's seat." Jongho entered the dining room, pulling you along.

"You lied!" You pointed accusingly at Hongjoong, who blinked.

"Hwa doesn't care, the others are just trying to make him scarier than he actually is." Hongjoong rolled his eyes. But you were not taking the chance, you moved to sit where ever Jongho and Yunho told you to, which was next to Jongho, opposite Yunho.

"Yeosang hyung sits here but he's out for a meeting so you're good." Jongho said as the butler pulled the chair out for you to sit. You quickly bowed to him and sat down.

"Who's scarier than he actually is?" On cue, Seonghwa walked in, typing away on his phone.

"It's nothing." Hongjoong sighed.

"It's only noon and you're already sighing." Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at his best friend before taking his seat, which was the exact seat Hongjoong had offered you earlier.

"See? Told you." Jongho leaned over to whisper to you and you hummed with a soft giggle.

"Just get lunch." Hongjoong said to the butler, rubbing his forehead.

"Nice to see you here, (y/n)." Seonghwa finally noticed you and smiled at you. You returned the smile and nodded your head then the trays of food came in.

"Lunch is served." The maids and butlers said as they placed trays in front of you. Your eyes widened, this was how you imagined royalty was served their meals. The food was good, regular fare, but plated nicely and arranged on an individual tray. You have never been served like this before.

"Is something wrong?" Yunho asked.

"No, not at all." You forced a smile and picked up your chopsticks. Just then, Mingi came into the dining room, letting out a loud yawn as he stretched his arms over his head.

"Mingi. That's rude." Seonghwa scolded. Mingi rubbed his eyes, a clear sign that he had just woken up.

"Oh, (y/n). You're having lunch here today." Mingi acknowledged as he took his seat beside Yunho. You nodded and swallowed your food.

"Did you just nap since breakfast?" Yunho asked his best friend.

"Dude, I told you I didn't sleep last night so I have sleep to catch up on. I keep having issues sleeping." Mingi said, running his fingers through his messy hair as the butler put his tray down.

"You're too used to doing night stuff, that's why your body clock is having issues adjusting." Hongjoong pointed out.

"I should just be on night shift, I'm only doing Yeosang's work because he's busy taking over San's- Mmph!" Mingi's sentence was cut off as he crumpled over, wincing in pain. He turned his head to shoot Yunho a glare.

"Are you okay, Mingi?" You asked worriedly. Mingi met Yunho's eyes, who shifted in your direction.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just hit my toe against the chair leg." Mingi lied as he began to eat. You didn't notice the sigh of relief Seonghwa and Hongjoong let out.

"If that's not enough food for you, you can always ask for seconds, alright? They always make extras for us." Jongho told you.

"This is more than enough for me. I might not even be able to finish this." You chuckled.

"Is the food to your liking?" Hongjoong asked.

"It's very good. Thank you." You smiled as continued to eat. If the food wasn't to your liking, Hongjoong would have asked the cook to make you something entirely differently.

"Seconds." Seonghwa raised his hand and Yunho did the same, the maid coming forward to get their plates for more food.

"Oh gosh, I'm so full. And I should probably get back to work. Thank you for the meal." You stood up and bowed to the boys at the table, hightailing it out of there before anyone could say anything else. The 5 just sat there, blinking, stunned before turning to their captain at the head of the table.

"(y/n), hold on. Is something wrong?" Hongjoong came out from the dining room right before you could go out the glass doors. You paused in your tracks and turned around.

"No, Hongjoong. Everything is fine." You fiddled with your fingers.

"Was it that awkward and uncomfortable?" He tilted his head. You rubbed the back of your neck.

"It's not any of you... It's just... I'm supposed to be a worker too... Feels inappropriate to be sitting in that fancy dining, getting served like that." You winced.

"Oh, (y/n). There's no need for you to worry about that. You're not a worker-worker... You're my friend, it's different." He chuckled.

"I know, it just takes a while to get used to. I'm not familiar with any of this but don't worry!" You rubbed your arm.

"(y/n), if you're uncomfortable, just tell me. I know it can all be very intimidating. Don't feel forced to do anything." He smiled. The both of you walked out to the back garden together.

"No, I don't feel forced at all. And it's not just that..." You cleared your throat, trying to figure out how to find the words to tell him. Maybe you should just leave it. Telling Hongjoong your feelings might just make things more awkward between the two of you.

"Are you worried about what happened when we went to see my mum?" He asked in a soft voice.

"How... How did you..." Your eyes widened.

"I figured. (y/n), you know I don't care about stuff like that right? I'm not bothered and it doesn't change anything." Hongjoong smirked. You nodded slowly.

"Thanks." You murmured.

"Now come. I think it's finally time for me to give you a proper tour of the place." Hongjoong clapped his hands.

"Don't you have to work? Don't any of you have to work?" You threw your head back with a groan. Hongjoong just laughed and gestured for you to go back into the house for the tour.

"Hang on." You paused and he nodded.

"Take your time." He watched you fiddle with one of the bags you had brought and retrieved what looked like a small white linen bag.

"Mingi! Luckily you're still here. I just remembered that I had this in my bag of gardening stuff. Here you go." You handed the taller the small white bag just as he was leaving the dining room. Both him and Hongjoong looked confused but Mingi lifted the white bag to take a sniff of it.

"It smells good. What is it?" He blinked.

"Dried lavender. I use it as a natural insect repellent for plants but it's very good to help sleep too. Since you said you have trouble sleeping, you can put this by your pillow." You explained.

"Oh, thank you, (y/n). I'll definitely put this by my pillow." Mingi smiled, continuing to sniff the bag.

"I hope it helps." You smiled and he nodded before heading upstairs. You were unaware of the now slightly sulky Hongjoong behind you.

"You didn't have to do that, you know? He's just childishly whining about it." Hongjoong commented. Your eyebrows raised slightly at his words, was Hongjoong jealous?

"I know but I wanted to help since I already have the dried lavender. So I thought why not? It's not 100% effective but it may help just a little so no harm." You shrugged as you followed him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

"Honestly in our household, almost everyone has trouble sleeping. Not sure if we're just constantly thinking about work or something." He pointed out.

"Oh, really? Well, I don't have anymore on hand now but I'll keep that in mind and bring more the next time I come." You giggled.

~

Series masterlist

[kumkaniudaku]

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?" 

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance. 

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun. 

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!" 

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice." 

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework. 

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face. 

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts. 

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?" 

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep. 

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure." 

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen." 

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that." 

"Let's start with housing and work from there?" 

"I'm following your lead." 

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan. 

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry." 

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen. 

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings. 

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least. 

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere. 

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day." 

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads." 

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot. 

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl." 

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship. 

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking. 

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite." 

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is." 

"How come?" 

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?" 

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots." 

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?" 

"Well, I ain't say all that!" 

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes. 

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!" 

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time. 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!" 

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before. 

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic. 

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets. 

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole." 

"No way! How'd you guess that?" 

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance." 

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?" 

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one." 

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?" 

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one." 

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat." 

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point." 

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly." 

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple." 

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again." 

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way." 

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again. 

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!" 

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!" 

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers. 

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?" 

"That's what we should name the kids." 

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation. 

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!" 

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –" 

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?" 

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving. 

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?" 

"By the couch, Treece." 

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!" 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

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[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀᴛ ᴄʟᴜᴍꜱɪʟʏ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Emma: "Prince Kagari's birthday is today?"

Townswoman: "Yes, it's become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate."

Emma: "So that's why it's so lively today."

(I had no idea it was Kagari's birthday.)

The townspeople were particularly excited, and the sweet smell of dorayaki filled the air from every direction.

Townswoman: "You should celebrate Prince Kagari too."

Townswoman: "I'm sure he'd be thrilled if someone as special as you sent him good wishes."

A woman I'd gotten to know since coming to Kogyoku flashed me a cheerful smile and gave me a gentle push.

Townswoman: "If you're having trouble picking a gift, I'll help you out!"

Emma: "Thanks, but since it's a special occasion, I'd like to come up with something myself."

(This feels kind of weirdly pressuring. Or is it just me?)

Satisfied with my response, the woman cheerfully left after offering a few words of encouragement.

(Kagari's helped me more times than I can count since I got to Kogyoku. Whether or not I'm special to him, I can't just ignore his birthday now that I know about it.)

(Alright.)

(Wait, what's this ridiculously long line?!)

When I packed my gift and made my way to the castle, I found the square completely packed with people who had come to celebrate Kagari.

(Swordsmen, nobles, commoners—wow, that's a huge crowd.)

At the front of the line, a striking figure with red hair caught my eye.

He was expressionless, silently receiving greetings and tributes one after another.

(Prince Kagari looks completely detached, like it has nothing to do with him. He doesn't seem happy at all.)

I stood on my toes to get a better look, and our eyes met.

(Did he just catch me staring? He's always quick to notice when someone's looking at him.)

I looked away and took cover by a nearby cherry blossom tree.

(What should I do? It's going to be difficult to celebrate with this many people around.)

(I really wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but maybe I should come back tomorrow. Wait, what?)

When I glanced back, Prince Kagari was gone.

Instead, his attendant was standing there, and despite not being the prince, people were still offering celebratory words and gifts.

It was a weird sight.

Kagari: "You're wide open, Princess."

(!?)

I turned toward the voice, and a hand suddenly covered my mouth.

Before I could react, he pulled me into the shadows beneath the tree, my back gently pressed against the trunk.

Emma: "Mmph!"

(When did he even get behind me?!)

I struggled, but he effortlessly pinned me against the tree, his face now dangerously close to mine.

For a second, I thought my heart would stop.

Kagari: "Will you behave?"

I nodded frantically, and only then did he finally let go of my mouth.

But the distance between us didn't change. He placed his hands on the tree, keeping me trapped.

(Calm down, Emma.)

(He's probably just staying this close to avoid being seen by others.)

I instinctively lowered my voice, careful not to let my breath brush against him.

Emma: "Why are you here?"

Kagari: "I saw you."

Emma: "So you came to see me?"

Kagari: "You called me."

(Is that how he saw it?)

A mix of guilt and a strange, fluttering warmth settled in my chest.

Kagari: "If you were planning to stand in line, you should give up."

Kagari: "That line won't die down until nightfall."

Emma: "That long…?"

Kagari: "And at night, there's a banquet. It'll go on until dawn."

(Spending an entire day celebrating… The Yaksha of Kogyoku really goes all out.)

I was impressed, but his expression remained blank as always.

He gazed at the never-ending line of people as if it had nothing to do with him, his detached demeanor unfitting for someone being celebrated.

(I feel like Kagari doesn't care much about his birthday.)

(What if he finds it annoying that I came?)

Kagari: "So? Why are you here?"

I instinctively looked away.

Emma: "I was just curious since there are so many people."

(I can't bring myself to say I also came to celebrate.)

I hid the bag with the present behind my back.

Kagari was silent for a while.

An awkward silence fell between us, making the noise around us feel distant.

(I hid it, but I wonder if he noticed.)

But Kagari didn't say anything more about it and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: "Princess, will you come with me?"

Emma: "Huh? W-Wait, Prince Kagari?"

He stealthily led me toward the castle, barely giving me a choice. Once inside, he unceremoniously shoved me into a room before disappearing and returning with a large basket.

Kagari: "First, put this on."

Emma: "A hakama?"

Kagari: "Next, wrap this around your face."

Emma: "A scarf?"

Kagari: "Lastly, wear this at your waist."

Emma: "A… sword!?"

Kagari: "Tie your hair into a single ponytail."

Emma: "Um…?"

(Why are we suddenly having a dress-up session?)

I accepted each item as he handed them to me, tilting my head in confusion. But then, without hesitation, he picked up the hakama and reached for my clothes.

Kagari: "If you don't know how to wear it, I'll help."

Emma: "N-No! I got this!"

(I have no idea what's going on, but this can't possibly be bad, right?)

[theocddiaries]

Amy: What you two need to do to smooth things over is talk. With an impartial third party guiding you with a little bit of psychology. So come on, let's start. Sonic, say something you like about Shadow. Sonic: He's kind. Very level-headed. Trustworthy. He brings calm wherever he goes. Shadow: …Thank you, Sonic. Amy: Good. Shadow? Shadow: Hm… Well, he's… Good-hearted, even at his own detriment. He’s funny. He always tries to include everyone. He makes people feel comfortable. Sonic: Thanks, Shads. Amy: See? Saying those things is important. Just like accepting criticism. Why don't you start this time, Shadow? What's something about Sonic that you don't like? Shadow: Well… when I ask him if he wants something to eat and he says no, but then he starts picking at my plate… Sonic: It's true, I do that. I say I don’t feel like eating, but then I see the food and I can’t resist. Sorry. Shadow: It’s fine. I’m starting to remember to grab you a separate plate with a little bit of everything. Sonic: Okay, my turn. Hmm… I don’t like when you move my things around. I can never find anything. Shadow: Well, that’s not really moving things around, it’s called organizing, but okay, I accept the criticism. Amy: See? That’s healthy communication and-- Sonic: Since you’re accepting criticism so well, what about never admitting you're wrong? Like now. Amy: Sonic, wait, we’ve-- Shadow: I was actually being gracious because I don’t want to start a fight. Amy: Shadow, I was talking-- Sonic: I've got another one, you keep everything to yourself and then people have to guess what’s wrong with you. Shadow: You surely aren't talking about yourself in that scenario, considering you spend all day with your head in the clouds. Maybe that’s why you’re confused, saying I move your things when all I do is put them in a drawer instead of leaving them on the floor. Amy: Guys, we’re drifting off-topic a little-- Sonic: Look, if you need to micro-manage everything because you’ve got a trauma the size of Greenland, it’s not my fault, okay? Shadow: I do not micro-manage. Sonic: Come on, everything has to be as you wish. Shadow: If that were true, the trash wouldn't still be there. When are you going to take it out? Sonic: When I feel like it because this is my house. If I want to leave it there until it grows legs and throws itself out, I will! Shadow: Now you can afford the luxury call this a house; before I got here, this place was a mess! Sonic: No. Before you got here, this place was a peaceful haven! Shadow: A peaceful haven full of crap. You’ve got the closets as decoration, you big lazy! Amy: Okay guys, let’s breathe-- Sonic: Maybe I'm just tired of coming home and seeing you with that damn scowl all day, bitter idiot! Shadow: Maybe I’m pissed off all day because you don’t do anything! Sonic: I don't do anything because according to you I do everything wrong, Mr I-don't-micromanage! Just tell me what you want and I'll do it! Shadow: Right now, what I want is for you to leave! Sonic: No, you leave, you’re the one who’s a problem wherever you go! Shadow: Gladly! [stands up and walks toward the door] Sonic: Oh no no! I’m leaving, so you can't act like a martyr! [leaves the house too] [Amy pinches the bridge of her nose while they’re still heard arguing in the hallway.] Shadow: Stop following me, idiot! Sonic: I’m not following you, you paranoid, I’m going in the elevator! Shadow: Of course you’re taking the elevator! Lazy! Sonic: Go ahead and take the whole staircase, you selfish! Knuckles [comes out of the kitchen with a sandwich, having heard everything]: Damn, is this therapy? Making things worse? People spend money on such things… or maybe you're just really bad at this. Amy [throws a pillow at him] Knuckles: Ow! [sarcastically]: Amy, accepting criticism is important, Amy.

This could be like the prologue of this and this tbh

[crsssie]

let's go gambling! - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Rossi, please?" You beg. "Reid's an incredible gambler. Also, I used to gamble in the military, so by technicality, I'm pretty good too. It's just 100k."

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer hums. "Also—"

"If you do the math, there's a way to guarantee when to raise and fold. P times N minus one where P is pot and N is number of players in the final round of betting. You can send us both in. Pass as a couple." You offer.

"Stop stealing my lines." Spencer pauses. "Pass as a couple?"

"Your fault for telling me all of this. I was hustling the hell out of my old friends last weekend. I won like, a hundred bucks." You give him a finger gun.

"Fine, fine. Try not to lose all of my money?" Rossi tries.

"Oh, David." You rest a hand on his shoulder. "I'm getting that million bucks whether or not they want me to. I'll pay you ten percent."

Rossi gives you a look that can only really mean that he doesn't quite believe you.

You play with Spencer. He's significantly better than you, and you learn how to count your cards in the meantime, watching him run through everything in his head, and grab his wrist when he reaches for the 8-ball charm, signal going off in your free hand as Hotch understands to move in.

"Sorry. He's got a bad habit of grabbing." You glance at the door, watching as Hotch moves in. The man stands up to run, but Spencer kicks from under the table as the man trips, and you try to grab him, but he's out the door before you can even grab anything.

"Can we keep Reid in there to keep gambling?" You raise a brow, staring at the chips on the table. "He's winning. I want the million."

"This is why we don't take you to Vegas." Hotch sighs. "We need you on sight. Your rifle's in the trunk..."

"Can we keep him there?"

Hotch sighs. "Reid, don't lose it all."

"Definitely won't."

"What do you say? A nice trip to Bora bora?" You wink on your way out.

"I always wanted to visit the British Library." He nods.

You shoot two bullets when you find the unsub. One to the clock to get it to stop turning, and a second to get the gun out of the unsub's hand last minute before he can count down. Hotch is on the unsub immediately, and you watch as he's dragged off, the clocks in the car covered and numbers missing from the plates.

You meet Spencer back in the hotel room, cheek pressed to his in greeting as he hums.

"So?"

"Rossi keeps his money."

"And?"

"Fifty thousand to the banks. They didn't catch me counting cards this time." He laughs when you gasp.

"What happened to the million?" You tug at your shirt, and Spencer hums as he helps you out of it.

"Didn't want to blow it."

"Fair." You stretch your arms. "So... London?"

"Savings."

You boo at Spencer, sighing. "And here I thought you were finally going to get me a nice little present."

"Oh, that wouldn't be here, honey." He hums. "Something nicer in DC."

"Like a house?"

"Not enough money for that."

"Fair point." You tap your chin. "Wouldn't a big diamond necklace look nice on me?"

"And where would you wear that?"

"Nowhere." You pinch his cheek, humming. "Just make sure you don't gamble it off when you think about it."

"Oh, I can't play poker anywhere." He laughs, forehead pressing to yours. "But don't worry. I'll be sure to get you something nice."

If anyone notices the new cufflinks on your jacket, no one says a thing.

[froggiequarium]

1k words; rafayel making nail art... for you (working on this when i'm supposed to be working on a new fic for main oops.... raf invaded my mind what can i say?)

-

rafayel noticed your little habit of constantly switching out your press-on nails every couple of weeks. infact, you often began asking him his opinions on which to use next after catching his curious eyes glued to you as you prepped your nails for the newly decided set, and he'd confidently point out the one he thought would suit the season or occasion better.

one day, after showing him the new sets you'd bought during a sale and oogling at the cute art and charms they were decorated with, he offhandedly asked if they were difficult to make.

"hm? well, i've seen videos that make it easy, but usually things look easier than when you actually try it yourself, so i just stick to buying them," you sheepishly point out with a little laugh.

and suddenly, rafayel has an idea.

in the next week or so, when its around the time to switch out your nails once more, rafayel calls you and tells you to meet him at his studio, that he has a surprise waiting for you.

curious and excited, you immediately make your way there, having no other plans for the day, mentally going through special days to make sure you're not forgetting any occasion.

though, it wasn't likely, given rafayel's nature of spoiling you with surprise gifts for no particular reason.

you make your way inside of his studio and find him in the living area, just finishing arranging some things before his gaze flits up to yours.

"well hello, miss bodyguard. you got here quick."

you take slow steps towards him, grinning.

"a certain fishy said they had something for me, i couldn't just keep him waiting."

he grins back.

when you close the distance and are standing right before him, he holds his hands out, palms facing up.

"give me your hands," he coaxes.

you do as you're told, sliding your hands over his, and he grips them gently, inspecting your hands— you don't have a new set on yet, just as he expected.

perfect.

"why don't i do your nails for you this time?"

you tilt your head.

"is this your surprise?"

"part of it."

"are you sure? i didn't think you'd be interested, and i'm used to doing it myself...."

"nonsense, let me decorate your hands for you this time, cutie."

you raise an eyebrow, suspicious at his insistence, but allow yourself to be dragged to the couch and seated next to him as he reaches for the utensils that you use to prep your nails.

"why did you have everything ready? were you that confident i'd let you do my nails for me?"

he holds up the nail clippers, moving close to begin snipping down your nails.

"its already been a couple of weeks since your last set, so i knew you'd be working on another one sooner or later."

something about the attention to detail rafayel pays when it comes to you makes your heart thump a little faster in your chest.

"right..."

he's finished trimming and filing your nails quickly before he grabs a spikier tool to push your cuticles back, trimming some as he sees fit. afterward, he's grabbing another tool and begins gently buffing the surface of each nail. when he reaches for a small alcohol wipe to drag over each nail bed, you speak up again, realizing something.

"wait, what set are you even going to put on? did you decide without me?"

he cleans the last finger, setting the wipe down beside him before reaching for the nail glue to have ready.

"give me a second."

he reaches for a little box that was hidden in plain sight behind a cup of paintbrushes on the nearby table. its a pretty blue and wrapped in a little purple ribbon. he hands it to you, and you slowly take it from him.

"this is the real surprise," he smiles, gesturing for you to open it.

you look up at him before pulling at one of the ends of the ribbon, gently unraveling it and popping the lid off of the box. you can't help the little gasp that escapes you at the sight within.

it's a new set of nails, pristine and pretty, looking like the ones that are on the pricier end of the websites you buy from.

they're a mix of pearly white and ocean blue, different images from seashells and little fish to a seahorse being painted on a few of them, embellished with small colored-pearl looking charms and some shiny gold glitter for highlight. even more, the shape of them is exactly your preference.

you're looking at them for a long time in silence due to the awe of the detail and beauty of them. rafayel watches you marvel at them, but grows too eager to hear your thoughts.

"do you like them?"

rafayel's voice breaks you from your trance and you finally manage to tear your gaze away from the nails to meet his eyes.

"did you.... make these?"

rafayel only shrugs in response.

"i decided to try it out. it wasn't the easiest thing, but it was simple enough, and i got the hang of it easily. still, i think my back is still hurting from the weird angle i had to be at to paint on such a tiny canvas," he whines, rubbing his lower back for emphasis.

you breathe out a laugh, pushing yourself forward and kissing the pout off of his lips.

"these are the prettiest nails i've ever had, raf. thank you," you beam.

his ears are bright red.

"its not that big a deal," he looks to the side, shy. the volume of his voice is lower at his next words. "besides, there's more where that came from, so its nothing..."

you nod, making a note to ask to watch him at work later. for now, you hold the box out to him, gaze expectant.

"well, i'm ready for my new nails, mister nail artist~"

he's back to his normal self at your words, pleased expression crossing his face as he snatches the box from you before picking up the glue.

"leave it to me!"

needless to say, you received the most compliments on this set than you had from the other sets you wore, everyone hounding you for which new nail place you went to this time for such a beautifully effortless result.

you were all too satisfied to turn to each of them and proudly reveal the secret nail tech, the curious gazes immediately growing stunned.

"my boyfriend!"

-

you cant convince me he wouldn't be good at nail art.... inspired by the next press-on set im going to use looking cutely painted (not ocean themed though) & it made me think ab how rafayel would definitely make you your own sets.... nail tech raf anyone???

-

[buck-up-buttercup]

Head-canons on how the Love & Deepspace men comfort a sad MC. I hope this helps anyone in moments of sadness, anxiety, or doubt.

Intro:

It's been a harrowing week. You're overworked, tired, and not taking proper care of yourself. Needless to say, your mental and physical health are lacking. Because of this, you continue to make small mistakes. You're embarrassed, frustrated, and so very tired. Jenna demands you take the next three days off to recuperate yourself. While this is supposed to be a relief, you can't help but feel the shame bubbling up inside of you, on the cusp of boiling over. "Rest well and don't forget to eat! Please call me if you need anything." Tara gives you a reassuring hug before seeing you out. Feeling at a loss, you are in desperate need of comfort. Taking care of yourself even feels like too much on your plate right now. Because of this, you dial the person you know who would do absolutely anything for you in a heartbeat...

Xavier

"Hey." Just hearing his voice answer the phone makes your heart swell and your eyes brim with tears. "...Hello? Y/N, are you there?" "Y-Yeah, sorry..." The moment he hears the tremble in your voice as you attempt to answer, his response is swift and his voice is laced with concern. "Where are you?" Your voice is quiet, "I'm sitting on a bench a few blocks from the association." "I'm on my way, sit tight."

You assume it's due to his ability to teleport that he's able to get to you so quickly. You keep your head down, trying to look as though you're distracted on your phone to hide the fact you have tears pooling in your eyes that you're barely managing to keep from spilling over. You notice Xavier once he kneels before you and immediately encircles you in his arms. He presses your face against the crook of his neck. "Let's go home, okay?" "Please."

Xavier brings you to your apartment. He makes sure you're seated on the couch before asking if you need something. "Just... sit with me..." He doesn't hesitate and immediately pulls you into his arms. He doesn't ask you any other questions. He knows you'll talk about what's upset you if you want to and that for the moment, you just wanted to be held by him. He'd stroke your hair soothingly. You couldn't hold the tears back anymore.

Xavier would hold you for as long as you wanted. Thinking about why you were in this state choked you up, but you wanted to finally open up about your feelings. "Xavier, how do you do it? How are you so good at everything you do? You make it look effortless, too. The only time I've ever seen you struggle is when you tried to beat that claw machine you were so suspicious of that one time." You giggle through the tears as you recount that memory, but Xavier knew you were being serious. "Hmph... I'm flattered you think so highly of me, but I've lived long enough to see my fair share of struggles and mistakes." You sit up to meet his eyes. "What do you do when you're overwhelmed from all your struggles and mistakes?" He pushes your hair out of your face. "Sleep." You couldn't help but to laugh and he smiles softly at that. "Yeah, I am lacking in that department lately." Xavier would take that as his cue to lift you bridal style and carry you to your bed. He'd pull out comfier clothes for you to change into while he went to fetch a glass of water for you.

Once settled in bed, you'd both snuggle up together. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm cut out for all of this," You'd mumble into his chest. "Definitely. Just because you're human doesn't mean you aren't one of the most capable hunters I know." You sigh. "Besides, not just any hunter is worthy of being my partner." He'd huff a small laugh and kiss you on the forehead. You'd laugh softly and hug him tighter. "Get some rest. I'll always be here for you."

Zayne

"Hello?" As guilty as you feel for calling someone as important and busy as Zayne, you are so grateful he picked up the phone to answer you. "Hey! Um, you're not busy, are you?" You couldn't hide the shrillness of your voice from the overwhelming emotions you were experiencing. You could tell Zayne caught onto this. "For the moment, no. What do you need?" You struggled to come up with a straightforward answer. "Well, I just... I..." He waits patiently for you to gather your words. "I guess I just am having a bad day and wanted someone to talk to." Your eyes well up as you try to get the words out. "I hate to bother you, you were just the first person I thought of to call." The anxiety in your chest hurt and you wondered if your voice sounded as shake-y as you felt. "You're never a bother, Y/N." Zayne's voice was gentle and soft. You feel like you can breathe again for a moment, though the tears start to fall as you relax at his words. You sniffle, "I feel like that's all I've been lately." "Y/N, where are you?" "I'm hiding in that cafe a few blocks from the association." You offer a weak laugh to try to play it off like a joke. "I'm on my way."

You're antsy until he arrives. He approaches your table in the corner of the cafe. You are thankful he has a calming air about him, his demeanor never fails to help anchor your emotions. "Do you want something to drink or eat?" He offers. You shake your head, "no, thanks." He observes your face for a moment and then nods. You watch as he goes to order something at the counter. You mull over what to even talk to him about as you wait. So much was on your mind and you wanted to avoid crying in public. He returns with a scone and coffee for himself along with your go-to order. "Just in case," he says before you can object. "You seem like you need a pick-me-up." You nod and meekly respond, "thank you."

You enjoy the food and beverage he got you as you sit in silence for a few moments. You're not decided on how to break the ice and truly just enjoy his company in this moment. As you seem to be lost in thought, Zayne nudges your foot with his under the table. You meet his gaze and he holds out his palm. "Do you remember when we were kids, you got upset the neighborhood kids wouldn't let you play with them? You tried really hard to hide being upset and went to play by yourself." You recall the memory. "I made you this to try to cheer you up." a small snow cat appears in his hand made by his Evol. You smile sadly and take the snow cat from him to admire. "You've always been good at making people feel better. It's what makes you a good doctor." His gaze is soft as a small smile graces his face. "I wish I could be half as good at my job as you are at yours." His brows furrow. "Is this what's caused you to feel this way? A bad day at work?" You nod and look away. "Not just one, unfortunately. I feel like I can't do anything right." Zayne takes the snow cat out of your hand and places it on the table. He softly grasps your hands in his. "We all have bad days, even I do. You shouldn't beat yourself up over it." You nod, squeezing his hands. "Easier said than done." "I know. It's because you care and caring is what makes you good at your job. You're a passionate person. You always strive to do your best." You groan slightly, "if this is my best, then I'm screwed." Zayne shakes his head, "sometimes our best is getting a full night's sleep. Sometimes it's eating a meal. How can you improve if you don't prioritize your own health?" Your eyes start to water, "I am so tired, Zayne." "Go home, clean yourself up, and change into something comfortable. I'll come over after work... Doctor's orders." You smile with relief knowing he cared so much for your wellbeing. "Sure thing, doctor."

That evening, he brought you dinner, watched TV shows with you, and did everything to ensure you were comfortable. Having someone prioritize you like Zayne did made you realize just how much weight was on your shoulders before being lifted by him. "Next time you start to feel overwhelmed, tell me. I am always here to help you."

Rafayel

"What's up, cutie?" You can't hold back the sob as you hear his voice. "Whoa, Y/N, what's the matter?" "Rafayel, I need you to come pick me up." "Tell me where you are, I'll be right there." Your voice is weak and hushed as you try to regain control of your emotions. "Ah... I'm hiding in the lobby bathroom at the association. Just tell me when you get here, I'll come meet you outside." "I'm coming."

It isn't long before you get a text that he's here. You clean yourself up and walk out of the association. Rafayel is waiting right outside the front doors. The moment he sees you, you can see the look of worry on his face. He gives you a brief hug, kissing the top of your head before he leads you to his car, opening the door for you. You feel somewhat uncomfortable, probably due to your embarrassment at struggling not to cry. He sees this and gives you a knowing look, reaching for your hand and holding it the whole ride to his place.

Once at his home, he sweeps you up in a full body hug, picking you up by the underside of your thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, laying you down and showering you in kisses. "Wanna talk about it?" You sigh, looking up at Rafayel as he hovers above you. He strokes comfortingly along your hips. "I might cry if I do." "Nothing wrong with crying." You hum. "Sometimes..." you hold your breath as you try to keep in a sob. Rafayel crawls onto the bed, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap. "You need to let it out, cutie. You might be my bodyguard, but you don't have to hide from me in order to act tough." A dejected laugh escapes you and you meet his eyes with yours, fat tears finally spilling over and falling down your cheeks. "Sometimes I feel like all I'm good for is making messes for the association and making a fool of myself." "That's not true. Our mistakes don't define us. Besides, some of the most beautiful things are made out of the biggest messes. Don't overlook your good qualities and all the wonderful things you do just because you can't see past that mess." You can't keep a small whimper from escaping you as you hug his neck and cry into his shirt. He rubs your back and holds you tight. After a few moments, you try to lighten the mood. "You're pretty wise and poetic. Maybe you should be the next Bob Ross." You giggle and poke his side. "Pfft. As if. No one can replace Bob Ross." You laugh.

Rafayel would make sure you're well fed and run a bath for you. The bath makes you realize just how tired you are. Rafayel wouldn't leave your side, making sure you're tucked into his bed and feeling as loved and pampered as possible. "You're the most amazing woman I've ever met. Don't belittle yourself anymore, okay, cutie? I won't allow it."

Sylus

"Hey, sweetie." You can't help but to sigh in relief that Sylus is available and awake to answer your call. "Sylus, can I come over?" "You know you don't have to ask. You sound upset. What's the matter?" "Ah, I'll tell you later. Are you gonna be at the base? I don't... want to be alone right now..." Sylus sighs before speaking with a voice that seems almost too soft for the leader of Onichynus to be capable of using, "sweetie, do you need me to come get you? Are you okay?" The tears begin falling, overwhelmed by just how sweet he's being and how badly you needed his comfort. "I don't know..." You hate how helpless you sound but you're so exhausted and so desperate for Sylus, you can't hide it. "Okay. I'll be there in 10. Don't stray far." You sit at the top of a parking deck not far from the association while you wait on Sylus. He seems to always keep tabs on your location and never follow speed limits, fulfilling his promise of arriving at your location in a mere 10 minutes on his motorcycle. You're pulled from your sitting position right into his arms with the use of his Evol. You cling to him of your own volition, comforted by his arms wrapping around you. His helmet is off and he kisses the top of your head. "Sylus..." You mumble his name into his chest. "It's alright, kitten. I've got you." You whimper as the sobs begin to wrack your body.

Once your crying begins to cease, Sylus puts a helmet on your head as well as one on himself before driving you back to his base in the N109 Zone. You're thankful that you don't see the twins in your current state, either their absence being due to a coincidence or Sylus having them give the two of you space. Sylus carries you into his bedroom, not letting you go for even a moment. He doesn't press you for an explanation and you're grateful since you still aren't sure how to put your feelings into words. He helps you strip out of your uniform and into one of your more comfortable outfits he keeps for you at his place.

Now feeling more at peace and comfortable, you reflect on your feelings with some clarity. "Jenna gave me three days off because I've been overworking myself." Sylus listens intently, his eyes soft as they read your expressions. "What's frustrating is that I don't even have very hard assignments with my job right now. I get behind on sleep and I lose time in the day for a meal because I keep making mistakes on small tasks which then fill up all my time trying to fix or redo, and... ugh. I just can't get a grip on anything and I'm overwhelmed and I'm tired, but I feel so stupid..." Your eyes begin to water again. "You're not stupid for struggling, sweetie. Jenna did the right thing giving you time off to take care of yourself. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Sylus pats his thigh for you to come sit on his lap on the couch. You oblige, though you feel shy under his scrutinizing yet loving gaze. He tucks your hair behind your ear. "What starts as a small problem avalanches into multiple problems so quickly. I just feel embarrassed and like I shouldn't even make such small mistakes in the first place... It's become so much on my plate, I don't even know where to start." "Mm..." He appears thoughtful as he analyzes your words. "You need to start with prioritizing your own needs. You can't expect to be on top of everything when you haven't had the proper food or sleep." You nod your head. "I haven't had an appetite or a good night's sleep in maybe a week or so. Most of the time, I'm just getting a few hours and running on caffeine and a few snacks throughout the day." Sylus clicks his tongue. "Next time this happens, kitten, you need to use your resources better. Anything you could possibly need, I can help provide." "I know, I just am not used to asking others for help. It's not that I don't want it, I just forget it's there." "Well, that can't be a plausible excuse anymore." Sylus carries you to the kitchen and sits you on the counter. He throws together something filling yet quick and easy. You thank him for it before eating it.

After eating, he takes you to the bathroom to wash up. You brush your teeth while he changes clothes. Once you've washed up, he sweeps you up to carry you to bed over his shoulder. You laugh and he's happy the notion was able to illicit some humor out of you. Once in bed, he kisses you from your shoulder to your jaw. "Use me whenever you need, sweetie. Everything I have is yours."

Caleb

"Heya, pipsqueak. What ya up to?" His voice was something that could always help ground you when you felt overwhelmed. "Oh. Uhm, well... I'm headed home early. Wanted to see if you were able to talk for a little?" "Hmm? What's the matter? I can tell something's wrong." Ah, Caleb... Always able to see through you, even over a phone call. Though a part of you wasn't sure what to tell him, you knew you wouldn't have called him if you weren't seeking his comfort. "Well, I have been having a rough time at work lately, so they gave me the next few days off. Honestly, it's... embarrassing." Your throat burns as you realize how ashamed you are to tell someone as smart and capable as Caleb that you've been told to take days off for not doing your job well. "Hey, it's okay. Wanna come stay with me these next few days? Give you a chance to take your mind off of things in Linkon?" Your tears fall as you smile at his offer, knowing that was exactly what you were hoping for. "Yes, that sounds great."

You didn't even pack your bags, you felt so tightly wound and desperate to see Caleb, you immediately made your way to Skyhaven to see him. You use the code Caleb gave you to his place to unlock the door. Once inside, you smelt popcorn and followed the smell to the kitchen. There, you found Caleb putting together a tray of your favorite snacks. "Hey, pipsqueak. I thought you might like to watch some of our favorite movies together? Help wind down some." You paused for a moment, letting his words and actions sink in. You were so grateful for someone who knew you and cared for you as much as Caleb did. Overwhelmed by how touched you felt, the tears started streaming again. Caleb immediately frowned and reached for you. You met him halfway and you both embraced each other in a hug. "That rough, huh?" Caleb asks. "I just feel like such an idiot." Caleb cupped your face and made you look at him. "Don't say that, Y/N. It's not true." "But it's how I feel. I can't help how I feel." He wipes your tears with his thumbs before bringing you in closer for another hug. "Then let me help you feel what's really true." He kissed your head and backed you towards the couch before sitting you between his legs and pulling you against his chest. "Y/N, you're amazing. You're bright, stubborn, funny, kind... beautiful. You should never think any less of yourself." You nuzzled your face into his neck and let out a shake-y breath. Your voice was small, "...thank you, Caleb. I'm just overwhelmed. I'm not my best self right now." He pet your head. "It's okay not to be okay, pipsqueak. It doesn't make you any less amazing. Just take it one step at a time. I'll be with you every step of the way, too." You tearfully smiled and nodded. He kissed you so gently, so lovingly. You were finally starting to feel grateful for the three days you received. You wanted as much time with Caleb as possible.

[loulou-land]

Chicken Noodle Soup for the Heart

Day 2 of @bucktommyfluffebruary | Cooking Together | 1,470 words

It was the kind of day that made staying in feel inevitable. Outside, torrential rain fell against the loft’s windows, its relentless rhythm sounding softened inside the kitchen. Buck was grateful they both had the next 48 hours off—no calls, no alarms, just the luxury of enjoying the bad weather from the warmth of home instead of going against it.  

And Buck could think of nothing better on a day like this than making soup from scratch—something rich, hearty, and comforting. 

He moved instinctively, pulling ingredients from the fridge and pantry, spreading them out on the counter with practiced ease. Taking a step back, he ran through his mental checklist, envisioning how each component would come together to create the perfect chicken noodle soup.  

Over the past couple of years, Buck had come to appreciate the art of cooking, taking pride in the growing repertoire of recipes he’d mastered—many of them learned through trial and error, as well as sheer persistence. He had pestered Bobby until he had every little detail down to a science. 

Now, he could already imagine the depth of the broth, the way the herbs would meld together, the chicken turning perfectly tender, the explosion of flavors in his mouth. A pleased hum escaped him at the thought. 

Which was when Tommy's voice broke through his focus, momentarily reminding him that he wasn't alone in the kitchen. 

“You know there's a can of soup in the pantry, right?” Tommy said, voice laced with amusement. 

Buck stopped. Turned in his direction. Stared. 

Tommy, leaning lazily against the edge of the counter in one of the kitchen chairs, looked entirely unbothered by the deep offense he had just committed. 

“A can?” Buck echoed, as though repeating it out loud would change the fact that his boyfriend had seriously just suggested he heat up canned soup. “Why would I—? You think I’m just gonna—? Tommy.” He shook his head, muttering, “I can't even look at you right now,” before moving to his cutting board, whispering the recipe under his breath like a mantra. Willing himself to ignore the overly amused man watching him from the other side of the kitchen counter. 

Buck was not falling for it again. 

He knew Tommy’s tactics. He loved to rile Buck up when he was in the kitchen, often distracting him from his cooking until it led to wandering hands, panting kisses, loud moans, and eventually—burnt dinner. So no, Buck wasn’t going to let himself get sidetracked this time. 

He soon lost himself in the rhythm of it—chopping onions, heating butter, letting the scent of sauteing vegetables fill the space. A little salt, a little pepper, the start of one of the recipe's components coming to fruition. 

But then—he couldn't ignore it anymore. 

An intense gaze. Like a soft caress running over him. 

He glanced up, catching Tommy watching him with an indefinable expression. Soft. Slightly exasperated. Amused. Fond. 

In love. 

Buck swallowed hard, a flush running up his cheeks and ears. He quickly shifted focus, turning to the pot—stirring with intense concentration. He was just cooking. It wasn't a big deal. 

But the way Tommy was looking at him—like Buck had hung the moon and all the stars just for him—it made him feel unbelievably warm inside. His throat tightened, the onslaught of things wanting to spill through his lips catching in the sudden knot that formed there. Still, the words echoed through him.  I love you. Thank you. I Love You. 

The breakup had left its mark on them both in different ways. Buck’s sometimes manifested in moments like this—in wanting to say it over and over, in wanting to make sure Tommy knew. That he was grateful Tommy had come back, was still here. 

Okay, Buck needed a distraction. 

“Alright,” he announced, clearing his throat. “You're not just gonna stand there watching—I'm putting you to work. If you want soup, you can help.” He placed his hands on his hips with authority. 

Tommy raised an eyebrow at Buck's bratty little stance, lips quirking like they did anytime he acted like that. Buck just knew Tommy was already plotting some kind of retribution for later. He felt a shiver run down his spine but he quickly shook it off. 

Tommy let out a small, amused laugh before stepping up beside him. “Fine. What am I doing, chef?”

Buck’s heart stuttered. The playful nickname wrapped in that special way Tommy always said his name. He cleared his throat. 

“Carrots.” Buck handed him a knife and some whole carrots. “Cut them like this.” He demonstrated, cutting them into tiny, perfectly uniform cubes with quick, even movements. 

Tommy hummed, took hold of the knife—then did absolutely none of that. 

Buck watched in mounting alarm as Tommy hacked his way through the first carrot. The slices were uneven, some too thick, some too thin, one somehow triangular. 

“What—what are you doing?” Buck asked, voice bordering on distressed. 

Tommy barely glanced up, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he butchered another carrot. “Cutting the carrots.”

“Well, they look—” Buck inhaled sharply, letting out a nervous chuckle. “um…artistic.”

Tommy snorted. “Don't backseat cut, Evan.” 

“What—Tommy, that’s not a thing.” 

“It is when you’re breathing down my neck while I wield a knife.” 

“I am guiding you.” 

“You’re hovering.”

Buck clenched his jaw, breathing through the urge to snatch the knife away. He lasted maybe three more seconds, wincing as Tommy whacked the blade against another carrot (why is he whacking at them? Buck thought, horrified) before exhaling sharply and gently shoving Tommy aside with his hip. “Okay, I'll cut the carrots.” 

Tommy threw his head back and laughed, stepping away with his hands up in surrender, as he allowed Buck full control of his kitchen again. 

Buck frowned at him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously when Tommy threw him a wink. 

“Were you butchering them on purpose?” he asked, already working through the rest of the carrots with quick, precise cuts. 

“Not at all,” Tommy said, completely unconvincing. “I was trying my hardest.” His voice was dry as he wiped his hands on a rag, then leaned back against the counter—subtly flexing his muscles at Buck. 

Buck’s lips twitched, before he ducked his head and let himself smile. 

He'd never known love could feel like this. Had never had this with anyone else before. This easy banter, the teasing, the laughter, the way he felt wanted and above all, free to be himself.  

When he looked up again, Tommy was still watching him, smiling happily, the crinkles around his blue eyes, deep and warm. 

“You’re such a liar,” Buck said, voice bright with laughter. 

“Hey, now, those are some serious accusations.” Tommy said in mock offense. 

Buck rolled his eyes fondly before stepping into Tommy’s orbit, pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend's cleft. 

Tommy caught him by the waist, his hand settling below his chin as he pulled Buck in for a  deeper, softer kiss. Saying his I love you in the way he held Buck close, in the way he kissed him like he was something precious. And Buck said it back with another gentle press of his lips, his fingers curling into Tommy’s sweater. 

Buck sighed happily, then nudged Tommy away with a grin. “Alright, stop being a menace and go wait on over there” he pointed to the chairs “while i finish the soup.”

Tommy hummed, pressing a quick kiss to Buck’s forehead right over his birthmark. “Yes, chef.”

By the time the soup was simmering, warm and rich, Tommy had set the table and opened a bottle of wine. Buck stirred the pot one last time before ladling out two bowls and bringing them to the table. They clinked their glasses together, sharing a look that said how grateful they were for these moments. 

Tommy took one bite and let out a deep, appreciative moan. “This is wonderful, Evan.” 

Buck felt himself flush, both at the compliment and Tommy’s reaction. He ducked his head, stirring his own bowl. “Well, you helped a little.”

Tommy tilted his head, amused. “Oh?”

Buck smiled, lifting his spoon and pointing to the triangular carrot in the broth. 

Tommy stared for a moment before breaking into a grin, something bashful and deeply touched flashing across his face. He reached across the table, catching Buck’s hand in his own before bringing it to his lips, pressing a warm lingering kiss to his knuckles.  

They smiled softly at each other, before they continued eating, slipping into easy conversation—talking about nothing and everything. 

Outside, the rain kept falling. The rest of the world tinged gray, cold and wet.  

But inside, they were bathed in faint yellow lights, their hearts full of warmth and love.

[acatnamedpusheen]

Two of Hearts (Declan x Reader)

Pairing: Declan x fem!reader

Word count: 7K (I've never written anything this long brace yourselves)

Genre: Mutual pining, enemies to lovers kinda vibes, smut in the end(that was the whole point), hella cliche

Warnings: Some bad words here and there, sexual themes obviously, fingering, handjob, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (I should be locked away), english not being my first language, me rarely using a full stop

Summary: You and Declan are sent on a trip to Como in Italy to attend an award ceremony. After a series of events you end up revealing your feelings for each other.

A/N: I totally did not get this idea as soon as I read that Aidan got secretly married to Caitlin in Italy (somebody lobotomise me). I should mention that I'm not following the timeline of the series, I mixed things up, good luck with that. Also play along with me and pretend it's normal for the british tv awards to be taking place in Italy, alright? This fic took an unnecessary long amount of time during which I was hopelessly sitting in front of a blank white screen with a blinking cursor every single day for 2 weeks. It took every bit of sanity left in me, I was contantly going between "this is so good" and "this is the crappiest shit to ever be written" . Still leaning towards that secong option but, I shall end my yapping here and let you read.

"You're going to Italy with Declan next week." Tony Baddingham casually told you after calling you to his office.

"What? Why?!" there was nothing in Tony's expression that indicated there was any space for negotiation or a way out of this, but these questions involuntarily came out your mouth with a clear protesting tone.

"British Television Awards, special edition taking place in Como this year. Declan has won an award and I can't send him alone, there needs to be some sort of representation from Corinium. And before you open that pretty little mouth of yours again, neither me nor Cameron can go because there are some issues that need to be settled, regarding the next season of Four Men Went To Mow." Tony finished that last sentence with a roll of his eyes. He obviously would have preferred a nice trip to Italy and a chance to show off his power and success infront of all the other producers and station owners that would be attending. Four Men Went To Mow was all Corinium had without Declan, so he had to make sure everything was arranged for its next season.

"I see..." you slowly nodded with a smile that wasn't really hiding your annoyance and turned around to exit Tony's office, barely catching a glimpse of him winking at you with that smug face of his before ligthing a cigar.

You've been working with Tony for a long time at Corinium, you were used to his 'manners' and how much of an authoritarian he was. That didn't mean he wasn't driving you mad, you just had found your ways of putting up with him. That had changed, however, when Declan O'Hara, the ruthless, irish journalist joined Corinum's picture. You had been assinged as his personal assistant, much to his dismay because, like he'd said: 'he does his own research'. Nevertheless, he did need someone to keep him a bit organised and Tony insisted you reported to him about any ongoing research because Declan tended to get quite uncooporative at times. So now, not only did you have to put up with a dictator of a boss, but also this arrogant, excessively proud workaholic you were supposed to be 'assisting'.

"What's wrong?" Declan asked upon seeing you storming in his office after exiting Tony's.

"Nothing." you tried to sound unbothered as you reached for some papers in hopes of distracting yourself. It wasn't really working.

"Oh I know better than to believe a woman answering this question with 'nothing' while she's looking clearly bothered by something." he replied with an amused tone while crossing his arms, accent thick and textured like crystallized honey, making you huff in annoyance.

"Did you know Tony is sending us to Italy next week?" you turned to him.

"Yes, somebody has to go and get that award. And see the look on the faces of all these idiots that never appreciated me." that smirk on Declan's lips was doing things to you. Things you were sure would send you straight to hell if one was to know of them.

"It doesn't sound like you really need me in any of this, though. Or do you think the award will be a bit too heavy for you to hold it all by yourself?" it was your turn to sound smug and the subtle laugh you earned from Declan felt like a reward.

"It's better for the station's image to not just send me there alone and I'm sure Tony explained how he can't send anyone else right now. Besides..." he paused and took a few steps until he was directly in front of you. "I want you there." he locked eyes with you causing your gaze to quickly shift to some other spot around you. "You're part of this show, you worked for this award too." your eyes met his again and you could really see sincerity in them. It felt like this was the first time he was genuinely recognising your work. Always too proud to let a single compliment about your contribution slip past his lips. Was he resorting to simple flattery for the purpose of the trip, you wondered.

"Could you at least tell me you'll be a bit less of a pain in the arse during those 3 days that we're going to be there?" it wasn't unusual for you to express how irritating Declan could get every now and then and you were sure not giving in to any potential tricks of his just yet.

"You know I can never promise such thing, sweetheart." there came that sinful smirk again as he patted the side of your arm before taking a step back and walking to exit the room.

There was no denying you had caught feelings for Declan over time, but you kept trying to find a way to persuade yourself that it was just a stupid phase. None of this was right. He was technically your boss, married even though his wife had just left him, with 3 children and quite older than you. You never had a chance with him and you never even should. You had it all under control up until then, partially hiding behind you constantly being cross with him. But only god knew how you kept longing to feel his toned back and shoulders under your touch, or taste his lips on yours. No, this was so wrong and just a phase, you constantly lied to yourself. A business trip with just the two of you alone, however, could easily reveal the truth and that was the actual reason why it was making you so nervous. As much as you'd wanted to let Declan know how you felt instead of letting it eat you away you dreaded the possibility of making things awkward between the two of you.

-

"You don't mind me sleeping through the entire ride, do you?" you were up on basically no sleep at an ungodly hour in the morning before the sun was even up, for a 2 hour drive to London to catch your flight to Milan. From there you'd be taking the train to Como for about an hour. 'Why did the British Television Awards had to take place in Italy?!' you kept thinking to yourself, your eyes barely able to stay open and then remembered Tony babbling something about it being a special anniversary edition or whatever this year.

"Of course not, but don't expect me to not do the same as soon as we're on that plane." Declan chuckled softly. He was relieved that the circumstances of your trip were such, that allowed, required even, either one or both of you to doze off during most times. He didn't want to make it awkward between the two of you now that you weren't sitting together for work. And he hated to admit it, but he was glad you'd be sleeping while he was driving, because he could easily steal glances at you without getting caught. He liked you, there was no denying that he did, but this felt so new to him and he feared it all might just be some sort of weird reaction to the fact that Maud had left him, sinking in. All these years married and he'd never even thought about looking at another woman, the way his wife did at another man. But now you had come in the picture and Maud had made her exit and it felt so different. You were different, you intrigued him, excited him. The way you carried yourself, the way you opposed him. It wasn't in the way Maud did, because she never liked him for what he truly was, she just wanted attention, whereas you understood Declan. Your 'insults' were innocent, just there to remind him when he was crossing the line and he knew that. What he didn't know was if there was any chance you saw him the way he saw you.

-

"Just a quick question, what do you find more appaling in this situation, me or Italy?" he turned to you with a playfull tone after you'd found your seats on the plane.

"You of course." you joked causing both of you to laugh. "Don't mind me, really, it was just the way Tony announced it, nothing else." you assured him before going back to whatever book you had picked to keep you distracted, surprised that for once you were thankful for Tony's actions upon realising that he'd booked business class seats, which granted space in-between you two. There was no way you could stay sane with Declan being any closer to you than he already was.

The remaining part of this long trip continued in equal silence. You'd only exchanged a few words on how magnificent the green scenery that occupied hundreds of kilometers outside the train window was, or on some new information about whatever research was currently in progress for the next show. And after what seemed like an eternity, in the late afternoon, you had finally arrived at the hotel you'd be staying for the next 2 days.

- 

"Would you like to join me for dinner later? I'm sure we can find a nice restaurant nearby." his all too familiar voice stopped you before you opened the door to your room right next to his. Oh how he wished he could openly ask you out, reveal his true feelings for you, now that you were away from all the familiar faces. Instead he had to make do with this question and hopes you'd accept. 

"I don't think Declan O'Hara, almost officially divorced, should be spotted having dinner with his assistant alone in some restaurant in Como, don't you think?" as much as you wanted this, you had to put your reputations above it. You might be away from the closed society of Rutshire, but Declan was still somewhat of a public figure and was expected to be here for the awards. You couldn't afford seeing your names on the front pages of tabloids, or be the one having to deal with Tony's rage if that were to happen. He gave you this job because he knew you were the one who could stop Declan from acting on impulse and that's what you were determined to do. Besides, it helped keep your irrational thoughts at bay too. "You can go alone on this, I'll probably just order room service, I'm quite tired anyway."

"Then, I'll order room service too and we can sit on my balcony. I've been told the view is exquisite." he saw you preparing to protest and was quick to continue "Come on, love, we can't act like total strangers until we get back. You got dragged here because of me, let me try to at least make it even a bit enjoyable." 

Hearing the nickname 'love' fall from his lips had your knees feeling weak. He called you things like 'love', 'darling' or 'sweatheart' every so often and it was the way he seemed to use these words so naturally with you that had you melting. "Only because you're asking me so nicely." your expression softened. "Anything along the lines of meat, salad or pasta would be perfect. But make sure there's wine." because not in a million years could you handle dinner with Declan sober. "And I'll be over in a minute." were your last words as you dissapeared behind your door leaving Declan in the hallway, before he had a chance to say another word. 

Alone in your room, you couldn't help the shy smile that found its way to your lips as you let out a deep breath. You had to compose yourself, it was just dinner on a business trip.  Declan seemed to mirror you with one of his signature smirks at the thought of getting to spent some private time with you outside the context of work. Last time he had gotten anything close to that was months ago at the NYE party at his house, where practically the whole of Rutshire was invited and he couldn't recall saying anything more to you than a 'hello' , 'happy new year' and 'goodbye". Did he even see you when you left? He couldn't say for sure. Of course there where times when he was tempted to invite you over to the priory. To have you finishing up work at his study and things escalating to... well, other things, but he knew how irresponsible that was, with Taggie and Maud potentially a few walls away. How it would probably make you believe he was a pervert.

- 

"So, ready for the big day tomorrow?" you asked in an attempt to keep some sort of conversation going and avoid the thick awkward silence that kept threatening to fall. Your eyes followed the red wine in the glass you were placing back down on the table, as the sun was setting behind the green mountains surrounding the lake, painting it in hues of orange. The early September breeze setting the perfect temperature for open-air dining. If anyone were to see you and Declan sitting on that balcony, they would, without a doubt, assume  you were a couple sharing a romantic dinner quite possibly on their honeymoon too. But the truth was far from anyone's assumptions.

"There isn't much to be prepared for anyway." Declan said nonchalantly before taking another bite off his plate. 

"Well, do you know what you are going to say? Won't you get nervous in front of all these people?" your eyes met with his.

"I'll tell them how pleased and thankful I am for the award, I won't forget to mention Corinium and I think I'll be just fine." seeing you nod, he proceeded to add the one thing that was actually making him nervous "And I want you up there with me." his doe eyes had yours widening in surprise. 

"What, me? Why?" as much as you were surprised there was no doubt you found this quite flattering.

"Because, like I've told you before, this award belongs to you too and you didn't come all this way just to sit there and watch me take all the credit, did you?" was he compromising his image by choosing to have you on stage with him so soon after his wife had left him? He didn't care. Besides, you were representing Corinium and your contribution to his show was undeniable.

"Who am I to say no to you, I guess?" two glasses of wine in and rather tired, you smiled in defeat. If only you could stop resisting him in other ways too. Him taking you right on that balcony for any prying eyes to see that he was yours, would have been a true delight. It was moments like this, that you realised you were capable of surprising your own self with such wild thoughts. Luckily, they where soon cut short by the one man conquering them.

"Speaking of which, I have something else I've been meaning to tell you." he was hesitant. Why? Had he spoken to Tony about firing you? That would explain why he kept mentioning how much he appreciated your work. "I want to leave Corinium and bid for the franchise with a team of my own." you didn't say anything, unsure of what that meant for you and your job. "I was hoping you'd be part of it." he chose his next words carefully.

"Y-you're asking me to go against Tony and risk losing my job and any chance of even getting another one?" your blood run cold just thinking about such thing.

"I'm asking you, to help me go against Tony and possibly make televison history. I've got Rupert Campbell-Black on this, we stand a great chance if we work smart." he kept his voice low, forearms on the table as he leaned in closer giving you a stern look. He was definitely serious about this.

"A 'possibly' and 'a great chance' are not enough for me to put my future at stake. If Tony finds out I helped you out with this and then your little venture fails, I'm done. He will make sure I never find a job again, ever." you stressed that last word. Getting fired suddenly sounded a lot less terrifying than Declan's proposal. 

"Why do you always have to bend to his will? Can't you see this is your chance to finally leave that bastard?" he raised his voice and huffed in annoyance, unable to undertsand your obsession with being so loyal to Tony.

"Because, that bastard is the one giving me this job which is mainly to deter you from making stupid decisions and keep things running smoothly." you fired back.

"Sounds more like your job is to do anything he asks you to, to keep him pleased. I wouldn't be surprised if he had you bent over his desk every other night." as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. The pain in your eyes violently brought him back to his senses. He should have never said that, but the thought of that brute having his way with you just for fun was torturing his mind. He wanted to take you as far away from him as possible, he loved you too much to let you stay working for Tony. He needed you for himself.

"Do you really think so low of me?" your voice was barely above a whisper, your brows knitted together in dissapointment. The sun was now long gone behind the peaks, there was no color reflected on the water anymore and the air suddenly felt sharp and cold, perfectly matching Declan's words.

Ηe struggled to form his next sentence. The man who had each and every one of his show guests at his fingertips, who knew how to speak his way through any situation, sat defeated before his most trusted colleague.

"No, look, I'm sor-"

"You know, if this has anything to do with Maud leaving and you feeling the need to take it out on somebody else, I can try to understand but by no means accept it." with firm hands on the table, you pushed your chair back and stood up, ignoring Declan's useless efforts to apologize.

"I'll see you tomorrow for the ceremony. I'll be ready by 5. Good night." with a final glance at him you made your exit. All this time you'd been working together and it seemed like this was the very first moment he'd witnessed genuine hurt and anger taking over you. He sat there, unable to move an inch but instictively reaching for a cigarette, taking it between his lips and lighting it with slightly shaking hands. Why couldn't he separate his TV persona from his real self and refrain from dissecting people just to feel something? Why couldn't he stop hurting the people he loved and cared for?

-

Your reflection in the vanity mirror opposite the room's bed had begun turning into something unfamiliar after you'd zoned out for the umpteenth time while getting ready.

The walk you'd taken earlier by lake Como, had helped you clear your mind a great lot. You had found yourself unable to get enough of the breathtaking view that stood before you. A vast body of water so calm and still the entire sky was mirrored on it and on its edges, like antexifes, beautiful houses in vibrant colors, all engulfed by the rich green, imposing mountains in the backround. This place felt as if it didn't belong to earth, as if it was a piece of heaven that had fallen from the sky, or was magically accessed through some sort of portal that went unnoticed. 

Your mind kept travelling back to those images, your heart still a bit sore from Declan's false assumptions about you, as you fixed the final details of your hairstyle - an elegant updo containing far more bobby pins and hairspray, that you'd usually go for. You'd hoped this fairytale-like town would have been the catalyst for a much more pleasant series of events, but maybe this was all for the best. A sign that you should deny and bury your feelings for good. How naive of you to expect anything else.

A knock on the door, though gentle, startled you interrupting your train of thought. Withought questioning who it was, realising you must have lost track of time, you were quick to get up and open it. And the sight it revealed was a true eye candy. You could have sworn you were ready to forgive Declan right on that spot just because of that tuxedo he'd chosen and the way his raven black curls were so perfectly slicked back.

"You look ravishing." for a split second you thought he was reading your mind, but the compliment was for you instead. The black velvet v-neck dress that hugged your body in all the right ways certainly did not go unnoticed by the handsome irishman that stood before you. He'd never seen you all dolled up before and that certainly had him feeling something stirring up inside him. Your eyes, carefully outlined with black, looked more enticing than ever and your lips, painted scarlet red suddenly felt too inviting. Was this his punishment for acting like such a jerk the previous night?

"You don't look half bad yourself." you returned with a mischievous look and moved past him to continue down the hallway, but stopped just a few steps in after noticing Declan wasn't following you. 

"Are you coming or not?" you turned around to see him in the exact same spot you'd left him. You'd forgotten that the best part of your dress was its open back rather than the v-neck cut in the front and Declan was definitely pleased with this discovery. Your voice pushed away all the unholy thoughts running through his mind and without missing another second he was striding to your side. 

"I know you still might not want to hear it, but I have the right to apologize formally for what I said yesterday." he began once he caught up with you. "I didn't mean it and I don't see you like that." he added, looking straight ahead as you both walked to the elevator.

"The words weren't the ones doing the damage. After all, I've been working for Tony for a couple of years now, I can handle insults. It was the fact that you, of all people, said them. And I know better than to think they were chosen without thought, so what was the matter?"  stopping in front of the elevator doors, your steady gaze fell on his features that always seemed to be burdened by troubles he rarely revealed to anyone.

"It's just that I think you deserve better, so much better." he admitted with a heavy sigh. 

"Allow me to decide that myself, next time." you replied with a tight-lipped smile just as the familiar sound signaling the elevator had arrived, was heard.

"If you ever change your mind, there will always be a place for you in Venturer. I want you to know that." he let you enter first and followed close behind, taking the space right next to you.

"I appreciate that. Is that how you'll call it, Venturer?" you shot him a curious look. 

"Yes, you don't think it's suitable?" he frowned at your question.

"No, I just think it sounds...dreamy!" the doors opened once again after you last word and you both stepped out to get to the car that was waiting outside the lobby. You may not have caught a glimpse of it, but Declan did shoot you a puzzled look upon hearing your answer. It wasn't really what he was expecting to hear, a simple 'no' or a 'yes but' would have made a lot more sense, but then again he wouldn't have fallen for you if everything you said came straight out that little box in his brain containing everything that made sense to him.

-

"And the award for best TV interview show host, goes to..." this was your queue, the big moment had finally arrived and you turned to look at Declan sitting next to you, only to find him doing the same. His demeanor had changed, though. With a half smoked cigarette between his smirking lips and a glint of confidence in his eyes, there was no doubt that you were now looking at the 'vicious Irish Wolfhound of Corinium'...

"Declan O'Hara!" the room erupted in applause after the presenter's announcement and you hugged each other in the most effortless and natural way possible. A feeling so new, yet somehow neither strange nor unfamiliar.

You walked up to the podium, with Declan leading the way and found your spot just a few steps behind him. You couldn't hide your smile as you watched him recieve the award and despite the fact that you'd be standing behind him for his little speech, you could almost see that sparkle in his eyes, the pride that made his shoulders feel lighter than ever. 

"It's a true honor to be receiving this award. I'd like to thank the audience that showed their support time and time again both live at the studio, but most importantly from their homes through the TV. Of course I would also like to thank Corinium, none of this would have been possible without its hard working people. Their contribution has been invaluable." with that last sentence he briefly turned to look at you, to make sure you knew exactly who he was talking about. Like all these times during his show when he searched for your eyes. He always found you in a corner somewhere by the audience. You were his anchor during any fleeting moments of uncertainty, even if you weren't quite aware of it.

Turning back to the audience once again he raised the award with a proud smile, proceeding to leave the stage with confident strides and you following close behind.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You watched and applauded all the other winners. Declan introduced you to all sorts of old colleagues of his that came by to congradulate him and if you weren't so caught up with the idea of him seeing you as nothing but his assistant, you'd swear you'd spotted jealousy in his eyes when any of then attempted to flirt with you.

Once you were back at the hotel, stood right outside, you told him you fancied taking a quick walk around the lake.

"I won't take long, just want to get a good look at it by night. And then we can get a drink maybe?"

"Oh so now it's not controversial to be seen having a drink with my assistant?" he teased, taking a step closer.

"Her boss just got an award, I think they both deserve a celebratory drink." you replied in the same tone, motioning to the trophy he was holding.

"I will have to agree with you." he gave you a smug smile. 

-

After about 15 minutes you were back. The scenery had indeed looked serene with the light from all the houses resembling fireflies on the surface of the water, but the air had gotten a bit too chilly for the outfit you'd chosen. 

Walking through the lobby you caught a glimpse of an all too familiar figure with the corner of your eye, sitting at the bar further away to your right. You were expecting to find him in his room, but it seems like he was to impatient to wait for you.

"Celebrating without me?" you asked in a playfull teasing tone once you approached Declan, his back facing you. He was slow and reluctant to turn around and when he did your smile faded.

"What's wrong?" your worry peacked once you saw his glassy eyes "Declan, what happened?" he was still taking his time to compose himself before he decided to speak.

"Maud called. She must have found the hotel from Taggie. She's been settled in London and she's filing a divorce." his voice lacked emotion. Either he was still in denial, or had fully accepted what was happening and given that this was Declan, it all pointed to the latter. Silence fell, only the distant chatter of some group of friends further away could be heard. You were unsure of how you were supposed to reply to something like this, but Declan continued on his own after nervously running a hand through his hair. "I knew it was foolish to believe she'd come back." he scoffed bitterly, then took a large sip from the whiskey sitting on the bar counter. A sheer contrast. Just a few hours ago he was the happiest you'd ever seen him, proudly recieving the recognition he deserved for his work and now... You were witnessing his most vulnerable moment. If you were being honest, you never thought Declan was capable of letting his guard down, or even be affected so deeply by something. That didn't mean it wasn't painful to actually see it. To see how much he truly loved his family that was falling apart.

"You can go, I'll just finish this and be up too. I won't do anything stupid, this time." he couldn't bare to look at you, you weren't supposed to be the one having to deal with him while he was like this. He wasn't even expecting you to say something, but eventually you did.

"You know, I'm not the best at giving advice, but I have this one saying I keep going back to when things get a bit rough. 'It's probably for the best'. I mean, sometimes shit just happens and you don't get anything good from it, but other times..." uncertain if you were doing any good, you placed your hand on top of his on the counter. "If it's of any use, I know how much you loved Maud. I saw it all in the way you looked at her during that New Year's Eve party." you took a seat next to him, your words forcing his eyes to bore into yours. He wondered how you had noticed such detail and held on to it all these months later. 

"Love was never enough for her, or at least my kind of love. All she ever wanted was attention, money." you remained quiet, watching him as he let his gaze wander somewhere along the multicolored glass bottles on the bar shelves. "I gave her a second chance after she literally slept with another man, because I believed we could work it out and now she goes and does this just because I was trying to provide for her and the kids." he shook his head irritated. He'd never spoken to you so openly about his marriage and you were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

You weren't quite the fan of his wife, more like you hated every piece of her vain character. She had your blood boiling with her behaviour at that party. With how she craved and thrived from everyone's eyes being on her. With how she refused to be on the same wavelength as Declan and the way she so shamelessly cheated on him. This situation was only making you more furious, more depserate to let Declan know your deepest feelings about him. Still, you tried to refrain from using his divorce for such purpose.

"You can't really change a person, but you can change the way you react to them." he let out a heavy sigh, probably still too lost in his own thoughts to actually process what you were saying. "I can only begin to imagine how all this must feel. I'm really not the person to help with it in any way, unfortunately, because I never understood what you and Maud had. Jesus, I never understood Maud's mindset, because if I had a husband like you I'd never..." you trailed off. This was so wrong, you where taking it too far. You were inappropriately taking advantage of the situation. This was not the right moment. Hell, was there ever a right moment?!

Declan's fierce eyes were immediately back on yours. All sobered up from his aches in an instant. "You'd never what?" the words rolled off his tongue inquiringly. It reminded you of times during his interviews when he'd had his guests right where he wanted them, ready to reveal some big secret of theirs.

"I'd never even think about looking at another man." you admitted with a pounding heart. At that point there was nothing to loose and before you could register what was happening Declan's lips where crashing hard onto yours, letting you taste a dizzying mix of tobacco and alcohol as his sturdy hands cupping your face.

Placing your palms on his chest you wanted nothing but to loose yourself in the moment you'd been fantasising about for so long, but once again you had to put your morals above this and were quick to push him back. Slightly out of breath and anxiously, he waited for your explanation.

"If this is just some kind of reaction, a way for you to feel like you're getting back at her, we should stop now." you drew your hands back abrubtly, fighting the burning urge to simply kiss him as hard as he did.

"This isn't about Maud. This is about you and me. Are we on the same page?" it was your turn to choose to reply with a feverish kiss, much to Declan's relief. Just before he was ready to deepen it, however, you stopped him again, leaving him confused. "Not here. At my room in 5'." you had already risked being seen, you shouldn't push it.

"You never break character, do you darling?" he smirked to which you playfully rolled your eyes before making your way to the elevator.

No sooner had you entered your room than you heard a quiet but determined knock. You were quick to open, locking eyes with Declan and not once breaking contact as you let him walk in and pin you against the door when you closed it. The collision of your lips was harder than before, if that was even possible. Tongues already eager to explore more. Your arms flying around his neck while you felt his hands on your waist and soon one of his palms travelling south behind your thigh, urging you to lift your leg up and let him press against you. The change in position had you letting out a small whimper simultaneously with Declan's grunt. 

His mouth greedily trailed down to your neck and you pulled him closer with the leg you had around his hip. He could feel your heated pulse under his lips. Or was it just his own vibrating through his entire body? Unable to say, he let himself get drunk in the feeling of your soft skin for a little longer before he retreated, freeing your body from his touch but not his presence.

The only sound that could be heard was that of your laboured breaths as you stared into each other's eyes with a spectrum of emotions: hunger, lust, anticipation, uncertainty.

"You can't imagine how long I've wanted to have you like this." he was the first to break the silence, with a low growl.

"Is that why you basically called me a whore the other night? Was that oddly specific image part of some fantasy of yours?" you were starting to put two and two together. Your hands, still on his shoulders got to work, sliding off his black suit jacket. 

"Would it be so bad if I said yes?" his voice was just a whisper, his hand travelling up your torso to one of your mounds, while the other found purchase on your waist. The idea of you bending over for Tony did infuriate him, but partially because more often that he'd like to admit he fantasised about putting you in such position.

"Abdolutely not." you sighed feeling his palm squeeze you in such perfect way, further igniting the heat in your core. The fact that Declan actually saw you in such way was making you feel light headed.

What followed was a hot mess of kisses, touches, pulling and groping, until you'd discarded each other's clothes down to your underwear, leaving everything in a heap on the floor. Declan sat on the side of the bed and took your hand to guide you to straddle him as he settled further up. Shooting you a dirty look he decided to take control.

"The other way around, darling." a bit confused, but too hot and bothered to further question his command you did as he said and let out a chuckle once you were on his lap and caught sight of the two of you within the frame of the vanity mirror on the opposite wall.

"Hope there's no objection to me watching you come undone like this." his voice was sinfully low next to your ear as he hooked two fingers on your black lacey underwear and started pulling it off.

"Who am I to say no to you?" the use of the same phrase you'd said during dinner the other night, drove him crazy, gave him a sense of power over you that was intoxicating and you felt him harden through his boxers against your back as he growled "Good girl" with that delicious accent of his.

Once your last article of clothing had succesfully been discarded, his strong hands were on your thighs, spreading your legs further to reveal your folds. Caressing his way back up he made you lightly jolt once he found your clit, lazily circling it, watching your reaction through the mirror with lust clouded eyes.

"Dirty little thing, you've wanted this too." he murmured before leaving open mouthed kisses on your shoulder. You confirmed his statement by tilting your head to give him better access to the spot. His free hand once again found its place on one of your breasts as the one working on your clit moved south, two fingers gathering your arousal before slowly entering you. 

A moan was bound to leave your lips and Declan was instantly addicted. He continued his ministrations across your whole body, eager to hear more. His mouth on your neck and shoulder, his palm on your breast and his fingers slipping in and out of you. The sight was lewd, filthy but without a doubt far better than anything that had crossed either one's mind.

"Let me see your eyes, sweetheart." his touch not once loosing its pace as he waited for you to meet his gaze on the mirror's reflection adding a thumb back on your sensitive budle of nerves, once you did. 

"Declan..." you moaned. It was all getting too much, you felt your release approaching, eyes fluttering closed as you let one of your hands, that had been gripping the sheets, reach behind and pull Declan's hair, earning yourself a grunt.

"Let go for me, darling." his velvety voice  was all you needed to reach your climax, moaning a mix of his name and profanities, your body writhing in his steady embrace.

Once you had regained control of your body, you were quick to switch your position to face Declan and get rid of the last piece of frabric separating you, just in time to see him bring the two fingers he used on you to his mouth. 

"Delightful" sheer satisfaction was painted across his features as he moaned then let you get a taste of yourslelf with a sloppy kiss. It wasn't long before your hands were on his erection, eliciting a string of heavenly sounds from him.

"I'm starting to think you were getting pissed at me all the time on purpose." he was at your mercy the way you pumped him but still tried to get the upper hand. "Were you imagining me loosing my composure and fucking you senseless against the nearest wall?" and it was working you were getting undenianbly wet again.

"Other scenarios were further up my list if I had to be honest." you slowed down your movements but squeezed harder. Two could play this game.

"Such?" he was stifling a groan.

"Us here, in this hotel away from anyone who knows who we are." with each word you positioned him at your entrance, too impatient to finally have him fill you. You moaned in unison once you relaxed and let him get buried in your walls. Relishing the moment he kissed your lips and every part of your skin he had access to and you welcomed his insatiable hunger by finding purchase on his chest.

"Ready when you are, love." he broke character momentarily to let you adjust to the stretch, but honestly, nothing sounded sexier than checking in on each other. You started moving, lifting and circling your hips as he matched you with slow shallow thrusts, while lowering you back on the sheets.

The change in angle had you whining. Declan's movements began getting harder and deeper. Words where made redundant, both too far lost in each other's touch, in each other's bodies to make a coherent sound. 

His fingers returned to your clit causing your back to arch and allowing him to reach a new spot that had you seeing stars. He was close, desperately chasing his own release but determined to bring you to your second orgasm. 

"Give me one more, sweatheart, I know you can." he groaned once he felt your hands on his broad shoulders pulling him closer, letting his lips find that sweet spot on your neck. 

With an obscene moan of his name you were coming hard once again, your mind going blank with that euphoric feeling and Declan whispering sweet nothings in your ear that soon turned into profanities as he reached his own climax. 

Was this wrong, you couldn't tell, but you were sure that if it was you never wanted to be right.

"You do realise we have some talking to do." he pulled out and plopped down next to you trying to catch his breath.

"Can we do that when we get back? Preferably with me bent over your desk?" you replied with sass, chest heaving and mind still a mess.

"Christ, you'll be the death of me."

~

[chappellrroan]

hey babe okay so I saw the first episode and let me tell u u thirsting about helly r (or helen? im guessing that's her outside name) is soo valid and justified she's very pretty and she's banging on doors screaming to get out and throwing things so I obviously admire her lol also this scout guy omg I cannot take him seriously he was a joke character in the good place it was so funny I keep thinking of him but except for that hmmm it's kinda interesting but I fell asleep like 5 times😭 why is it so slow vio why do they show stupid things like him walking through a white hallway and tying his shoelaces i guess am just used to sitcoms i cannot watch these slowpokes I hope i didn't miss anything important my favourite scene yet from just ep1 was scout sobbing in his car before going to work (haha been there done that) and also helly's video she's so animated corporates will truly kill us all this concept is wild tho but like. it's. i thought that wow i can't keep you're giving away one third of your life to a corporation and you're not even going to remember it like how can you waste it lifeis sooo precious. but then I think about all the precious hours i spent in my office formatting idiotic word documents because my seniors said the font looks bad the spacing is incorrect and how tired I was that I just came home and fell asleep and I'm like oh. i loved that line the boss lady said that humans imagined hell but it doesn't exist but the scary part is that what humans can imagine, they can create. so we all gonna die. but anyway yes that's my review of the first episode.i think i definitely missed some important things like i remember seeing some very old guy talking and suddenly he's like I'm petey and I'm like wait YOU'RE petey? where did u come from? but I'll figure it out lol maybe I didn't sleep enough last night

you'll only fall more and more in love with helly lol (also try not to get spoiled by my posts here because i need to see you react to everything a hundred percent authentic). okay in show's defence it's trying to show and not tell, that's why the first episode might seem a bit boring and slow but trust me it'll speed up by end of 2nd episode. the walking thing is show you the shift in his mannersims how outside he seemed depressed and crying while when his innie (aka the severed self) had absolutely no idea at all (the puzzled look at the wet tissue paper and throwing it) the changing of shoes because he isn't allowed to wear outside ones inside it'd have probably make his innie wonder why they're wet (i am realising this as we speak tbh, because his innie has no idea about sky sun snow weather etc) and give him a chance okay forget his previous characters RIGHTTTT it seems like a fucked up concept but if it was possible i am sure soo many companies would take advantage of it to prey on depressed/naive people. like it sounds nice as a concept but (you'll realise this as you watch) in fact is inhuman to that the other part of yourself that is consistently working. lmao that's miss cobel for you, tell me more about how you feel about her as you go on. also get some sleep and try not to be too worried about catching all the symbolism you'll get them as you go plus we have tumblr to discuss anyways mwah

[reneedenoailles]

Un Désir Assassin.

first entry for the rc-catalog valentines event !!

decided to go with the prompt unrequited love for feb 2.

fandom: vying for versailles. pairing: renée/alexandre. (unrequited.) rating: M. word count: 1270 words. trigger warnings: unhealthy obsession, mentions of murder, stalker behavior. MC: isabelle, hedonism path, single, unrequitedly obsessed with the valet. summary: he's got those eyes that drive her crazy, and she's got eyes to watch him sleep. or, a treaty on obsession. special taglist: @liykaii (who made the banner thank you so much, love you kiki <3)

Sigh. He couldn't find the words. Bent over his letter, he continued to mindlessly dip the feather in the inkwell — before his eyebrow raised. Did he just hear a creak ?

Wordlessly, he turned around in his chair. Had he not been the spymaster that he was, the rustling would've gone unnoti—

"Isabelle."

One simple name spoken into the air. And yet, that was enough. The rustling got louder, clearly an attempt from the duchess to hide as he stood up, in his shirtsleeves.

"There is no need to hide. What are you doing ?"

Truth be told, this was a rhetorical question. He knew what she was doing, he knew why she was here. That being said, he didn't like it one bit.

That's when Isabelle, despite her attempts, finally revealed her hiding spot from under his bedsheets, dusting off her gown.

"I got lost."

"And, let me guess — tripped, fell into my bed, which followed to my sheets being possessed by who knows what devil trying to murder you ?"

...Perhaps Isabelle should have thought of a better strategy, or at least a better excuse. She stood there, embarrassed about being caught — but the flush of shame on her cheeks was quickly overtaken by a flush of desire.

She wanted him. She needed him. It ate away at her — the fact that he was never responsive towards her advances, she couldn't help but wonder if the problem lied within herself or within himself.

What could he not want ? She was beautiful, young, witty, wealthy — Oh my god. Perhaps he wanted someone else.

That's when her desire was replaced with burning hot jealousy, raging in her green eyes. Had someone else ensnared him ? She had to find a way to —

"Mademoiselle."

His stern voice snapped her out of her reverie, looking up at him, unable to hide her scowl.

"You can't deny what has grown between us, valet."

"Between us ? The only thing between us is the king, whom we both serve. There is no us, Isabelle."

"No us ? So I mean nothing to you ?"

"That is not what I —"

"Are your eyes set on someone else ?"

She sharply asked the question, threateningly taking one step closer to him, then another — Alexandre backing away in response, his back against the table which she kept him pinned against.

Her chest pushed against his, her eyes throwing daggers. How she wished she could take one of those daggers and stick it through his heart, tear it apart, piece by piece to see what preoccupied it.

Silence followed her question — and to her, that could only mean one thing.

She was right.

SHE WAS RIGHT !

Usually, she loved being right — but not this time. This time, she had been hoping to be wrong.

Meanwhile, Alexandre silently mused over what Isabelle could be thinking about, brewing up in that brain of hers — nothing good, at least that's what he was sure of.

"No."

He responded, his heart being... troubled. He knew he wasn't in love — so why was that word so... uncertain ? He wasn't unsure, was he ? Of course he wasn't — Louis didn't want him to fall in love, so why would he ?

Clearing his throat.

"No."

"You hesitated."

"Get out, mademoiselle."

He frowned at her, trying to appear threatening, but knowing that in front of her determined gaze, he could crumble.

Silently swallowing.

The silence was palpable, you could cut through it with a butter knife.

"I'm afraid you've had too much wine at the Prince's party," He said, fully aware that she was sober, trying desperately to hang onto the slight hint of rationality that this situation could benefit from. But part of him knew it was futile — you can't explain this situation with logic. The heart wins over the head, and the head falls in defeat.

"And I fear you long for a closeness that is not the one we should have."

"Is my status a problem ?"

"The problem is that I don't love you, Isabelle. And I fear your desire for closeness is leading you to see things that aren't there."

So he was calling her crazy. That's how he wanted to play it. Okay. She backed away, tempted to throw everything, grab a letter opener and stab him — or maybe grab him by the hair and throw him face first into the fire of the chimney ! No one makes a duchess feel this humiliated — especially not Isabelle de Noailles of all people.

But she stopped. Despite her spontaneous desires of destruction, she restrained herself. This was not over. He would love her, one way or another. This idea that his heart had been stolen by someone else bothered her a lot. He was hers. Hers ! HERS !

If she couldn't have him, no one would.

Turning away — not saying goodbye before she left for her room, feeling her heart break.

She had known many lovers. Many men, and women, who she could bed with. And yet, her eyes reserved themselves to him — the one thing she couldn't obtain. Did the gods enjoy toying with her like this ?

Isabelle made her way back to her room, to hopefully get the Moon's advice, and a good night's rest. She couldn't believe that she had — crumbled like this, in front of him ? How she wished she could undo it. It killed her that she couldn't have everything she wanted, as much as she tried. Wine, parties, dancing, arts, beautiful gowns and expensive jewelry — all of those meant nothing if she couldn't be with the man she loved.

But someone else would.

With that lingering thought running through her head, she went to bed.

Meanwhile, Alexandre's chest heaved up and down, looking around the room, slowly sliding to the ground.

His knees felt weak. His breathing was uneven. He didn't want to admit it — especially not to Isabelle — but he feared for his life in that moment. And rightfully so, the mademoiselle's hedonism was something to fear. Besides, he knew she was capable of disposing of him if she so desired. Desire is a powerful force, and so is lust — Louis of all people knew it best.

Louis. What would he do, without Alexandre ? Had he died, would he have missed his faithful valet ? Would he mourn ? Be sad, attend his burial ? Even organize one for him ? Or would he simply not bother ? Replace Alexandre as he does with all his other mistresses ? Why would he compare himself to those women ?

And yet, thoughts creeped in intrusively. What would it be like, to have Louis of all people miss him ? The driving force of France, missing him ? Begging for him to be back if he were gone ? Wearing black for his valet ? Why could he not push all repulsive thoughts away from his brain ?

Standing up, wiping his hands over his shirtsleeves, as if they were dirty, as if he was trying to get something off of them.

And that's when he realized. Something brutal, something he couldn't deal with, something that he was never going to admit. Something that would change the way he looked at himself in the mirror for the rest of his life.

Staring at the letter he was writing in horror, the feather dipped in ink suddenly resembling the golden apple that caused the Trojan war, lasting for ten years, destroying so many lives in the process, ending with the burning of the city.

He felt his eyes burn, each word on that letter addressed to the king changing, making him pale in terror.

He knew who he loved, and it wasn't Isabelle, or any courtier.

It was the King himself.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[blujayonthewing]

reflecting on how all of my other DMs have gone above and beyond to lovingly weave my and my friends' backstory elements into the larger worldbuilding of the campaign by contrast to all of the ways Elyss' DM has gone out of his way to suppress or excise any influences her family may have ever had on anything and I'm genuinely near tears over it

[queen-mabs-revenge]

oh it's real depression hours

[moe-broey]

Ran out of answer spaces but! I felt it was important to split off Team Plasma since there is a significant ideological difference between them (as far as I remember each ideation of Team Rocket has the same goals/beliefs, Giovanni himself just stepped down and changed his mind)

That said! This is less about favorite gen and more about believing in the beliefs -- especially interesting to consider if you align with the Main Villain and their outlook, or if you believe in the so-called "cause" that may or may not be true, or have some truth to it (like, if you wanted to help Pokemon like og Plasma and Aether Foundation).

Sorry to lump Yell and Star together, I was going chronologically!! You'll have to specify which and why in the tags haha (if you want to that is!)

And honestly that goes for any choice, sell it to me. Why should I join Your team?