#and by a couple i mean two but that's not the point

[am-i-interrupting]

Hello, could you make a viktor x reader fanfic (where reader is someone very affectionate, and is very close to heimerdinger) please and thank you very much (⁠^⁠^⁠)

Soft Seams

Viktor was new to Piltover. New to all these things. Walking down the cobblestone streets even felt like something he shouldn’t be doing, something he would be yelled at for. However, with the head of the council walking with him, chatting along with a speedy, chipper voice no one dared to say a word. No matter how obvious it was that Viktor was not from Piltover.

His makeshift cane hit the ground with a soft, hallowed clack. His bag, well worn and covered in patchwork, was soft beneath his thumb which kept running over it.

“I believe you will like the owner,” Heimerdinger said. “There’s not a person they’ve yet to win over! Ah, here we are.”

For the first time since meeting this odd man, Viktor was not the one to open the door. At least, not for Heimerdinger. The door was split into two sections, a section with a door knob that was at an average person’s height and a section carved in that was more suited for someone of the yordle decent.

“Hello,” Heimerdinger said as he walked through the door.

It swung closed behind him. Viktor waited a moment, as the door swung inward, before opening it.

“Heimerdinger,” a voice from further inside rang out, “is that you?”

Viktor looked around the shop. There were fabrics draped over the walls. Mannequins sporting different types of attire ranging from more casual to extraordinarily expensive. A couple racks were on the floor sporting similar clothing. Several table displays were flittered in as well.

“Yes, indeed, my dear!”

A head poked out from behind one of the displays. You had bright eyes and a warm smile.

“It’s been too long!” you said as you raced forward.

You knelt onto the ground to give the yordle a hug. You swayed him back and forth as he wrapped his arms around you.

“And who is this with you?” you asked.

“This is Viktor,” Heimerdinger introduced. “A young man with a brilliant mind who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting recently.”

“Hello,” Viktor said.

He took your hand as Heimerdinger gave him your name. You surprised him by covering his hand with both of yours. They were soft and warm in comparison to his own.

“I’m honored to meet you,” you said.

You have his hand a light squeeze. He was convinced you may actually mean it.

“The honor is mine. The Professor speaks highly of you,” he replied.

You smiled, looking down. A small flush came to your face. Your eyes went to the yordle who met your eyes head on with a smile of his own. He was rocking back on his heels as he did so.

“We’re here to inquire about procuring some new attire for Viktor,” Heimerdinger said. “With such a brilliant mind, I’ve request his assistance with some of my projects.”

You nodded. Something in your demeanor told Viktor that you were excited, ready.

“Alright, why don’t you come to the back with me and we’ll get started,” you told him with a gesture to follow.

Viktor’s eyes went to the Professor. However, the man was already following beside you. He wasted no time to being chatting away.

You laughed at something the man had said. “You would mind standing here so I may take your measurements?” you asked with laughter still on your tongue.

Viktor stood on the platform that was indicated. Looking at himself in the multiple mirrors, he couldn’t help but feel more like he did not belong.

His clothes were worn and stitched together with hopes, not talent. In direct comparison to Heimerdinger (who sat perched on a chair perfectly tailored to his height) and you (who wore a perfectly fitted, unstained white sleeveless shirt with black, high waisted pants), he was noticeably less well off.

Although, the point of this visit was so when he began to accompany Heimerdinger everyday, no one would notice.

You took a measuring tape and began to wrap it around various parts of his body. Every time, you took note of the measurements. When you were done, you dragged a chair to the platform.

You patted it twice. He took the indication to sit.

You brushed your fingers through his hair, pulling it back and away from his face.

Instinctively he found himself sitting up straighter. His eyes went a bit wider. He could feel his lip begin to pull down in confusion.

Your face went beside his own as you looked at him in the mirror. He could feel your breath against his left cheek.

You nodded to yourself as you grabbed several patches of differently colored squares. His hair fell back into place.

You placed the patches onto his shoulder. “Alright, that’s about what I thought,” you said. “You have a warm undertone in your skin but it’s a bit muted instead of very bright. So, the colors that will look best on you will follow that pattern. Instead of the bright red of the academy, I’d suggest a more maroon tone of red, something deeper and richer.

“I think you would look beautiful in greens especially,” you continued on. “With the golden hues in your eyes and the warmth in your skin, something like a sage or olive green would really make those features pop.”

You thumbed through the color patches. You found two greens. A bright, saturated green was on his right side. A more muted, grey toned green was on his left.

“See how the brighter green makes you look more washed out, verses the muted which really brings attention to all the golden in your eyes and skin?” you asked.

He didn’t expect you to actually look at him for an answer. When your eyes met his in the mirror, he found himself nodding.

“So, when we’re looking at any clothing, general rule of thumb would be to go with something more muted,” you told him. “Muted doesn’t necessarily mean dull. Soft blues, purples, pinks, and greens are all beautiful colors with varying degrees of intensity. But dusted colors will generally look better on you than something that’s pure pigment. Does that make sense?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Now, fabrics. All I need for you to do on this next part is tell me which ones fell the most comfortable.”

The rest of the visit went smoothly and fairly fast. You all said your farewells and you told Viktor to come back sometime within the next three to five days.

He did. This time alone.

You greeted Viktor with the same kindness that you had before. You rushed him to the back so he could try on the clothing you’d picked out or made for him.

First was the uniform. A pair of black dress shoes. Grey pants that were looser at the thighs and tapered in at his calves. A fitted, maroon button up covered by a cream and dusty blue vest with a matching cream tie tucked in.

You pulled at the vest to make sure it fitted nicely. “And if there’s anything which needs to be changed, don’t hesitate to ask. The point of clothing is for you to be comfortable.”

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you,” Viktor said.

You smiled at him in the mirror. “Of course.”

There were several other variations of the same uniform. Outside of that were different colored vests, button ups, and trousers. Some for function and others for comfort. Viktor had never worn such soft and comfortable fabrics in his life.

There was one outfit in particular that you seemed to be excited about. When he put it on, he actually understood why.

It was extremely comfortable. Soft and warm. A cream colored turtleneck. It was tucked into a pair of sage green pants that felt almost like velvet but warmer and more gentle to the touch. The brown vest was made of a similar fabric. All of it came together with a sage green jacket, the same fabric as the turtleneck on the outside but the interior was lined with cream fur.

“You look very handsome,” you told him.

He looked at himself in the mirror. His eyes were brought to attention and his skin seemed to almost glow. He was inclined to agree.

[hotwings0203]

"I swear, if she had just stayed with the group like a normal person would, she would've saved herself at least 30 more minutes of screentime," your friend says on the other side of the couch.

In retaliation, you playfully chuck a few kernels of popcorn at him and gesture wildly at the screen. "It's the classic bimbo trope! She's wearing a miniskirt and high heels in the forest for gods sake, it practically screams 'Murder me!' on her clothes."

You both squabble for a few minutes like this until the sound of violins coming from the t.v. cues you in for the next foreboding jumpscare. Both sets of eyes turn back to the dimly lit screen and lock in on the gore-fest about to unfold.

The main heroine cautiously creaks a door open in front of a tunnel and warbles out, "H-hello? Is anyone there?"

It's so cliche you could roll your eyes, but yet your heart is still pumping...

And your "friend's" body shifting a mere few inches away from you isn't helping the palpitations.

The two of you had been dancing around each other the past few months in some sort of premature courting method, the flirty remarks and jeers from your mutual friends egging you both on to seal the deal and admit your feelings for one another.

But, like every young romance blooms, the fear of wilt is just as strong.

And so you opt to get as close as you can to the real thing by being satisfied with his arm not-so-subtly thrown over the back of the couch , so softly playing with the ends of your hair so as to not disturb you.

You can barely focus though, as the girl on the screen inches closer to the end of tunnel, the boy behind you also creeps his other idle hand towards yours resting on the cushion.

It takes an incredible amount of effort to keep your breathing even and hands still as you watch from the corner of your eye as his veiny hands trail closer...his fingers outstretching towards yours...and...

Rrrriiinnngggg!

It's like a tidal wave comes crashing down as the woman on screen screams in tandem with your phone ringing.

You feign a groan as you shoot the disappointed man on your couch an apologetic wince, and try not to let your heart fall as he nods back with a barely understanding grimace. You round the couch and let the movie continue playing as you hit the green button and pick up the intruding call.

"Hello?" You snipe.

"Get rid of him."

For the second time in the night, your heart falters, but the former experience is something you'd beg for rather than this.

"H-how did you know someone's at my house?" Your voice drops to a shaky whisper and you throw a panicked glance into the living room to ensure that your lover/friend hasn't picked up on your tone. You duck into your bedroom and close the door slightly, your hands trembling as you do so.

The gravely voice on the other end chuckles, but the sound has anything but mirth in it.

"That's a funny way to phrase it sweetheart. Your question makes it seem as though I stopped keeping tabs on you."

A minute-long silence ensues after that, your mouth gaping open and closed like a fish out of water. There's no sound except for the low hum in the background of your living room, and your caller's shallow breaths on the other end of the line.

"You begged so nicely last time for me to leave you alone, even made it to the cops at one point. I granted you a shred of mercy, a bit of pity after the cops failed to take your report seriously- I mean, I don't blame them. Their time is precious, y'know? They've got bigger things to worry about than a dumb little girl whining about some invisible stalker jizzing all over her and her room when she sleeps," he snickers meanly at the sound of your choked gasps.

The taunting of your trauma is a slap to the face, a wound cut open again. You thought you got rid of this anonymous stalker a couple months back, you thought a police report and growing reclusive from your social life would dissuade any unwanted interactions from this psycho. You felt backed into a corner, dirty and ashamed as the threatening calls became more frequent. Love letters with ominous fluids coating the expanse of the papers started showing up at your front door when you changed your number. He'd attach polaroids of you in your undergarments, when you'd shower, when you'd cook, and so many other unassuming intimate domestic scenes in the envelope, and then when you couldn't take the terror anymore...it stopped.

The calls, the letters, the pictures, all of it...poof.

You had slowly started to hope that he had gotten bored of you and the lack of social life, lack of thrill in general at you losing your color.

With that hope, came bravery. Your friends started coming around again, the parties ensued, you switched your college class from virtual to in-person again, you even met the guy nestled comfortably on your couch currently.

"How many bodies did you think you could hide behind?"

The voice on the other end of the phone croons softly, but pulls you just as violently out of your dread.

"What do you want?" comes your shaky whisper, your fingers gripping the phone tighter in sync with your throat closing up.

"Ohhh sweetheart, now that's a loaded question. You and I have all the time in the world to uncover that, but your boy toy on the other hand..." His teasing lilt twists lower into something akin to a growl, and you can't help the whimper that escapes you.

You don't want to find out what his threat alludes to, or how serious he is.

Slow-burn romance be damned.

"J-just give me a few minutes-"

"Now."

Your teeth sink into your lips to hold back a frantic curse as you duck your head out the doorway to check on the living room.

He's still there, unassumingly checking his phone.

"Okay, okay. I-I'll tell him something came up, just dont-"

Your voice catches in your throat and you force yourself to swallow, taking in a deep breath at the sound of your stalker's pleased hum on the other end of the line.

"I'm watching you. Don't try to pull anything smart with me, unless you're eager to taste my blade in addition to my cock."

You blanch as the call ends, and try to quickly blink away tears of frustration. Wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts, you inhale deeply again before turning the knob and opening the door to the living room.

Rounding the couch, you softly pad your way to your lover and force the tense muscles in your back and arms to loosen, not wanting to give any indication that something's very, very wrong.

"Heyyy, you're back!" He drawls with a loose smile on his face. "Thought the movie scared you too bad and you ran off."

You force yourself to let out a faux chuckle and try to prevent your smile from looking too strained. He seems to unfortunately notice it though, because a crinkle appears between his brows and he sits up, tossing the phone in his hands aside.

"Woah, you okay? Did something happen?"

"No, no! It's nothing like that at all. Actually, this is really embarrassing but one of my girls called and I think she's blackout drunk at the bar near downtown, I gotta head out and pick her up. I had no idea I'd be on babysitter duty tonight, I'm so sorry," You frantically wave his concern off and try for another carefree laugh, but your shaking hands are a dead giveaway.

He stands up and grasps your hands tightly in his, the large and smooth planes of his palms enveloping yours before you can react. Your head spins as the realization of him touching you for the first time under these less-than-ideal conditions overwhelms you.

"Hey, y/n, look at me-no, look- you're okay, alright? It's no big deal, we can always finish the movie another time, seriously."

And before you can move back to save him, he leans forwards and pecks your cheek.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second the door closes shut, your phone rings.

Your hand, still on the door handle, drifts up to your lips as you nibble on your nails haphazardly.

You're terrified to know the consequences you elicited. You don't wanna pick up.

And yet, you know if you don't, he's capable of so much worse.

Your thumb slides on the green button when his voice breaks through the call with barely-concealed rage, the waver of fury coating his venom as he spits, "He touched you. He kissed you."

"I tried to back away! I tried to-"

"And I tried playing nice, but looks like we both failed each other, huh?"

The excuse dies in your throat as his hiss overpowers yours.

"I should carve his fucking lips out for touching whats mine," he continues after a beat, an incredulous and ragged laugh erupting from the other end of the call, making you wince.

"It would be so easy to get rid of him too. That shitty little apartment he scrimps and saves for at his 9-5 hasn't changed the locks in the complex for years now, he walks solely at night with his earbuds in, his bones would be so easy to break-"

"Please don't hurt him," you finally break his monologue with a sob of your own, unable to fathom being the reason why your lover would suffer such sinister endings. You throw your hand over your mouth to prevent him from hearing you cry and your legs give out from their mindless, panicked pacing around the house. The soft duvet comforters of your bed provide ample cushion for the fall, but not enough to swallow you whole and hide you from his inevitable wrath.

Your stalker pauses as he listens to your muffled cries, your skin prickling as he lets out a ragged moan at no doubt your misery. You can hear the sound of rustling clothes and a belt buckle hitting a floor of some sort.

"Are you scared pretty girl? Are you scared I'm gonna hurt you, or him?"

"Yes," you breathe.

"You should be."

The call drops, but you dont move for what seems like hours.

Your body feels like stone as you eventually burrow under your covers, mountains of stress weighing you down heavier than the blankets and pillows you use as meager protection. All the doors in your apartment are locked, the windows bolted shut, the knives taken out and placed under your bed, and your phone fully charged.

And yet, you might as well have been naked for the lack of protection you feel as the clock strikes past 1am. You jump every time the branches outside your windows smack the glass, and grip the edges of your covers tighter at the slightest creak from your aged abode.

You're curled in fetal position, tense and alert, ready to call 911 at a moments notice. You wont, you can't let him get to you, mentally or physically.

But eventually your body fails you as you drift off to sleep, the adrenaline high wearing off and lulling you into an exhausted state of rest.

You only awaken when you hear his voice.

"Hereeee kitty kitty"

Body locking up before your mind is fully aware, you freeze under the duvet as you see his silhouette from under the opaque material.

He's merely a few feet away from you, leering over your lumpy form.

Your eyes dart to where your door is, and you can make out the shape of it being opened.

How the ever-loving fuck did he get in?

You can't move, you cant blink, you cant even breathe as he inches closer to you, settling to perch by your feet.

He chuckles and snakes his lithe fingers from underneath your comforters, trailing up your feet up to your ankle, letting his offensive touch rest there as a faux show of affection.

"You're like a present underneath those blankets."

You let out a shaky whimper and tense up even more as he leans in, the dark shape of his head right over your face.

"Does the little slut want me to unwrap her? I think i've won my prize fair and square."

The hand on your ankle moves up to your calves, then your knees, all the while you start to squirm and wrestle against his hold.

He laughs lightly with sick glee as his hold on you tightens, allowing himself to indulge momentarily as one of his hands shoves itself between the apex of your covered thighs, the other squeezing and pinching up your torso to any part of you that he deems soft enough.

You both writhe like this for a minute or two while you fight for air underneath the increasingly-stuffy covers, and you know he's reveling at your losing battle.

Eventually he must get tired of playing with you, because you feel the bed dip and shift as he climbs on top and straddles you. As a last-ditch attempt to free yourself, you throw the blankets off, exposing yourself to him. You try to scramble away after dislodging him, but he's too fast. He grabs you by the neck and slams you down against the bed with a snarl, his hair mussed and disheveled as his hands encircle tighter around your throat. Adrenaline courses through you along with the blood pounding your head as you try to scratch at his face. The harder you fight, the tighter he squeezes, and through the black spots in your vision you can see his salacious grin, his hair falling over his face and barely concealing the victorious and manic look in his eyes.

You feel his skin pile up under your fingernails as you rake down a particularly soft side of his cheek, but instead of him drawing back, he fucking moans as blood blooms through the new cut.

He feels you hesitate for a split second in your awed disgust, and uses the momentary reprieve to rock his hips against your clothed mound.

You gasp feels like its ripped out of you all the while he shakes with tension and laughter.

He feels high off the mix of fear and disgust at your body reacting to his ministrations.

You thrash like a fish out of water in his hold, your desperation a sick contrast to the firm and controlled motion of his body eliciting responses out of you that you never wanted to give to him of all people.

"Fuuckkkk, thats it baby, just give in," he croons and shushes the sound of you choking. A shudder passes through him as he feels your throat constrict under his unrelenting hold, and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he thrusts again into you.

He must hit a good spot, because he feels your legs twitch. To reward you for reacting to his touch, he lets up ever so slightly on your abused throat, and opts to duck his head down and replace his hands with his mouth.

The whole ordeal can't have been going on for more than a couple minutes, but it feels like your overstimulation has been lasting eons. You feel the adrenaline crashing down, your defenses rendered useless as he uses both his hands to envelope your own and lace his fingertips with yours, bringing both your intertwined hands up next to either side of your head. He locks your legs under his, ensuring that you can't wiggle out of his grasp, and lifts his head up slightly off your neck from the galaxy-covered hickies he left on the empty planes of your neck to look at you properly.

No makeup, bared open and vulnerable for him, hair looking like a rat's nest from the struggle, neck littered in violent splotches of blue, purple, and reds, lips bloated and shiny from tears trespassing down the planes of your face and down your chin. Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, he feels your body tremble as you fight off the waves of exhaustion threatening to capsize your efforts. Your eyes, teary and bloodshot, ensnare him most of all. He feels as out of breath as you as he gazes lovingly, sickeningly down at you with unread emotions.

Love, hate, defiance, disgust, fear.

To him, you look ethereal.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he whispers, pulling one hand out of your own to gently move strands of hair out of your face to see you better. He bites back a frustrated growl as you flinch and turn your head to the side, burrowing as much of your face into the pillow as you can. You don't want to see or hear him gloat, you just want him to take what he came here for and to leave you the fuck alone.

"Stop fucking-no, look at me," the hand that ever-so gently caressed your hair hardens as his entire hand grabs the lower half of your face to face him.

You try to mumble something out, but his invading hand covers your mouth. He doesn't seem keen on moving it or hearing what you have to say from the way he merely presses harder against your ajar lips.

"I can fulfill you better than that wimpy fuck could ever dream," he hisses, leering over you. Your muted scowl doesn't phase him as he continues, "And you don't need friends anyways. I'm enough for you. I'll take care of all your needs, financially, emotionally, and physically."

At this, he presses his hips right into your cunt, and holds his body there, groaning at the way you pulse for him even under the layers of clothing.

You squeal and try to squirm, but your displeasure proved moot as he uses a free hand to slither under the waistband of your short and dip lower.

This brings around another round of muffled screaming, your back arching as his fingers dance over your soft mound, finally claiming his prize and swiping his digits through your lips.

He makes sure you watch as he brings his fingers back up to his mouth and licks them clean, moaning and closing his eyes in bliss as he does so. Your horror is practically palpable as you freeze at the bizarre show, the violation leaving you speechless.

"You should have told me you were enjoying this, you fuckin' brat," he scoffs and wipes his spit-covered fingers across your cheek, chuckling as you scream in rage.

"Had I known you wanted to play rough like this from the start I would've fucked you raw in front of all your little friends."

He leans in, savoring your terror.

"After all, all a brat like you needs is a fat, hard cock stuffing her widdle pussy until she breaks."

He uses your frozen state to flip your entire body over with one hand, immediately closing in on you and covering your prone body with his own. One hand braces dangerously close next to your face to balance himself as he uses the other to grab a fistful of your locks and pull back, craning your head to meet his eyes once again.

Your back and stomach shake with the effort of holding yourself up in this painful and awkward position, and his hips slot themselves against your backside as if it was their rightful place.

He's not lying, you realize with dread as you can feel his thick and hard imprint nestle between your asscheeks, your shorts riding up in the process.

"But don't worry," he pants as he pulls aside your shorts and panties and begins thrusting himself up and down your wet slit, all the way up to your ass, making careful sure to tap his tip against your clit a couple times, making you jerk and whimper at the buzzing sensation.

"I'm not letting you go anytime soon. We have the rest of our lives to break you and put your pieces back together," he bites your earlobe as he hisses the promise, moaning loudly in your ear as he lets his tip indulge in your entrance, barely pulling back and pushing in inch by inch.

You wince and try to move your body forwards to escape the inevitable, but he twists your supporting arm behind your back painfully and lets your head fall back on the pillow in defeat with a hoarse sob.

"You're fucking mine."

[pisoprano]

Somehow the Jubilation dream gets leaked to the public, specifically a still of Ladybug and Chat Noir kissing at their wedding. A Ladynoir stan becomes so wracked by all the emotions that they end up akumatized as Honeymooner.

Before either Ladybug or Chat Noir can do a thing to combat the akuma, they’re transported to a game show dimension...

--

Honeymooner: Welcome Ladybug and Chat Noir! I am your host, Honeymooner! And I can’t believe you two went and got married and didn’t tell anyone! For shame!

Ladybug: We didn’t actually—

Honeymooner: I have the picture of you both dressed in white right here!

Chat Noir: Really, that was a side effect of the akuma—

Honeymooner: Puh-lease! You two weren’t Couple of the Year for nothing! And I’m going to prove that you two are perfectly perfect for each other by having you play The Newlywed Game! I’ll ask a question and you’ll tell us who you think it applies to more. If you’re right, the wedding bells will ‘ding!’ If you’re wrong, the wedding bells will ‘dong!’ If you’re both right oh, let's say five times, I’ll let you both get back to your honeymoon *wink*!

Monarch: And I’ll know what Ladybug and Chat Noir’s real names are, muahahaha!

Honeymooner: Oh, and I suppose Monarch's giving me the first question: Do you know your partner’s real name?

Ladybug: No.

Chat Noir: No.

Wedding bells: *dong! dong!*

Honeymooner: Incorrect! Both of you are incorrect!

Chat Noir: I’m not lying! *realizes that Ladybug (along with the rest of Paris) has definitely heard the name ‘Adrien Agreste’* But maybe Ladybug has heard my name before? It’s really common!

Ladybug: *remembers Chat calling her ‘Marinette Dupain Cheng’ multiple times* Mine too! So so common!

Honeymooner: I guess that tracks. Moving on, it’s my turn for questions!

Monarch: Hey! I didn’t get to—

Honeymooner: Question 2! When did your partner fall in love with you?

Chat Noir: She didn't fall in love with me.

Ladybug: Exactly! I’m not in love with him!

Honeymooner: Remember, for this question you are answering for your partner, not yourself!

Ladybug: Uh… maybe around our first battle with Glaciator?

Wedding bells: *dong! dong!*

Honeymooner: Both of you are incorrect! Tell us, when did you really fall in love?

Chat Noir: When we first defeated Stoneheart… I told myself I didn't care who was behind that mask, I loved that girl...

Honeymooner: Since the beginning! We all swoon! Now Ladybug, tell us! When did your feelings start?

Ladybug: I… well… maybe I just had some feelings I never noticed…? Not that I can get into an actual relationship right now!

Honeymooner: *points at the wedding kiss picture* I think you’re a little late for that! Question 3! Let’s get into your preferences! What is your partner’s favorite color!

Ladybug: Black.

Chat Noir: Uh… re— *sees Ladybug glaring at him and changes his answer at the last second by imagining what her civilian self would pick, then basing his guess on his 'Everyday Ladybug'*—pink?

Wedding bells: *dong! ding!*

Honeymooner: Chat Noir is correct!

Monarch: What kind of a question was that? I need to know more about what’s behind their masks!

Honeymooner: It seems our butterflyness has something else he wants to know, so: Question 4! What color is your partner’s eyes?

Monarch: That’s not what I asked!

Chat Noir: Blue!

Ladybug: Green!

Wedding bells: *ding! ding!*

Honeymooner: Correct! Hey, you both got one right! I knew you knew each other so well! Only four more times with both of you getting it right to go!

Ladybug: Just for the record, I might have different color eyes when I’m not wearing the mask. And Chat’s got the eyes of a cat, so his eyes could be any color in real life!

Chat Noir: R-right! What my lady said!

Honeymooner: But clearly the fact that you knew means you spend a lot of time looking, tee-hee! Oh, I know what I want to ask! Question 5! Who has spent more time looking at pictures of their partner on their phone!

Ladybug: Chat.

Chat Noir: Me.

Wedding bells: *dong! dong!*

Honeymooner: Incorrect! Ooh, Ladybug, you’re such a voyeur and no one has any idea! So scandalous!

Chat Noir: *remembers he’s Adrien Agreste* Oh, I probably skewed those results since my photos are on my computer instead of my phone!

Ladybug: Y-yeah, and I’m constantly checking the Ladyblog so I keep seeing Chat Noir on the site’s icons!

Honeymooner: Ohoho! So you are someone who's taken steps to be actively engaged with society, hm....? Well, we thought it was such a travesty when you didn’t inform us of your engagement!

Monarch: Ask what echelons of society they run in!

Honeymooner: Question 6! If you were both attending a fancy party with the snobbiest elites in Paris, who would end up making a social faux paus first?

Monarch: NOT! WHAT! I! ASKED!

Ladybug: Chat, definitely. His posture alone would keep this stray from getting through the front doors!

Chat Noir: Meow-ch, I am offended! I’m a purebred feline, thank you very much! I would never make a breach of etiquette, so be default you’d be the first to make faux paws, my lady.

Wedding bells: *dong! ding!*

Honeymooner: Chat Noir is correct! Ladybug, this man is literally the prince of your dreams, you need to take him to a masquerade ball, he will sweep you off your feet and it’ll be so magical…

Ladybug: This is all just hypothetical! And who knows, I can be a bit clumsy sometimes—

Chat Noir: Madly clumsy.

Ladybug: Shut up.

Chat Noir: I will once you start getting more questions about me right!

Ladybug: I've gotten some things right!

Chat Noir: You've gotten one thing right. Which you literally knew since the moment we met. Come on, you know me, Bugaboo. And we'll prove it to the Honeymooner just how much.

--

They do manage to prove they both know each other. After 913 questions, anyway.

concept: an akuma that forces Ladybug and Chat Noir to play some version of the Newlywed Game. in order to beat the akuma they have to get enough questions about the other correct, but the questions often will be random obscure facts about their civilian lives. akuma magically knows the correct answers to all questions asked but still only asks completely useless questions that does nothing to help the butterfly figure out their identities, just enough to have ladybug baffled by how bad she is at guessing about what chat noir's personal life is like

[luvserie]

SKZ Reacts to Someone Flirting With You

Maknae Line

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, suggestive content, mentions of MDNI and NSFW content, swearing, mentions of violence

HYUNG LINE

Bang Chan 🐺

As we all know, Chan struggles with self-hate. That's why, contrary to popular belief, I don't think he would be that assertive in his attempts to get someone away from you.

I'm not saying he wouldn't be assertive, but just not in the guard dog or bodyguard kinda way, y'know?

Let's say you're at a party and Chan sees you laughing it up with another person at the bar. I don't think he'd walk right over there.

If I'm being honest, I believe Chan would probably overthink the interaction, sadly sipping his beer for a couple minutes before sidling up to you and introducing himself to the stranger as your boyfriend.

If that doesn't get the message across, he'll hug you from behind, pressing soft kisses to your neck and jawline, only half listening to you as you ramble on about whatever you're talking about.

"Mhmm...mhm...babe, can we go somewhere else? I wanna introduce you to some friends of mine..."

For sure feels a sense of pride when you agree, letting him drag you away so he can have you all to himself.

Lee Minho 🐰

This man is canonically possessive. I mean, have you heard of Minsung?

This time you and Lee Know are at a wedding, and you're at the salad bar when a man comes up to you, complimenting your dress.

Lee Know is by your side in less than a second, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

"Who's this, baby?"

Lee Know is glaring daggers at whoever had the AUDACITY to try and speak to his partner the whole time you three are talking.

At some point, the rando gets the hint, awkwardly shuffling off back to his friends.

You turn back to Lee Know and wrap your arms around his neck, laughing about how the man looked as if he'd seen a ghost.

"Kitten...you're mine forever whether you like it or not. Don't insult me by even trying to have coherent conversation with worms like him."

Definitely reminding you who you belong to when you get home. After you catch the bouquet, of course. 💐😏

Seo Changbin 🐷🐰

Changbin, in my head, is a chihuahua. This man is a chihuahua that barks at you because you got to close to their owner.

It's your anniversary and Changbin took you for a day out, ending it off with a sunset picnic. You see an ice cream truck and ask Changbin for money to go get some.

As you're heading back to the blanket and your boyfriend a tall, handsome man approaches you and asks for your number.

Changbin doesn't hear what you say, but he sees you sheepishly point at him, before heading towards your boyfriend.

The man harshly grabs you wrist, forcing you to drop one of the ice cream cones. That's the breaking point.

Changbin marches over to you two like a small blazing ball of fury, shoving the guy back, away from you.

"Yo, is your guard dog okay?" The guy asks, laughing.

"I will be once you stop fucking touching my girlfriend. Hands. Off. Now. Or I'll beat you up myself."

Changbin stares your assailant down(or up, due to his height) until the latter leaves, then lead you back to the blanket.

Massages your wrist where it's red, consoling you about the lost ice cream.

Offers to pay for another, settling down with you once he gets it just in time for the sunset you two came here for.

Hwang Hyunjin 🦙

You two are attending an event. You're dressed to the nines, and Hyunjin can't keep his eyes off of you.

That's how he sees a man sidle up to you, striking up a conversation.

Now, I think, that when it comes to you, Hyunjin is either all in or all out. He's either fine with guys talking to you when he's not there or he's not. No in between.

This is one of the "not" days.

Hyunjin wraps his long arms around your shoulders, tilting his head and staring at the man opposite him coldly.

This man waits for a grand total of two minutes before beginning to roll his eyes and pout.

“Hey, can you…like, leave?”

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY rubs it in the stranger’s face once you two leave. Side eyed him, flipped him off, stuck his tongue out. The whole package.

“Sweetheart…don’t talk to him again, okay? For me.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

You nodded with a small smile to each time you passed a Jedi master, having in mind only one destination - his chambers. You didn't know exactly if he was there, but what's the problem to check? After a few minutes you finally got to the hall where, possibly, was your boyfriend. Checking if anyone isn't paying attention to you, you pressed your ear to the doors, hearing soft, deep voice that belonged to GENERAL SKYWALKER. With a quiet push, you opened the door to Anakin’s chambers, and the first thing you see is him on the floor with crossed legs, tools shattered before him as he talks to R2-D2. The droid’s beeps come in bursts, like they’re having a real conversation, and you stop in your tracks, biting back on your lower lip to hold a giggle that threatened to escape.

“Look, I know it wasn’t my fault,” Anakin mutters, leaning against the bed with his bionic hand spread out before him. “It just stopped working mid-flight. You think I like crashing into hangar walls? No, thank you.”

R2 lets out a series of quick, sassy chirps.

“Oh, don’t start,” Anakin groans, running his fingers through already messy hair. “Maybe if someone--who shall remain nameless--didn’t override the diagnostics, I wouldn’t be in this mess.” his tone sounded like sarcastic irritation

You step inside just enough to catch a better sight of him - thick brows furrowed in concentration, golden curls tousled from the way he kept tugging at them. He’s completely absorbed in his work, but R2-D2 catches you immediately, swiveling his dome towards you with a happy beep.

Anakin freezes, looks up to the droid, lips twitching. “What are you so excited about now?”

R2 chirps again, this time more insistent, and Anakin finally glanced to the side, gaze softening the moment he sees you. His lips curl into a smile he can’t suppress, blue eyes sparkling with all the love he had for you “You couldn’t wait until I finished fixing this thing, could you?”

You shrug, grinning as you slowly make your way over to him. “Don't blame me, you looked too cute talking to R2. I had to come and see what was going on.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, but you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax, the tension melting from him as soon as you step closer. “He’s not cute--he’s insubordinate. Watch this.”

Turning back to R2-D2, Anakin crosses his one functioning (and flesh) arm. “Alright, buddy. Time to make yourself useful and give us the room. Go on--closet’s waiting.” lips twitched into a mischievous, proud, very much skywalker-like smirk

R2 lets out a dramatic, offended beep, dome swiveling back and forth.

“Don’t give me that attitude,” Anakin says, voice taking on that amused, faux-serious tone he always uses with the droid. “You know exactly what I mean. Out. Now.” finger pointing to the closet behind you

R2 responds with a string of exaggerated, sassy chirps that almost sound like a lecture, and you can’t help but burst out laughing. “I think he’s saying no.”

Anakin groans, pressing his fingers to his temple. “Of course he is. Stubborn bucket of bolts.” With a sigh, he waves dismissively. “Fine, go reorganize the closet or something. Just...not here.”

With one last defiant beep, R2 rolls away, his dome spinning dramatically as he leaves the space near you.

“You two are like an old married couple,” you tease, sliding next to Anakin and wrapping your arms around his waist, letting your chin rest on his shoulder

“Don’t start,” he murmured, voice dipping into that soft, low tone he saves just for you. As your lips brush against his clothed shoulder, he inhales deeply, head tilting ever so slightly, like he’s savoring the small but for him, big feeling. “You have no idea how much trouble that droid gives me.”

“Mm,” you hum, reaching out your hand to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I think you love him.”

“I love you,” voice a quiet confession as he leans back into you. From his tone alone you can keep up the truth he's hiding, for now. He loves that droid, even if he won't say it out loud.

Your fingers gently thread through the soft strands. “What’s wrong with your hand?” you change the topic

He sighs, lifting the half-disassembled bionic limb in his lap. “It just...stopped working. Mid-mission, no warning. Nearly got me killed.”

“Dramatic,” you murmur, your lips twitching as you press a kiss to his temple.

“Not dramatic,” he insists, though his smile gives him away. “I mean it. The Jedi Council can throw all the assignments they want at me, but if this thing doesn’t work, I’m toast.”

Before you can respond, R2 lets out a loud, exasperated beep from the hallway, clearly still listening and clearly judging.

“See what I mean?” Anakin rolls his eyes, though his tone is changed to playful now

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca

[vi-tamine]

hi~

could i ask about your thoughts on vi x fem girlfriend that dresses up in cute skirts/dresses for her on every possible occasion? 🥺

with love,

— 6 ;))

AAAAAA OMG i can't stop imaginating it!!! I mean, Vi would be totally mesmerized by you when you're wearing clothes like skirts or dresses, ESPECIALLY if they don't cover your legs~.

she wouldn't be able to take her eyes off you even for a. single. second!!!!!

besides, if Vi is already a touchy-feely person, when you wear a skirt, she would become even more touchy!!!! her hands would be all over your legs whenever she had the chance to do so!

when vi first asked you out on a date after you two met in the most random way possible, she didn't expect you to show up at the bar wearing a skirt in a grayish shade that went perfectly with the top. it made her mind a little foggy when she saw your bare legs, which because of the effect of the skirt made it look like your legs were much longer than they really were.

“Vi?” you spoke in a soft voice, trying to bring her out of her trance. the redhead blinked a couple of times before coming back to reality, looking you up and down again and feeling her mind almost blurred again.

“Sorry, it's just that you're… stunning.”

you had a few more dates, and vi couldn't help noticing that every time you saw each other you were wearing a garment that revealed your legs. at first you weren't aware of it, you liked to wear skirts and dresses, you felt you could show off better. but there was a point when you realized that whenever you and vi had a date, she wouldn't stop looking at you, so you started to dress in such garments just for her.

n/a: my apologies for how long it took me to answer this request! hope you like it <3

n/a2: I'm pretty much back(?)

[jeonscatalyst]

it’s always been interesting to me the difference between how two major ‘fights’ within BTS are told, or three if you include Koobis banana incident 😆

The dumpling fight, and the rainy day fight TM.

I thought about it since hearing Jimin talking about how it took a while for him and Tae to get closer in AYS, and said they did after that big fight. That he shook with rage at the time. The fight never really made sense to me, the dumpling one, as Jimin said it was over petty things, that they often fought over silly things.

Then you’ve got the rainy day fight, and the way they spoke about it at Festa 2020, and in lives in 2023. Both pretty much recounting it exactly the same as the other. I saw a video edit mash up of it but couldn’t find it, where the stories interwove and it’s amazing to see it. But at Festa dinner, with the others reactions, the giggling from Jin and Joon, that it sounds like a k drama, that it sounds like something a couple would do. And it does, it sounds exactly like a k drama, the dramatic pause when JK is lost, the make up in the rain, the hug. It’s so cute, and so endearing to hear them talk about it. How their relationship is essentially so important to them, they made up that night, unlike the dumpling fight, which lasted.

It shows how they really do have a good way of communicating with each other, even back then. And for JK to feel sorry to Jimin for that, and it’s something they can talk about and look back on with fondness almost, is testament to their bond.

Hey anon,

I think the Vmin fight(s) is relatively easy to piece together and understand if you have a solid understanding of their relationship….something many people unfortunately lack.

Jimin and Taehyung were among the members who got close almost immediately after meeting in my opinion. Looking at content from their rookie days, it’s clear that even the other members often pointed to them as the two who were closest. However, while they were friends and close, their relationship at the time seemed more surface-level. They didn’t fully understand, accept, or relate to each other yet. It reminds me of those teenage friendships where you genuinely like each other and have fun together, but the connection lacks a deeper level of understanding. That’s what I believe Vmin’s relationship was like in the beginning.

When Jimin says it took time for him and Tae to become as close as they are now, it doesn’t mean they weren’t friends or weren’t close before. It simply means that, over time, their bond deepened as they grew to better understand and accept each other despite their differences.

In the BTS book, Tae shared that when he first met Jimin, he struggled to understand him. He couldn’t grasp why Jimin pushed himself so hard, why he seemed so passionate, or why he was impatient about achieving his goals. Tae also described Jimin as intense….traits he found hard to relate to at the time. If you know anything about Tae and Jimin, it’s clear they’re fundamentally different people who approach life in very distinct ways. Add to that the fact that they’re the same age, and it’s easy to see how misunderstandings would arise.

I believe their many petty fights and arguments stemmed from these different approaches to life. The dumpling incident, while often highlighted, was more of a boiling point than the root cause of their conflicts. It forced them to address unresolved tensions and misunderstandings. This is why, after that fight, both admitted they’d gained a deeper understanding of each other, which ultimately strengthened their bond and brought them closer to where they are today. The way this fight is often described says a lot about their dynamic and the depth of their relationship.

On the other hand, Jikook’s “rainy day” story perfectly illustrates the foundation of Jimin and Jungkook’s relationship. Their bond is built on trust, support, and a profound emotional connection. While this wasn’t always apparent during their rookie days, anyone paying close attention could sense the nature of their bond and what it was rooted in.

The other members’ reactions to the rainy day story….rubbing goosebumps away, cringing, or making remarks like “That’s what a couple would do”, reveal how they themselves perceived the story. Even their singing of that angsty romantic taxi driver song adds to this perception. People might try to downplay it, but to me, it’s significant.

This story highlights the depth of Jimin and Jungkook’s emotional connection and how much Jungkook values Jimin’s presence and opinions in his life. It shows how their relationship has always been characterized by healthy communication and an innate ability to reach and support each other. Jungkook feeling bad about it years later underscores just how meaningful that moment was to him.

[rowie264]

Jinx x jinxer!reader. First meeting

You don’t really know how you ended up like this.

Truth to be told... you never really believed in your “leader”, if Jinx could even be called that. You didn't even fully dye your hair blue like the others. Just a small strand. In your eyes, Jinx did nothing but blow up the Council and redirect the Grey to Piltover. But even then… it was enough for you to make you join “Jinxers”.

You knew her actions will cause problems to Zaun. But you were so fucking done. You were too tired of being a rug under pilties boots. And maybe that was what Zaun needed to finally reach point of no return and fight back. And you wanted things to change.

So one day your hopeless gray life turned blue.

And now you were here, using your artistic abilities to portray Jinx as a kind of savior and leader of the revolution, as you were asked to do. Only instead of flag and shit you drew her with bombs and explosions. It was more like the image of Jinx you had.

“My eyes and nose are not like that.” Someone’s raspy voice reaches your ears.

You turn to face the intruder and see a girl sitting on the beam above few meters away. Somehow you just knew it was Jinx. You felt it in your gut, even though it was the first time you had encountered her.

You couldn't see her face completely hidden by the shadows, but you could see the color of her eyes. Pink, like shimmer.

“It’s the closest description I’ve got.” You say, too calm for a person who’ve met a Loose Cannon. And before you can stop yourself you add: “Maybe you could pose me so I could do it right?”

After that, there was silence between the two of you. Jinx didn't seem to expect such a reaction from you. You were surprised by your carelessness as well. She was dangerous and insane after all.

“Why not?” she says after a couple of seconds, probably agreeing out of boredom, and jumps off, landing smoothly like a cat.

As she comes over, you finally see her face. It does differ a little from what you were drawing. You also notice how short she is. She wasn't as intimidating as some people described. Although, perhaps, it was such thoughts that led many to their deaths.

You start correcting your painting, glancing at her from time to time, trying to convey her features as accurately as possible. You could lose yourself in art, even standing next to the most wanted criminal. Maybe you were crazy too?

“I'm not a hero you make me out to be, ya know?” Jinx suddenly comments after some time, looking at portrait of herself. Judging by the way she was tapping her feet, it took a lot of effort for her to stand still.

“I am aware.” You respond distantly too focused on your task, barely paying attention to anything around you. You almost finished.

“Then why?” She asks tilting her head and observing you like a hawk.

You take a step back, glancing at the wall to check everything one last time. “Why not?” you repeat her own words from earlier.

Jinx huffs, hiding that she's confused by your answer again. You're not like the other Jinxers she's met before. You treated her almost indifferently, like an ordinary stranger. Not like symbol of Zaun, not like Loose Cannon, but just… Jinx.

“So whatcha gonna do for me for posing to ya?” she casually changes the subject.

“You didn't mention that I have to pay you.” You frown at her, inwardly cursing yourself for being so carefree for not asking earlier.

“Don’t sweat it, toots, I don’t need money.” She waves her hand dismissively and you are not sure if paying with something else is any better.

“Then what?”

“Hmm… let's see…” Jinx walks around you, wondering what to ask you. “You drew me… so it would be fair if I drew on you back, don't you think?”

“Draw me, you mean?”

“I didn’t stutter, toots.” She scoffs pulling crayon out of her pocket.

“Don’t move.” Jinx orders and grabs your wrist. Without asking your permission, she starts drawing something right on your arm.

You didn’t protest – out of your safety and curiosity. Her grip was firm but surprisingly gentle. You couldn't help but look at her tattoos until your gaze landed on her face. This close, you could see her freckles. The word “cute" flashed through your mind as you stared at her in fascination.

“Here!” She suddenly announces with a beaming smile, pulling you out of your little bubble. You look down at your arm and see little pink clouds painted from wrist to elbow.

“Don't wash it off until I meet you again.” Jinx says and walks away, disappearing into the shadows without explaining anything, leaving you wondering when you'll be able to meet her once more. But to some extent… you want it to happen.

And until then, you would try to keep the clouds on your body.

[msbigredmachine]

New To This - Chapter 18

MASTERLIST

Delilah leaned against the locker room bench, utterly drained. Her body ached in places she didn’t even know could hurt, and the weight of exhaustion pressed on her chest like a boulder. Last night had been… intense, to say the least. Between the altercation with Yandi, the stress of competition, and her “training” session in her room with Josh, she’d barely managed to scrape together two hours of sleep. Now, the morning tournament loomed over her like a cruel taskmaster, demanding strength she wasn’t sure she had left.

The locker room buzzed with quiet conversation as a few girls chatted in the corner. Their laughter felt distant and foreign, like it came from another world where people weren’t suffocating under the weight of expectations. Delilah couldn’t bring herself to join in—or even to care. If she could just survive this day without anyone bothering her, she’d consider it a victory.

She had just finished lacing up her boots when a voice cut through her solitude.

“You hear that Yandi got kicked out of the tournament?”

Delilah glanced up to see a young, dark-skinned woman, bright-eyed and confident, plop down beside her. The girl grinned, clearly expecting some kind of response, but Delilah’s exhaustion wouldn’t let her muster more than a faint shrug.

“Thanks, by the way,” the girl continued, undeterred. “That’s one less bitch to worry about.”

Delilah raised an eyebrow, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Right,” she replied coolly, returning to her bag for a roll of tape. The news should have brought her some relief—Yandi had been an absolute menace to her—but right now, even relief felt like too much effort.

“I’m Temi,” the girl introduced herself, extending a hand into Delilah’s line of sight. When Delilah didn’t reciprocate, Temi simply cracked her knuckles and leaned back against the lockers. “Brrr, cold. Everyone knows she started the fight, so you can chill. You don’t gotta worry about that bitch no more.”

Before Delilah could respond, Temi stood and gave her a friendly pat on the back. “She was just jealous. She’s about the only girl in this locker room that hasn’t fucked a famous wrestler at some point.”

Delilah froze mid-wrap, her head snapping up to meet Temi’s smirking gaze. “Excuse me?”

Temi shrugged, completely unfazed. “I mean, it’s not exactly a secret, is it? You’ve been hanging out with Jey, right? People talk.”

Delilah’s stomach churned. “How do they even know that?”

Temi chuckled as two other girls sauntered over, joining the conversation. “You train with, what? Five, six other girls?” she asked. Delilah held up five fingers, her expression guarded. “And you’re the only one with a WWE contract? Bitches talk, babe, mostly out of jealousy. Then Jey shows up at your gym a couple of times? Somebody sees him around town? They've probably seen y'all together, too. People notice things.”

“And they connect the dots,” one of the other girls chimed in. “Or, you know, they make up their own dots. Doesn’t matter. Somebody’s always watching you now.”

That realization hit Delilah like a freight train. She’d known the spotlight would come with scrutiny, but this was different. It wasn’t just trainers and scouts evaluating her potential; it was everyone. Every move she made, every interaction, every whisper—it was all under a microscope.

“How long you been doing this?” Delilah asked, trying to steady her voice.

Temi smirked, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Six years. And yeah, I’ve been through it. We all have.” She gestured to the girls behind her. “Cassie over there? She’s been hooking up with Damian Priest.”

Cassie beamed. “He’s flying me to New York after the tournament. We’re spending the week together.”

“Lauryn?” Temi nodded at the other girl. “She had a thing with Montez and Bianca. At the same time.”

Delilah’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

Lauryn shrugged. “It was fun. They’re premiere athletes for a good reason.”

It was getting more and more difficult to keep her jaw from dropping. “And you?” Delilah pressed, crossing her arms. “What’s your story?” When the girls behind her giggled, Delilah's eyebrow shot up. "Who?"

Lauryn put a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Temi here has seduced no less than three world champions," she winked, counting off on her fingers. "Rollins, Punk, and Drew. She was all their first dark meat." 

Shaking her head, Delilah’s mouth finally fell open. "Bullshit," she spat. "There is no fucking way."

Temi just nodded confidently. "Oh, there's a way," she assured. "Actually, with Rollins, there's a lotta ways," she smirked, reaching out to pat Delilah's shoulder in reassurance. "Listen, Yandi's a bitch. Nobody likes her, and now she's gone. Let that shit go," she advised with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Do your thing. Go as far as you can in this tournament. Boost your profile. You’ll need it when you start training properly at the Performance Center."

As the girls filed out, Delilah couldn’t shake the conversation. Their blasé attitudes, their stories, their warnings—it was all too much. She turned to the mirror, adjusting her gear when another voice, low and cool, cut through her thoughts again.

“So you’re the one he left me for.”

Delilah spun around, her eyes narrowing at the woman who stepped out of the shadows, immediately put Delilah on edge. She’d seen her wrestle several times through this tournament. Chloe. A striking presence both in and out of the ring, her athletic build and confident demeanor commanding attention wherever she went. With a rich brown complexion that seemed to glow under the spotlight and expressive hazel eyes, her curls, often styled in bold, intricate looks, were as dynamic as her wrestling persona—a combination of grace and grit that made her memorable. Offstage, she didn’t interact much with the others, a guarded side to her, shaped by the challenges she had faced in a male-dominated industry.

“I come in peace,” Chloe said with a faint smirk. “I was listening in on all the bragging. Quite the stellar lineup of superstars, huh? If only most of them weren’t recycled. Like yours, sorry to say.”

“What are you talking about?” Delilah asked, her voice sharp.

She extended a hand. “I’m Chloe.” When Delilah didn’t shake it, Chloe shrugged. “You’re not the only one Josh has had a fling with.”

Delilah frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”

Chloe smirked as she leaned against the lockers, her tone casual but tinged with a deliberate edge. “It was about two years ago, back in Atlanta. I was out with some girlfriends celebrating a birthday—looking fine, if I do say so myself—when Josh and his crew strolled into the club after SmackDown. His presence was impossible to ignore; he had that swagger, you know? I caught him looking at me from across the room, and let’s just say, he wasn’t subtle. He sent over a drink, then another, and before I knew it, I was in the VIP section with him. He had this way of making you feel like you were the only woman in the room. Smooth, charming, with that cocky little smirk that told you he thought he had you wrapped around his finger. And yeah, I guess he did—at least for a while.”

Delilah was speechless. Sounds about right.

She paused, brushing imaginary lint off her sleeve, as if the memory wasn’t worth more than a moment’s thought. “But, you know, it fizzled out. He wasn’t exactly available, if you catch my drift.” Her eyes flick to Delilah meaningfully. “Married men have a way of forgetting their wedding rings when they’re on the road. And sure, it was fun at first, but it got old fast. Sneaking around, his half-assed excuses, him dodging my calls when he was in town sometimes? Not my style. I don’t chase nobody, so I ended it. Of course, he didn’t take it too hard—men like Josh always find someone else to keep them entertained.” She flashed a smug smile. “Looks like you’re the lucky rebound.”

Delilah’s stomach churned as the words sank in. For nearly a year she’d been seeing Josh, and not once had he mentioned anything like this. The idea that she could be just another notch on his belt—the way Chloe clearly saw her—made her heart twist. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, but she forced her face to remain neutral, unwilling to give Chloe the satisfaction of seeing her rattle. Still, the revelation gnawed at her, a sour taste rising in her throat as she wondered if everything she thought she had with Josh was just another game to him.

But just as she feared, Chloe could see right through her thoughts. She flashed Delilah a kind smile. “Don’t worry, sweetie, that’s all said and done. It’s all in the past. Besides, I think I’ve more than upgraded.”

Delilah’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Chloe leaned in, her tone conspiratorial. “I woulda said his name out loud, but the NDA I signed means I can’t say much.” Her smirk widened. “I could show you though, if you’d like.”

Delilah couldn’t help but nod, curiosity getting the best of her. She watched as Chloe pulled out her phone. She handed Delilah an AirPod. “You’re the only one I’m showing this to, so if this gets out, it's you, and I'll fuck you up.”

Delilah hesitated, but eventually placed the AirPod in her ear. The video on Chloe’s phone played, showing a man with long, dark hair between Chloe’s legs, his hands gripping her thighs as her moans rang through Delilah’s ears. Her breath hitched as the man lifted his head, revealing Roman Reigns’ unmistakable face. He licked his lips, smirked at the camera, and growled, “Turn that shit off.”

The video cut, and Delilah stared at Chloe in complete shock.

“Hot, right?” Chloe teased, fanning herself dramatically. “That family’s got top-tier pussy eaters.” She shrugged. “But here’s the thing: to them, we’re not special. Just another warm body. Don’t take it personal. Use them for what they’re worth—get your rent paid, get a contract, whatever. But don’t give them your heart. That’s the game, sweetheart. If you wanna survive this business, you need to learn how to play it.”

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

Thankfully, the remainder of the tournament unfolded without a hitch. Delilah advanced to the semi-finals, where her journey came to an end. Though she didn’t take home the win, she left with a sense of accomplishment and gratitude for the experience. By the time she was heading back to Pensacola, she was content with how far she had come. True to his word, Josh had upgraded her seat to first class so they could sit together on the flight back. It wasn’t just a plane ride; it felt like their own private six-hour date in the sky.

They made the most of every moment. Between sharing a few tequila shots, stealing sweet kisses, and watching movies, they fell into an easy rhythm that felt both playful and intimate. As the hours passed, they curled up together, their seats reclined into makeshift beds. Delilah found comfort in the warmth of Josh’s embrace, and before she knew it, she had drifted off to sleep with his arm draped protectively around her. For those fleeting hours, it was as if the outside world didn’t exist—just the two of them savoring what little time they had left.

But as the plane began its descent into Pensacola, reality crept back in. Delilah’s chest tightened with the weight of what was coming next. When the wheels touched down, she felt a sharp pang in her heart, knowing this was the moment they’d part ways for good. The knowledge made her throat ache, and she wished, just for a second, that they had a little more time.

The private wing of the airport felt colder than it should have, the early morning silence pressing heavily on Delilah’s chest. Josh stood in front of her, his duffel slung casually over his shoulder, but his eyes told a different story—there was a heaviness in them that mirrored the ache in her heart. They had shared so many moments, stolen kisses, and whispered secrets over the past year, but this felt like the end of something neither of them was truly ready to let go of.

Josh rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly, his broad shoulders sagging under the weight of their unspoken goodbye. “So this is it, huh,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, as though speaking louder would shatter the fragile connection still lingering between them.

Delilah bit her lip, willing herself not to cry, but it was a losing battle. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “This is it.” Her words trembled under the weight of her emotions. She knew this was the right decision—for her career, for her sanity—but it didn’t make it any easier to let go of someone who had become so much a part of her world.

Josh stepped closer, his thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip, a touch so gentle it made her knees weak. “You gon’ miss me?” he asked, his tone teasing but laced with an undeniable sadness.

Delilah’s lip trembled despite her best efforts, and her eyes filled with tears. “More than you’ll ever know,” she admitted, her voice cracking. The truth of it burned in her throat. She would miss the way he made her laugh, the way he looked at her like she was the only woman in the room, the way he always knew just what to say to calm her nerves. She would miss everything about him, and the thought of not having him in her life felt unbearable.

Josh didn’t respond right away. Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her so tightly she could feel his heartbeat against her cheek. She clung to him like she was afraid he’d disappear the moment she let go, her tears soaking into his shirt. 

“I don’t wanna let you go,” she whispered, her voice breaking with raw emotion.

He pressed his lips to her hair, his own voice thick with longing. “Then don’t.” The words hung in the air between them—a plea, a promise, and a goodbye all at once.

Delilah pulled back just enough to look up at him, her hand resting on his cheek. “We have to,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears clogging it. “I can’t do this right now, Josh. I need to focus on my career, and you—” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat. “You need to figure out what you want.”

Josh’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he might argue, might ask her to stay, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss meant to ignite a fire; it was the kind meant to say everything he couldn’t put into words. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers. “Take care, Delilah,” he murmured, his voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it.

“You too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. She forced a weak smile, though her heart felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. “And thank you… for everything.”

Josh just nodded, his dark eyes searching hers for a moment longer before he stepped back, creating a distance that felt insurmountable. For a split second, Delilah considered running after him, begging him to stay, but she knew it wouldn’t change anything. She had to let him go.

As she watched him walk away, her chest tightened, the reality of their parting sinking in. Tank, standing a few feet away, awkwardly cleared his throat and gestured toward the waiting car. Delilah wiped at her tears, slipping on her sunglasses to hide the evidence of her heartbreak. Tank nudged her shoulder gently as they walked to the car. “You did the right thing, kid,” he said, his voice kind but firm. “He gets that.”

Delilah nodded, but the words offered little comfort. As the car pulled away, she stared out the window, replaying every moment with Josh in her mind—the laughter, the fights, the stolen moments that had made the past several months unforgettable. She knew she’d made the right choice, but the ache in her chest told her it was going to be a long time before she stopped missing him.

She was pulling up to her sister Simone’s front door when her phone rang. The area code wasn’t from here, and she didn't recognize the number. Still, something pushed at her to answer the call. "Hello?"

"May I speak to Delilah Parrish, please?" the sweet voice on the other end asked.

Delilah leaned her hip against her suitcase. "Yes, this is Delilah," she responded, her eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Hi Delilah, my name is Emilia, and I'm with Dr. Gonzalez's office in Orlando," she said, "You came in for a physical last week?" she questioned.

Nodding and exhaling a sigh of relief, Delilah cleared her throat. "Yes, I did," she assured the nurse. As part of the recruitment process, WWE had requested she take a physical with their recommended medical facility. Delilah had done it with zero issues. She was determined that nothing was going to hinder her commencing training at the PC, and though she knew she was in good health, she would jump through any other hoop they asked to prove it.

"Well," Emilia spoke with a cheerful smile that for some reason was grating Delilah's nerves in her current state of mind. "Everything looks great. You're healthy as a horse, and we just sent the results to you via email," she said. "However, there’s just one thing that we want to make sure you are aware of, considering the degree of physicality you regularly engage in." Emilia cleared her throat. "You’re pregnant, Miss Parrish. Congratulations."

—————–

😬😬😬😬

Thoughts?

Please leave comments! I love comments! 😁

Credit to the owners of the pics and gifs.

🏷️: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @jstarr86 @trippinsorrows @whatdoeseverybodywant @heauxvibez 

@murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @nayys-world @harmshake @mindairy @hunnidmilly @tribalhoochie @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05  @captainwithoutmakingitlove 

@sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @joannasteez

@thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear

@tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy

@chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @shes2real @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @bebesobrielo @trentybenty

@tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnot@meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @femdisa @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess

@nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach  @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k 

@reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @final1miya @kia1996 @randomuser0711 

@yourtribalqueen @katymae12344 @that-one-anxious-mango @yana3sworld @caramelcleopatraa @truefant4sy @thetribalqueen @romansthrone @fearlesschimera

@bhjszsdxc @paigereeder @christinabae @justazzi @maknaehyucks @keyaho @headoftheetable @sageispunk @jeyusos-girl @xbriexx

[caffedrine]

Clavis and Matias - Christmas Special: The Beasts' Drink - Event Translation

Thank you to @otomehoneyybearr for providing the script for this event.

This is a poor attempt at a fan translation, so take everything with a grain of salt. For a better translation, buy this when it comes out on the ENG server.

On a winter day as Christmas approaches, at the Rhodolite Castle—

Matias: At Rhodolite’s Christmas, the tree is decorated with roses, huh?

Matias: It’s truly beautiful. I hope to visit here someday with my bride. Ah, I’m looking forward to that day.

Matias: In a romantic atmosphere filled with the rich fragrance of roses, as I sit closely with my bride and suddenly—…

Clavis: Still as much of a pervert as ever, huh? I’m relieved, Matias.

Clavis: If that fantasy were to somehow become a reality—

Clavis: As your friend, I’d arrange an exciting, heart-pounding Christmas date in Rhodolite for you.

Matias: I am not a pervert… However, I appreciate that offer.

Matias: I wonder if you could create a scenario where just a touch of our fingertips would make our shy couple draw closer together.

Clavis: Haha, your detailed setting just makes you even more of a pervert. So, in other words, you just want to be lovey-dovey?

Matias: To put it bluntly, that’s exactly right.

Clavis: Then leave it to me.

Clavis: I will set up all sorts of love traps in the rose garden of this castle to physically bring you and your bride closer together.

Clavis: After that, I’ll personally cook up some exquisite dishes that you won’t be able to resist.

Clavis: Because it’s for an important guest and a friend, I won’t hold back. I’ll provide you with delights worthy of a perfect Christmas.

Matias: …You’re going to do it yourself, huh… I appreciate the offer.

Clavis: What’s wrong?

Matias: There’s a huge difference between your idea of the perfect Christmas and mine.

Matias: For instance, that special Christmas candle you once made…

Clavis: Ah, you mean that masterpiece I made during our student days?

Matias: A few years ago, the students who found it stored in the dormitory’s warehouse used it for the candlelight event.

Matias: That’s right, at the largest royal school candle night event held by Acroite.

Clavis: That must have been quite a lively event. It was a genius creation, if I may say so myself.

Matias: ...It was indeed lively.

Matias: When it was lit, the rainbow-colored smoke shot up extraordinarily.

Matias: No one could stop laughing to the point of collapse.

Matias: And just when we thought the smoke was clearing, there was a strange creature resembling Santa drawn on the snow.

Matias: It sparked a detective show among everyone present, wondering if it was some code…

Matias: In any case, the scene was tumultuous.

Clavis: That sounds like a delightful Christmas, right?

Matias: It’d be fine for a party among men, but a date with my bride calls for something more romantic.

Clavis: Is that so? Just imagine. In front of the rising rainbow smoke, your bride shouts, ‘Kyaa, Prince Matias!’

Clavis: What do you say to protect her?

Matias: ‘It’s okay. No matter what happens, I will protect you. So, would it be alright if I held your hand to make you feel safe?’

Matias: ...Nodding, my bride's warm hand touches mine…

Clavis: Successfully holding hands naturally, and suddenly, as the smoke clears, you see her smiling face, right?

Matias: Seeing her adorable smile, I would say, ‘Your smile is truly lovely.’ To which she replies, ‘I’m so happy!’

Matias: The two of us smiling at each other, a bit of tension melts away-

Clavis: And then Santa appears.

Matias: ‘This happy holy night, where the distance between us has shrunk, might be a gift from Santa.’

Matias: As I whisper this, my bride shyly says, ‘I want to get even closer…’ Ah, it’s wonderful!

Matias: You truly are a genius, Clavis.

Clavis: Right? Right?

Matias: Oh, there’s no doubt about it. I definitely want to entrust my Christmas date to you.

Matias: And when you enjoy Christmas in Acroite with me and my bride, please leave it to me!

Clavis: In that case, prepare the finest shovel for me!

Matias: Understood. Now, let’s toast to our unchanging friendship.

Clavis: Ah, cheers with the most delicious juice!

[witchygagirlwrites]

Not Him

Jay Halstead x Reader

You love your job in intelligence. It provides it's challenges along the way though and the biggest one proves to be that you and your partner can't get along.

Rivals to lovers 👀 I'd say I'm sorry for how feral this man makes me but I'm not.

You enjoyed working in intelligence. Voight was a bit of a hard ass but if you were one of his detectives he would go to bat for you if something happened. You handled some of the hardest cases to hit the CPD and was a pretty well respected unit.

You loved working out of the twenty first, Trudy ran a tight ship of her house and it always ran fairly smoothly. You were long time friends with Kim, Adam and Kevin and it hadn't taken long for a friendship to form between you and Hailey.

All in all it should seem besides the hazards of your job you should be happy in it. You probably would be if it wasn't for the fact that you and your partner couldn't get along for over five minutes if your lives weren't currently on the line.

Jay was a damn good cop. He went above and beyond at his job and you trusted him with your life when it came down to it but that didn't change the fact that when danger wasn't in the equation you two were constantly at each other's throats.

“For fucks sake Halstead!” For a second you considered just how pissed Voight would get if you aimed your coffee for the back of Jay's head as the two of you walked up the stairs. He'd purposely held the gate until you were almost to it then let it slam shut in your face.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, a smirk slipping onto his face “If your short ass throws that coffee at me I'm moving all of your gear onto the top shelf” 

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the coffee to emphasize the fact that you clearly weren't going to do that, annoyed that he'd yet again been able to anticipate what you were thinking.

He raised an eyebrow at you before heading towards his desk. You headed towards yours, smiling when Hailey told you good morning “Morning Hails. At least you know how to talk to a partner” you glared across the room at Jay who smirked “Aww did I hurt your feelings? Admit it and I'll apologize”

“You know what…” you started but was interrupted by Voight coming out of his office “Alright, listen up” 

_________________

You moved around your desk to sit on the edge of it as he ran down the most recent case. There were guns coming in, highly modified, highly illegal guns. Someone had to go under to pose as a buyer so all of you could trace them back to the source and hit the high man on the totem pole instead of just the salesperson.

He pointed at Jay “Halstead you're up on this. You fit the mark” “Pretentious white guy?” You asked which earned you matching glares from Voight and Jay but a muffled laugh from Kim. 

Voight turned his eyes on you “I wouldn't get ahead of myself sweetheart. Your partner needs backup. You're going under as his wife”

“Yes sir” you replied, knowing you'd pushed too far from his tone. You cut your eyes at Jay who was already staring you down “C.I. is gonna set the initial meet for tomorrow night. You two get your story straight and get ready” Voight ordered before going into a preraid plan.

Great. You and Jay had to act like a married couple, undercover which meant trying to avoid a dangerous situation. How the hell were you gonna make it through without killing each other?

Kim was helping you to get ready and Hailey was wiring you up. Voight gave you three the use of the tech room while Jay was upstairs using the locker room.

“Try not to kill him?” Kim asked as she put the final touches on your hair. “I don't kill suspects for no reason Kim, damn” Hailey glanced up from where she was running the wire along your bra “She means Jay”

You cracked a laugh “Oh, no promises on that one” they both shook their heads. “You two are ridiculous” Kim laughed so you shrugged, trying to think of a reply other than “He started it”

“He's insufferable” you scoffed and they shared a look before laughing again. A knock at the door made all three of you look before Kevin's voice drifted through “Hey, yall ready?” 

“Come on in Kev. I'm dressed!” You hollered and he opened the door. He let his eyes flit over you then nodded “Damn, you clean up good” you put one hand on your hip and looked at Kim “Was that a compliment or insult? Felt like it could go either way” 

She laughed as Kevin started to backpedal “No…I just meant” “Easy Kevin. I'm messing with you” you laughed, grabbing your jacket off the desk.

You followed Kevin out into roll up with Hailey and Kim following the two of you. “Where's Jay?” You asked and his voice came from behind you “Right here”

You turned around and tried to not let your eyes wander. Jay was an asshole to you ninety percent of the time but damn if he wasn't the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid your eyes on. The fitted black suit he wore hugged his shoulders beautifully, the stark white shirt making his eyes seem an even brighter shade of blue. 

You swallowed hard and turned your eyes to Voight who had just walked down the stairs “What's the play boss?” 

You sat in the passenger seat of the Ashton Martin that was being used as Jay's car. It felt insane being in a car that would pay off your mortgage but that was your job.

Jay bumped your arm over the console “Act like it's your husband's car. You're too damn stiff” you glanced towards him, watching as he steered the car through the busy street confidently as if it didn't cost what it cost. 

You didn't want to admit the act of confidence was sexy in itself. “Maybe I'd be less stiff if I liked my husband?” You teased, turning your head to look at him. 

His jaw clenched tightly before he said “I want to choke the life out of you half the time and yet I can act like I am an adoring husband" you raised an eyebrow “That's kinda kinky of you to say Jay, not gonna lie” and was rewarded with a light blush gracing his cheeks. Luckily your coms weren't active until you got to the meet so no-one else heard that little comment.

He shook his head “You're a fucking pain in my ass” You grinned “right back at ya partner” then settled into the seat, smoothing your dress down your legs. You noticed his eyes flicker your way when you adjusted the long slit that was on the side and smirked to yourself.

The slit was the selling point. Made your legs easier to use over a dress this style without one. Now you were thinking it had a different selling point if it helped you torment Jay. 

Jay's fingers dug into your hips to the point you knew that you'd have bruises come morning. Thankfully you were single because damn that would be hard to explain.

“What's wrong baby?” He whispered into the shell of your right ear, low enough the suspect or com wouldn't pick it up.  “I hate being in your presence, I hope you know that.” you replied in the same tone and he grinned adjusting his thigh that was under you just enough a gasp of surprise left you  “You’re literally sitting half on my lap.” “Because there is nowhere else to sit!” you bit back before the suspect started talking about the actual sale that demanded both of yours full attention.

________________

By the time you were able to leave the meet you were fairly certain you very well may murder Jay.

The sale was set with the pretense that the big boss had to be there. He would call Jay and it would go from there.

You sat down in the passenger seat of the Ashton Martin and this time nearly melted into the seat. Jay pulled out onto the road and cut his eyes at you “You seem relaxed now” you glared at him “What the fuck was that about?”

He shrugged “Honestly? It was funny as hell to watch you squirm after I saw you checking me out back at the precinct” your mouth fell open “I was not” he chuckled “It's ok partner. You can look”

“You’re not that good looking, alright?” you damn near growled and he basically fucking preened “So you admit I’m good looking?” “What? N-no. Never.” You kicked yourself when you stammered. 

He pulled to a stop at a red light and turned his head to look at you. His eyes drifted from yours down to your neck then followed the low neckline of your dress “I'm looking so what's the shame in you looking?”

Before you could respond the light turned green and he pulled away. You clenched your thighs together, trying to soothe the ache his words and the weight of his stare had caused. So this was his newest torment? Oh you could play that game.

 

Ok, so maybe you didn't have to slip in front of Jay to grab a cup of coffee. It was the last cup and he had already had two. You overestimated the amount of room however and felt his hips bump into yours, his crotch effectively being pressed against your ass.

You looked over your shoulder up at him and the fire in his eyes made you bite your cheek to keep from making a noise. “Wanting me to bend you over that bad?” He asked low and you glared at him “Shut up before I-” he leaned down to the point his body was nearly folded over yours  “Before you what, huh? No, say it. Let me see if you can finish that sent-” 

With no other idea you grabbed one of the mini muffins Kim had bought in that morning and shoved it into his mouth, using the shock of the moment to untangle yourself from him. 

He shook his head, chewing the muffin as he laughed. You weren't sure where this little game was headed but you were damn sure playing with fire because you had just nearly folded like a $2 lawn chair in a hurricane.

 

You were sitting in the passenger seat of Jay's truck, trying to ignore his eyes on you. The two of you were sitting on a C.I. for Voight 

“When's the last time you dated anyone?” He asked breaking the silence and you laughed sharply “Dated or fucked, which we talking here?”

His smirk dropped “When's the last time you fucked someone?” Your tongue slipped out to wet your bottom lip, your clit throbbing when you saw his eyes track the movement. “A few months ago” you admitted honestly, despite knowing this was so far off conversation you should be having with him.

“Explains why you're so bitchy” he shrugged. You felt anger flicker to life in your stomach “Fuck you Jay. You're not exactly a ray of sunshine either there partner” 

He adjusted down in the seat, the movement pulling your eyes to his crotch and you mentally kicked yourself for doing such. “Maybe I need a good fuck too and it's a pain in the ass to constantly be stuck in close quarters with you when all I can think about is the fact that you wouldn't be able to bitch at me if your face was down in my bed”

“Jay!” You gasped and he smirked “What? C'mon you've never thought about fucking me? Not once” you turned your face to look out of the window and he laughed “I fuckin knew it. I bet you'd let me fuck you here in my truck if I asked”

Your head snapped towards him “Halstead, tow the line” he leaned over the console “You're thinking about it huh? My hands on your body, finally feeling my lips on your skin, the way my dick would feel buried in that pretty little pussy..” 

“Jay” you warned low and he called your name to get you to meet his eyes “Tell me you don't want me and I'll drop it. I swear”

When you didn't reply he slipped one hand over to rest on the thigh closest to him “Patrol car will be here any minute to relieve us. I can take you home and we can act like this conversation never happened or..”

“Or?” You asked, your legs unconsciously falling open a little further as if to invite his touch. He smirked when he clocked the movement “Or you come home with me”

 

What were you thinking? What the hell were you thinking? That was the only thing going through your mind as you followed Jay through the hall to his apartment.

You stood back while he unlocked the door then cut his eyes at you “Second thoughts princess?” You shook your head because no matter how bad of an idea this was you wanted it.

He smirked “Give me words baby. Before you ever step foot into my place I wanna hear you say it” you took a step closer to him, hands coming to rest on his belt before raising your eyes to meet his “I want you Jay”

“Fuck” he groaned and the next thing you knew he was crouching to scoop you up with both hands under your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he stepped into his apartment, kicking the door closed before slamming you back against it.

_______________

The look in his eyes made you roll your bottom lip between your teeth “You're so damn beautiful. Do you know how fucking much you annoy me?” He asked before slipping a knee between your thighs, bringing your body down to roll your hips along his thigh, putting just the right amount of pressure on your throbbing core.

When you moaned lightly he chuckled “Listen at that. You sound so fucking sweet” you glared at him “You're an asshole” he grinned “and yet you're in my arms” before he caught your lips with his. The kiss was hungry, hard and bruising. Everything you knew it would be but damn you needed more.

Your fingers dug into his biceps, trying to find something to ground yourself because it was not fair this insufferable man had you on the verge of an orgasm from kissing and his thigh. He grinned against your lips, dragging your body down his leg again and you moaned “Fuck Jay”

One of his hands slipped between your thighs, pressing hard on your clothed core. One swipe was all it took for your back to arch off the door “Damn darlin” he muttered and kept teasing at you, your breathing quickening with every swipe.

You could feel the orgasm building and when he dropped his head down to bite across your neck that was all it took to push you over that edge,making you shake lightly under him. 

He pulled back and grinned at you “You look so pretty shaking under me. I'm gonna have to see a lot more of that before I'm through with you”

He readjusted to get you back in his arms, you wrapped your legs around him, feeling the tremor in your thighs. He grinned, lips finding yours again as he walked towards his bedroom. He moved from your lips to your neck, kissing and biting the skin. Half of your brain said to tell him not to mark you but the other half knew if you did he would definitely mark you.

He dropped you unceremoniously onto his bed but before you had time to bitch he was back on you. His lips tasted better than any damn liquor and was twice as intoxicating. 

He rocked back on his heels, tugging your shoes off and tossing them behind him before reaching for your jeans. “Take your shirt off” he spoke low, eyes never leaving yours. 

Any other time you would've argued but you found yourself eagerly tugging your shirt over your head. He laughed lightly “Give her one orgasm and she suddenly listens”

The moment you were down to just your bra and panties he licked his lips “Fuck you are gorgeous” he slipped his shirt off along with kicking his shoes off then crawled up your body, kissing and teasing every inch of skin along the way. 

When he got to your lips the kiss he gave you was more tongue than anything and you moaned, nails gracing his shoulders in an effort to pull him closer. You'd seen him shirtless more than once but this time you could touch his skin, taste it.

When you pulled away from the kiss he eyed you for a moment before you tilted his head to let your lips find his neck. You'd always loved Jay's neck. Too many days you'd dreamt about tasting the skin there. You kissed across his pulse point, then bit down lightly and he moaned out your name, clothed hips rutting down into yours.

You kissed across his collarbone, biting and licking along the way. The soft sounds coming from him were heavenly. When you got to the other side of his neck he suddenly grabbed both of your hands and pinned them over your head in one of his. You met his eyes and he grinned before he started to kiss across your neck, his bites light enough to not leave marks but heavy enough to pull gasps from your lips. 

By the time he got down to your chest you were a frustrated mess. You squirmed against his grip on your arms as he used his free hand to reach under you to unsnap your bra, tossing it to the side. “Jay let me go” you demanded and he cut his eyes up at you before rolling one nipple between his teeth. A moan left you and you pulled at your hands again, trying to free them. 

“Jay fucking let go of my damn hands!” you all but yelled and he immediately loosened his grip. You grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back up to your lips. “Do that shit again and I swear I will fucking put my clothes back on and go to Mollys to find someone to finish what you started” 

His eyes darkened at your threat and he nipped at your bottom lip “Why are you always so damn mean?” you smiled up at him as sweetly as you could manage “Your brother thinks I’m a sweetheart” 

His eyes flew up to yours and just the look in them made you clench around nothing “Well by all means sweetheart if you think you’re with the wrong brother feel free to leave” one of his hands came up to wrap loosely around your throat before he leaned down to whisper in your ear “But Will can’t fuck you like I can. I can promise you that”

“Prove it” you whispered and he shook his head “Can’t wait to fuck the bitch right out of you” his hand slipped down under your panties and you moaned loudly when one thick finger slipped into you, followed by a second. “Hmm doesn’t sound like you want someone else” he muttered, curling his fingers so he could brush against that spot deep inside of you.

When he hit it your back arched off the bed and he chuckled “There it is” he continued to pump his fingers into you, adding his thumb down to rub tight circles onto your clit. Your hands gripped his comforter as gasps of his name fell from your lips, your orgasm slamming into you. He worked you through it, coaxing you with praises of “Damn you look pretty like this” “Feel so good squeezing my fingers”

When it became too much you shoved at his wrist and he pulled his hand away, sucking his fingers clean as he held your gaze. “Taste as pretty as you sound” he moved down the bed,laying between your spread legs.

The sight of Jay Halstead between your legs was enough to make you fall apart on its own. He winked at you before gripping your panties to pull them off your legs. He tossed them across the room. One finger teased at your slit “Look at that pretty little pussy” he brushed his finger across your clit and your head fell back against the pillows.

He lowered his mouth to you and the first lick had your eyes rolling back. He worked his tongue across your clit, his fingers pushing into you and finding that spongy spot that had your legs clamping around his head.  You could feel another orgasm building and when he barely grazed his teeth across the sensitive bud the building pressure burst. Your vision went soft around the edges and your legs were quivering around him.

He left a kiss on your inner thigh before pulling back to look up at you with a cocky smirk “How ya feeling partner?” you glared at him weakly “Fuck you Jay” he grinned “Is that an offer?” you shook your head “Take your jeans off and get up here”

He pushed them off his hips “Normally I wouldn’t take orders from you” when he kicked them and his boxers away you felt your mouth go dry. He looked like he was sculpted by the damn greek gods as a personal favor “Like what you see?” he asked and you shook your head “I’m liking it so far”

He pulled you down closer to him, kissing his way up your body until he got back to your lips. When he kissed you, you could taste yourself and that made a moan escape you. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Are you clean?” you asked and he chuckled, kissing along your neck “Just had a physical last month” 

“Then fuck me Halstead, damn” he bit down on the bend of your neck as the head of his cock pushed into you. “Fucking bossy” you couldn’t attempt to say anything back as he slowly pushed into you, the feeling of him stretching you around him was nearly overwhelming.

Once he was fully inside of you,his hips resting against yours he pushed your hair back out of your face and looked into your eyes for a moment “You still with me?” you smiled “I’m good”

He brushed his lips against yours and gave a tentative thrust of his hips. When you hooked your legs up around his waist he chuckled against your mouth “Impatient” he gripped one of your hips tightly and gave a sharp thrust of his hips, snapping them into yours. 

“Like that Jay, please” you gasped and he grinned “Dammit sweetheart” and buried his face in your neck as he found a hard pace, hips slamming into yours hard enough you could vaguely hear the headboard slamming against the wall with every thrust.

Your nails dug into his back, his hips burying into you hitting that spot with every thrust. You could feel another orgasm building already. One of his hands slipped between your bodies to play with your clit, rubbing heavy circles. You screamed his name as you came, nails digging into his flesh. He gave a few more hard thrusts then buried himself inside of you, you could feel him coating your walls, pumping some back out with his thrusts. 

He slowed once he finished and all but collapsed on top of you,both of your chests heaving. “Fuck”you gasped and he laughed “Yeah, that was a lot more fun than arguing”

You were fairly certain Jay was asleep. After the two of you had cleaned up, he’d wrapped himself around you which you hadn’t expected. You’d expected to get tossed your clothes and get told to go home.

You started to shift to get out of the bed and felt his hand shoot out to wrap around your wrist “Where are you going?” you looked back at him, a smile slipping onto your face “I know this isn’t a stay the night thing Jay. I’m gonna get dressed and summon an uber”

He shook his head “Stay, please” you stared at him for a moment “You’ve always acted like you can’t stand being around me” he raised an eyebrow and motioned around the bed “That was determined to be a lie” you laughed “What just happened Jay?” he shrugged “The start of something if that's what you want because I can’t go to work tomorrow and act like everythings how it was”

“Say the words baby. I need to hear you say them” you teased and he rolled his eyes “I want you. I want you to be mine, just mine” you raised an eyebrow “Will you be just mine?” he nodded “Yeah” you took a breath and saw the hesitation start to worry him before you turned to curl up to his chest “Ok” “Ok” he agreed, leaving a kiss on the side of your head.

You were almost asleep before he said “You were fucking with me about Will though, weren’t you?” you shook your head “Go to sleep Jay”

[firstkanaphans]

hope it's okay to send you this bc i remember this topic coming up on your blog a few times before (cps not being allowed to have couple events in certain places) and i dont remember anyone ever addressing it directly so when i saw fort and peat (memindy/lita/love sea) bringing it up i thought i'd share x(.)com/thisis153cm/status/1873741911695180053

Thank you so much for sending this my way! You're right. That is the first time I've ever heard a CP address it so explicitly. For those who don't want to follow the link, it's a video of FortPeat at an airport and Fort is saying, "Couple events are not allowed in some places, so we have to go alone. We would prefer to go together, but there are rules."

I also looked into their fan meets a little further and turns out they both had a fan meet in China on the same day, but in different cities. Do you know how pissed I would be if my favorite couple was going to be in my country and I had to pick which one of them to see? At least First and Khaotung's events were on separate days. Of course, then you have to pay for two tickets so both options aren't ideal.

When we originally discussed the homophobic nature of Chinese fanmeets on my blog some people pointed out that it was especially bizarre that they enforced these rules for foreigners since apparently they allowed the leads of Meet You at the Blossom to have fanmeets together in-country. @doublel27 also informed me that DaouOffroad were allowed to work as staff for each other at their respective fanmeets in China, but Daou is Chinese, so my best guess is that whoever is responsible for making these rules feels like homosexuality is a disease that only afflicts foreigners and so the rules only apply to them because obviously Chinese people can't be gay. (Daou must have had a good laugh about that one.)

Dr. Thomas Baudinette, our resident BL expert, talks a lot about how BL as a genre needs to de-prioritize "problematic markets" and I have to assume this is what he means. Forcing your actors to strip the queerness from both themselves and their work negates all the good that BL is doing and companies need stop catering to such ridiculous demands.

[arcticdementor]

I read where you say

I think many of them view institutions the same way. You can just tell people something, and then they have to believe it.

and my first thought was that this is how public school works (and per Chris Arnade's Dignity, modern society selects for "front-row" elites who thrive in that sort of environment). The teacher tells the students stuff, and the students are graded on how well they can parrot it back. As I found out personally in grade school, one of the worst things you can do in class is successfully correct the teacher, whether by pointing out and correcting an error in her math, or citing a more up-to-date source for some bit of science. The "right answer" is not the correct answer, it's the answer the teacher wants to hear.

But more generally, this sort of narrative control, in the Jimian "warriors vs priests" model, the core of "priestly" power. Every society has had it to some degree. You say:

Media isn't supposed to be a top-down command and control system that people obediently follow.

but plenty of people say that it is. What the Catholic Church was for the middle ages, what state churches were post-reformation — somebody has to preach the Official Truth (and there's always an Official Truth) to the masses. Who replaces the church in preaching the dogma to the masses if not the media?

I've seen plenty of people (particularly after the November election) look at people's declining trust in institutions like the media, and see it as a serious problem… not of those institutions, but of the people who have stopped listening. They basically fall into two (similar) categories.

First is that the institutions are "trustworthy" — not in the sense that an individual is trustworthy, in that they have a reputation for being honest and well-informed, but in that they are inherently worthy of trust by virtue of being institutions. The broad distrust in institutions we see today is bad for society, they argue. Indeed, society depends on a certain level of trust in institutions for cohesion and proper functioning… and therefore, since that trust is necessary, people are obligated to give it. You owe it to society to trust the institutions no matter how many times they get it wrong, how many times they lie. Those who have stopped trusting the media are immoral, because they are shirking their moral obligation to society to shut up and believe whatever they're told.

The second, which I've seen a couple times post-election, has come from people asking how so many could have voted for Trump despite the media pointing out how he's Hitler and Harris is the only acceptable choice, looking at how many people don't listen to said media, and refining the question to how so many people could willingly choose lies over truth. When pointed to the fact that the people in question don't see it that way, a few responded by asserting that since the media and such are the "truth-telling" institutions, whose job is determining the truth, this framing remains the correct one regardless. When pushed back at with the poor job these "truth-tellers" have been doing, they clarify that they didn't mean it in that sense, they meant it definitionally. That their job isn't to determine what the truth is in the sense of searching for what is true and what is false, but in the sense of choosing what is true and what is false — that they are "truth-telling institutions" in that whatever they tell people is definitionally "true." That "truth" is simply whatever the authorities say it is, anything to the contrary is "misinformation" and "lies" by definition, and anyone who denies such "truth" is edging toward treason.

Calling something "der sturmer," saying something is a "racist moral panic," throwing around words like "taken-style hero"... None of those things will work. Shaming won't work.

Maybe not, but they're a necessary first step before escalating to harsher measures that will. After all, the Inquisitions generally gave heretics a number of opportunities to recant their heresies ("heresy" itself distinguished from mere error by being defined as "the obstinate denial or doubt of a truth that should be believed"), only handing over ("relaxing") the unrepentant heretic to the civil authorities for execution.

Shaming didn't work on the original Der Stürmer… but you know what did, right? You have to first establish that the people driving the "racist moral panic" aren't accidental racists who can be shamed into improvement, but obstinate racists immune to shame, thus justifying more coercive measures and outright punishments. If this is like a "der sturmer-style campaign" then obviously everyone promoting that campaign is comparable to Julius Streicher… and deserving of the same fate.

You have to re-establish trust.

No, you don't. You just have to punish heresy severely enough that none dare openly dissent.

Who do I trust on this issue? Who do I think has impeccable credentials and has established the right commitments and allegiances over the years?

Go back to the classroom. There may be people you trust more on a topic than your teacher, books you trust more than the textbook. But if you want to get a good grade, which one's answers are you going to put down on your homework and tests?

well, there's been a tremendous amount of reputational damage to group reputation management in the United States over the past 10 years, and especially over the past 4.

Yes, and? The only reputation you need to manage is your reputation for punishing all disobedience. Oderint dum metuant.

How can you convince me?

The same way they "convinced" Germans to stop being Nazis? The same way Gul Madred got Picard to briefly see five lights instead of four?

The British elites don't have to convince anyone. They'll just keep on doing whatever they want, no matter how unhappy the peasant masses get, because the peasant masses are powerless, and can't do anything about it.

Regarding Rotherham, since it's come up again...

If I had a daughter, and a group of men doused her in petrol and threatened to set her on fire, then what would matter to me is making sure that never happened again.

This is what is moral and right. Children are small and weak. Stopping such a thing is what a parent owes their child.

If that requires changing the ideology of the entire country, then my life's work must be changing the ideology of the entire country. This is simply the work that has been entrusted to me. Whether it succeeds or not, I must attempt it.

There are people right now asking others to refrain from criticism in order to protect the reputation of the Labour government.

My contempt for such people is off the charts. But I can now see the empty space. Many of them are morally underdeveloped. What it means is that they consider Labour their tribe, and they are obediently protecting the tribe.

[coirinthyurilo]

Can we talk about how Will just somehow survived Tartarus despite the odds against him? And how he still loves Nico despite it?

(Also talking about how Will is genuinely such a great boyfriend, Nico is so lucky fr fr.)

Like we just witnessed him actively DYING in Tartarus. Why are we pretending it's not that serious?

Sure, the book itself doesn't feel as dramatic as Percabeth's journey in Tartarus. But it's still actively dangerous.

EXTREMELY dangerous for Will especially. Nico, he's been there. He's been in Tartarus. He's also affected by it too. Clearly both of them are affected because Nico almost DIED in his last one.

And then we have Will actually dying, getting weaker as he travels deeper into the underworld with nothing but a sun lamp to keep him alive.

So why are we only focusing on Nico and Percabeth's journey when Will canonically had the hardest time there? 😭

Sure the entire book is about Nico and Will's character development and their relationship growing stronger by the end.

But can we not invalidate Will's journey THROUGH IT? I've seen many people forget Will is a survivor, sure with Nico's help. But without him he's guaranteed to die.

Still doesn't mean that he's not a strong character, he survived TARTARUS you gotta be HELLA strong as it is? He's also saved Nico's life multiple times in the book.

He may be a healer but it also doesn't mean he's not capable. Only to an extent.

It's sad how some people ignore the book just because it feels like a fanfic when it's not?? It's their journey as a couple, it's FOCUSED ON THEIR RELATIONSHIP.

That's different to Percabeth the book was focused on GETTING THEM OUT mostly.

That's Percabeth was down there unwillingly.

Solangelo traversed to Tartarus WILLINGLY.

That's the difference between two books. If they were down there against their will they might be more at stake because they're fighting for their lives. Trying to get out.

But they're down there to save their friend, so yes it's going to be different— because the main plots is different. 😭😭😭

So with all of the odds clearly AGAINST Will it's remarkable that he somehow survived it all.

Like he had a BAD fall, Tartarus was literally killing him to the point his body is unraveling itself, making bigger wounds. He had a taste of pain of the River Styx. (Even if it's a dream.)

He was CLEVER to use their circumstances and information to send a mania away from them to avoid extra danger. Even if it made Nico unsettled. It was necessary.

He went against a fricking nightmare demon. He went against NYX. And then we have him talking to Persephone for some part of it.

The bravest thing he's done? Was him completely accepting and understanding despite seeing the true nature of Nico's home.

Of where Nico originates. Will stayed with him, despite seeing EVERYTHING BAD about it. All the horrors, and terrors.

And yet there's good in it.

He's still came to the conclusion that this is what Nico is. With all the bad, there is still just a bit of good that makes the entire thing worth it.

I rest my👏 FUCKING 👏CASE.

[goodqueenaly]

Does it seem odd that when Robert Arryn brings up the hope of marrying 'Alayne' the issue of them being officially stepsiblings isn't brought up? Does this indicate that it is considered acceptable in the 7K or could it just mean that it doesn't occur to Sansa as they're merely cousins or she doesn't feel that Robert is really able to understand this? After all, Lyonel Hightower had trouble with the Faith over marrying his stepmother. Though if we're looking for real-world analogues, in Islam stepsiblings is permissible but stepparents aren't.

A couple things.

Number one, when Lysa first mentioned the marriage between Robert and Sansa (when the latter was disguised as “Alayne Stone”), she did so knowing full well who “Alayne” really was:

“I … [sic] I am married, my lady.”

“Yes, but soon a widow. Be glad the Imp preferred his whores. It would not be fitting for my son to take that dwarf’s leavings, but as he never touched you … [sic] How would you like to marry your cousin, the Lord Robert?”

(It goes without saying, of course, that this proposed marriage was never so much as formally announced, much less actively planned, in the brief period between Sansa and Littlefinger’s arrival and Lysa’s murder.)

Number two, whether or not Robert ever learned from his mother that he would marry “Alayne” someday, I wouldn’t take the beliefs of young Robert as any sort of accurate reflection on Westerosi politico-religious statutes or tradition regarding marriage. Having lost essentially the only woman in his life, not to mention the only person who ever showed him anything resembling affection (a full critical review of her parenting notwithstanding), Robert has very clearly taken to Sansa-as-Alayne as a sort of surrogate mother. Being all of eight, not to mention very sheltered and infantalized by his mother, Robert does not have a real, practical idea of what marriage in a Westerosi context means; for Robert, marriage to Sansa-as-Alayne would mean “sleep[ing] in the same bed every night” while Sansa-as-Alayne would “read [him] stories”, “sleep[ing] and kiss[ing] and play[ing] games” with him - that is, essentially what Robert already did with or wanted from Sansa-as-Alayne. Robert isn’t thinking about what the Faith of the Seven or Westerosi law would say about marriage between step-siblings (or, maybe to put it more accurately, a stepson and a bastard daughter); Robert is trying to keep close to Sansa-as-Alayne as the only person giving him some modicum of comfort, stability, and love as his mother had.

Indeed, to that point, Sansa-as-Alayne underlined the impossibility of their union for Robert:

She put a finger to his lips. “I know what you want, but it cannot be. I am no fit wife for you. I am bastard born.”

“I don’t care. I love you best of anyone.”

You are such a little fool. “Your lords bannermen will care. Some call my father upjumped and ambitious. If you were to take me to wife, they would say that he made you do it, that it was no will of yours …[”]

…

Alayne stroked his fingers. “There, my Sweetrobin, be still now.” When the shaking passed, she said, “You must have a proper wife, a trueborn maid of noble birth.”

“No. I want to marry you, Alayne.”

Once your lady mother intended that very thing, but I was trueborn then, and noble. “My lord is kind to say so.” … “Any child of ours would be baseborn. Only a trueborn child of House Arryn can displace Ser Harrold as your heir. My father will find a proper wife for you, some highborn girl much prettier than me. You’ll hunt and hawk together, and she’ll give you her favor to wear in tournaments. Before long, you will have forgotten me entirely.”

Again, because none of this has ever gone beyond the imaginations of Lysa or Robert, it is impossible to say whether the aristocracy of the Vale, much less anywhere else in Westeros, would have reacted to a betrothal ostensibly between Robert and “Alayne Stone”. (And I say “ostensibly” because even in Littlefinger’s current nuptial scheme, Sansa is going to reveal herself as Sansa Stark, rather than “Alayne Stone” at her wedding to Harry Hardyng.) It is interesting to point out that Sansa-as-Alayne’s argument to Robert isn’t that they can’t marry because his stepfather is (officially) her natural father, but that they can’t marry because this marriage would be seen as too ambitious and tyrannical a move by Littlefinger - not necessarily mutually exclusive ideas, but certainly not synonymous either. That’s not to say Sansa is any more versed in the nuances of Westerosi law and/or the doctrines of the Faith to know whether or not this marriage would also be unlawful in the eyes of man or the Seven, of course, but at bare minimum we can say that Sansa-as-Alayne’s instinct with Robert regarding this marriage is to cite the gulf of rank between them, and the perceived influence of Littlefinger, rather than any idea that such unions are objectively forbidden.

(And, when it comes to Westeros legal-religious tradition, I don’t think GRRM has really put much thought into it, as indeed I’m not sure, for example, what the High Septon could or would have done about Samantha Tarly’s allegedly incestuous marriage. Generally speaking, I don’t think GRRM puts very deep thought into the religious and legal details around rules for marriage, much to my curiosity and sometimes chagrin.)

[raayllum]

set after 7x02. doesn't necessarily fit the prompts for today (but maybe right/wrong) for sorpeli week!

Soren is the one who tells her exactly what transpired at sunset in front of the Banther Lodge. Opeli had caught glimpses from the windows during the event—not much, but enough to be horrified—and rushed out when she realized the young queen's arrow was pointed at the crown prince, and—

High Mage Ca—Prince Callum is already gone by the time she reaches the porch, Ezran's expression as icy as the spikes still entrapping his guards' legs. She doesn't dare ask the king what's happened, his expression more dark and brooding than she's ever seen it, exchanging a mildly worried look with Corvus over his head, the crownguard staying as Ezran stalks over to his throne for the evening, quiet and shaking and angry.

Soren pulls her aside before she can go to their king.

They stand in the fading light of one of the upstair windows, his brow furrowed and her lips pursed and growing more tightly pressed together with every word that falls from Soren's mouth. Somehow, she manages to let him reach the end of his tale before she bursts, her mind spinning—brothers, betrayal, treason, the kingslayer, and the notch of Queen Aanya's arrow, and Callum's resignation—

"I cannot believe it," she hisses, not quite sure exactly what it means even to herself.

Soren gestures simply with one hand and an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow. "Can't you?"

They share a flat look, Opeli's anger deflating and withering away into something sharper. She'd never liked the girl all that much—how could she, after a two week dalliance at the castle and being an assassin and then breaking Prince Callum's heart?—and now... It means I trust her. Unconditionally.

A foolish boy blinded by love, apparently.

"This is exactly why I didn't want him to be with an elf! It divides his loyalties. It's driven him mad—"

"Whoa, wait," Soren takes her by the arm with one large hand, gentle yet firmly, the other arm folded over his chest. "She's not 'the elf'."

Opeli tsks. "Not you too. She's the reason Prince Callum—"

"She might be the motivation," Soren says. "But however I feel about Callum's choices, they're his choices. She looked as surprised to see him as anyone... Maybe Callum saw, or knows, something we don't."

"But..."

"I'm not saying King Ezran is wrong to want to imprison the assassin," Soren says, hedging his weight from foot to foot. "But he nearly had Callum shot over it. You gotta admit that Ezran isn't quite... himself, right now."

Opeli steps away, eyes downturned. "No," she agrees at least, as much as it feels counterintuitive to every instinct she has. "He's not. But he's our king, Soren. That means—"

"—we're sworn to him, I know." He studies her, eyes blue and softly scrutinizing. "How are you doing? With the king and the prince... do your loyalties feel divided?"

He phrases like he wonders if they ever could be—if there could ever be anything she'd put above her duty to the crown—and besides her faith, perhaps, she doesn't believe so.

"I am fine," she answers truthfully. The brothers will make amends. Ezran will see through this night, and Callum will return. Eventually. She's always been good at having faith.

Soren lets out a tiny snort, his lips twitching. "Of course you are." He gives her arm a little squeeze and then lets go. "Come on. We should eat something. It's going to be a long couple of days."

But, at the very least Opeli supposes, they can face it together.