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jaylver · 10 months

Text

PINKY RING — S.JY

synopsis: setting up a deal with a frat boy you've just met at a party turned out to be a stupidly cute idea. who knew his drake reference and the deal involving his pinky ring would soon score him a date with you.

pairings: frat boy!jake x afab!reader

genre: strangers to lovers, frat boy + football player jake, college au, romance, fluff

warning(s): profanities, party, alcohol

wc: 2.9k

a/n: a very late contribution to jakeday! this was much longer than planned so i hope you all enjoy it! apologies in advance if the writing sucks since i've been tired all week T-T please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah xx

Wandering into a frat party alone was quite literally the least sane thing you've done in a while.

Your best friend, Yunjin, had called you up to meet her at a frat party at the most random hour of the night. The temptation got to you for the worst as you caved in and placed aside your studies in order to get some free booze, even if they're low budget ones.

That only explained why you were there then. Looking between your phone and the sight before you as you walked, trying to get a hold of your friend. She was probably somewhere wasted and you wouldn't be surprised if it was true.

Once you sent her a text announcing your arrival and hoping for a text back, you slipped your phone away and wandered into the kitchen area, further from the crowded area filled with people dancing quite scandalously.

Whatever dodgy concoction they had prepared there, you took some and sniffed it before taking a sip, shrugging in half approval. You'd take what you have. Soon, you settled yourself in by leaning against the counter, pulling out your phone as it had started buzzing.

You were distracted by the chiming of your phone, realising Yunjin texted back and you immediately replied back. She was, in fact, somewhere in the house, except she was with a guy. Wait, a frat boy, Jay Park? Oh, you've heard of him.

You didn't want to say much and just texted her back to call you when it's time to leave, or if she's even leaving at all. Meanwhile, you were unaware of the additional presence who had wandered into the kitchen as you typed out your last text.

“Oh—hey,”

You glanced up from your phone the moment you pressed 'send', staring back at a guy that you swore you've seen somewhere before, he was too familiar. He wasn't just a guy though, he was a hot one. Backwards cap on, dressed in a casual black hoodie and ripped jeans, dyed blond hair peeking out from his cap.

That was a sight to see.

“Hey,” you could tell he wasn't expecting your presence in the kitchen just the same as you were.

The corner of his lips twitched, head tilted to one side. “New around here? I think this is the first time I've seen you at our party,”

Our? Was he a part of the frat?

“I don't usually wander into frat parties,” you shrugged, and he nodded, smiling.

“I'm Jake, by the way. Jake Sim. I'm a part of the frat, we usually have these types of parties on the weekend,” he extended his hand out for a handshake, to which you accepted, staring a little too longingly at his pretty hands and fingers. Don’t be a creep.

“Am I missing out? I'm Y/N L/N,”

“Well, Y/N, maybe you are,” an apparent accent flowed from his voice, and the way he said your name shouldn't have made you scream inside. “You should come by more often, I'd love to see more of you here,”

“We'll see. I wasn't even meant to be here, but my friend called and I thought ‘why not’ so here I am,”

“It's fated, then. We're meant to meet,” he clapped, lips stretched into a cheery smile that had you swooning.

“I suppose it is,” you let him join your side in leaning against the counter, feeling the fabric of his hoodie brushing against your bare skin. “You know, you look very familiar to me, I think I've seen you before,”

“Yeah?” His tongue swept across his bottom lip, eyebrow quirking with interest.

“Football team. It's you, isn't it? The striker,”

“How did you know?” He seemed genuinely surprised, and you were in disbelief as well. He was much different compared to what you remembered.

“My friend's on the team too, Kim Sunoo,”

“Him!"

“Yes, him! I went to one of the matches and you scored in it, it was a great match," you could still recall the faint memory of Jake scoring, his name blasting from the speakers, back when his hair was coloured black.

“Wow,” Jake stared in amazement, his smile never wavered, only widening. “We're much connected than I thought,”

“We are,” you couldn't help smiling as well, finding his energy contagious and severely intoxicating. You had to turn around and take a sip of your drink as a way to not become flustered around him, but only to notice the rings resting on his fingers.

“Nice rings,” you complimented, and it seemed to be his turn to become flustered. Immediately bringing his hands up for you to look closer and showcasing his rings.

“Thanks,” he said, sounding pleased.

“You have a pinky ring too?” You pointed at his pinky, noticing the silver ring gleaming under the light.

“Pinky ring till I get a wedding ring,”

It didn't hit you until a beat later. He was quoting Drake.

“Drake? Seriously?” A teasing grin travelled to your lips, nudging him slightly ever so naturally. He didn't complain, just reciprocated your smile, seemingly glad that you caught onto his reference.

“Hey, I'm a big fan. Sue me,”

“No judgement, I like Drake too,” you spoke your half truth, shrugging lightly.

Jake turned to look at you, a light sparkling in his eyes, telling you he had something in mind. “Hey, why don't I give you my pinky ring, and the next time we meet, you give it back to me?”

“What?”

“Let fate decide our next meeting. If we bump into each other again, you hand me back my ring, and I'll get your number. Deal?”

“Sounds good,” why were you doing this?

Even as your consciousness was telling you what stupid idea this was, you couldn’t help but feel confident. There was definitely a next time. You were sure of it. Even after Jake slipped his ring onto your pinky, feeling his skin graze against yours, you were confident that fate would bring you to him, or even him to you.

You bid him a small goodbye, watching his bright energy disappear through the door and be left with yourself, wanting him to come back. Did Yunjin and you somehow suddenly share the same taste in men? Frat boys?

Soon, you abandoned your drink and walked out of the kitchen into the party scene. To your relief, you spotted Yunjin waving at you, a tall boy with silver hair standing right beside her. That was probably Jay.

“Oh my God, I thought I lost you,” she engulfed you into one of her warm hugs while you didn't miss the lovesick smile she always had whenever she was around a crush.

“I would say the same for you,” you nudged her slightly, eyeing her romeo of the night.

“Oh—Jay, this is my best friend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Jay,” Yunjin introduced, and Jay gave you a friendly hug as a greeting. Off the bat, you could tell he was a decent guy despite being in a frat.

“You're not joining your friends for beer pong?” Yunjin pointed out to Jay and you took notice of said beer pong going on across the room.

There he was. Jake. Standing out amongst the bunch of guys that were most likely his friends, catching your attention in an instant. His baseball cap was no longer worn backwards, sleeves rolled up and showcasing the protruding veins decorating the expanse of his arm. He was holding onto a ping pong ball, aiming at one of the red shot cups and eventually shot it in successfully, letting out a loud laugh while throwing his arms up into a flexing pose and hitting his chest.

What a frat boy. But you think he's a cute frat boy. He was an exception.

“Should we leave soon?” Yunjin had to poke your shoulder to gain your attention back to her. At that realisation, you visibly flushed a tinge of pink, coughing and nodding rather stiffly. You could tell your best friend was suspicious of you, but didn’t press on and told you Jay was dropping you two off.

What you didn’t catch onto as you left the room was Jake’s lingering gaze on you.

He was going to get his ring back. He was confident about it.

“You’re telling me you’re missing Jay’s friend?”

“I am doing exactly that,”

He wasn’t just Jay’s friend, he was also his frat brother. Yet, Jay was oblivious you two knew each other, or at least that’s what you think in your perspective.

Telling Yunjin about your happenings from that party was both a good and bad decision. The good part was that she was happy for you. The bad part was realising how predictable you were. In her words, she knew you would fall for Jake especially since you had a weak spot for men with cute smiles. Dammit.

It has been a week since that night at the frat house. To be honest, you could be crazy and just go back to find Jake, but were you going to chase a man like that? No, wake up! But, you were also shamelessly missing him and mulling over the fact that the ring was still on your pinky.

“This is so stupid, why is he waiting on fate to act?”

“I think it’s cute,”

“You’re hopeless,” Yunjin rolled her eyes, but you just laughed, because you, too, knew it was dumb. A stupid game that tortured you but you enjoyed the anticipation as well. “Anyway, Jay’s going to a football match later in the evening, apparently the team is playing. Before you say no, consider this, he’s paying for dinner after,”

“I like him,” you gave her your seal of approval, and from the looks of her giddy smile, she was satisfied.

Yunjin was more than happy when she led you through the stands, locating where Jay was sitting. You threw a knowing glance at her, to which she noticed and only rolled her eyes. He greeted you with a friendly smile, saving an even brighter smile for your best friend. It was sickening, but in an affectionate way.

Realising how you were third wheeling, you took the queue and left, wandering down the stands to get a closer look at the field. You figured that'd be a better idea now that you realised the team was warming up there.

“Y/N!” you were barely halfway down the stairs when you heard your name being called, a familiar face running towards you.

“Jake!” You jogged a little, reaching the barrier that separated the stands and the field, essentially separating you and Jake as well.

“You're here! At a football game,” he breathed out in a daze, as if he couldn't believe you were standing in front of him.

“Jay brought me and Yunjin here,” you slyly pointed at the duo that sat further up the stands, meeting Jake's playful smirk. You two had the same thought in mind. “Oh right—pinky ring,”

You raised up your right hand, his ring still wrapped around your pinky. At that, Jake's eyes only lit up, flickering between your face and the ring, his smile growing wider.

“You wear it everywhere?”

A rush of heat spread across your cheeks, you found yourself shying away from his gaze. “I didn't know where I'd find you,”

“Guess you finally found me, and I found you too,”

“I'm glad,” you fidgeted the ring mindlessly, looking between it and Jake before you realised the deal. "Should I hand it back to you first?”

“No—wait—maybe after the game?” His indecisiveness was killing him, and having you standing in front of him, it made him extra jittery, he was grateful the barriers were there. “I have a feeling you wearing it will somehow pass on good luck to me,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, a smile pulling at your lips. “Don't know how that works, but I'll do whatever you say,”

“It's true! It's called intuition. I'll win the game and score a goal,” he said ever so confidently, a grin that was challenging your doubts.

“I believe you,” you said in between giggles, unaware of Jake's smile growing wider as he watched you laugh. “Go and win this one like you always do,”

“I will! Meet me after the game! Get your number and the ring ready,” he casted a wink at you, waving a small momentary goodbye before joining his team back in warming up.

You eventually joined the two lovebirds and waited for the game to start, a certain feeling of giddiness bubbling in your abdomen. When it was finally time, you watched intently as the referee blew the whistle and the home team began the game. The number five on his back was easy to detect, your eyes followed it the whole time as he ran past defenders and scored a goal.

You and your friends jumped out of your seats in excitement. Yelling and cheering the moment you heard his name being blasted from the speakers. He did prove you right, he scored a goal. The next thing you knew before you could even process it was him pointing up at you. It was clearly directly at you, no mistake at all. As cliche it could get, he sent you a flying kiss, and you only matched his energy, catching it and laughing like some school girl.

He was soon tackled by his teammates and whisked away to resume the game. You were left in the stands smiling like a fool, unable to hide your happiness and blushing cheeks even though people around you had witnessed it whole, including your own friends. But who cares, right?

The game ended with the home team winning and obviously, everyone was in great spirits after. You told Yunjin that you’re finding Jake first, and as she left with Jay, you swore you heard him asking ‘since when did they know each other?’

Heading down the stands, you spotted Jake immediately. The team was still lingering around the field, but the second Jake’s eyes landed on you, he excused himself and ran towards you. The widest smile was present on his face, he was shining brightly under the dark skies.

“Hey!” he pulled you in a hug, reaching over the barrier for you. He was sweaty, but you didn’t mind it. It was his presence and tight hold that you focused on.

“Congrats on the win! You did great,” you said as you pulled away, reciprocating his smile.

“Thank you. It’s nothing,”

“Okay, you scoring a goal is not ‘nothing’,”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?”

You rolled your eyes at him, hating that he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Whatever,” you said dismissively, earning a light laugh from him. You took the chance to slip the ring off your pinky, taking his hand in yours, instantly surprising him since it was a totally unexpected move. “Your pinky ring, as promised,”

“Oh, almost forgot,” he let you slip the ring back to the original spot, feeling your touch on his skin and reeling from your close proximity.

“As for my number … I’ll give it to you once you’re done, I don’t have anything to write on,” you waved your phone in hand, casting him an apologetic smile.

“It’s totally fine. Will you be willing to wait?”

“I’m alright with it. I thought you’re joining us for dinner?”

“Right, Jay told me,” he snapped his fingers, recalling his friend’s text message. How could he have forgotten? He almost asked you out for dinner later as a date.

“He’s paying,”

“Sweet,” he basically hollered, punching the air stiffly and you laughed at his demeanour. He’s so weird, but in a cute way.

Jake was biting on his lips once a short silence settled between you two. You could tell he was pondering and thinking about his next words. That sweet smile returned back to his lips. “Can I take you out for dinner soon?”

How could you say no?

“I’m down. Definitely yes,”

Jake almost looked relieved, but there was also a sparkle that you saw in his eyes that shined brightly once you’ve given him your answer. You could feel your own heart swelling at the sight of him. His gaze held everything he needed to say. He stared at you with a kind of longing and pining that you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Great, fantastic,” Jake whispered under his breath, seemingly in disbelief and his dazed look only made you giggle. “I’ll catch up with you after I shower, give me some time and wait for me!”

“I will! The three of us will wait for you so go wash up,”

“Alright, alright,” he threw his hands up in surrender, hesitant to walk away as he wished to talk to you more, but he stank and was covered with sweat, so he didn’t have much choice.

“Wait for me!” he said, slowly inching away with the silliest grin, eyes crinkling at the edges.

You responded by gesturing your thumbs up, watching as he turned his back on you, but not even a second later he turned his head back, a small smile still remained. He then started jogging towards the benches, and you definitely didn’t miss his excited jump.

How were you supposed to survive that dinner date with an endearing, sweet and cute guy like him?

The truth was, you weren’t.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey @shinrjj @kgneptun

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

hello my dear!! 🫶🏼

🌸🌸🌸

eddie with smut prompts 10 & 1 pls 🥵

hello my love!!!!

I apologize in advance for this (well, kinda but not really…)

patience (or a lack thereof) - eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: the horny really jumped out on this one. drug use, cockwarming, unprotected p-in-v, fingering, dirty talk, soft dom!eddie vibes (I think)

The problem here, is that weed makes you horny.

Like…really horny.

Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Friday nights at Eddie’s place have a pretty repetitive flavour, and it’s one you now crave. You’ve been seeing each other nearly six months now, and your friends have all given you shit for it, but you don’t care. Fridays are for Eddie.

More specifically, Fridays are for getting stoned in Eddie’s bedroom and cumming so many times you lose count.

By now, you’d usually be between his sheets already, two or three rounds down, a quick breather in between. But tonight, something’s thrown a wrench in your usual plans. Really, it’s your own fault — you’d shown up unannounced at Eddie’s place Wednesday night, the night he usually reserved for D&D planning. Wayne had taken an extra overnight shift, leaving the place to the two of you, and well, you made the most of it.

But with Wednesday night planning out the window, Eddie has a Saturday session and nothing prepared, which you know is not a good thing.

But weed makes you horny.

You’re sprawled out on his bed, your pants long discarded, wearing only one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts, flipping through one of his music magazines. You’ve tried reading the book you keep in your bag, tried distracting yourself by changing the records on the player, you even tried taking a quick cat nap. Nothing has worked. The ache between your legs is ridiculous.

He’s been at it a couple hours now, and you know he takes his time when it comes to D&D. He’s meticulous with his planning, thinking out every possible outcome and coming up with a contingency for each, even having a few throwaway plans just in case his players come up with something completely outrageous. You don’t mind it at all; it’s quite the opposite actually. His passion is…sexy, in a nerdy kind of way. It just adds to his charm.

And right now, it’s not helping matters. He’s perched in his desk chair, flipping through the Dungeon Master’s Guide, a pencil between his teeth. He’s wearing an old Hawkins High Phys Ed t-shirt, sweat shorts, and his hair's a mess. Unable to stop yourself, you roll off the mattress and onto your feet, crossing the room and standing behind his chair. He makes a little noise as you gather his hair in your hand, sweeping it over his shoulder so you can fit your face in the curve of his neck.

“Eds.”

“I know, baby,” he replies, the words muffled by the pencil between his teeth. “I’m almost done, I swear. Gimme like five minutes, and then I’m all yours, yeah?”

You whine, closing your lips around his pulse. You left a nice hickey there the other night, and your cloudy mind yells at you to make it bloom against his pale skin even brighter this time. Your arms hang over his shoulders, pressing your palms against his stomach, humming into his neck.

“Eddie, please?”

Your hands move lower, one glancing across the crotch of his shorts. The pencil falls out of his mouth. “Sweetheart,” he sing-songs, a halfhearted warning. But you do it again, fixated on the way his cock twitches to attention, even with just the lightest of touches. You let your teeth graze his throat, nipping at the same spot until the bruise starts to reform. Eddie tilts his head back, a low rumble moving through his chest, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When they open again, his pupils are blown, and he lifts his hand, burying his fingers in your hair. “Someone’s needy tonight.”

“You know that weed makes me ho—”

“Weed makes your horny, I know, baby,” he finishes, dragging his nail lightly against your scalp. “I’m almost finished, I promise. Come here.”

He turns in the chair, swinging around until you’re standing between his legs. Eddie drags his hands up your thighs, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver. He’s fully hard now, shorts tented, and he hooks one thumb in the waist of your underwear, pulling it down slightly. It makes you throb.

“You can sit on my lap till I’m finished,” he says, squeezing your hips. “That make you feel better?”

Your eyes widen slightly, feeling yourself melt into his touch. “You mean…?”

“Come here,” he says again, his tone more assertive this time. He pulls your underwear down further, lifting the hem of your shirt at the same time, and swoops in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hip. Your underwear drops to the floor and you kick the fabric away. Everything in you goes tight as he hooks his fingers in the waist of his shorts, pulling them off and settling back in his chair. The sight of his cock curving towards his belly makes your mouth fill with saliva. “You need something else first?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “Need me to open you up a bit, pretty girl?”

He pulls you closer, one hand back on your hip, and the other slides between your knees, moving up to the inside of your thighs. He moans when he feels out wet you are, dragging his fingers through it, pushing them past his lips a second later as he pulls your body even closer. You move quickly, lifting your legs and planting your knees on the seat either side of his hips.

Eddie grins as you lower yourself slowly, reaching around to take himself in hand, guiding his cock into your nearly dripping pussy. The feeling is overwhelming, to say the least, and you bury your face in his neck again as you sink down, your breathing coming faster as he fills you up.

Fully seated, your first instinct is to move, rolling your hips into his, but Eddie grips your waist tightly, clucks his tongue at you. “Ah, ah, ah, not yet, sweetheart. Let me finish first, and then I’ll take care of you, alright?”

When you don’t answer right away, he lifts his hips slightly, the tip of his cock nudging at that delicious nerve inside you. “Shit.”

“Gimme five minutes, baby,” he says again. He takes your hands, draping your arms around his neck. A soft kiss is pressed to your mouth, and you have to stop yourself from chasing it, taking what he gives. “Just five minutes.”

It’s fucking torture. Five minutes feels like five hours. Every tiny movement makes the pleasure spark, but it’s just shy of not enough, leaving you wanting more and more and more. If it’s driving Eddie just as crazy, he doesn’t let it show, giving you a broad grin when you settle deeper into his lap, resting your forehead against the dip of his shoulder.

Finally — fucking finally — he flips his notebook closed, tosses his pen aside, and puts his hands on you. He grabs your hips again, guiding you along him, and the sudden movement sets your whole body alight. You toss your head back, your mouth dropping open as he lifts you up, pulls you back down. He fills you so perfectly, leaning in to suck a mark at your collar.

“There she is,” he murmurs, dragging the tip of his nose along the underside of your jaw. “C’mon, my needy girl, tell me how bad you want it.”

Eddie slides his hands under the hem of your shirt, fingers tapping along your rib cage. Your fingers chase his, reaching for the edge of the fabric, pulling it up and over your head. You toss it away, and Eddie groans, instantly lowering his head, scraping his teeth along your tits, your nipples pebbling at his attention. Your hips roll, dragging yourself along his cock, the pleasure making your eyes roll back.

“Look at you,” he moans, sucking a bruise beside your nipple, his other hand coming up to toy with the other. “You just need to be fucked so bad, don’t you?”

“Eds, please,” you manage to mumble out, a whine trapped high in your throat. You can feel how wet you are, the slick glide of your thighs against his. He grins, pulling his face from your chest, tilting his head back so his nose pokes yours.

“Almost there,” he says, his voice goading. “Use your words. Tell me.”

“Eddie—”

“Tell me specifically,” he mutters, pinching your chin in one hand, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip, “how bad you want it.”

You start babbling. His request opens the floodgates. Your words are in time to the movement of your hips, and Eddie is grinning like the devil he is. Please, Eddie, I want it so bad, I want you so bad, fuck me please, I want it hard, want it fast, wanna feel you tomorrow. Please, please, please, please, please.

He gives you what you want.

You squeal when he scoops his hands under your thighs, lifting you as he moves out of the chair, keeping himself buried inside you. He aims for the bed, you think, but gets thrown off course, and instead you end up sprawled on the floor of his room. He hikes your legs over his hips, grabs your waist and pulls you down onto him with every thrust.

Back arching against the floor, you’re climbing higher and higher, and the weed buzzing in your veins only makes it that much more thrilling. You’re probably going to have carpet burn on your ass, but you don’t fucking care.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Eddie coos, and when your thigh starts to shake, he drops a hand between your legs, tracing his fingers over where he’s disappearing inside you before drawing a perfect circle around your clit. “Give it to me.”

You nearly shout his name as you cum, and Eddie rides you through it, his own orgasm not far behind. He pulls out at the last second, cums hot against your stomach, and flops down on the floor beside you. His hand lingers, tracing the curve of your tits, making them peak harder just for him. You curl your hand around the back of his neck, keeping him close while you catch your breath.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, dropping his jaw to kiss your shoulder, still petting his hand across your chest. “You want a pillow or something?”

You shake your head no. “Just…don’t move yet.”

Eddie chuckles, teeth nipping at your skin. “Okay, baby.”

Your body is caught between begging for more and tapping out for the night, but you think you know where the scales are about to tip. Especially if he keeps touching you like that. Your mind whirls, eyes fluttering open so you can look at him.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur.

Eddie hums the affirmative, sitting up slightly to pull his shirt over his head. He uses it to clean his cum from your stomach and leans over you slightly, mouthing at your tits again. “Anything, baby.”

“Why didn’t you ever make a move on me before,” you ask, “when we were in high school?”

He tilts his head, lifting one brow with his lips still latched to your skin. “Why do you ask?”

“Just realizing how much mind-blowing sex I missed out on,” you reply.

Eddie chuckles. “I wanted to make a move. I really wanted to, trust me. But you had a thing for jocks back then, if I remember correctly.” He bites at you again, softly, dropping his chin to your chest. You can feel his hand roaming lower, glancing over your knees and thighs. Your legs part slightly, letting him in again, your blood spiking when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh. “It sucked, honestly. You have no idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you, when I wanted it to be me.”

The tips of his fingers prod at you, curling just slightly. “But now you can,” you tell him, your voice turning breathy again, back arching as he pushes his fingers deeper, scrapes his teeth against your nipple.

“Now I can,” he agrees, “and I’m never gonna stop.”

#my fics #eddie munson #patience (or a lack thereof)#eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #sleepover sundae

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erenthology · 11 months

Text

Assertive

Rugby boyfriend!Eren x fem!reader

collage au, possessive but in an infatuated boyfriend type of way. Size differences are mentioned. No matter your size, Eren is bigger than you. (Note: going to be more active now that Aot is ending. Feel free to send requests ♡)

I don’t mind if you’re ignoring me, cuz I’m ignoring you. “ he watches you bounce around the room in your thin, white nightdress.

You continue looking for your phone, ignoring him. There’s no way you haven’t searched every inch of his dorm room by now, so you finally look at him. He’s laying on the bed shirtless, hands behind his neck, looking at you innocently. That f’ckin bastard.

“Do you have my phone, Eren?”

He flashes his teeth, “ugh, baby, you have no idea how nice it is to hear your voice again. C’mere.” he pats his lap.

You sternly put your hand on top of your hip, arching it to the side, giving Eren the perfect view. “Do you have it or not?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smirk.

”Do I? I'm not sure. You should come over and look,” stretching his arms out in an inviting pose.

Earlier, Eren’s roommate, Floch, made a joke about how he can hear when you and Eren are having sex. When you told Eren, he rushed out of the room and ordered Floch to apologize. Completely scolding him like a dad. You felt embarrassed since you didn’t want his friends to think you can’t take a joke.

You know he’s just going to grab and pull you towards him, so instead, you start walking towards the door. Eren tenses immediately and rushes towards you,

‘’Hey, hey” he grabs your hand. ”where do you think you’re going?’’ he questions with furrowed eyebrows.

‘’To ask if the guys have they’ve seen it?’’

His eyes flash red for a second. To have his friends see the outline of your nipples through that thin fabric of your so called pajamas? He looks you up and down, nope, not happening. You should be wearing his t-shirts to bed anyway.

‘’Not like that, you’re not,’’ he gives you an ‘’end of discussion’’ look, but you huff and turn anyway. Not that you get far at all, he has you slung over his shoulders before you’ve even fully turned.

The con of having a rugby player as a boyfriend is that he throws you around a lot without so much as breaking a sweat. When you’re mad at him, he has this irritating habit of lifting you off the ground and cuddling you until you’ve cooled down. Claiming it “breaks his heart watching you walk away angry.”

He walks towards the bed, ignoring your fists punching at his back. “You’re such a brat sometimes.” He doesn't mind at all though, Eren has the patience of a saint when it comes to his girl, he enjoys being the one to set you straight.

He carefully lies you down on his bed, positions himself on top and grins, ‘’gotcha,’’ then smacks a kiss on your cheek. ‘’You’re annoying.” you pinch his ear in retaliation.

“Ow, hey, you know you’re stronger than you look.” he scratches his reddened ear. ‘’I'm being deadass, baby, you could go pro in armwrestling or some shit.’’ You burst out laughing over how dramatic he’s being and his eyes lit up from the sound. Your smile always captivates him.

Feeling yourself being stared at, you grin cheekily, unable to hide your smile “weirdo, stop staring,’’ brushing your fingers against his stubble. His eyes follow the movement of your hand and begin tracing the shape of your figure when all of a sudden he starts attacking you in tickles.

You’re both advancing on each other playfully, laughing hysterically. In an attempt to roll out of his reach, Eren quickly reacts by by grabbing your hands and pins them above your head. The laughter is quickly replaced with heavy pants as you stare at him naively, your chest rising up and down.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he lets go of his grip and rests his head on your chest, “you know, it doesn’t matter if you’re mad. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable staying here.’’ he gently admits, then lifts his head,

‘’plus, I’m the only one who has a say about you in bed.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“Gross,’’ you push his chest, apparently amusing him by the look on his face. ‘‘but it’s fine, really. I just wanted to ignore the situation, but I guess he should learn that not everything needs to be said.’’ At this, he grins and takes ahold of your chin,

‘’that’s a good girl.’’

You ignore the heat rising in your face and smack his hand away when you suddenly remember, ‘’speaking off, where is my phone? You know I need to do my nightly routine check.’’

He knows. It’s the reason he slipped it under his pillow the moment you started throwing a fit. It’s nice having the most predictable girl on the planet. ‘’You can do it later, let a man enjoy his girl for a moment. You can be mad at me after.’’

‘’I'm not mad at you’’ you look genuinely offended, causing him to snicker. “Besides, I kinda liked the whole sexy, scolding dad thing you had going on. It was kinda turning me on,” you admit, looking straight into his eyes.

His hands on your hips stiffen instantly and his whole demeanor changes. “Don’t even joke, [name] I will put a baby in you right this second,” large hands grab your ass and starts grinding your body against his.

You attempt to leave but he drags you right back, looking at you confused. Looking down, you purr, “I really need to do my routine check,” sticking out your lower lip for extra effect.

You love to rile him up and have him mock you for being greedy and bratty. His face gets closer to yours with his eyebrows all furrowed.

“Did you just pout at me?”

“Nuh uh,” you lie and tease your hand against his belt, Eren’s eyes follow your movements then trace back up to your face, where you’re innocently meeting his eyes.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and looks down at your hand playing against his bulge. ‘’You wanna get fucked?’’ he spits with disgust, or admiration. It’s hard to tell with him.

“Know you enjoy keeping me on edge, acting all innocent when we both know,” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, eyes lingering just a second too long on your lips. Thoughts on ways to tame you running wild in his head.

‘’Telling me it turned you on when I was commanding,’’ he shakes his head as if disappointed.‘’It's good I’m here to keep you in line. A girl like you needs that.’’

You feel the imprint of him on your stomach as his hips press you down on the bed, leaving you no space to leave. You try your best to keep your voice steady. “Just wanna make you happy,’ you breathe out. He almost laughs.

“You know what would make me happy?‘’ Eren stands and lifts you up with him.

‘’you with my cock in your mouth.” You almost go limp in his arms from how lewd he's being.

Giving you an expectant look, he nudges your nose with his, “are you waiting for something? get to work.” he guides you down on your knees towards his crotch. The carnal look in his eyes makes you fumble a bit with his belt, but Eren is patient. Sometimes you suspect he enjoys seeing you nervous to perform for him.

Pressing a kiss on the tip, he returns his gratitude by patting your hair in a domineering act, “make me proud.’’ he smiles, in which you relish. Keeping eye contact, you swirl your tongue around his shaft before hollowing your cheeks and start working your way down. You can’t help but gag at his size, no matter how often you blow him.

It’s been quiet for some time now and you’re growing impatient with the lack of praise. You decide to look up at him through the tears in your eyes and catch him smiling down at you. The scene feels so filthy you can’t help but slyly drag your fingers over your panties to relieve some of the pressure, secretly humping your hips against your hand to the sound of his pants.

He just nearly cums in your mouth when he notices what you’re up to. Shamelessly playing with yourself, mouth filled with cock, you look straight out of Eren’s nastiest fantasies, it was perfect.

He bends down and pulls your hand out from under your nightdress, “Not yet, need you to be a good girl for me.’’ Then he does the hottest thing all night, he leans down to give it a kiss. You love him. He makes you feel like a princess getting fucked by her knight.

Feeling enthusiastic again, you eagerly reach for him to continue where you left off, but are stopped yet again. Whining, you wait for him any sort of command, just to do something, anything! but he looks so unaffected it’s making you wail even louder.

“stop whining, you don’t deserve to suck my dick.” Despite the warning, you almost do it again but stop yourself when you notice the glare you’re given. “But I really needa feel you, Eren. It hurts down there.” you were so wet it felt like you were about to explode from the lack of release.

He's only a man after all, even he has his limits when you wail pathetically about how wet your pussy is. Now he needs to have a look. He pulls you up by your torso, ‘’does sucking me off make you wet?’’ You nod and visibly see his ego lit up.

A thin sheen of sweat connects your bodies as he effortlessly carries you over to his bed. You take advantage of your flexibility and spread your legs as far apart as you can once he lays you down, earning a groan out of him.

He doesn't hesitate a moment further to push his face in there and peek under your dress. “such a pretty cunt, princess. no idea how often I jerk off thinking about it, about this,” kissing through your soaked panties. Your hips jerk upwards at his erotic words, desperate for friction.

“Eren, please”

He pushes your panties to the side but keeps them on. It’s like he’s so needy for you he can’t be bothered to take off either of your clothes properly, but patient enough to check out every inch of you as if seeing you like this for the first time.

Eren’s broad body consumes your smaller frame as you lie beneath him. You love this feeling, him shielding your body from anyone and anything but himself.

His ring covered fingers play softly with your bud, observing your reactions before lining himself against you, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. The sight of Eren being almost abnormally endeavored by your pussy as he spits on his hand and pumps his cock, increases the heat pooling in your abdomen.

You lie still, enjoying the sensation of him rubbing and tapping himself against you. His eyes are fixated entirely on your cunt and you enjoy every bit of the attention. Not to say you’re not curious about what goes on in his mind when he’s focused and quiet like this. Like your body is art and he is studying and memorizing every part of it.

Once satisfied, he pushes through the tight hindrance and sucks in a breathe, “oh, fuck.” and finally looks up at you. His heart stops a beat when he’s reminded of how beautiful you are. The urge to hide you away from anyone's eyes but his, hits him strong but he bites it back.

Time slows for a moment as you both take each other in through half lidded eyes, and for some reason, your vision has never been as clear. His fingers thread through yours as he leans in for a kiss. When he pulls away, your eyes are still closed. Eren grins and places one last kiss on your forehead before thrusting his way in.

He’s fucking you with his hips, hard. Hands pressing down your pelvic, holding you still for him to ram into. The strap of your nightdress has slightly fallen down your shoulders, so he pushes the fabric that’s hiding you from him down further, and exposes your breasts. The moan he lets out from the sight is pure filth.

‘’Touch yourself.’’ he demanded, pupils dilated. With glazed over eyes, you comply and start playing with yourself, twisting and grazing your nipples. The act drives him to lift your hips to reach deeper into you,’’really thought i’d let you walk out of my room looking like this.’’ he grows almost annoyed at the thought.

Tenderly cupping his cheek, he almost flinches from how lovingly you’re looking at him, “You’re all I want, Eren.’’ and he almost melts. When you say things like that it makes him want to keep you to himself even more, resting his forehead against yours, he looks at you with almost a pained expression. ‘’that’s good, because i'm a selfish man.’’

With your legs lifted around his waist and upper body sprawled on the bed, you’re essentially at his mercy as he connects your bodies in repeated thrusts. Again, again and again, the sound of him pushing into you echoes in the room.

He fucks like a deprived man and speaks like a man in love. “Does it feel good, princess?’’ You nod with lovestruck eyes. ‘’Yeah? taking me so well. making me so proud.’’ The pressure feels too intense, about to snap.

He’s stretching you on his cock and looking straight into your eyes as he's doing it. Your body dissolves into pleasure as you writhe beneath him.

Your body starts squirming uncontrollably, causing him to grip your hips ever tighter, overpowering you in strength. You let out a loud sob and rake your nails on his back when your vision suddenly fades to black. He stares at you, astonished.

He raises an eyebrow, “did you just cum?” the thusting has stopped completely now but you felt his dick twitch inside you as he asked. “Tried to hold it in for you,” you stare back apologetically, eyes still sprinkled with lust. Best part is, he knows you didn’t. And you know it too.

“Turn around,” he orders. You obey and slump towards the bed with your back against him, hiding your face in the pillows. “Don’t act all shy with me now, let’s see your face,” he leaves no room for discussion, so you slowly turn your head and face him. He looks so big staring down at you from your vulnerable position. “That’s a good, good girl.”

Next thing you know, your cheeks are being spread and played with. Still high on ecstasy from the orgasm you just had, the energy to perform is nonexistent, so he does the job for you.

Huge hands angle your limp body upwards, then press down your back to create a beautiful arch, only for his eyes to admire. He sinks back inside and buries his cock in your warmth.

It’s hard maintaining eye contact with him when he’s like this, it feels so shameless, almost taboo, still, you can’t look away. He’s pounding into you, pulling your hips hard against him.

“This is what you’re making me do, looking at me like that. No one else will ever be able to see you like this,” he occupies his thumb by rubbing it over your clit. The contact is so delicate but rapid nonetheless.

You nod agreeably, barely able to register his words. “Are you close, Eren?’’

“Yeah,” his hands pressed down tightly on your lower abdomen, the scream you let out is almost inhumane. ‘’yes, yes.” you’re grinding back against him in heated motions, shockwaves of heat pumping through your body.

He snaps his pelvic against your ass and feels you sucking him right back in. He thinks back to what you said before about him as a dad and his eyes roll back. The thought of you carrying his child inside you makes him come undone.

“Ugh, fuck.” He comes audibly high etc, covering you in his cum. You expect him to catch his breath but he smoothly regains his composure and pushes you on your back, his thumb finding its way right back to your clit, barely even getting started before leading you to your second orgasm.

You scream in pleasure as he cups your face, lips brushing against your ear. “That's it, princess, you did so well for daddy. made me so proud.” he praises as he pushes your hair out of your face.

The lack of response makes him laugh, realizing he’d fucked you to sleep, litterally. chuckling, he grabs a warm cloth and cleans you up to his best effort.

You’re usually sleepy right after sex so this is a regular routine for you both. He smacks a kiss on the top of your head and covers you with his comforter then goes for a shower.

Once he’s done, he carries you up bridal style to the bathroom. “Wake up, sleepy.” he’s back to his sweet self. You grunt in response. “C’mon, you need to pee.’’ It’s true, so you comply and he leaves you to it.

This is a conversation you’ve both had before, he feels no need to leave when you do your business but you’ve kicked him out enough times so he knows the drill by now. Eren changes the bedsheets while you clean up.

When finished, you walk back to the bed and he opens his arm for you to rest on, your phone lying beside him. You jump at the invitation and he hugs you towards him, ‘’what do you feel like eating?’’ he’s playing with your hair as you lie comfortably on his arm.

“Not hungry.’’ you murmur.

Eren fights the urge to sigh. “Sorry, not up for debate.’’ He saves himself the trouble and orders for you both, knowing you’ll feel hungry once you see him eat.

When the food arrives, you end up wanting exactly what Eren ordered for himself.

‘’You’re a big baby.’’ he sulks and rolls his eyes, but feeds you nonetheless. You don’t miss the look on his face as you take a bite from his hand. One thing about Eren? he can and will fuck multiple times a day if you let him.

‘’down, boy. i’m not tryna have my guts rearranged after eating food.’’

He grins, ‘’I didn’t say anything’.’ knowing he’ll do exactly that when you’re done eating.

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meanbossart · 8 days

Note

Hi! I'm almost certain you've answered asks regarding Drow being a companion love interest before, but I'm not sure if my question was specifically discussed. If so, I apologize!

Say I wanted the smelly, gore lusting man (God the things I'd do), what would the player find themselves needing to do to gain that relationship with him?

HMM good question, lets see!

Generally speaking, to gain approval you would have to:

Show ruthlessness during dialogue and interactions (succeed intimidation checks or jump straight into combat)

Be kind towards animals, and honest/patient with children (He will be neutral if you just coddle them)

Oppose the absolute and antagonize mindflayers, gith, and drow.

Be nice to Shadowheart.

Pick a lot of the joke/playfully mean dialogue options.

Be a little hard-to-get in romance interactions until act 3.

Responding to his advances with more mellow, romantic dialogue will earn you more points than overt sexuality (In some cases, the latter may even get you disapproval).

Make him laugh.

To trigger his romance, you have to have good approval and sleep with him once. Following that, pressuring him to sleep with you again or shaming him for not putting your life in danger by trying will earn you disapproval, and an eventual break-up if you continue to insist. He enjoys being wooed, but not chased, and dislikes when you misunderstand his visceral attempts to emotionally reach out as sexual propositions; he will play along either way, but it will put him on a Bhaalist path.

Some quest choices that will get you on his good side:

ACT 1 -

He's indifferent if Arabella dies, but you gain approval if you save her.

Let him take on the Loviatar Priest when he requests it.

Don't get the Absolute's mark from Priestess gut.

Save Mayrina, but then either break or keep the wand.

Let Astarion kill Gandrel.

Help Karlach.

Either let Shadowheart kill Lae'zel, or stop the fight.

Don't kill the owlbear mother or cub.

Send Barcus flying (He doubles over laughing)

Kill Minthara.

Side with the mercenaries at Grymforge.

Kill the gith student refusing to fight.

Refuse to give the inquisitor the artefact.

ACT 2 -

Help Arabella find her parents.

Don't release the pixie from the moonlantern.

Help Mol cheat against Raphael.

Let him massacre the goblins at Moonrise Towers.

Get the Thorm bosses AND yurgir to kill themselves instead of fighting any of them (again: You are rewarded with him laughing his ass off about it)

Don't comply with Araj.

If you save Zevlor at the mindflayer colony, shame him for giving into the Absolute's call.

Antagonize the emperor after his reveal and refuse the astral tadpole.

ACT 3 -

Help Yenna with either gold or food, but don't invite her to your camp.

Kill Arfur once you find out about the explosive toys.

Forge an alliance with Gortash.

Win the Laff riot contest.

Don't surrender Dame Aylin to Lorroakan.

Don't sign the contract, but agree to get the Orphic hammer through other means later. (Anything to not rely on the Emperor anymore)

If she hasn't become a Dark Justiciar, don't surrender Shadowheart to Viconia (He will fight the party unless you leave him at camp and succeed a deception check later). He doesn't care what you do if she's a DJ.

Vanra's quest can get you either approval or disapproval at different points. He approves of you agreeing to help her, then also approves of you killing her for the money, but he disapproves of you letting the child die or of siding with Ethel.

Agree to the Avenge The Drowned quest (He just thinks they're hot)

Don't let Astarion Ascend, or kill him if he does.

Kill Sarevok.

Let him take on Orin by himself.

Don't turn into a mindflayer (he will break up with you later), nor let Karlach do it.

If he's become a chosen of Bhaal, let him control the Absolute.

#companion du drow #ask #bg3 spoilers

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simmerianne93 · 3 months

Text

[Simmerianne93]Portrait_poses_12

Hi everyone how are you today??!

I must apologize for my small absence and silence....

If you follow me on Twitter you already know this but I was a little burned out with the amount of poses I had been doing the last few months, so I took a couple of weeks to "heal" and be able to bring you more and more poses.

From now on I tell you that my idea is to bring you some posepacks this coming week and the next one. There are a few packages that I already had scheduled in my agenda and now that I feel better, I am able to get to work and get them ready... So in these next two weeks you can expect some new packages to tell your wonderful stories.

And since I have cleared my ideas for the next few weeks, let's get to the point with the reason of this post:

As you may know, I usually post my poses at an earlier time, but today I made an exception. These poses I'm bringing today were not really scheduled or intended to be made haha, but today is Father's Day in my country and when I woke up and congratulated my dad, I felt like to do something related for our beloved pixel fathers.

In my normal planning, I don't usually make a complete package and publish it on the same day, but I didn't want to let this day slip under the table and I really wanted to share with you what I had in my head, so... despite my recent burned out, I made it happen xDDD (this is really wild now that i think about it xDDD)

I hope you like them... and even though it's late, happy Father's Day to all those who celebrate it today!!!

Enjoy!!!

----------

What is on it?

6 dúo poses:

2 poses for an adult sim and an infant sim.

2 poses for an adult sim and a toddler sim.

2 poses for an adult sims and a kid sim.

--- What do you need?

Andrew poses player.

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo or Mccc by deaderpool.

Invisible infant mat replacement by mcrudd (OPTIONAL)

Instructions in the original post.

——

TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

——

Download it now here — [FREE FOR EVERYONE]

——————

If you want to support me: Patreon | Ko-fi

All my poses overview: Pinterest | Wix | Tumblr

More in-game preview pics of all my poses: Instagram

My socials: Twitter | BlueSky | Instagram | Tumblr

Lives and videos: Youtube

——————

I really hope you like them and I will say in advance: Thank you so much for using them.

@ts4-poses

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alitheakorogane · 2 months

Text

Ununusal Hilichurl in SAGAU

This is separate from my "Reader Protection Squad" fics, so in this SAGAU fic, Venti has the personality he had on some Cult/Imposter SAGAU fics we usually read on this site. It's an old fic of mine, made in December 2022. It was supposed to be longer when I first planned it, but I forgot how it ends, so I apologize in advance for the ending.

So enjoy this little fic involving the Unusual Hilichurl, who happens to be the Genshin persona of one of MiHoYo's CEO, Liu Wei!

You were just chilling out on the Wolvendom, looking out for any patrolling Knights of Favonius that could potentially hurt you once they spotted you. You just wanted to relax from being chased once in a while, and Andrius agreed to let you stay at his place and let his wolves patrol for any strangers coming into the place.

As you lie down on the grass and stare at the clear blue skies above, you noticed a certain Hilichurl staring at you with a curious look on its face. It was wearing clothes that are very strange for a Hilichurl with a briefcase lying beside it, and on its mask bears the character "伟." You immediately recognized this certain Hilichurl, as you had encountered it occasionally while you were playing Genshin Impact back at home.

"Ah yes, the Unusual Hilichurl..." you silently muttered as the strange-looking Hilichurl greeted you with a wave of its hand.

"Olah," the Unusual Hilichurl responded as it approached you and sat down beside you, while you sat up immediately. You should have stayed away in case it became hostile, even though you know that it would just attack if you provoked it, but you just sat back and stared at it silently.

Then you noticed the Unusual Hilichurl's hand holding something greenish, and you realized that it was a cabbage, probably giving it to you. You suddenly remembered that cabbages were one of its gifts, as it references a certain character from Genshin's sister game, Honkai Impact 3rd.

Wait a minute...

"I remembered something, your name is Wei, right?" You asked the Hilichurl as you realized something about the Hilichurl in front of you, "I remembered that you must be the Genshin counterpart of Hoyoverse's co-founders... Liu Wei, I think?"

You waved your hands as if you were doing the jazz hands as you spoke in a curious tone, "But if that's the case, you should be the Divine Grace by technicality since Hoyoverse was the one who made Genshin Impact. It makes sense, right?"

Your hand went to your chest as if to emphasize yourself, looking at the Hilichurl who was looking at you curiously, "But why me... or someone who shares the same face as me? That's because I'm a player of this freaking game?"

You closed your eyes as you continued your rant, the frustration stemming from your bad experiences in this version of Teyvat had now on its limit, "There are more than a million Genshin Impact players out there, and some of them dreamed of meeting the characters here... but I was thrown in this world... a world who doesn't even want me to begin with."

You opened your eyes and glared at the grass on your feet, the feelings of spite and anger etched on your face, "They just wanted to slice my head off the first time I show my face out here because I look like someone who I knew was never seen or even mention in the game."

The Unusual Hilichurl, Wei, just said nothing and you sighed, watching the dandelions from a distance, their seeds flying through the air.

"I must be crazy, I was talking to a Hilichurl of all people."

As you stared at the scenery before you, you then noticed how Wei stood up from their sitting position, reached for its briefcase, and opened it, before grabbing something from inside. Your eyes flitted to the object in its hands, and as Wei's hands reached out to give you the object it had scavenged in its bag, your eyes widened in surprise and gently picked up the object.

It was a phone... Your phone to be exact.

You were confused over the matter, why would Wei give you your phone when the last time your phone was left in your world, the world where you really belong?

You carefully opened your phone, wary of any possible traps embedded in it. Since your unfortunate encounter with the viscious people in this cursed world of a video game, you were always wary of everything, your eyes alert and peeled for any danger and suspicious activity.

The screen lit up, but instead of your usual wallpaper of (Character) on them, it was the log-in screen of Genshin Impact, complete with its serene log-in song and the beautiful view of pillars and a walkway with clouds adorning them.

To be honest, you kinda missed the serene log-in music you always listen to whenever you opened the game. Even though the game associated with it now brings traumatizing memories on you.

But instead of a log-in area where you typically log in to your account or a door to enter you into the in-game version of Teyvat, it was a message, similar to what you usually see every time you log in while still on maintenance time or you lost your connection to the internet.

But the message isn't the typical error message, you realized that it was a letter from the developers of Genshin Impact themselves.

"Dear Traveler, we apologize for some inconvenience of any issues you encountered while you're traveling in this beautiful world of Teyvat. Rest assured that your exploration in Teyvat will be safe and fun like you had experienced in-game. As compensation, we will give you an apology gift to guide you in your travels and make your journey worthwhile.

Good luck and may your unwavering guidance be witnessed by the stars and to the abyss!"

-Hoyoverse

If this was a cartoon, you could see your jaw drop to the ground.

How ridiculous!

"Did Hoyoverse just make me one of their beta players for their rumored virtual reality world?"

You remembered the article you had read months back about Hoyoverse wanting to make a virtual reality world by 2030, and Genshin Impact's open world theme is more like a prototype of this project. The knowledge and the message by the developers kinda connected the dots and it suddenly makes sense.

Wei just shrugged, making you stare at the Hilichurl with a deadpan look. Then you grumbled curses to the developers for putting you in a situation like this. And for what? A test subject for their beta test?!

When did you sign up for this?

Then another message appeared, this time it was more informal and more like it had replied to your concerns, making you a little bit scared.

"No, Traveler, this isn't for the virtual reality world that our developers had been working on. There's something wrong with the system and we tried our best to fix the problem caused by it."

You were flabbergasted. You looked around for more suspicious stuff that could make anyone from Hoyoverse monitor you from your world, but only Wei was the suspicious one around the area. You narrowed your eyes on the Hilichurl but the said creature just shrugged and returned to his usual business, curiously looking at you while playing with his cabbages.

When you found nothing, you released a relieved sigh and raised an eyebrow as you looked at the message on the phone. Apparently, Hoyoverse was involved in this isekai scheme, but they encountered a technical problem that involves the codes of the game.

But you wondered how did they send a real person to the game?

As you lost yourself in your own thoughts, the message suddenly disappears, leading you to the fancy door you usually see when you open the game, a gateway to the in-game Teyvat, complete with the "touch to start" message below.

You pressed the button and waited for the loading button to start the game. It was weird since you were currently in Teyvat, and you were playing the game where this place came from. You wondered how this will all be turned out. Will the phone acts like a CCTV where you could spy on your favorite characters while they try to catch you like a rabid person on drugs?

And it really did. You looked at the Unusual Hilichurl, who was still focusing on his cabbages, with a flabbergasted look on your face, but you know that he was just helping you navigate this world that his real-life counterpart had created to compensate for the troubles.

(Venti was spotted sneaking on the cellar of the Dawn Winery while people were currently on a meeting for something regarding your recent escapades. You facepalmed as you saw him through the phone, gleefully stole one bottle and decided to share it with Kaeya who was waiting for him to show up.)

As you started to see what's going on the other side of the field, you were grateful that you were given a chance to fight back and make the first step against them.

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letshavedeernnertogether · 3 months

Text

Checkmate you

the plot is: you often play chess with alastor but alas you always lose to him. you tired of being a permanent loser and you propose him another game to revenge. alastor wants to make the game more entertaining so there's a new rule: the loser fulfills the winner's desire

words ≈ 6.3k

warnings: alastor is a mean player, reader has a crush on alastor, suddenly aggressive alastor, kissing on the chessboard, possibly grammar mistakes :(

author's note: i'm not a chess expert, i'm just a little girl who's visiting a chess club at my university. i just really wanted to combine my hatelove to chess with alastor and add something romantic

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

You wanted revenge. You needed to revenge. You weren't a vindictive person, but you were so tired of this. You were tired of perpetual defeats, and what defeats! You were an experienced player and not so weak, although you didn't know all the theory or strategy and tactics. Surely, you had a lot to learn, but what was the most annoying is that Alastor was just the same. He'd never read anything from chess books, never learnt anything special about this game. Just like you.

Playing a game, you tried to calculate the moves, but you never foreknew the plan for you or for your opponent for more then two moves in advance. Alastor was an antithesis of you. It seemed that he foresaw any moves you could make, and he had a plan for each of them. He never thought too long about a move, because when you, for example, began to move your bishop forward, he already knew how many moves had left to checkmate you. “Darling, you should practice more.” You didn't know whether he had a strategy, but you did know it was impossible to impress him with any. Because, once again, he foreknew your every move, your every thought, your every emotion.

You were a calm player. No matter what move you or your opponent made, the expression on your face never changed. Keep your head cold, keep your face stone. You didn't think about your move for too long too but for other reasons. You prefered to have more time in reserve than dozens of moves calculated in advance, because you knew you weren't really good at this, and often you didn't notice really good moves at all, rushing to make a new move and realizing your mistake only when a chess piece was in a new place and your hand was lowered to the table. But even this didn't cause blush or pallor on your face. And this was your advantage, because everyone was convinced of your confidence, and no one ever knew what you were up to.

But not Alastor. He always knew and anticipated with pleasure your every defeat, reveling in it. Though Alastor was really a gentleman, always well-mannered, in a game he showed his more wayward nature. You liked Alastor and you even never scorned his sometimes mischievous behavior. But during a battle over the chessboard he was insufferable even for you.

He was that type of a player who said to you “Are you sure?” or “You have enough time to think twice, my dear.” when you took a piece in your hand. And all of this was said not with good intentions. His tone oozed venomous mockery, his eyes flashed with self-admiration and this toothy grin as sharp as his remark...

Both of you wore masks during a match, but you also remained silent, while Alastor just couldn't shut up. And though you were all patience, your claws dug into a dark wooden table when Alastor chuckled after another move you made. “Ah, apologize, darling! Please, continue!”. After that you had to use all your strength to keep a neutral expression on your face and not to show him how much his criticism bothered you and sometimes even scared you.

But he wasn't always this way. Sometimes, when you played for fun, just to enjoy the game, he was a courteous man again. Usually it happened when you played without a time control. Not only his smile became less strained, but you also let yourself make a joke about your not very smart move or about the way his expression changed when he weighed the best move. He adjusted his monocle and tilted his head, saying, “Just let me think, dear. And while I'm reflecting, do show me what you would do in my shoes! Oh, that's interesting…” In no control games he didn't hasten to checkmate you, didn't laugh at you (almost) and you didn't feel like being mocked.

You did like these games and their relaxing atmosphere. You could learn something new not only about chess but also about Alastor. Or even yourself. ”You know, my dear, I find intelligence the most attractive thing in a person. And I believe you're a very intelligent little thing.” Alastor told you this once during a game, making you for a whole week carrying these words in your head, smiling spontaneously when you remembered them and blushing, realizing it was the highest praise he gave you and your game.

But your last battle was terrible. Grins, chuckles, bemused looks at you, tilts of head… Maybe you weren't at your best, but it didn't mean he could behave like this. And moreover, other inhabitants of the hotel watched your game. Usually they didn't care, as they found chess boring, especially just watching others' games, but that time everyone, even Angel, were interested. They surrounded the table where you were playing, gasped when Alastor checked you, whispered when you tried to block him, sighed when he checked you again. His ever present smile turned to a grin, his eyes ran from the board to your face to see your ever-increasing despair, while your gaze was fixed on the pieces. You felt others’ gazes and it made you sweat more. To lose just in front of your opponent was unpleasantly but bearable, but to let others see your defeat was too much for your pride.

And then you lost.

You lost with the King and a single pawn that didn't even have time to reach to the opposite side of the chessboard, stopping on B7. You played whites, but it didn't help you. You played with sixty minutes of main time per player and with a thirty-second increment each move. But while Alastor was accumulating time, you were racking your brains, trying to figure out how to escape the defeat as you saw his pieces drawn up in the fatal for you position.

And now you wanted to make him feel what you felt. Hesitance. You wanted to make him doubt, to make him panic. You wished to see his eyes running all over the chessboard as he was trying to come up with the escape routes. You wanted to make him so panicked and so rejoiced at the move that he'd found that he would forget to press the button on the clock after that move. You wanted him desperated.

A thin predatory smile spread across your face when you imagined Alastor acting the same way as you, when he checked you and you knew that the last escape route was cut off. You smiled, imagining him tugging his hair in despair, and chuckled, imagining his frightened eyes and his crooked smile with clenched teeth.

But you knew it was impossible. And his face with ever present smug smile flashed before your eyes, making you drop your head on the bar counter with a dull sound.

“What's the matter, kid?” Husk asked you, dusting the counter.

“I wanna die,” You pronounced in the wooden surface.

“Mmm,” Was the answer.

‘And this is how we talk,’ you thought, lifting your head.

“Hey, Husk. Have you ever played with Alastor?” You were rewarded with a frown look. “In chess. Have you played chess with him ?”

“I won't tell you anythin’.” And he turned away to put the clean glasses on the shelves.

“I just want to win him,” You sighed. “I love playing with him, but… I’m tired. Especially after the last time.”

When Alastor put a rook opposite your King and pronounced slowly, as if he was savoring every sound of this word, “checkmate” you felt a soft palm on your shoulder. You heard Husk's voice, but didn't look at him. “You did a good job.” Charlie waltzed around the board, admiring Alastor's position. Angel shook his shoulder and told you some supporting words, but you barely heard them, looking afraid at Alastor. He didn't took you for a stupid, did he?

Husk looked at you over his shoulder, hearing your low sad voice. You looked so miserable.

“Listen, kid,” Husked said with a deep sigh, “I just don't understand why you like him so much, and I don't wanna see you get in trouble. It seems to me that you began to spend more time with him.”

Did he notice a pink hue on your cheeks when you looked away?

“Well, it's true we've become, um, closer. Because I do find him as a good company. It's always interesting to speak with him, and I really like the way he plays. He's so good at it, really!” Husk looked with a frown at you, and you smiled, remembering all the good games you shared with Alastor. “I just don't like that he's… snobbish? Sometimes.”

Husk just sniffed.

“And also I don't like that he revels in others’ failures.” Alastor’s laughter resounded in your head again. “And he doesn't just enjoy them, he literally savours my defeats! That's very annoying.”

“That's all he is.”

“So I want revenge.” You placed your hands on the counter, bending down and looking straight at the bartender. Husk started, seeing the red luster in your eyes. Your irises coloured in darker shade, but somehow they glistened in the poor light of the bar. He had a feeling that you could defeat Alastor. “I know I can't checkmate him, but at least I can make him sweat.”

Husk cleared his throat and said, “You play with him for a long time, surely, you know ‘bout his weak points.”

Your eyebrows flew high, when you understood that Husk was ready to help you, to give you some advice.

“I'm not sure about the weak points, maybe just the things he doesn't like. For example, a blitz game. It is always important to him to have time for thinking, though it seems like he knows all in advance. Hmm.” You tapped your lower lip with your forefinger, trying to remember what Alastor avoided in a chess game. Husk looked at you expectantly. Surely, there should be something else. “Well, once Alastor made an illegal move,” You said and fell silent.

Husk still looked at you expectantly, as if he was saying ‘It can't be all what you're about working with.’ And then he said, “And?”

You threw your hands in the air and exclaimed, “I truly don't know what to do!” and dropped your head on the counter again.

“Jus’ deal with it and stop playin’ with him.”

“I caaaan't.” Surely you couldn't. These games may not have always been pleasant, but it was the only chance to spend time alone with him. To know him better. To become closer.

Suddenly a new thought like lightning flashed in your mind. You immediately lifted your head, and Husk could almost see how the thoughts in your head formed a tricky plan. Your eyes lightened softer and brighter.

“It's hardly a plan, but-”

“Where you are, my dear!” You heard a static voice from behind, and then a large palm lay on your shoulder. “I'm looking for you all over the hotel! It's not often to see you in the company of our dear friend Husker!”

Husk rolled his eyes and turned to the shelves to take a bottle.

“Alastor! Just thought about you!” You said.

“You did?” Alastor leaned forward, squeezing your shoulder and looking in your eyes. Then he harshly let you go and sat next to you.

“Yes, I want to offer you something. A game in chess.” You looked at him, playfully tilting your head.

Alastor cocked his eyebrow at you, “Why, my dear, I expected it'd take more time for you to accept your last defeat.”

You winced at his words but then smiled as wide as you could and said, looking directly in his eyes, “No, I'm absolutely fine, thank you.”

“So what is your proposal then?”

“Nothing difficult! We play blitz. Time control is five minutes three seconds. Ten second increment. And we have a judge, who records all illegal moves, because two of them mean defeat. And here is the judge!”

Husk chucked on his booze when you waved your hands in his side. “No way,” He said, coming to his breath.

“Why not, my good man?” exclaimed Alastor, “I've never seen you as a judge! Must be very entertaining!”

Husk shifted his frown from you to Alastor, thinking who of you two was more to blame for his new part. His gaze fixed on you when he sighed.

“But, my dear,” Alastor looked at you, “the rules are a bit strict, don't you think?”

“Nope.” There was no way to use other rules. These were perfect. They included everything Alastor avoided.

“Hmm,” He tapped his chin with his forefinger. “How about that, I also have something to suggest!” His hand fell on your shoulder again and went down to your forearm, he leaned closer to you, invading your personal space and said, “The loser fulfills the winner's desire.”

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

On the appointed day you three met in the room where you and Alastor usually played. It was not a big room in dark brown colours with wooden furniture. It was always warm and cozy here, thanks to the fireplace with a merry bright flame. The bookcases lined the wall on both sides of the fireplace. A rectangular coffee table with a light pattern on the edges stood in the middle of the room and was surrounded with two loveseats on wooden legs. In the left side of the room there was a chess table and two soft chairs with dark red upholstery, the same fabric as on the sofas. The room was also decorated with paintings of Charlie's family and landscapes of hell, candles in the bronze scones, and an old thick carpet on the floor in the center. The windows were always curtained with heavy maroon blinds and the door was two-panel, decorated with simple right-angle carving.

It was your favorite room in the whole hotel. You liked it even more than your own quarters. You not only played chess here, it was also a mini-library of the hotel, where you always could find a good book to read near the cozy fireplace. It seemed to you that this room suited Alastor’s style better than the style of the entire hotel, and maybe it was another reason why you prefered to spend your time here. You even made this place more comfortable by bringing two blankets and a tray with a teapot and a couple of cups. Now Alastor was pouring tea for you, while you were explaining to Husk how to set the clock. Alastor came to you with a cup of hot tea for you in one hand and with his half emptied mug of coffee in the other one.

“Thank you,” You said, taking the aromatic drink.

Alastor smiled at you and sat on the free chair.

Husk was still troubling with the device, muttering curses under his breath.

It was 10 am, and usually you played much later, often ending your games in the dead of night. But last evening Alastor said that he had unforeseen circumstances that he needed to deal with as soon as tomorrow, so your game will have to be rescheduled either for another hour or another day. “Thousands apologies, darling.”

And as you couldn't wait any longer you suggested playing in the morning to Husk’s discontent. He hated mornings, while you were a morning person. And Alastor never seemed to sleep, so playing a quick game in the beginning of the day wasn't a problem for him.

You emptied your cup when Husk put the chess clock on the table and said,

“Here. You play with five minutes three seconds of main time per player and with a ten-second increment each move,” He looked questionly at you, and you nodded, saying everything was right. “You two play, and I make sure that none of you make unnecessary movements or illegal moves and all that shit. As Alastor played last game with blacks, you both decided that now it's his turn to use whites. Oh, and the loser will do anythin’ that the winner asks them to do.” Husk twitched, saying these words. His worried look fell on you, but you were looking at the chessboard and didn't notice it. “Is everythin’ clear?” You both nodded. “Great. Shake your hands.”

For the first time this day you looked at Alastor. He smiled at you with his ordinary smile, showing all his fangs. In the light of candles his eyes were gleaming with bright red and his long eyelashes casted shadows on his cheekbones. Alastor extended his hand to you, and you shook his palm, squeezing gently his long, cold fingers. A thought ran through your mind, that you were the only one in the hotel, or maybe even in whole hell, who touched his bare skin so often. The handshake was firm but tender as always. Alastor traced his fingertips over your palm, letting go of your hand, and a pleasant electrik wave ran through your spine. ‘Wonder, how many hands he shook are bloodless now?’

Husk pushed the button, and the room filled with a quiet ticking and the loud sound of wooden pieces moving on the board.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

His fingers smoothly ran through the air, as if he was playing the invisible piano, when he was thinking which move was better for him to make. His long claw-like fingers took a piece contrasting brightly with the colour of his skin. With a graceful wave of his hand he put a wooden figure in a square with a short thud. Alastor held the claw of his forefinger on the top of the piece for less than a second, before letting it go and putting his hand on the table. The chess pieces seemed very small, being gripped between his long digits with sharp red tips. The pawns seemed most fragile in his grasp, the twin pieces looked firmer, and when Alastor took the Queen, you couldn't suppress the fear freezing your heart. Alastor often resorted to castling, and every time you were impressed how smoothly and easily he made it, taking both pieces in one palm, switching them quickly and putting them down on their new places.

The very movement of his hands was flowing and natural. You did like his hands, and often you felt hypnotized with them and forgot about a good move you wanted to make or even missed the precious seconds.

So this time you didn't let yourself look up, holding your gaze on the black and white board and glancing at the clock sometimes.

He moved a pawn, so did you, he moved a knight, you mirrored his move. You understood that the Spanish game started — the same opening you did in your last meeting. But this time you were not so aggressive, trying to attack a bishop and conquer the center. You just moved forward. You captured his knight, and Alastor had no choice but to capture yours too.

You were tired of feeling weak, tired of tryings to prove to him and yourself that you were a strong player, that you had a potential. Though every time meeting with Alastor at the chessboard, you said it was just for your own entertainment, just to enjoy the game no matter what the result awaited you, you still felt the urge to win. You played with everyone in the hotel, some you won on the first try, some you had to match several times to win, but after all you checkmated everyone at least once. Everyone but Alastor.

‘Not for long,’ You thought, placing all your remaining pawns (which amount was still huge and promising) in a zigzag line. And that was the moment when Alastor's hand, a very elegant and beautiful hand, hung in the air. His brows knitted in a thin line and one corner of his grin went higher. He took a piece, that was not the one to which his hand first reached, and made a move back. You repressed a smile.

After more three moves when you shifted only your pawns and didn't even try to attack Alastor but avoided him, Alastor said,

“Dear, I thought you wanted to play chess with me, not the fool.” He captured your pawn, and you took away his piece. Alastor frowned, sacrificing his last bishop.

“Why? You don't like my game?”

“It's not a game, dear,” He said, capturing another black piece. He began gradually clearing the center, though the board still looked absolutely messy. Your pawn fence was blocking any attack of him, because if he tried to capture your pawn, you would immediately capture his piece. Moreover, it was getting tightly on the board, and none of you could make a really good move until your pawns would be cleared away.

“It's an imitation.”

“I don't understand what you are talking about. If you don't like my strategy, try to defeat me then.”

“Oh, darling, I will.” He captured your bishop, and you quickly sheltered the unprotected Queen. “I highly doubt you have a strategy, after all.”

“Play and see.” You pronounced in a deadpan voice when he replaced your other piece with his one.

Now the silence was disturbed only by the loud claps on the bottoms of the clock and the sound of pieces moving on the chequered surface.

You glanced at the clock. You had forty seconds more than Alastor. A quiet sigh escaped from your lips, and you made another move.

Your hand flew over the board with a mad speed. You pushed the bottom with a harsh clack, which made Husk twitch every time. You didn't try to count the moves, nor Alastor's, nor yours, you just wanted to win the time. And soon it started to seem that you didn't lose minutes, but accumulated seconds.

“Illegal move.”

You froze when Husk stated it and paused the clock.

Was it your move now?

Your eyes ran madly over all black and white pieces, trying to find a mistake. Alastor sat in front of you, and you could feel how his own tension lay on your shoulders. You didn't dare to look at him, because you saw the mistake. Alastor looked like he was caught in a snare.

“Sorry, kid, didn't notice it before, but you move like a fuckin' hurricane,” Said Husk pointing at white unprotected King. “It seems that you attacked him a move ago, when you moved your pawn and opened a rook checking the King. And none of you noticed this in a rush, but so did I, so…”

You were afraid to look at Alastor but also you felt blushing on your cheeks. You outwitted him!

“Ok, let's go back to the position where you made the illegal move,” Said Husk, and the pieces were moved to the position they stood ten seconds ago, showing Alastor's defective position. Husk turned on the clock, and Alastor moved a knight, protecting the King.

You sighed, glancing at the clock. Almost a minute more than Alastor, and all he had was fifty six seconds. But you couldn't let yourself breathe a sigh of relief and relax, remembering how Alastor won you in an armageddon game, even though he played black. It was incredible how this man could win in any condition.

And as the number of your pieces diminished headily, and Alastor's annoyed grin became wider, you gave up all the thoughts about strategy. Now you could only use the time.

Your hand took a piece, moved it, stretched to the clock headlong, beaten them, and after three or four seconds you repeated everything. ‘When will it end?’ Your hand trembled and you missed the button on the clock, which now you took for your last resort. You understood you had a losing position, still you acted like you had an advantage, attacking Alastor over and over again, not letting him fulfill his plan of defeating you.

Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed it. The black King stood diagonally to the white Queen and was unprotected. How long was it? Why didn't Husk say anything? Did he notice it? Did Alastor notice it? You tried to give a deadpan expression to your face as if nothing had happened. You knew just several seconds separated you from the victory.

Alastor raised his hand to take a piece and froze. Did his gaze fall on your King? His hand reached to the Queen, but his claws didn't have time to grab the piece as Husk exclaimed “Time!”

You moved your eyes to the white clock face and saw a twinkling flag on Alastor's side. With a deep sigh you leaned back in your chair.

* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *

Though you wanted to triumph over him you didn't expect it could actually happen. Husk left the room, and the door was slammed by itself. You heard a click in the door, signaling that you were closed in the room tete-a-tete with Alastor. With defeated Alastor. And it scared you. He looked terribly irritated and to be honest you would feel the same. A defeat due to the elapsed time seemed to both of you dilettantish.

But you were scared not only because of his mood now. You were also afraid to tell him about your wish, especially when he was in such a mood. Last night you prepared yourself mostly to keep the poker face on you and to accept whatever his evil mind could ask you to do.

But now your mind had to command him, and you were not sure what to do with it. Yesterday you came up with a wish, but a playful one, not a wish you would actually voice him. After the game your brain felt melted, and you simply couldn't find strength to come up with something new, as you could hardly think right now. Moreover, you still felt stress and a bit of fear that didn't help you to come up with anything fruitful, but only made your hands tremble.

He sat opposite you, intertwined his fingers under his chin and resting his head on them. He stared at you with a cheshire smile and half lidded eyes, frowning. You thought that if he was a cat demon like Husk he would definitely shift his tail side to side in annoyance. You swallowed but didn't had time to open your mouth as Alastor ruined the silence,

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, I thought you were an honest player, my dear.” He said, shaking his head in disapproval, “You really think you can trick me in such a fraudulent way?!”

“Alastor, learn to accept defeat!”

“Pardon? I wasn't the one who kept silent about my pitiable state in order to later win in a completely cheating way!”

“It was you Queen, you didn't notice it! It's not my fault you blind as fuck and can't keep an eye on your own pieces! And!” You raised your forefinger like every time when you wanted to attract attention and hush your opponent, “Your illegal move was unnoticed by both of us until Husk pointed at it, and so was mine! So we're quits!”

You leaned back, crossing your arms. Alastor leaned both his hands on the table, his hair became more shaggy, and his smile was crooked, so you could see his black gums.

“Fair enough.” He suddenly pronounced and ran through his hair with his fingers. He placed his hands on the table again and tapped against the wood with the claws. “But still it was hardly a game, dear. That's not how we do it. You mixed up the pieces on the board like a child picking up chess for the first time, and made me correct all this chaos. You knocked on this hapless clock, accumulating time, but did not even use it wisely. And you even cheated, no no, my dear,” He waved his forefinger in the air when you tried to object,” you cheated when you didn’t defend your King, making an illegal move. I simply cannot forgive your shameless lie so easily.”

He stood up and you did the same, staying near the chess table. You agreed with Alastor, and knew that if you were him, you would be disappointed just the same. But still his words hurt you and you felt shame. It seemed you preferred a fair defeat to dishonest victory. Maybe not truly dishonest, but tricky after all.

Alastor nervously adjusted his sleeves, saying to you, “For I still find you quite a fraud and I guess I should give you a proper lesson, I do respect our rules, as distinct from someone,” He eyed at you from the corner of his eyes, smiling sharper, seeing your blush, “So, my little cheater, tell me your wish!”

Fuck. The wish.

“Darling, time is precious, I still have some business that must be finished.” He said when you didn't say anything.

“Um, Alastor, how about I tell you my wish later?”

He turned his head to you and looked at you, rising one brow. You felt yourself so embarrassed, you wished the ground would swallow you right now.

You murmured, “I just... I didn't expect I'll win. Yeah, I wanted to and tried to, but I didn't really believe I could… Soooo, I didn't prepare anything, and I don't know what to ask y-”

You didn't finish your sentence as Alastor harshly turned to you, pressed you to the chess table behind you, so the pieces quaked and fell on the floor with a deafening sound.

Alastor's hands were on the table both sides of you, and there was no way for you to escape, as he hovered over you and pronounced darkly and low,

“No.”

The room drowned in darkness, as if all the light was sucked out the moment he captured you, and now the only sources of light were his red glaring eyes and several candles illuminating weak yellow flame.

“Darling, you are trying much of my patience now, so do tell me your wish.”

And then the normal lighting returned, but the man in front of you didn't move away, still pressing you to the chessboard, on which you almost sat now. His face was a single inch from you and you could smell the aroma of coffee from him. His breath fanned your burning cheeks. His voice had less static filter now and was lower.

“Or do you really want to miss this opportunity, hmm? Do you really have nothing to ask for?”

Oh, you did have and you were not ready to miss the opportunity. But how to overcome fear and tell him your wish? You stared at him and thought that maybe the worst things had passed already — he saw you fiasco, but still played with you, and he saw your cheat, but still was ready to end what you started, as if everything was alleight. Maybe he actually treated you better than others in the hotel, as Angel once remarked.

So maybe you could do it easily with your daring wish?

Right now, with no opportunity to hide and looking straight into his eyes, you felt like that poor King, who was staring at the Queen, awaiting his death. But the time saved him. You didn't have the time control to come to your help. You hopelessly stared at the demon in front of you, trying to understand why he insisted so much on fulfilling your wish right now. And what was his wish?

“Well, Alastor, I have something.” You pronounced timidly, and his gaze softed. He leaned back slightly, but his arms still didn't let you move.

“I need your permission…” You started, looking in his eyes and feeling how your sweaty palms slid on the table's edge. Your hand touched a piece, it rolled through the board and fell on the floor. From the locked door you heard some voices. Your mouth was dry and you licked your lips before opening your mouth again.

“What is it, darling?”

Your knees got weak and you pressed back to the table more, and Alastor leaned closer to you, ruining what was left from your personal space. His hot breath burnt your face, and you were sure he could hear your rapid heartbeat.

“Close your eyes and don't interrupt me!” You exclaimed in one harsh breath.

Alastor leaned back, widely opening his eyes in bemusement.

“Very well.” His hands slipped off the table to hide behind his back when he made a tiny step back and straightened himself. Then he closed his eyes.

Your wish was bold, so you didn't voice it to Alastor. After seeing his rage you were ready to forget about your stupid want, but then…

He was too close to you, closer than ever. He was as close to you as he was in your daydreams.

Casting all your thoughts away, you made a step forward, rose on your toes, but even so your goal was far from you. ‘Why is he so tall?‘ Carefully you clutched the lapels of his suit and drew him closer to you.

Alastor felt your lips on him. He didn't open his eyes and didn't move at all. Your warm lips were pressed to his skin. It wasn't quite a kiss, but a tender, chaste peck in the corner of his lips, almost on his chin. You held him by his suit, and he needed to bend down a little, so you could accomplish your desire. He smiled softly, imagining you rising on your toes, trying to reach him. He bent down a little more.

You felt his skin was tight in a lip closed smile. You slowly parted your lips from him, but Alastor put his fingertips on your chin, not letting you move aside from him, and then led your lips to his.

Alastor pressed his lips to yours, harder than you and braver. He made a step forward, with one hand still holding your chin and the other one placing on your waist, and you appeared sitting on the chessboard again. The remained pieces tumbled down, and like through the water you heard worried voices and exclamations in the corridor. You could feel his smile getting wider when suddenly something cut your lower lip. It made you gasp and finally open your mouth, letting his tongue slip inside, so he captured your oral entirely. You moaned into his mouth, and Alastor gripped you tighter. He tiltied his head slightly, when you cupped his face in your soft palms and caressed his cheeks. Now you heard a low moan.

The voices became louder and more anxious, and the door-handle began to tremble. Into your cotton mind a thought creeped that it had to be the residents of the hotel, trying to open the door and see why what was going on in the room.

You were short of air, but a thought of parting from Alastor seemed terrifying. His tongue explored your oral hungry, intertwining with your own muscle. Now both his hands held you by your waist and pushed you closer to him, and you could feel and hear his heartbeat against yours. You heard another piece beating against the parquet, and something or someone hitting against the door.

You threw your head back just slightly when Alastor parted his lips from yours. His hands held your hips, eyes shining as bright as the hell moon, red and blinding. He breathed hard just like you.

Next moment the door was opened, and a group of worried demons, and one angel with a spear, burst into the room. Alastor stood already aside from you, close enough to hold you again, but far enough to stay unsuspected. You stood in front of the table among the fallen chess pieces, red as a blooming rose.

“What happened? Why you didn't opened the door?” Vaggie ran to you, ready to spear the man next you.

“Are you okay?” Charlie appeared from your right, “We heard a quarrel and then a sound of falling something,” She glanced on the floor.

“What have you done?! It's bad bad bad bad!” Niffty rushed around the table, picking up the pieces and examining the floor for scratches.

Husk glared at Alastor, who didn't take his eyes from you not for a second, since the door was opened.

Trying not to step on the pieces and shifting his face from you to Alastor, Angel came closer, “Jeez, toots! Seems like ya spent a really good time together!” You still bit your lip, hiding blood on it, and your bashful look couldn't hide from Angel's gaze. “What’s happened here?”

All the gaze turned to you, and unconsciously you moved back, bumping into Alastor.

“Nothing! We played a game and I won!” Amused looks on you. “And then we actually had a little quarrel, but now we resolved everything, so no worries, guys!”

A huge palm, so familiar to you, lay on your shoulder.

“Not everything, dear, you still have to convince me that you can checkmate me without your lie.” He stressed the last three words, lowering his voice.

“You cheated?” Angel exclaimed.

“I didn't.”

“O-ho-ho! Call it whatever you want, sweetheart, but you still owe me a game. A true game.” His dark gaze was fixed on you, hands squeezing your shoulder and you couldn't take your eyes away from his gleaming eyes. Everyone eyed on you in silence. “Now, my curious friends, there is really nothing to worry about, so you can get back to your affairs!”

Angel cocked a brow, and Husk sighed heavily. Niffty tried to find a lost Queen, and only her tiny waving legs were seen from under the sofa. After you convinced everybody once again that you were absolutely fine (and your lip was bit by you, because of a brainstorm during the game), and Niffty found all the pieces and no scratches on the parquet, you were alone with Alastor again. The crackling in the fireplace was the only sound in the room.

“Now, my dear, I have to go. Duty calls!” And before he left the room he leaned to you and said in low,” But, darling, when I come back the pieces must be on their places — Niffty always confuses the royals — because we play one more game tonight, according to the rules: a clock, a judge and a wish.” His eyes were scanning you and then he stretched his hand to you and wiped away the last red pearl from your lip just to lick it from his digit, causing a bright blush on your cheeks. “And don't you dare to fool me this time, dear.”

*. ⋆ ✧.·:·.* ☽ ･｡ﾟ･ ☾ *.·:·.✧ *. ⋆

fun fact: this game in chess is based on my personal experience, when i pissed off a grandmaster by setting up pawns as a fence (it was my first day at the club, don't judge me, and!! he started it first, and i just imitated his actions, but he blamed me, and then he offered a draw) and when i won a cool player by randomly placing pieces on the board (i was so fucking tired that day, but i won, and the player said "i just couldn't understand what was your plan!" and was like "i didn't have any")

#hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor fanfiction #alastor x you

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wonyowonyo · 30 days

Text

Crossfire (M. Sakura X M!Reader)

A/n: heyaaa wonyo_wonyo here!!! I've missed u guys :3 anyways I got sum vacant days, free from the shackles of life so I decides to write wohoo. I'm posting this on my phone so I apologize in advance if the post is kinda scuffed. This one's a 4k word oneshot, hope yall enjoy and I'll catch yall in the next one. wonyo out!

In the bustling world of eSports, few could rival the fame of Pro-Gamer Miyawaki Sakura from Le Sserafim. Known for her sharp reflexes and strategic mind, she dominated the Valorant scene with her team. But recently, her attention had shifted to a new prodigy: a rookie male player who had taken the community by storm.

The Valorant community buzzed with excitement as Y/N, the rookie sensation, was making headlines. His gameplay was reminiscent of Tenz, combining precision with an uncanny ability to predict opponents' moves. Sakura, while preparing for her own matches, found herself drawn to his streams, captivated by his skill and charisma.

In her downtime, she would secretly watch his highlight reels, her heart racing at each clutch play. Little did anyone know, she had become one of his biggest fans.

The grand tournament was set, featuring some of the best teams in the world. Y/N’s team, Cloud9, was pitted against the reigning champions, Gen.G, in the semi-finals. The arena was electric, with fans eagerly anticipating the showdown.

As the match began, Y/N showcased his prowess with Jett, dashing through the map with surgical precision. The rounds were intense, each team trading blows, but Y/N consistently outperformed, making impossible shots and leading his team to victory.

Sakura, watching from the audience, couldn't help but cheer. Her heart fluttered with each of his plays. She was falling for him, and it was exhilarating.

The finals were set: Cloud9 versus Le Sserafim. The tension was palpable. As the teams gathered backstage, Sakura and Y/N finally met. He was charming, his confidence evident but not overbearing.

"Looking forward to our match," he said with a grin.

Sakura, momentarily flustered, replied, "I hope you're ready for a challenge."

Their banter was light-hearted, but both knew the stakes were high.

The match was legendary. Each map was a nail-biter, with both teams pushing their limits. The first match was set on Haven. As the timer counted down, Sakura’s fingers danced over her keyboard. She played Sage, anchoring the team with her healing and strategic walls.

The rookie’s team pushed aggressively. His precision with the Operator was deadly, picking off Le Sserafim members one by one. Sakura’s heart skipped a beat whenever she saw him on her screen, but she quickly refocused. She needed to keep her team in the game.

In a crucial round, Sakura found herself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd’s roar faded as she breathed deeply and clutched the round, using Sage’s abilities to perfection. The scoreboard evened out, and excitement crackled in the air. But Y/N retaliated on Ascent, his Jett plays leaving the crowd in awe.

The final map, Bind, was neck-and-neck. With the score tied, the last round would decide the victor. Y/N found himself in a 1v3 situation. The crowd held their breath as he deftly maneuvered, taking down two opponents. It was just him and Sakura now in a one-on-one duel. Sakura could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, the weight of her crush mingling with the pressure to win.

With nerves of steel, Sakura planted the spike. Y/N approached, anticipating her every move. The final showdown was a dance of skill and strategy, Sakura’s heart raced as she anticipated his moves, using her Viper abilities to outmaneuver him. The arena held its breath as she landed the final shot, securing victory for Le Sserafim.

"Congratulations,You were incredible out there." Y/N said, offering a handshake.

Sakura blushed and took his hand warmly, her admiration for him evident. "I’ve been... a fan for a while," she admitted shyly.

Y/N grinned, "I’m honored, especially coming from someone like you."

As they shared a laugh, it was clear this was just the beginning of a new friendship—and perhaps something more.

————————————————————

In the days following the thrilling tournament, Sakura found herself constantly on the lookout for a glimpse of the rookie sensation, Y/N. Their moment of connection after the finals had left her with a fluttering heart and a newfound desire to get to know him better.

One afternoon, as Sakura was leaving the esports arena after a team practice, she turned a corner and nearly collided with a familiar face. There he was, Y/N, standing just a few feet away. Their eyes locked, and Sakura felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Sakura! I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention," Y/N said, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

"No, no, it's my fault," Sakura replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I wasn't expecting to see you here."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself searching for something to say, desperate to prolong their chance encounter.

"I was just, uh, heading out to get a coffee. Would you... would you like to join me?" Y/N asked, his eyes filled with a hopeful expression.

Sakura felt a surge of excitement at the invitation, her heart racing. "I'd love to," she responded, a shy smile spreading across her face.

As they walked side by side, the familiar scents of the arena fading in the distance, Sakura couldn't help but feel a growing sense of anticipation. This unexpected meeting had the potential to be the start of something truly extraordinary.

The cozy café was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversation as Sakura and Y/N settled into a quiet corner. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, yet Sakura couldn't help but feel a subtle tension between them, a palpable energy that crackled in the air.

"So, how have you been?" Y/N asked, his voice gentle and warm.

"I've been good, just... you know, practicing and preparing for the next tournament," Sakura replied, her fingers nervously wrapped around her mug.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Sakura found herself desperately searching for something to say, a way to break through the barriers and truly connect with Y/N.

Summoning her courage, she looked up and met his gaze. "I... I've been thinking about our match a lot, you know. The way you played, it was... it was amazing."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Really? I... I'm glad you enjoyed it. I have to admit, I've been thinking about it a lot too."

Their eyes locked, and the world around them seemed to fade away. Sakura could feel the energy shifting between them, the subtle flicker of something more than just a friendly connection.

"I... I'd love to play with you again sometime, if you're up for it," Sakura said, her voice soft and hopeful.

Y/N nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Absolutely. I'd be more than happy to."

As they made plans to meet up for a gaming session, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. This casual meetup had opened the door to something deeper, and she was eager to see where this journey would lead them.

The familiar hum of gaming rigs and the click of keyboards filled the air as Sakura and Y/N immersed themselves in a friendly match. The tension between them had dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfortable camaraderie as they strategized and executed their plays.

Sakura found herself captivated by Y/N's skill and focus, the way his brow furrowed in concentration and the way his lips parted slightly as he issued commands. She couldn't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way he commanded the virtual battlefield.

As the match progressed, their communication and teamwork became increasingly seamless, each of them anticipating the other's moves and working in perfect harmony. Sakura felt a surge of pride and exhilaration, not just from the thrill of the game, but from the growing connection she felt with Y/N.

When the final round came to an end, the two pro-gamers sat back, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. Sakura could feel the tension building, the unspoken feelings that lingered between them.

"That was... really amazing," Y/N said, his voice soft and sincere. "You're an incredible player, Sakura."

"Thank you," Sakura replied, her heart racing. "You were incredible as well. I... I really enjoyed playing with you."

The air between them was thick with a palpable energy, and Sakura knew that the moment was ripe with the promise of something more. She felt a surge of courage, a desire to take a leap and explore the depths of this connection.

"Hey, would you... would you maybe want to grab a coffee sometime?" Sakura asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'd love to... to get to know you better."

Y/N's eyes widened, a warm smile spreading across his face. "I'd love that, Sakura. I really would."

The days that followed were filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement for Sakura. Her casual coffee date with Y/N had opened the door to a budding friendship, one that she found herself eagerly nurturing. They would meet up regularly, sometimes to game together, other times to simply chat and get to know each other better.

In those quiet moments, Sakura reveled in the easy banter and the genuine connection that was blossoming between them. There was a palpable chemistry that crackled in the air, a spark that both of them seemed hesitant to acknowledge, at least for the time being.

As the next major Valorant tournament loomed on the horizon, Sakura found herself torn between her professional obligations and the growing desire to explore this newfound relationship. She knew that the competition would be fierce, and she couldn't afford any distractions. Yet, the prospect of being apart from Y/N for an extended period left her with a sense of unease.

————————————————————

The hype and anticipation surrounding the upcoming Valorant tournament reached a fever pitch, with players and fans alike eagerly awaiting the clash of the titans. Sakura and her team, Le Sserafim, were considered the clear favorites, their dominant performances in previous events cementing their status as the team to beat.

But as Sakura prepared for the tournament, her focus began to waver. Memories of her time with Y/N would creep into her thoughts, distracting her from the intense training regimen she had so meticulously followed. The more she tried to push these feelings aside, the more they seemed to consume her.

One evening, after a grueling practice session, Sakura found herself alone in the team's gaming lounge, her fingers gently tracing the edges of her mouse. She couldn't shake the sense of longing that had taken root in her heart, the desire to be with Y/N and explore the depths of their connection.

It was in that moment of vulnerability that she made a fateful decision – a decision that would have far-reaching consequences, both for her professional career and her personal life.

————————————————————

The flashing lights and thunderous cheers of the Valorant tournament filled the arena as Sakura and Y/N took their positions on the stage. The energy was palpable, the air thick with anticipation as the two pro-gamers faced off in a highly anticipated match.

Sakura gripped her mouse, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she scanned the virtual battlefield. Y/N mirrored her expression, his brow furrowed as he plotted his team's strategy. The opening rounds were a tense back-and-forth, with both players showcasing their impressive skills and split-second decision-making.

As the match progressed, the crowd erupted in applause and shouts of exhilaration. Sakura and Y/N were in perfect sync. The tension was palpable, neither side willing to back down.

In the final moments, the score was tied, and the outcome hung in the balance. Sakura felt her heart pounding in her chest as she maneuvered her agent, her mind racing with calculations and contingencies. Across the stage, Y/N was equally focused, his eyes locked on the screen as he made a crucial play.

The final round was a nail-biter, both players pushing the limits of their skill and strategy. Sakura held her breath, her entire being consumed by the intensity of the match. And then, in a flurry of action, Y/N emerged victorious, his team erupting in celebration.

Sakura felt a mix of emotions – pride, admiration, and a twinge of disappointment. As she shook Y/N's hand, their eyes met, and she saw a glimmer of something more than just a professional rivalry. The spark that had ignited between them still burned brightly, undimmed by the heat of their virtual clash.

In that moment, Sakura knew that this was far from the end of their story. The Valorant stage had brought them together, but the true connection that lay between them was something that transcended the virtual realm.

The post-match interviews and press conferences had dragged on, and Sakura found herself eagerly anticipating the moment when she and Y/N could finally steal away from the public eye. As she made her way through the crowded backstage area, she spotted him, his gaze fixed on the ground, seemingly lost in thought.

Approaching him cautiously, Sakura placed a gentle hand on his arm, causing him to look up, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Hey, you," she said softly, offering him a warm smile.

Y/N returned the smile, though Sakura could detect a hint of vulnerability in his expression. "Hey, Sakura. That was... quite a match, huh?"

"It was," Sakura replied, her voice low and intimate. "You played incredibly well. I'm... I'm really impressed."

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging in the air. Sakura could feel the tension building, the desire to bridge the gap between them growing stronger with each passing second.

"Y/N, I..." she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I need to tell you something."

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Sakura took a deep breath, summoning her courage.

"I... I've been thinking about you a lot. About us. And I... I can't stop thinking about the connection I feel between us. It's... it's more than just a professional rivalry, isn't it?"

Y/N remained silent, his expression unreadable. Sakura's heart raced, the uncertainty of his reaction threatening to consume her.

"I know this might be... complicated," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I... I need you to know how I feel. I don't want to keep this bottled up any longer."

The air was thick with tension as Sakura waited, her entire being focused on Y/N's response. The moment seemed to stretch on endlessly, until finally, he reached out and gently took her hand, his touch sending a shiver down her spine.

"Sakura..." he began, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I feel it too. I... I've been struggling with these feelings for a while now."

Sakura's breath caught in her throat, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. The vulnerability in Y/N's eyes was a mirror to her own, and in that moment, she knew that the path forward, though uncertain, was one they would navigate together.

The air crackled with a potent mixture of vulnerability and anticipation as Sakura and Y/N stood there, their hands intertwined, the world around them fading into the background.

"I've been... so afraid to say anything," Sakura confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to jeopardize our careers, our friendship. But I can't keep denying what I feel for you."

Y/N gave her hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes reflecting the same tumultuous emotions she was experiencing. "Sakura, I feel the same way. These past few months, getting to know you, being around you... it's been both exhilarating and terrifying."

Sakura felt a surge of relief wash over her, but the uncertainty that lingered was palpable. "What do we do now? This... this could complicate things, both on and off the field."

"I don't know," Y/N admitted, his brow furrowed in contemplation. "But I do know that I don't want to lose you, Sakura. Whatever happens, I want us to figure this out. Together."

Sakura's heart swelled with a mixture of joy and trepidation. She knew the challenges they would face, the scrutiny and the potential fallout, but in that moment, all that mattered was the connection they shared.

"Okay," she said, her voice steadier now. "Let's take this one step at a time. We'll figure it out, no matter what."

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm with you, Sakura. Through it all."

As they stood there, hand in hand, the weight of their decision hung heavy in the air. But there was also a glimmer of hope, a promise of a future that was theirs to shape, no matter the obstacles that lay ahead.

————————————————————

The aftermath of the Valorant tournament was a whirlwind of activity, with both teams and players facing intense scrutiny and media attention. Sakura and Y/N had made the conscious decision to keep their newfound relationship under wraps, at least for the time being.

However, their carefully guarded secret was not destined to remain hidden for long. During a post-match interview, a seemingly innocuous question about their "close friendship" triggered a line of questioning that quickly spiraled out of control.

Sakura felt her heart race as the interviewer probed deeper, hinting at the possibility of a romantic involvement between the two pro-gamers. She glanced at Y/N, who was visibly tense, his jaw clenched as he struggled to maintain his composure.

The tension in the room was palpable, and Sakura knew that they were rapidly running out of time to address the situation before it spun entirely out of their control. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage, and made the decision to speak up.

"Look, the truth is, Y/N and I... we have developed a deep connection. One that goes beyond just being teammates or competitors." Sakura paused, her gaze unwavering as she met the interviewer's eyes. "We've been trying to navigate this situation as best we can, but the reality is, we care about each other. Deeply."

The room erupted in a flurry of activity, with reporters shouting questions and cameras flashing. Sakura felt Y/N's hand brush against hers, offering a silent show of support amidst the chaos.

In that moment, they both knew that there was no going back. Their relationship was now public knowledge, and the consequences, both professional and personal, would be significant. But as they stood there, facing the storm together, Sakura couldn't help but feel a sense of resolve.

Whatever lay ahead, they would face it side by side, determined to forge their own path and to explore the depths of their connection, no matter the cost.

The fallout from the public reveal of Sakura and Y/N's relationship was swift and unforgiving. The esports community, known for its intense rivalries and cutthroat nature, erupted in a frenzy of speculation, criticism, and even outright hostility.

Both players found themselves at the center of a media storm, their every move scrutinized and dissected. Accusations of favoritism, bias, and potential conflicts of interest began to swirl, threatening to overshadow their impressive accomplishments on the Valorant stage.

Sakura and Y/N weathered the storm with remarkable resilience, though the emotional toll was undeniable. They faced intense pressure from their respective teams, as well as from sponsors and league officials, all of whom were concerned about the potential impact on their brands and reputations.

Yet, amidst the chaos, their bond only grew stronger. They leaned on each other, offering support, comfort, and a steadfast determination to weather the storm together. In the rare moments they could steal away from the public eye, they would simply hold each other, drawing strength from the connection that had blossomed between them.

"I never imagined it would be this difficult," Sakura confessed one night, her head resting on Y/N's shoulder. "But I don't regret it, Y/N. I don't regret choosing you."

Y/N pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. "Neither do I, Sakura. We'll get through this. I promise."

As they sat there, the weight of the world seemingly on their shoulders, they knew that their love would be the anchor that kept them grounded, even in the face of the most turbulent storms.

————————————————————

Despite the intense scrutiny and controversy surrounding their relationship, Sakura and Y/N refused to let it dampen their competitive spirit. As the next major Valorant tournament approached, they were more determined than ever to prove their worth on the virtual battlefield.

In the weeks leading up to the event, they immersed themselves in a rigorous training regimen, pushing their skills to new heights. Sakura could feel the electricity coursing through her veins as she honed her strategies, her focus laser-sharp and unwavering.

Y/N, for his part, matched her intensity, his gameplay reaching new levels of precision and adaptability. The two of them were in perfect sync, their communication and teamwork seamless as they coordinated their team's movements.

As the tournament began, the scrutiny and pressure only seemed to fuel their determination. Sakura and Y/N were a force to be reckoned with, their performances captivating the audience and their opponents alike.

With each successive win, the noise and criticism that had once threatened to overwhelm them began to fade into the background. All that mattered was the thrill of the competition, the rush of adrenaline, and the unbreakable bond that united them.

And as the final match of the prestigious Valorant tournament commenced. Sakura and Y/N, once fierce rivals, now united by a love that transcended the virtual battlefield, found themselves pitted against each other once more – but this time, the stakes were higher than ever before.

The world watched with bated breath as the two pro-gamers led their respective teams through a grueling series of rounds, their skills and strategic prowess on full display. The intensity of the competition was palpable, the tension thick enough to be cut with a knife.

Yet, amidst the fierceness of the battle, Sakura and Y/N shared fleeting glances, a silent language that spoke volumes of the profound connection they shared. Their teamwork and synergy were unparalleled, each anticipating the other's moves, their decisions seamlessly in sync.

As the match reached its crescendo, the score remained tied, both teams refusing to back down. It was in this moment of pure, unadulterated tension that Sakura and Y/N found their moment to shine.

With a flawless execution of a daring maneuver, Y/N outmaneuvered Sakura's team, securing the final victory for his squad. The arena erupted in thunderous cheers, the fans captivated by the sheer brilliance of the play.

In the aftermath, Sakura and Y/N met in the center of the virtual battlefield, their eyes locking in a moment of profound understanding. Y/N reached out, gently taking Sakura's hand, and in that instant, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Sakura whispered, a soft smile gracing her lips. "You were amazing out there."

Y/N returned the smile, his thumb caressing the back of her hand. "I couldn't have done it without you, Sakura. This victory belongs to both of us."

In that moment, their bond transcended the confines of the tournament, their love shining through as a testament to the belief that true triumph could only be found in the strength of their shared journey. The world watched in awe, captivated by the raw, unadulterated emotion that radiated from the two pro-gamers.

As they stepped off the virtual stage, hand in hand, Sakura and Y/N knew that their story was just beginning. The future was theirs to shape, a canvas upon which they would continue to paint the masterpiece of their love – a love that would inspire generations to come, a love that knew no boundaries.

#kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #kpop imagines #kpop girls #fluff #lesserafim #le sserafim #le sserafim x reader #sakura #sakura miyawaki #sakura x reader #miyawaki sakura #lesserafim sakura #kkura #le sserafim sakura #miyawaki sakura x reader

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partially-controlled-chaos · 20 days

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Guilty Pleasures

Pairing: Halsin x GN!Reader Rating: Mature/Explicit (NSFW) Warnings: Male masturbation, sexual fantasies, angst with no real resolution, mutual pining, Halsin not being able to relax and take a break for once in his life. Absolutely NSFW. Maybe kinda sort Sub Halsin? Summary: With the shadow curse and the threat of Ketheric Thorm looming over him, Halsin manages to find a bit of solitude in his tent and indulge in his inner most fantasies. Word Count: 9.7K A/N: I’ve always loved Halsin’s line of “that was something I had dreamed about for some time” after spending his first night with him. So, naturally, you can’t tell me this man absolutely didn’t fantasize about the player while alone in his tent at night. I also want to apologize in advance because I know parts of this feel rushed, but admittedly I've been working this piece for a few months here and there and I'm ready to see it off. I am still pleased with how this turned out, but admittedly isn't my best work out there. I've also developed a cold at the time of proofreading, so I apologize for any errors but I *think* I've gotten them all. Read on AO3 here!

The sharpened steel of a heavy sword clanged to the cobblestones below, the sound resonating through the area, deafening everything to an eerie silence. Halsin stood stone still, his breath coming in heaves as he downed the final foe on the battle field. The shadow-infested husk of a Harper collapsed to the ground at his feet, smoking tendrils dissipating into the air as the essence of what was once a person faded into the darkened sky. Halsin's eyes darted across the landscape, a sudden wave of guilt washing over him as he stared into the never-ending darkness ahead. Bodies, both old and new, littered the streets ahead, having succumbed to the curse that held the land in an ironclad vice for a century.

The feeling of guilt wasn’t new, considering he’d dealt with the pain from the moment the curse was born, but there was something more sinister about seeing the curse firsthand again after so many years away. It seemed hungrier, more vicious even, than he had previously remembered and for the time being, the curse was not ready to be lifted. Thaniel had been plucked from the depths of the Shadowfell and after a fair amount of convincing, Oliver had reunited with his other half. Both were resting safely back at camp, progressing well with healing and mending after being apart for so long, but the threat was certainly far from over.

Halsin stared into the distance, looking past the bodies in the streets and the twisted, knotted roots of corrupted nature that broke through the stones and into buildings, and set his attention on Moonrise Towers. Ketheric Thorm still drew breath and if what Thaniel had said was true, as long as he remained on this mortal plane, the shadow curse would as well. There was some hope that had started blooming within the mind of the druid, knowing that Thaniel was safe and so much progress had been made towards lifting the curse, but admittedly there was still enough darkness in the world that kept him from becoming too hopeful. Ketheric was a formidable foe and defeating him would be no simple task.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his knuckles almost turning white from the pressure. Knowing that a seemingly invulnerable man lived once again and had power while so many had died in the past century because of his corruption filled Halsin with a burning rage; one that settled in his bones and set his skin ablaze. Ketheric must be stopped, at any costs, and Halsin knew he couldn’t truly rest until Ketheric lay dead at his feet and she sun shined down upon the land once more. Halsin’s gaze lingered on the towers in the distance, looming over the land like a beacon ablaze with pixie-fueled light all while shadows licked at his perimeters.

“Halsin?” A gentle voice pierced through the darkness clouding his thoughts, pulling the veil from his eyes so he could see clearly for the time being. A soft, warm touch to his arm soon followed, cutting through the icy cold that had begun to settle on his skin from the air of the shadow curse. The voice had caught him by surprising, causing the druid to jolt slightly at the touch before regaining composure. He finally tore his eyes from the evil of Moonrise, shifting his eyes downward until your concerned look met his gaze.

“Are you all right?” You asked quietly, your hand still gripping his arm. You scanned over his large frame quickly, scanning for any obvious signs of injury or something life threatening and, much to your joy, found nothing immediately wrong. He fidgeted slightly under your touch, his skin tingling at the contact.

“I am,” he said after clearing this throat, “thank you, my friend.” You nodded slightly, your thumb stroking along the crest of his bicep. Halsin was visibly exhausted, dark circles settling beneath his normally bright eyes, which had dulled the past few days. His mind was elsewhere, distracting him from the battles at hand. Despite having your hand upon him, he felt miles away and untouchable.

Since entering the cursed lands, Halsin had been running double time. He wasted no time in leaving camp to sit by Art Cullagh in Last Light and immediately dove headfirst through a portal to the Shadowfell to find Thaniel. You took note of how he refused to sleep the night after Thaniel had been saved, instead electing to remain up for hours to keep a watchful eye on the boy. He only agreed to leave his side once you had suggested he come with you to find Thaniel’s missing half. You honestly couldn’t remember the last time you saw Halsin rest and, considering he was seemingly more on edge the closer you came to confronting Ketheric, you were worried for you companion.

“Come on,” you said after a moment, “let’s head back to camp. I think we could all do with a rest.” You motioned to your companions, who were more than ready to retire for the evening.

Halsin’s gaze shifted towards Moonrise once again, look on his face making it clear he wanted to press forward. You were convinced that he’d march straight into the inner sanctum of the tower right then and there if you let him. Your grip on his arm tightened, your fingers slipping underneath one of the bands that was pulled taught around his bicep before giving it a gentle tug to recapture his attention. You stood on the tips of your toes, your lips hovering closely to his ear as he leaned slightly to accommodate for the difference in height.

“I’m afraid that if we keep going in this state,” you whispered softly, “one of us might actually be carrying Astarion back to camp and I, for one, do not intend to be that pack mule.” Halsin’s lips spread into a smile as he glanced towards the vampire in question, who had seated himself on a fallen piece of stone until the party was ready to move forward once more.

“I fear you may be right.” He replied after a moments thought. Halsin returned his sword to its holster resting on his back, sliding it in place with a soft click. You pulled your fingers from his bracers, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and began the journey back to camp.

As he typically did, Halsin followed in the rear, ensuring that everyone stayed together and did not stray too deeply into the shadows. Despite having the blessing of both the moon goddess and a pixie, he wanted to take no changes in losing those closest to him to the curse; not again. You fell behind slightly, allowing Astarion and Karlach to spearhead the journey home as you took the time to speak with the druid.

“Is something on your mind?” You asked as you walked together, doing your best to match his long strides.

“Ketheric is no ordinary enemy,” he said bluntly, deciding to skip small talk and get to the heart of what was bothering him, “he will not be easily defeated.”

“Nothing with us is ever easy,” you said simply, “but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. I promised you that we’d break the curse. And if defeating Ketheric Thorm is how we do so, then that’s just what we’ll do.” You offered Halsin a gentle smile, which was returned with partial enthusiasm. You knew he was worried, and rightfully so, but you were also confident that at Ketheric would be defeated soon enough. But nothing could be done until everyone, including Halsin, were able to rest.

You and your companions walked the rest of the way to camp in silence and in relative safety, the battles from the day beginning to settle in your bones as your steps eventually slowed the closer you came to camp. By the time you crested the hill that lead to your camp, the sound of children’s laughter filled the air, cutting through the horrific sounds of the shadow curse like a sharpened knife. A smile came to Halsins lips as he watched both Thaniel and Oliver darting around camp, chasing after an excited Scratch with an equally enthusiastic owl bear cub at their heels. Despite their time apart and in the deepest parts of the shadow curse, both boys seemed to be faring well. Seeing them regaining strength brought a sense of happiness to the camp, something that had been sorely missed since entering the shadows.

Halsin stood at the entrance to the camp, simply watching as the boys and animals played in tandem. It was a small sign, but a sign nonetheless that nature had started to heal and had begun lifting the veil of the shadows. You walked to this side quietly, stopping beside him to watch the boys play and laugh with the camp animals as the rest of your companions stopped by their respective tents to unwind for the evening. You glanced up to Halsin, your neck craning to get his face in full view. You slipped your hand around the edge of his, giving him a soft squeeze. After a moment, Halsin pulled his eyes from the scene before him, finally looking down to meet your gaze once more. You could see the exhaustion in his eyes, yet the sheer determination to stay awake.

“Why don’t you get some rest? And I mean actual rest, not just a trance.” You asked softly, not wanting to come across as demanding, but firm enough to know you were more than merely suggesting.

Halsin gave a half hearted smile, exhaustion evident on his face as he placed his hand above yours, sandwiching your touch between his battle weary hands. His thumb stroked your knuckle softly, his gaze settling along your slender digits that had wrapped themselves around his hand and gave another reassuring squeeze. His heart fluttered in his chest at your contact, radiating the same calming warmth that had started when you first brushed against his arm. He’d be lying if he said a long nights rest wasn’t calling for him, but he had a duty to uphold before he could indulge his own comfort.

“I must keep watch over Thaniel and Oliver.” He said as he released your hand and pulled his own from your grasp. You scoffed at his reply, almost finding it ridiculous.

“There are seven people in this camp, myself included, that can keep an eye on two children. We can take turns, rotate out if needed.” You offered, hoping he would take your advice and take a night off for once. Instead, he simply shook his head.

“They are my responsibility. They’ve suffered for too long already while I sat back and did nothing. I cannot and I will not fail them now that they are safe.” Halsin was determined to carry on his camp duties as normal, but you were not ready to back down so easily.

“And how do you plan on protecting them if you’re too tired to stand? Just now on the battlefield someone could have come up behind you because you were distracted. Hells, I managed to startle you with a touch.” Your voice was low, but firm. Gods be damned the man before you could be stubborn. His heart was always in the right place, wanting to protect and serve, but his head certainly wasn’t. “Get a bit of sleep. I’ll bring you a fresh bowl of whatever Gale’s managed to make from a couple of fish heads and a few questionable carrots when it’s ready.”

“You don’t have to coddle,” Halsin said firmly, “I will be fine.”

“It’s not coddling if the attention is required.” You shot back quickly, a lick of frustration to your voice, “Would you not do the same for me if the roles were reversed?” Halsin paused at your question, unable to argue your point. Halsin would do anything you asked of him without question. He’d bring you whatever you wanted and offer aid in any way possible.

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your voice had softened by now, eyes scanning his face as he searched for an answer. Your eyes locked onto his cheek, which had been streaked with blood.

Halsin remained silent, trying to come up with an answer for your inquiry, but continually ending up without a decent answer. It had been quite some time since he’d allowed himself a chance to relax and unwind, let alone be cared for by others. His service was always demanded by others, yet very rarely offered in return. The residents of the Grove always turned to him for strength, to lead them in Silvanus’ path while keeping tempers at bay, more often than not never managing to appease everyone who resided there and often led to resentment in some form. Or those same people were coming to him day and night, asking for healing of wounds that ranged from the smallest of scrapes to the precipice of death, despite having multiple healers in the inner chambers.

He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he gave up control and let someone else take the reigns. He was an Archdruid, a leader, a beacon of light in the darkest of times, but he was also just tired. He admitted to himself that perhaps it would be nice to take a long rest, only awakening when he was ready, and to have you by his side when his slumber ended. To have you seated beside him, a bowl of steaming food in your hands as you offered it to him would be quite the sight. You’d have your usual warm smile across your pretty lips as you sat with him, letting him relax and unwind in your presence. It was a pretty dream indeed.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” You said after a long silence as Halsin had yet to answer your question. You brought your thumb to your lips, swiping your tongue across the pad of the digit quickly until it was lightly damp. Reaching forward, you pressed your palm to Halsin’s cheek and used your now wet thumb to wipe the streak of blood from his skin. You were thankful to not find an injury beneath the blood, but found yourself lingering against his skin, your thumb stroking over his cheekbone. You cared for him, deeply, despite Halsin always finding a way to weave out of your advances. Perhaps you were too forward or perhaps he was simply that consumed with his duties, but either way you craved his attention more and more with each day that passed.

Halsin fought the urge to lean into your embrace, having rejected your advances in the weeks prior during the celebration with the tieflings and not wanting to give mixed signals, but the longer your gentle hand caressed his cheek, the urge became more and more difficult to suppress. Gods how he missed the caring touch of others. It had been too long since the last time he allowed himself the pleasure of sharing company with another, the issue of the curse and the stress of the Grove had made any sort of companionship less than a priority and something he easily could push to the side. However, since being in your company, the ease that he previously had at keeping others at arm length was becoming harder and harder to allow.

It would be an understatement to say he enjoyed your company. Instead, you were someone he had craved. Every moment he spent in your presence was exhilarating, refreshing and addicting at the same time. The sound of your voice was symphonic, the way you managed to find joy even in the bleak lands of late and managed to keep a genuine smile on your face, given the worst of times, was inspiring. He craved your attention and longed for more than just your friendship for quite some time. It was an ache that tunneled deeper in his chest each night when his head went down to rest and the ability to continually push you away was becoming unbearable. The feeling of your skin against his always sent his heart into a whirlwind, fluttering in his chest like a butterfly tumbling in the wind. Halsin wanted so much more with you than mere companionship, but knew that now was not the time nor the place. Too much was at stake to allow himself distractions of the flesh, no matter how desirable they may be. So, as much as it pained him to do so, he walled himself off and pushed you away once more.

“Perhaps another time.” He said simply, almost ready to pull away from your touch. His demeanor was stiff and cold, far from the welcoming aura he normally emitted.

You felt your heart drop, falling heavily into the pit of your stomach. Having realized that perhaps you had been lingering a bit too long, you pulled your hand from his cheek and returned them to yourself, awkwardly picking at your nails as silence between the two of you grew. You desperately tried to hide the feelings in you that were bubbling to the surface; hurt mixed with some sort frustration. Halsin was a tricky one to figure out. He was kind, caring, and truly wonderful company to have, but any sort of affection on your part was always met with the same rejection. Always gentle in nature, of course, but certainly there. You were fond of Halsin, more than just a casual friendship, but you were beginning to realize that maybe your feelings were one sided.

Halsin felt his heart stop upon seeing your reaction. You were quick to try and hide your disappointment, but it still managed to slip through for the briefest of moments. He knew you were fond of him, perhaps in more ways than one, and he would be a fool to deny he felt the same. You were precious to him, more so than any other he’d previously had the privilege of calling friend and confidant, and knowing that he had caused you even the quickest moments of sadness made him feel terrible. He wanted to reach up and take your hands in his and press his lips to your fingers, but you had swatted him away before he had the chance.

“Go on,” you said quietly, motioning in the direction of his distant tent with a few waves of your hand, “get some rest. I’ll keep an eye out for Thaniel and Oliver.” You took a step back, inching back as slowly as you could, waiting for Halsin to do the same. As much as you wanted to break through his exterior and get to the heart of whatever was causing him trouble, you respected his need to be alone, as much as it pained you to be kept at arms length.

With a slight nod of his head, Halsin made his leave, not wishing to turn this into a more serious argument. In his heart, he knew you meant well and also knew that both halves of the land spirit would be safe under your watch. He turned to return to his tent after you had also made your leave, walking to the opposite end of camp with a disheartened sigh. He made the agonizingly long walk from the center of camp to his secluded corner of the area in silence, tugging open the flap to his tent in a fluid motion.

Halsin’s little plot of land in camp was quiet and tucked away from the other tents, offering as much tranquility as the shadow lands would offer, but was admittedly lonely. Despite choosing the spot himself, Halsin had recently begun to regret setting his tent so far from the others. Duty and responsibility came first, so jovial nights around the campfire passing bottles of wine were nothing if not a distraction. Secluding himself would keep him focused on the task at hand and, for now, thankfully keep him out of your sullied gaze.

Halsin stripped himself of his bands and bracers, tossing them into his bed space with a frustrated flick of his wrist. His boots and weapons were left by the entrance, out of the way but close by if they were needed in a hurry. He was frustrated with himself for just how desperately he wanted to be with you but not having the opportunity to do so. It would be a fools dream to think you would still be interested in him once the curse was lifted, considering just how long it would actually take, and now combined with the knowledge that he had wounded your feelings once more. His heart ached at the thought of knowing your delicate heart had been shattered so easily.

He cursed himself as he stepped inside, making sure to close the tent behind him. Halsin stripped himself of his armor, tossing the garments to the side so he could change into his usual night clothes. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, you were correct. Sleep was sorely needed and any sort of apology or resolution to this new problem would need to wait until morning. Halsin was having trouble concentration, not being able to focus on the task at hand. He ran his hands across his face and into his hair, lightly tugging at his scalp in the process.

With a soft sigh, Halsin laid himself on the ground, nestling his frame against the fabric of his bedroll as he settled for the evening. He shifted as he tried to find a comfortable spot, his shoulders rustling against the ground in an attempt to dislodge any loose pebbles or larger rocks that may be in the way. Eventually, he settled into a position that was comfortable enough for the evening, his hands and arms taking their place at his sides and his eyes closed so he could begin drifting off into a trace or, if he was lucky, a few hours of actual sleep. The rhythmic sound of wind rustling in the tree limbs and leave hanging above his tent and the low hum of sounds from the center of the camp should have been enough to lull him into the beginning phases of a trance, yet he found himself awake and unable to sleep.

The usual intrusive thoughts were ever present, of course. The imminent dangers of the shadow curse, making sure Thaniel, and now Oliver, were well and safe, even the mistakes of his past wove their way into his thoughts and sat heavily on his conscious. But tonight they were quieted and offered nothing more than a faint echo in his mind. Instead, his usual thoughts were being drowned out by something much more prominent and enticing to the forefront of his mind; you. Halsin couldn’t deny the impact you had on his thoughts, which had only grown increasingly more frequent and intense as each day passed in your company. Your kindness and eagerness to help others weighed heavily in his mind, but even more so on his heart. To say you were a delight would be doing you a disservice.

And more than anything, Halsin wanted you completely. He wanted to be by your side in the upcoming fight against Ketheric and the Absolute, but he wanted everything else that came with that. He wanted to enjoy your company in a more intimate way; to be the one that kept your bed warm at night, to feel the brush of your lips against his, and the feeling of his body sinking deliciously into yours. He could imagine the tightness you would offer, the loving and welcoming warmth that would take him completely, even the sweet noises he could elect from you with the correct moments. He ached for you and that was a feeling that was growing with each passing second.

His eyes remained open, scanning the canvas ceiling of his simple tent as he allowed his mind to unwind in an attempt to drift off into a peaceful meditation, soon finding that his wandering thoughts found no purchase in their usual subject matter. Lingering regrets concerning Emerald Grove, the dangers ever present in the shadow curse, and now the problem of the growing illithid infection festering deep within Moonrise Towers were long forgotten as he focused on something much more pressing and mind consuming. Halsin was suddenly overtaken with the memory of your hands running along his skin earlier in the evening. He longed to feel your touch again, if even for a just passing second.

Halsin focused his thoughts, doing his best to push you from his mind as he tried to settle for the night. You were right when you said he needed sleep and he tried his best to oblige in your request, but the image of you continued to gnaw on his psyche. You were infectious in that sense; able to burrow into his thoughts just as the tadpole had buried itself in your brain. He couldn’t think normally with you flitting around his thoughts like this, but could only imagine the sweetest and most sinful thoughts he’d had in long while.

Halsin’s eyes closed as he allowed himself to indulge in his fantasy, unable to shake the image of you from his mind. He imagined himself elsewhere. Far away from the shadows, away from the ever pressing darkness and chill the curse offered; a place that was warm and bright, nestled somewhere in a heavily wooded forest. Not the Grove, of course, for it was far too political and too demanding with little care going towards what actually mattered. But instead, he imagined a place where the shadows of the present ceased to exist and land could flourish in harmony and tranquility. Perhaps he was dreaming of a world of fantasy and indulgence, but it was a place that brought him inner peace. A gentle calmness washed over his racing mind, bringing the thrum of his heart to a slow, steady pace as he imagined his own back settling against the form of your body in this fantasy world he had created.

He could almost feel the softness of your body against his back as he reclined against you, his large frame seated perfectly between your legs, his back resting along your chest while his head fit perfectly under your chin. From here, he could imagine himself getting lost in your gentle touches and soft voice. He found himself leaning against you like a drowsy cat in the mid afternoon sun, simply enjoying the warmth of your caresses as your fingers played with his hair, twisting and braiding locks between your fingers with ease. Your cheek rested along the crown of his head, all while soothing his worries with the delightfully gentle sound of your voice. Halsin smiled to himself within the confines of his tent, the image of you being the balm to soothe his restlessness. Instead of sleeping, he simply allowed himself to sink further into his imagination, bringing one of his arms from his side to rest underneath his head, his eyes happily closing as he relaxed into his bedroll once more.

Halsin then imagined your hands cupping his cheeks, mimicking your caress from earlier, your thumbs lightly stroking along his cheek bones with your fingers tracing along his lower lip and chin. You would whisper sweet things against his ear, smiling against the outer shell as your warm breath tickled against his sensitive tips and caused the skin along his neck to prickle. Your plush lips would lightly pepper his cheek with the most tender of kisses, tracing along the shape of his twisting tattoos at a leisurely pace.

The simple thought of having your lips dancing across his skin made his heart flutter in his chest and a light blush to begin forming along his cheeks. He turned his head on his pillow, as if actually giving you access to the tattoo along his neck would somehow manifest you beside him in the tent, but he had gotten too lost in his fantasy to try and rationalize his movements. With his face now turned from the opening of his tent, Halsin’s imagination continued on with his visions, his mind quickly imagining your lips traveling form his cheek to the bright red swirls adorning his neck as the tips of your fingers toyed with the scar that sliced into his lower lip.

As time inched along at a deliciously slow pace, your demeanor changed. Your kisses were more firm now, making proper, lingering contact with his skin with each passing moment. A shudder rippled down the druid’s spine as he imagined your teeth lightly grazing the skin of his throat, quickly soothing it over with a swipe of your tongue. It wasn’t long before your hands left his face, bypassing his neck and resting near the height of his chest, your nails lightly grazing and stroking along his collar bones.

From the darkness of his tent, Halsin’s hand came up to rest atop his chest, faintly feeling his own steady heartbeat underneath his camp shirt as his thumb absentmindedly ran along the ridges of his attire and took note of the stitching and changes in texture, replaying the feelings that had begun to rise in his chest as you lavished his skin with your touch. Kisses soon trailed back up his neck and cheek, until the flat of your front teeth nibbled lightly against his earlobe. Halsin released a soft a gasp at the imagined contact, his shoulders briefly rising from the ground in excitement, only to settle back down once again.

“When was the last time you allowed someone to take care of you?” Your question from earlier in the evening echoed in his mind.

“Far too long.” He whispered on exhale, his voice low and deep as his tongue flicked across his suddenly dry lips.

His hand slid across his chest slowly, feeling his way across his body with no sense of urgency or frenzy, simply savoring the feeling of contact against his body that was now beginning to burn with desire. Although these were typically feelings he would suppress when his mind was muddled with duty and responsibility, he allowed himself a quiet moment to bask in his thoughts. Halsin imagined it was your hand that was roaming along his sternum, trying his best to mimic the softness of your touch and mirror your prior movements. Even though his large, calloused hands were nothing like your much smaller and softer ones, the lust beginning to cloud his senses allowed the illusion in his mind to be enough to satisfy his meandering touch. A shuddered breath escaped his lips as the tips of his fingers lightly ran over one of his now hardened nipples, the bud pressing firmly against the interior of his night shirt.

The sensations cascading over his body were almost electric, given just how long it had been since he’d indulged in a moment of self pleasure, and each touch and swipe of his fingers across his chest sent sharp bolts down his back and the heat that had formed along his cheeks to spread across his throat. Halsin’s hand traveled lower across his torso, pressing more firmly with each movement as he explored the expanse of his pectorals, still fantasizing that it was your hands worshiping his body in such a way; touching and caressing with a gentleness only you possessed, easily undoing his hardened resolve with the faintest tease from your fingertips.

“You’ll have to let me dote on you one of these days.” Your phantom voice whispered against his ear, almost shaking with your own desire as your hands continued to explore his clothed chest.

“Please.” His voice was almost a whine, the long suppressed desperation finally beginning to crack Halsin’s all too serious exterior. He answered honestly, finally letting what he’d wanted to tell you out into the open, even if he was the only one to hear.

Halsin envisioned both of your hands running down the length of his chest, your palms pressed firmly against his camp shirt as you made your teasingly slow descent across his torso. Your hands stopped midway, parting at his middle and moving to his sides before sliding up towards his neck once again. Halsin’s own hands followed suit, mimicking his vision as accurately as possible as the path you had created in his mind continued over and over again, each time reaching just a bit lower than before.

By now, Halsin had gotten lost in his fantasy. His face and neck were now properly flushed, burning with a bright red instead of the light flush just moments prior. His ears burned with excitement and a light layer of sweat had formed along his upper lip, which was occasionally licked away whenever the druid tried to swallow his excitement. A flutter appeared in his chest each time he visualized your form above him, smiling down at him sweetly as your hands continued their exploration of his body. The flutter would skip on occasion if he ever indulged himself enough to imagine you leaning down over once in a while to peck his lips with your own.

Halsin’s thoughts broke momentarily as his fingers brushed along the upper seam of his trousers, making his lower body twitch and buck into the air at the contact. His eyes finally opened as he explored his lower half, glancing down to see that the whole of his now hardened and throbbing cock pressing uncomfortably against the confines of the leather pants. He tentatively ran his palm along the outline of his bulge, feeling how his aching length traveled along his mid thigh and twitched at his touch, stifling a moan at the contact. Halsin’s hand quickly moved to his opposite thigh, squeezing and stroking at the leg of his trousers while taking deep, slow breaths in a quickly failing attempt to take his mind off the intense need to touch himself more. As the throbbing in his cock turned into a much harder pounding, each exhale was met with a low rumble in his chest. His stiffened length strained against his camp clothes, making the sensation borderline painful as he continued his ministrations along his thigh and back towards his lower abdomen.

A wetness began to coat his thigh where the tip of his cock rested, the head weeping early traces of his spend as it ached and begged for another touch. Halsin succumbed to his desires once again, slowly running his hand along his arousal in attempt to soothe the throbbing. This, of course, only encouraged the lust and desire to bloom more, making his trousers more and more uncomfortable the longer he palmed himself. Eventually the sensation was too much to handle, the desire and intense need for friction had grown too strong and there would be no chance of getting a second of rest until Halsin came to a release.

It wasn’t long before Halsin began unlacing the ties that lay at the front of his trousers, his fingers shaking with need and fumbling with the tassels. With a frustrated grunt, he finally managed to roughly pull the opening to his trousers apart, almost ripping the eyelets from the fabric with the force behind the tug. His chest heaved with excitement as the cool air that seeped into his tent made contact with his now fully exposed length, which had already begun dripping his spend in anticipation for a touch.

Pretending it was indeed your hand instead of his, Halsin tentatively reached out and brushed his fingers across his hardened cock, electing a soft groan from the contact. His fingertips danced in the slick that had weeped from his tip and begun dripping down the length of his shaft, coating his fingers until they were well lubricated. He gasped softly at the touches, the feeling almost foreign to him considering just how long it had been since he’d touched himself. His hand eventually wrapped around the base, giving himself a light squeeze and squirming at the wonderfully prickly sensation that settled in his spine.

Your imagined figure hummed softly against his the crown of his head as your cheek settled there once again, nuzzling against him gently while you hand began to slowly stroke along his length. Halsin’s eyes closed again as his hand soon fell into a steady rhythm, pumping leisurely with his hand all while the opposite continued to run along various parts of his body.

“Rest now,” you spoke sweetly to him, your voice soft and low, “I’ll take care of you.” Your thumb circled the tip of his cock, making him squirm against your phantom frame as well as against his bedroll. Halsin fully submitted to his fantasy and desires, his stoic nature dissolving more and more with each passing stroke of his hand.

He felt wonderful, more than he had in quite some time. Stress and duty had weighed so heavily on him for many years, allowing guilt and an untold amount of pent up frustrations to build with no way of release. But now, simply lying alone in his tent and imagining your company in such a way was almost euphoric. The only thing that could have topped the experience would be to actually have you pressed against him. He not only wanted to hear your voice and feel your touch, but he wanted to smell your scent and feel the heat within your own body begin to build. Sharing a bed with you seemed like a distant dream, especially with how he had seemingly hurt you earlier, so dreaming of you seated behind him while stroking his cock would be the closest thing he could have to your companionship for now, if ever.

His thoughts were broken as Halsin could almost feel your lips against his neck, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses against his skin. He fantasized that you would even latch onto him every once in a while, biting softly and suckling against the flesh of his broad shoulder until haphazardly placed purple bruises began to form. He wanted to feel your arm draped across his opposite shoulder, letting your fingers toy with the hair on his chest that was beginning to crest over with sweat before pressing the whole of your palm flat against him and pull his frame into yours tightly. Perhaps you would even drag those teasingly deft fingertips of yours up his throat and against the bottom of his chin, tilting his head to face yours so you could plant sloppy kisses against his mouth. Your tongue darting across his lips, slipping skillfully into his mouth to lick across his teeth before tangling with his own. All of this happening in tandem with the strokes coming from your opposite hand, which would glide effortlessly and skillfully against his throbbing cock.

You would take your time in his fantasy, having nowhere to be and no mind flayer invasion to stop, giving you plenty of time to explore whatever your tender grasp could reach. Halsin tried to mimic the low, thoughtful pulls of your hand against his cock as best he could, trying to immerse himself as best he could in his thoughts. Pleasant tingles ran across his lower abdomen the further Halsin reached into the opening of his trousers. He continued until a significant portion of his forearm had slipped beneath the fabric, the flaps on the opening of his trousers brushing against his elbow as his hand loosely gripped the base of his cock. His grip tightened as he drug his hand along his length, cupping the head with an almost painful grasp before releasing back down as he returned down again.

Halsin’s legs began to bend at the knee, having previously been laid flat from his attempt to trance, and he placed his feet flat against the ground. The muscles in his thighs began to tighten the longer he stroked his hand along his length, his hips starting to writhe under his ministrations. Halsin ran his thumb over the slicked, weeping tip of his cock, his head arching against the pillow of his bedroll as a desperate groan formed in his chest. The sound caught in his throat, dying down before it could escape his lips, for which he was thankful. In this moment, Halsin didn’t want to be found. Instead, he wanted this moment to last as long as possible, where he could exist in his sinful fantasy until his duties pulled him into the realm of reality once more. He couldn’t afford for a stray cry or moan to slip through the opening of his tent and bring forth the whole of camp to his abode.

It was a selfish thought, but one that the elf embraced with all his might. He wanted, if not needed, this moment of self pleasure. To bring himself to a blissful release with you in the center of his minds eye. There were parts of him that protested and urged himself to stop now, but he carried on, stroking his cock at an increase paced with each moment that passed. Just one moment; one precious, well deserved moment is all he needed to release many weeks worth of pent up frustrations and desires and set his mind right once more.

Halsin’s nails roughly scratched along his chest, digging into the thick fabric of his camp shirt as a wave of ecstasy washed over his belly, making his stroking stutter briefly. His hips lifted from the hard ground, bucking upwards to meet his hand and the mental image of your own. He dreamed of your legs swinging over his hips only to press firmly against his own squirming legs, keeping the thick walls of muscles in place to allow you to continue your stroking and pleasing at your own pace without him interfering, which had significantly increased since his visions first began. It wouldn’t take much to over power you and reverse the roles, given his size. To pin you beneath him and take you properly would be an easy feat, but one he did not want to act on. Instead, deep within the confines of his fantasies, Halsin wanted you to take control and dote on his aching body as you had suggested earlier in the evening.

His heart ached at how badly he wanted you to lead him to orgasm by being the one in power. He had spent the better part of a century leading others and having to be the one to bear the crushing weight of responsibility, even when he didn’t want to. But now, lying on the cold floor of his tent, he relinquished control and let you have your way, even if it was only in his mind.

Your hand had begun to pick up speed, not quite frantic, but much more than the easy pace you had previously set. Although not knowing much about your previous experience with partners in such a situation, simply seeing how skilled you were in battle with a sword as well as how nimble you were in combat told Halsin all he needed to know about how wonderful you were feel. You would be firm in your grasp, yet gentle enough to not cause harm. Your wrist would flick in just the right way so you would tug gently along his cock while allowing him to feel every bit of your fingers and palm as you continued in long, fluid strokes. You were compassionate enough to listen to worries and fears in camp, so there was no doubt that you would listen to his moans and gasps and adjust your pace or grip accordingly; slowing down with a looser grip if he came too close to completion or speeding up with a tighter grasp if he bucked against your hand for more contact. Generous with his pleasure, yet fully in control and taking the weight of responsibly away from him so Halsin could simply enjoy the feelings festering in his body.

His free hand quickly left his chest and clamped into the fabric of his bedroll, his grip hardened and his knuckles white as the string of pleasure that had been woven in his belly was pulled taught, teetering on the precipice of snapping. Halsin’s hips bucked wildly into his hand, taking his pleasure based more on touch than the actual imagine of you in his mind, although that did not deter him from thinking of you. You were there, holding his large frame against yours, pressing his back into your chest firmly as your hand pumped along his throbbing, aching cock as a fevered pace. Your voice was in his ear, panting white hot breaths against his skin as your voice dripped with your own ecstasy. You begged him to release, to spill his seed against your hand and take his pleasure how he wanted. His incredibly hazy mind imagined you coaxing him along, telling him just how desperately you wanted to see and feel his orgasm ripple through this body. How you wanted to feel his tired muscles twitch and shake as he finally released himself for you.

Sweat dripped quickly from his temples, running along his neck where you could so easily lick it up for him if you were actually there in his tent, stroking his cock from behind as you whimpered and whined sweet promises in his ear. You would offer to clean the mess that was made before laying him down and letting him find pleasure within your body. Halsin could practically feel the heat radiating from your body while his mind burned with desire, imagining your own expression to be blissed out and hazy in anticipation of finding your own orgasm simply from witnessing his. He desperately wanted to watch as you unravelled for him, brought to the brink just from how you touched along his body and whispered in his ear.

You would seat yourself nicely atop him, fingers gently clawing down his chest as you sunk down on his cock, your own breath heaving as toyed and teased him. From here, his hands could roam your body as he pleased, touching and caressing every bit of your body. Halsin wanted to run his hand along your stomach and chest, inching upwards until his thumb reached your lips, dampening the digit with a swipe of your tongue in a similar matter to how you had earlier in the evening. He could see your hips rolling against his, head thrown back as you gasped for air, teetering on the edge of being in completely control to losing every bit of sense you had while riding out an orgasm.

The disciplined portion of Halsin’s mind that had yet to be fogged over with desire argued with the fire burning in his belly, causing a battle in his mind over what was morally right and what was physically wrong. He wanted you more than anything he’d wanted in so very long, yet Halsin did feel a twinge of guilt in his self pleasure in knowing it was your image that was bringing him so close to release despite the sadness in your expression only moments prior. What would your reaction be if you could see him now sprawled on his back in the solitude of his tent, arm buried deep in his trousers, palming his strained cock at a fevered pace all while imagining you? He would like to think you were be flattered, but deep down he knew you were would be disappointed, disgusted even. To have the courage to turn you down repeatedly, sending you away from him time and time again, yet thrusting into his hand to your image like an animal in rut would be a slap in the face.

He could feel his pleasure mounting, his cock twitching and throbbing against his hand as his body prepared to spill his seed along his hand and stomach while whimpering your name. A few more strokes would be all he needed to finish, to finally release the built up feelings he’d harbored for so, so long. His legs shook, hips thrusting wildly into the air as his free hand trembled in excitement and small moans slipped into the air. However, the more rational portion of Halsin’s mind finally took control, stopping him before he could finish.

He flipped over quickly, pressing his stomach firmly into the ground beneath him, trapping his violently twitching cock between his body and the fabric of his bedroll, still wrapped tightly by his hand. Halsin’s hips stilled, his head coming to rest atop his free arm as he caught his breath, the closeness to orgasm slowly ebbing away the longer he stilled. Ragged breaths tore from his lungs, panting into his pillow as he released a frustrated shout, letting the fabric beneath him muffle the majority of it. He was frustrated, angry even. He wanted, if not needed, to complete his task and feel an orgasm finally tear through his body, but he couldn’t allow himself to continue.

It would be wrong, he decided, to finish the deed. The urge was only natural, but not like this. He had allowed himself to be distracted enough as it is as well as causing you harm, so he deemed himself unworthy of a wonderful release. It needed to wait until after the curse had been lifted and he had gotten in your good graces again, if possible. As much as he wanted it now, he knew that waiting until things were right would be kinder to his conscious and even more blissful once he could finally release.

Halsin remained in his spot, his breath slowly regaining a normal speed as he allowed his orgasm to ebb away. He could feel the more frequent feelings of frustration begin to fester in his mind once again, his still throbbing cock sitting in his hand certainly didn’t help matters. Neither did the sudden sound of your laughter breaking through the silence of camp, making its way to Halsin’s secluded tent off in the distance. The melodious sound of you enjoying yourself made Halsin grind his hips into his hand, causing him to moan loudly at the feeling. Your laughter had spurred him on once more, the idea that you had found joy once again this evening and possibly not sitting somewhere upset due to his actions brought back the feelings of lust.

Each little snippet of sound he could hear from the far off center of camp made him thrust into his hand even more, particularly if your voice seemed closer than before. Halsin’s breaths had become deeper and heavier with each downward thrust of his hips, the occasional muffled cry coming from his throat if his hips came down at just the right angle. His fingers curled tightly into the fabric of his pillow, his nails threatening to rip the material apart the closer he came to his release. His muscles were wound tightly, rippling across his back with each roll of his body against his own hand and into his bedroll. By now the fabric of his camp shirt had been soaked with sweat, the material clinging to his body and creating new sensations across his skin as the friction increased.

Halsin’s fogged mind imagined it was you clinging to him instead, your hands sliding against and caressing his arms and back as you were pressed firmly beneath him. The sweat that rolled lazily down his neck was your tongue lapping at the tender parts of skin and the feeling of his ragged breaths beating against his pillow and recoiling to touch his face instead your own sweet breath panting into his mouth. With eyes shut tightly, Halsin’s hips increased their speed and began audibly slapping against the slick that had coated his hand, letting anyone who came close to his living quarters acutely aware of what his was doing from within the confines of his tent. His moans had become more audible, his senses having long been lost.

Your name tumbled from his lips as his release drew closer, saying it over and over again as if he were begging you to let him finish. Each time he said your name he imagined his own name coming from you, being panted in his ear as he trust into you, your bodies colliding into each other at a fevered pace. He could feel your fingers intertwining with his hair, tugging at his scalp as you moaned and cooed in his ear. Your voice wavered as you whispered for him to release, Halsin imagined you growing closer to your very own peak as you encouraged and begged him to finish for you. And much to his happiness, it was long before he obliged your request.

With a final heavy thrust and one more warbled cry of pleasure, Halsin’s orgasm washed over his body in searing hot waves of pleasure. Halsin’s body stiffened with his orgasm, curling in on himself as his spend finally shot from the tip of his pulsing cock. His grip tightened around his length, feeling each spurt that erupted from his tip land across his hand onto the bedroll beneath him, the occasional rope landing somewhere along his abdomen if his cock twitched at the right time. He let out a gasping breath with each passing release, each one decreasing in intensity as he rode out the last remaining moments of his orgasm.

After the last ropes of his spend were spilled onto the ground beneath him, Halsin took in a final sucking breath, utterly spent and exhausted. The ironclad grip he’d previously had on his pillow finally released, the same hand pushing up his weight so he could sit up and rest on his knees. His opposite hand released his length, now quickly softening as he came down from the high of his orgasm. The druid still struggled to catch his breath, his chest slightly heaving as he wiped his hand clean with the edge of his blanket before resting both hands on his still trembling thighs. He took another deep breath in, his head falling back against his shoulders as his eyes closed until he was facing the ceiling of his tent.

By now, the illusion he had created for himself had faded. Halsin was no longer seated happily in a tender patch of grass nestled between your thighs, but was instead alone and hovering over his bedroll that rested on a rather hard bit of earth. The warmth of the sun kissing his face had been replaced with the coldness of the shadow curse and the darkness of the inside of his tent. The tender caress of your wonderful hands along his body was now nothing more than his own guilt and shame clawing at his heart once again. He heard nothing but howls and screams in the distant shadows instead of the soft, intoxicating sound of your voice against his ear. The heat from his skin was beginning to dissipate as well, allowing the coolness of the night air to lick at his exposed skin.

With a soft sigh, Halsin opened his eyes, disappointed to not be greeted with the image of your face, although not entirely surprised to only be greeted with the tattered fabric of his makeshift home. Despite being still sensitive to the touch, Halsin tucked himself back into the confines of his trousers, lacing the ties on the front with a slight hiss at the contact. He wiped the sweat from his upper lip with the back of his hand as he looked at the mess now waiting before him. Not wanting to deal with the aftermath of his self pleasure, Halsin simply rolled his heavily soiled bedroll into a tight bundle, tossing it to the back end of his tent and decided to either clean or dispose of in the morning.

He pulled open the flap of his tent, letting in the last remnants of light from the campfire into his abode as he prepared to finally rest for the evening, the exertion from his orgasm having finally worn him out enough to indulge in a bit of sleep. He shivered at the abrupt feeling of the cool night against the warmth he had created in his tent. The camp had gone quiet, the rest of his companions having seemingly turned in for the night, and the earlier sounds of children laughing and animals barking seemed to be silenced as well. Halsin brushed the straw bits of strained that coated the floor of his tent into a smooth layer so he would have a bit of cushion against his tired bones. He had finished smoothing down the outer edge when something small caught his eye.

Sitting neatly beside his discarded camp gear was a small bowl of stew, still billowing steam from the surface. Halsin simply stared at the bowl, which had been placed on a small saucer with an accompanying spoon and a hearty chunk of bread. It didn’t take much thinking on his part to know you had been the one to leave the bit of supper by his tent, although he couldn’t be quite sure when you had dropped it off. He had admittedly been too caught up in his fantasy to begin to hear you shuffling about outside, which made him question just how much of his guilty pleasure you had heard.

Perhaps you had herd nothing and merely wanted to leave his undisturbed under the pretense he was asleep. However, the much more likely scenario considering just how hot the stew was, was that you had walked up right as he was chanting your name while at the height of his pleasure. He felt an all too familiar heat creep up his neck as he eyed the bowl. He sat back on his knees once more, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he imagined a dozen scenarios he’d be having with you come morning. But for now, Halsin simply took the bowl of stew in hand and ate it quickly, ready to finish his meal and finally take a bit of well deserved rest.

Tag list: @thoughts-of-bear @mothermoth92

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #daddy halsin #halsin x reader #halsin x gn reader #halsin x gender neutral reader #fan fiction #bg3 fanfiction #halsin smut #maybe sub Halsin

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trippinsorrows · 2 months

Text

looking through your eyes + four

authors note: hi! thank you so much for everyone who has left such kind words for this story! i'm so appreciative for the support and interest!

this one, i think, depicts a lot of contradicting thoughts and feelings for our two favorite characters. that's intentional.

i also take some creative liberties with medical and wrestling shit. let's just go with it, friends, por favor.

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence, sexual harassment, hints at past self-harm, allusions to past suicide attempt, references to traumatic pasts

song inspo: ‘looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

words: 10k

Roman has spent years coming home to a dark, empty house. It’s been his preference for just as long, enjoying the isolation following day after day of shit that needs to be handled. Because that’s usually how shit plays out for him. Roman’s always calling the shots, always figuring out how to navigate difficult, sticky situations.

It's just what he does.

It’s why he’s been able to advance the Bloodline as much as he has. Because Roman is a man playing professional chess among a group of elementary checker players.

And he’d never voice or admit it to anyone, but the weight does sometimes get to him in one way or another. So, he’s learned to appreciate solitude.

But he’s not met with solitude upon entering his home, which is both surprising and irritating considering it’s pushing 2 o’clock in the morning.

The only sound he should hear is the sound of his heavy footsteps from the front door to the bedroom. Instead, his feet carry him into the source of said sounds that are more pots banging and dishes being washed.

That’s how he immediately knows who it is without needing to check. But, Roman is more curious as to why she’s in the damn kitchen at this time of night instead of sleeping than the noise itself.

And he goes to ask as such when he gets even closer and realizes there’s more to the sound than clanging pots and running water. A soft, melodic, almost soothing voice singing in a language he doesn’t understand but recognizes as Spanish.

Solana is singing, and she’s singing well, beautiful even. So much so that he finds himself leaning against the wall closest to the kitchen, watching as she moves about, earbuds pressed in her ears making her oblivious to his presence.

There’s a sense of relaxation to her, an almost smile as she sings. She doesn’t seem nervous nor skittish….just at peace.

That is she turns around and realizes he's standing there, watching her.

She snatches her earbuds out and immediately jumps on the train of unnecessary apologies. “I’m sorry! I didn’t—-you said you’d be back late.”

He chuckles, calmly pointing out, “it’s almost 2am.”

Her face is flushed red with unnecessary embarrassment. “I thought—I guess I figured that meant you’d come back in the morning.”

“I sleep in my own bed, if I can help it.” It’s a comfort thing, a nod to his preference for solitude. He’s never even stayed the night with Samantha, mostly because he knows her ass would see that as a damn marriage proposal.

Well, maybe not anymore.

“Why are you still up?”

“I—I couldn’t sleep.” It’s a simple answer he’s certain also includes a very real, dark backstory as to why she can’t sleep. He’s been there.

He gets it.

“I’ll be done soon—"

“You can stay up as long as you want. I don’t care.” And it’s true. The house is big enough for her to be making as much noise as she needs, and he probably wouldn’t hear anything from where his room is. He also recognizes the misery that comes with wanting but not being able to sleep, so if being in the kitchen is her distraction, then he’s good with that.

Of course, she continues with the apologies. “I’m sorry about the music—I just—the house was too quiet. I—I don’t like the quiet.”

“Solana.” He has to interrupt her. Roman’s not in the mood for her apology tour. Granted, he does hone in on the part of not liking the quietness of the house. Of course she would be the opposite of him. “I don’t care. Do what you want. Shit doesn’t impact me.”

Roman can see she’s unsure of how to take his words, most likely wondering if there’s some catch, if it’s followed up with a stipulation. But, there is none. As long as it doesn’t impact him, she can do what she wants.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments, because again, it’s the truth. He’d never taken her as the singing type, but gradually, Roman is starting to see there may be more to Solana than meets the eye.

Her unsure expression remains unchanged with the exception of her blush deepening as she mumbles a quiet, “thank you.”

Compliments of any sort seem to bother her, or maybe it’s less they bother her and more she’s unsure of how to respond because she’s not used to them.

He’d lean more on the side of that being the case.

Nevertheless, Roman decides to leave her be. “I’m going to bed.”

“Okay,” she says almost sheepishly, adding a quiet, “goodnight.”

Roman takes her in, the quietness and passiveness no longer as irritating as he once thought and believed it to be. It might still irk him, but the level of irritation isn’t as high as it used to be.

Whatever that means.

“Goodnight, Solana….”

————

From day one of moving into Roman's mansion, Solana has noticed the watch dogs that occasionally patrol the premises along with the armed guards. And while she’s always been tempted to ask to pet one, she’s also always decided against it. These dogs, like their handlers, are trained killers, not emotional support animals.

They’re not there for her to treat like objects.

But it’s when she walks outside, ready to head off to work, that she notices one guard with a dog Solana hasn’t seen before, a puppy, that she finds it in her to approach. With a couple minutes to spare before she has to leave for work, interacting with a dog seems like a nice way to start off the day.

Hand on her purse strap, she shoves back her anxiety about approaching this strange man, asking in a soft voice, “i–is he new?”

The guard sizes her up and down, answering with a gruff, “yeah.”

Solana looks down at the dog who’s also staring up at her with just as much curiosity. Smiling gently, she carefully crouches down and waits for him to move closer. There's a generous leeway of his leash that would allow him to do so.

Sure enough, the dog walks over to her, ears down. Giggling, she cautiously moves to pet him. “You’re so sweet….” And he is. Solana wonders if he’ll retain that sweetness once he undergoes his training. Unlikely. “Good boy…”

“He’s not a fucking pet.” The guard harshly scolds, giving a tug on the leash that makes the dog start to growl. Solana frowns, recognizing he’s annoyed with her interruption.

“I’m sor—”

But before she can finish her sentence, there’s a flash before her that seems almost too quick for her vision to process. But, when she does, she realizes Roman is now present, directly in front of the guard, hand wrapped around his throat.

“Speak to her like that again, and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out your mouth.” His voice is as menacing and terrifying as the fire in his eyes. Roman shoves the man forward and demands. “Apologize. Now.”

The man is coughing, struggling to regulate his breathing but still manages to cough up a muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Solana feels and probably looks stumped at hearing such a thing. She can’t recall the last time someone has ever uttered those words to her. Understandably, she doesn’t know how to respond or react.

“Leave,” Roman demands. And Solana isn’t sure she’s seen a man haul off as quickly as he does, guiding the dog along with him.

Roman takes in her appearance as she stands up, nervously brushing any invisible lint off her pants. “You good?”

She nods, still not quite knowing how to take this. How to take Roman seemingly defending her. Or maybe he’s just defending what belongs to him. It has to be the latter of the two, because why would he care about defending her?

Red-faced, she tries to explain her actions. “It—it was my fault. I just—I saw the dog, and I just—I wanted to pet it.”

“Why are you apologizing for someone being rude to you? Does that shit make sense to you?” When he says it like that, no, it doesn’t. But it’s clearly meant to be rhetorical, as he then asks, “you like dogs?”

Nodding, she clarifies. “Small dogs, mostly. Big ones, umm, they kinda scare me.” As do most things. This, she’s sure, he’s noticed by now. “Uhh—what time do you want dinner ready?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll be back late tonight.”

“Oh.” Solana is unsure why there’s a strange sense of disappointment in her belly at this. Late….

In her experience with her dad and brother, that usually means they won’t be back until the next day, most likely in the morning.

This should make her feel a bit relieved, not having to be on edge, feeling worried about upsetting him.

Even if the only thing regarding her that she’s seen upset him is when he perceives she’s being disrespected.

She’s not quite sure what to make of that either.

“Ayo, Lil’ Soso.” A new voice enters the conversation, one she’s gradually growing comfortable and used to. Jey walks out with a rubbermaid container in his hand, chewing obnoxiously as he approaches Solana and Roman. “What are these things? They’re pretty good.”

There’s a couple of things to process in that one interaction, starting with the nickname Jey has used to refer to her in the times she’s run into him in the house. The twins, along with Paul, seem to be at the mansion often. The interactions though, have allowed her to feel less tense around him. Around Jimmy too.

She hasn’t had enough interaction with Paul to feel that way about him, and she’s certain that won’t change. He seems only concerned with Roman and no one else, which is valid and fair considering his role as Roman’s chief advisor.

Going back to his question, she answers, “conchas.”

“Con what?”

His expression and delivery make her smile. “Conchas. It’s a Mexican pan dulce. Sweet bread.”

“I don’t know half of what you said, but this shit good as hell. You got any more?”

“Don’t you have fucking food at your house?” Solana would never show or admit to it, but it’s sometimes funny to her how Roman seems almost always annoyed with his eccentric cousins. There’s no doubt in her mind though that he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for them, that he’s probably done so. And vice versa.

But they also seem to get on his nerves just as much.

“Man, Nicki on that shit again, talking about she ain’t cooking until I start treating her right. Me and the kids been eating out.”

Kids? That surprises her. She didn’t know Jey was a father.

“Solana! When you train with Naomi, can you exchange some recipes with her or something?” Jimmy also joins in the conversation, walking over while rubbing his stomach. “Cause I don’t know what that meal was in the blue container, but shit slapped.”

It takes a minute for her to remember which one that was. She’s always been a bit meticulous about separating her meals accordingly. “Carnitas Huevos Rancheros.”

Jimmy hesitates. “Yeah sure, that.”

“Am I running a fucking food pantry?” It’s hard to tell if Roman is genuinely annoyed. Something tells her it’s that type of irritation he naturally gets with the twins but won’t actually do anything about. “It’s not her job to feed you idiots.”

“I don’t mind,” she offers, adding. “I–I like to cook.” And it’s the truth. It reminds Solana of her mom, of all the times she’d spend in the kitchen learning from and spending time with the one and only person on this planet who ever loved her.

“See, Uce, she likes to cook,” Jey points out, wiping the crumbs off his fingers on his pants and tucking the now empty container under his arm. “I’ll just take this off your hands.”

Solana’s watch vibrating, reminding her that her shift starts in half an hour, is the perfect reminder that while this conversation is comical, it’s also interfering with her schedule. She’s also certain Solo is waiting patiently, or impatiently, by the SUV for her to jump in so they can get a move on. “I—I’ve gotta get to work, but I can have the food ready by tomorrow. I’ll just come home and cook after training.”

“If you feel like it,” Roman adds, and she knows better than to push back and tell him cooking is one of the few escapes she has. It’s become even more of an escape without the anxiety and pressure of her dad and brother demanding the food always be ready in sometimes unrealistic time frames and lashing out when that doesn’t happen.

To Roman’s credit, if he’s ever been annoyed with waiting a few extra minutes for meals, he’s done a perfect job not showing as such.

She simply nods, acknowledging his stipulation, offering a quiet ‘bye’ as she jogs off to the SUV with Solo ready to escort her to work.

It’s when she’s gone that Jimmy walks up beside Roman. “Man, she can cook, she don’t got a smartass mouth, and she got a body? Shit, Uce, ain’t you glad I told you to go with her?” Roman doesn’t offer a reply, but he definitely gives Jimmy that look that lets his cousin know to get away from him. Roman’s always been big on personal space.

“Does she cook every night?” Jey comes up, asking with an almost level of excitement. “Shit, me and the kids finna start coming over here.”

“Shut up.” The hell they will. Roman is still adjusting to living with someone. The last thing he needs is his cousin and his spawns running around his place, making noise, breaking and touching shit. Not going to happen. “Is Paul already at the office?”

“Yeah. He’s got the updated figures for you to go over. And the RKO proposal was sent over as well for you to review.”

Nodding, Roman starts to create a mental agenda for tasks he needs to complete for the day. And it goes without saying that he’s forever impressed how his cousins are easily able to slide back and forth between professional bag and bumbling morons.

It’s one of the reasons he keeps them around and as high up in command as they are.

“Good,” Roman acknowledges, sliding his sunglasses over his eyes. “Let’s go.”

————

“Hey!”

Naomi’s smile is just as bright and genuine as the first time Solana met her, and that’s something she doesn’t know how to take. A part of her figured Naomi was just being nice to her because Roman was around, because she was given an order, and no one defies the Tribal Chief’s orders.

And maybe she could even chalk this up to being an order as well, Roman tasking her with training Solana on how to fight, hence the continued kindness.

Regardless of the motivating factor, this woman is clearly a capable and trained fighter. A killer.

Solana would do well to stay on her good side.

“It’s good to see you. We didn’t really get a chance to talk much, but obviously, I’m Naomi. Jimmy’s wife.” For some reason, Solana can see it. Can see these two together, even if she’s only been around both less than a handful of times. “I train a lot of the new recruits, mostly women, some men.”

“Men?”

Naomi chuckles. “That’s typically their reaction too. Right before I remind them who I am and what I can do.”

Solana isn’t sure she wants to know the answer to either of those.

“Just out of curiosity, do you have any kind of combat training? Fighting knowledge in general?” It’s a valid question that only has one embarrassing answer. Solana guesses that Naomi picks up on this embarrassment, adding gently, “it’s okay if you don’t. It just gives me a baseline on where we should start.”

“No—I—I’ve never done anything like this before.” And she’s still not sure if she wants to, not sure what Roman thinks she will get from this. Him, along with everyone else around her, learned how to shoot a gun at the same time they learned how to walk. She doesn’t think she’s ever even held a gun. There’s no way humanly possible she could ever be even a fraction as good at this.

And Roman has to know this.

So, why is he making me do it?

Again, either Naomi is insanely perceptive or Solana is much worse at hiding her emotions than she initially believed.

She’d bet on the latter of the two.

“He doesn’t want you to be like us. He just—”

“He wants you to stop being so damn weak,” a new voice interjects. Solana recognizes the tall, intimidating woman from before when Roman had taken her to the Warehouse. She hadn’t had any direct interaction, but just the mere fact alone that she’d simply looked at Solana with disgust told her all she needed to know. “Wants you to grow a backbone.”

“Nia.” Naomi’s smile is dropped, traded for an intense stare. “Lay off her, okay? You heard what Roman said.”

“Oh yeah, we have to be nice to her.” Nia’s smile is mocking, her unimpressed gaze taking in Solana from head to toe. But Solana focuses on what Nia just said versus her judgmental countenance. Did Roman really tell them to be nice to her? Why? Why would he do that?

Nia walks over, crossing her arms over her body. “Well, here’s some kind advice, I can tell from one look at you that life hasn’t been very nice to you. But that doesn’t make you special.”

Naomi steps in. “Nia!”

“Bad shit happens to people all the time. At some point, you have to stop allowing yourself to be a victim.” If not for the fact that Solana knows Nia can’t stand her, she’d almost think Nia is offering what she believes to be genuine advice vs judging her. “You’re here. You survived it. Make that survival worth something.”

Naomi pushes Nia away from Solana, saying something to her that appears to be in defense of Solana, which she’d appreciate if not for the fact that she’s now in her head.

Nothing Nia said is inherently wrong. The world is undoubtedly both good and bad, perfect yet imperfect, wholly and incompletely balanced. These are all facts she’s well aware of, but what Nia doesn’t know or understand yet is that a person still being here doesn’t mean they survived.

Solana is already broken.

There is no survival.

There’s just existence.

“Don’t listen to Nia,” Naomi advises. Looking around, Solana sees that at some point in her dissociation, Nia departed. Naomi continues with that same warm smile. “She can be a bitch sometimes, but she does mean well…..occasionally.” Hands on her hip, Naomi brings the attention back to the whole reason Solana is even at the Warehouse. “How about we just start with flexibility and mobility? Most of us are smaller than the men, and you definitely are, girl.”

Small……

That’s a word Solana has never thought to use to describe herself.

“Being smaller means we can move around faster, can navigate around an attacker in a bit of a quicker way. But, you also have to be able to move in a way that’s lithe. Don’t worry. I gotchu, girl.”

They are reassuring words, words that Solana is grateful for, especially as they begin and she feels completely out of her element. Because she is. Solana isn’t the least bit lithe, and she’s certain her hand eye coordination is straight up shit.

But regardless of all that, Naomi remains kind, patient, and even makes conversation with her.

It doesn’t feel like she’s being made to do this, but more like something she gets to do. And Solana is grateful for that interaction, for the space to not feel like she’s burdening someone. That feels nice. So, so nice.

But equilibrium is a hard thing to achieve and even harder to maintain, so while one safe space is being created, another unsafe space is gradually forming in the midst of her oblivion.

Austin Theory and Grayson Waller, two upcoming, arrogant, fighters and wannabe heads have used the Warehouse for their training space for the past few months after finally proving and gaining access to the elite training grounds.

And while the initiation and acceptance process was brutal and would ward most off from fucking up their membership status, Austin and Grayson have always been hardheaded, too blinded by their own hubris to recognize when they’re about to shoot themselves in the foot.

And shooting themselves is the least of their worries when Grayson is casually surveying the gym to see who’s present, his eyes landing on a woman in particular who catches his interest almost instantaneously.

“Well, who do we have here?” Austin is confused initially, Grayson motioning across the way to where Solana completes her cooldown with Naomi.

Immediately, Austin scoffs. “Since when does this place offer a weight watchers class?”

Chuckling, Grayson still pushes back. “Hers is in the right places though, mate,” Grayson again advises Austin to watch Solana as she happens to be leaning back, palms flat on the ground making her top hug against her chest.

Austin makes a face. “Decent.”

“Who is she?” Grayson asks again as Austin notices a semi-familiar face walking nearby.

“Melo.”

Carmelo shifts his Beats headphones so they’re no longer covering his ears. “Whassup?”

Austin subtly gestures to Solana, asking, “who is that?”

Carmelo follows the line of vision and almost immediately snatches his eyes back to the duo. “Yo. You fuckin’ crazy?”

“What?”

Carmelo repeats himself, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Do you know who that is?”

“Pretty sure that’s what we just fucking asked you, dumbass,” Austin slaps him upside the head. “Now who is she?”

“Solana Miller. Well, Solana Reigns now, I guess.” Carmelo lowers his voice, as if speaking too loudly will attract too much attention. And he’s not entirely wrong. “Roman’s wife.”

Grayson makes a face, looking between Carmelo and Austin for elaboration. “Reigns got married? Bullshit. That bloke is the last man to ever walk down the aisle.”

“You two would do well getting your head from up your asses every once in a while. It’s a recent thing, but still a thing. So unless you want your insides literally ripped from out of you, it’d be best to leave her the fuck alone.”

Austin, the most smug of the two, is the first to protest. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those. Everyone makes Roman out to be this big bad who can’t be touched. He defends, what, once every six months?” Austin scoffs. The fear that the “Head of the Table” seems to have over everyone has never made sense to him. Sure, he’s heard things, even seen some things, but that’s always been because Roman called the shot. He’s not the one actually taking or making them. “Everyone knows he has his heron boys do his dirty work for him.”

“Plus, isn’t the guy pushing 40? What the fuck is he going to do?” Grayson laughs.

“Break his fucking hip trying to chase us.”

Carmelo shakes his head as the two dipshits laugh at their unfunny humor. “I’m telling ya’ll. Messing with her is a death wish. Plus, I heard she’s not even like that. That’s she’s like….shy and shit.”

If intended to ward the two off, it does the complete opposite. Theory smirks. “Those are always the freakiest.”

Carmelo backs away, lifting his hand in a surrender motion. “Can’t say I ain’t warn you. Dig your own graves.” With zero interest in having any part of what these two are clearly planning, Carmelo puts his headphones back over his ears and jogs off to start his training.

And it’s a wise decision as Austin and Grayson, forever the patient predators stalking their prey wait for Naomi to walk off, time it well so that there’s an appropriate enough time for Solana to walk off to the showers, get clean, and walk out at the same time they happen to be lurking in the halls that lead to the locker rooms.

That’s exactly how it plays out too, Solana looking down in her bag to grab her phone and text Solo that she’s done and ready to leave when a voice nearly knocks the wind out of her.

“Hi there.”

Solana gasps as loud as the sound of her back colliding with the brick wall behind her from how startled she is.

Instantly, she’s met with a set of cold blue eyes and wicked smile. “Solana, right?”

Breathing feels like it’s an optional thing, her hands still gripping the brick wall behind her. She can only nod her answer.

“Austin.” He then nods to the other man that Solana realizes is leaning back against the wall opposite her. The anxiety intensifies. “This is my buddy, Grayson. You must be new around here?”

Solana doesn’t want to speak, doesn't want to be near these two who have her practically cornered. But, she also doesn’t want to piss them off either. “Y—yeah.”

Austin’s eyes twinkle with nothing that seems good. “You really are shy, huh?”

“They make the best.” Grayson comments from his propped up position. Solana doesn’t allow herself to think too much about what he’s implying. She just wants to get the hell away from them. One look, and she knows they’re up to no good.

It makes her sick to her stomach.

The idea of walking past these two brings a visceral, physical response that has her mouth watering. She feels like she’s going to throw up, but she also knows she needs to get the hell away from them. “I—I have to go.” From where the next thing to come out her mouth stems from, she doesn’t know, but it’s blurted with all the nerves in her body. “R-Roman is waiting for me.”

He’s not. She actually has no idea where he is, but there’s a part of her that wonders if reminding them of who she is, who her husband is will make them back off.

“Of course,” the one with an accent speaks, motioning with his arm for her to leave. “Don’t want to keep the Chief waiting.”

The mockery in his tone unease her even more. Does he not realize just who Roman is? What he’s capable of.

Regardless, the second Austin backs away a bit, she’s darting through the hall, trying to put as much distance between herself and the two men, but she’s not far enough to miss the ominous departing statement from Austin.

“See you around, Solana.”

Something tells her this won’t be the last time she runs into them, and it leaves a deep, disturbing feeling in the pit of her stomach.

This isn’t good.

It’s not good at all.

————

Dear Mom,

I’m still alive.

That’s a good thing, I guess. Life with Roman has been….a strange experience. The most important thing is that he hasn’t hit me yet, but I’ve been trying really hard not to upset him or get on his bad side. I do my best to make sure all of his meals are ready and on time, which I guess helps.

But to be honest……he kinda confuses me.

He hasn’t been unkind, and I don’t think I’ve ever experienced him really yelling at me. Not like I’ve seen him yell and scream at others. So, that’s also good. It’s a bit of walking on eggshells, just waiting for him to snap and hit me, but not as much as I was thinking.

I don’t know….it hasn’t been as bad here as I thought it would be. For the most part, he just leaves me alone. We don’t even eat dinner together, which is fine, cause I can’t see why he’d want to spend time with me anyway.

But, he confuses me because it feels like sometimes he’s defending me or something, which doesn’t make sense because why would he do that? That would mean he has to care to some extent, right? I keep trying to remind myself that it’s probably not me he’s defending but his pride and standing, because I think being mean or disrespecting me is like disrespecting him? I’m not sure, but it’s definitely a new experience.

I haven't spoken to or heard from Wes and dad. Roman made me get a new phone with a new number that I’m not sure either of them have. I don’t know if I want to think too much about how bad it’s going to be when I finally do see them again…..

Wes made it clear I was supposed to be keeping in contact with them, but that hasn’t happened. Truth be told, I try not to think about that. Think about the fact that I’m somehow supposed be figuring out a way to…..to kill Roman. I could never do that. I could never kill anyone. You know that, mama.

Even more….I feel like Roman is growing on me, like maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, like maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

I think….I think that I could learn to like living here.

—------

“WarGames?”

To Solana, it’s a simple question, because it’s definitely not an everyday term. But that’s clearly not the case given the startled expressions on both Bayley and Naomi’s face.

It’s becoming something she is slowly starting to enjoy. Not necessarily the training part, but the socialization. It’s something Solana has been deeply deprived of over the years, so to have someone to talk to, someone who wants to talk to her means a lot.

Even if it’s technically a job she was assigned by Roman, Naomi has never made her feel like their interactions are forced.

Moreover, it was just in last week’s training session, Solana was thoroughly and pleasantly surprised to find out Bayley is also a member of the Warehouse and friends with Naomi, that reunion almost giving Solana a sense of giddiness.

She’s wanted to reach out since the wedding but never followed through based upon her fear that she’d be bothering Bayley.

Clearly, that’s not the case.

Solana is certain she’ll never forget Bayley’s kindness on a day where she really needed to believe in something, believe that there is always at least one reason to keep breathing, to be alive.

But, it’s when Solana asks about this topic Naomi and Bayley were discussing that attracts confounded expressions.

“You’re kidding right?” Bayley is the first to speak, glancing between herself and Naomi. “He didn’t tell you?”

Still confused, Solana presses, “tell me what?”

“I’m not surprised Roman didn’t, but someone definitely should have.” Naomi shakes her head, shifting into an explanation.. “War Games. It’s an annual match. Super big deal. It’s a show of strength and dominance for the Bloodline. Kinda hard to explain. You’ll just have to see for yourself.”

It sounds….intense. “I—I don’t think I’m invited.”

“Your hubby has clearly been a bachelor for way too long for him to realize that he has to tell you these things.” Bayley rolls her eyes but protests Solana’s belief that she would somehow not be invited to one of the Bloodline’s most important yearly events. “You’re definitely invited. As Roman’s wife, you have to be there. It would be seen as a sign of great disrespect to him if you didn’t.””

Disrespecting Roman…..never a good idea.

“When is it?”

Naomi seems to hesitate before answering. “Tomorrow night” And before Solana can panic at such short notice, Naomis is reassuring her that it will all work out. “Don’t worry. Bay and I will help you get ready.”

“Hell yeah.” Bayley already goes into strategizing mode. “I’ll handle your hair and makeup, and Naomi can find you a kickass dress.”

“Red, of course. That’s the only non-negotiable. Bloodline thing, ya know.” Solana figured as such. She also briefly wonders if that’s why Roman has been coming back home late the past few weeks, because he’s been training? “But, I will say we usually dress….well, like we’re going clubbing for these kinds of events, so it’s gonna be short, tight, and a tad bit revealing.”

That is something that gives Solana pause. None of those things scream appealing to her at all. She doesn’t have the body to dress like that. Not with the rolls, stretch marks, and scars that mar hers.

“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she finds it in herself to voice her opinion. A rarity. “I don’t—I don’t think I’d look good in something like that.”

Both Bayley and Naomi cast her confused expressions, Naomi being the first to speak.

“Why?” Naomi presses, gesturing up and down. “Girl, you have a nice ass shape. You would fill out a bodycon dress nicely.”

Solana has a hard time digesting what Naomi is saying. She would look great in a dress like that. Naomi is both fit and curvy, the perfect amount of curves in the right places without unnecessary fat. Same for Bayley.

For Solana, the less skin she’s showing the better, though she wonders if the kind of attire they’re describing is some type of dress code, meaning there is no room to protest.

The last thing she wants is for it to get back to Roman that she’s being “difficult.”

Defeated, she murmurs an ‘okay’ as the two of them engage in more conversation about this WarGames as well as fashion options. To be fair, they try to include her in, but Solana is too into her head about what this alleged night is as well as what it could include.

—---

Naomi wasn’t lying when she said that Solana would have to see WarGames for herself to understand it. That’s the absolute truth.

It’s a spectacle, to say the least.

For one, it’s a ton of people packed around the ring, the massive room where fights take place. The noise is boisterous, almost deafening, people drunk, swearing, placing bets, most of which are on the Bloodline.

And thankfully, Solana and Co. are seated in the upper area, a VIP box of sorts, away from the unruly crowd. She’s thankful for this for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being the fact that she feels extremely uncomfortable in her dress. And just in general, but mostly with how much scarred skin is showing.

The dress is exactly as Naomi said it would be: short, red, and a bit revealing. Thankfully Naomi picked out a dress with a halter neckline that prevents any cleavage from showing, but there’s a split high up on the thigh that she finds herself trying to constantly adjust.

“You look great, Solana.” Bayley wears that same friendly, encouraging smile from Solana’s wedding day. “And I get that you’re self-conscious about your body, but I can guarantee these men would line up by the dozen for a chance to go home with you if not for your psycho-killer husband.”

Bayley playfully nudges her shoulder, and while Solana can emit a chuckle, she can’t bring herself to laugh. That line of men would be just as disappointed as she’s sure her psycho-killer husband was on their wedding night.

But, this isn’t the time and place for that.

“You look nice,” Solana compliments, partially a deflection technique but mostly the truth. Bayley, Naomi, and Nicki, who she met earlier that night and learned was Jey’s wife, all look exceptional in their numbers. Bayley is the only one not wearing red, for obvious reasons, but the jade green compliments her complexion well.

“We all look nice,” she says loud enough for the other two to hear.

Nicki opens her mouth to respond when the lights in the arena start to shift. “Ugh. This bitch again.” Nicki’s scowl and expression of irritation draws Solana’s attention to the woman in the ring, who now has the spotlight on her, a woman she immediately recognizes as being there that night Roman woke her up from a nightmare.

The woman is tall, curvy in the right places, beautiful, bouncy curls cascading down her back. If she has a lot of makeup on, Solana can’t tell because it’s painfully obvious she’s been blessed with natural beauty. Everything about her is just so gorgeous.

At the time, she didn’t think anything of it, too caught in the haze of trauma. But now, curious and believing she can receive an answer, Solana asks, “who is she?”

“The most annoying person ever,” Nicki answers, taking a swig of her drink. In only knowing Nicki for less than an hour, Solana both does and doesn’t understand the compatibility between herself and Jey. They seem very much alike yet dissimilar. It makes sense why they fight as much as they do.

“That’s Samantha.” There’s no way to misinterpret the disgust in Nicki’s voice even as she pronounces Samantha’s name with undeniable distaste. “She does the announcements for events, but her daytime job is being a professional hooker.”

“Nicki!” Naomi shakes her head. “I think she’s a paralegal for a lawyer or something, but she’s mostly known as a pain in everyone’s ass. Always has been. Ever since we were in high school. She thinks because she’s light skinned with ‘good hair’ that she’s better than everybody.”

“Don’t forget about Roman,” Nicki chimes with her nose upturned. “She really thinks she’s hot shit though because she’s number one on his ‘I want my dick sucked’ list.”

This causes Solana to pause for a second. “What?”

She’s not stupid. Why else would this Samantha have been over at the house that late at night? And with Roman? Solana figured early on that if he isn’t getting any from her, then he has to be getting it from somewhere. Truthfully, even if their marriage did involve sex, she’s not sure he still wouldn’t find his way in between the legs of another woman.

But, there’s something about having it confirmed, hearing for herself that he gets around, that he clearly has a high sex drive that adds a whole new layer of insecurity.

She’s known from day one she could never be anyone he wanted or needed, and he expressed as such that day at the library, but this conversation makes it feel more…..real.

And she’s unsure why or just what makes this bring on a sense of sadness.

“Come on, I get you’re quiet and innocent and shit, but everyone knows that man is a hoe. If you’re black or black–ish with a vagina, fat ass, and big titties, he’ll fuck you. Cause none of them fools fuck with white girls.” She glances at Bayley, almost sympathetically. “No offense.”

“I’m Mexican.”

This serves as a brief, nice distraction for Solana. She suspected that Bayley wasn’t entirely white, but hearing that she’s Hispanic, Mexican, makes Solana feel a small slice of excitement. She makes a mental note to ask her if she speaks Spanish.

Solana hasn’t been able to communicate in the language her mother made sure to teach her in secret given Xavier’s protest since her murder. So, the idea of being able to communicate with another person in that language makes her feel a bit excited. Maybe more than a bit.

Nicki is dismissive, though there’s a hint of humor there. Like she knows and is just messing with the other woman. “Sure you are, Bay.”

Bayley rolls her eyes and assures Solana. “Don’t listen to her.”

“Ya’ll, don’t lie to this girl.” Nicki seems dead set on stressing this point, and Solana can’t figure out if it comes from a good place, a drunk place, or somewhere in between the two of them. “If it wasn’t common knowledge he don’t fuck none of these bitches raw and makes most get on birth control, I’d tell you to not let that fool touch you with a ten foot pole.”

Bayley is watching Solana, sees the discomfort growing at this conversation and moves to change the conversation. “Why don’t we talk about you and Jey and why I literally saw him flirting with Sasha the other day?”

At that, Nicki drops her drink, cussing loudly, “man, fuck him! I don’t give a fuck about him or that bony heifer! I’ll beat the shit out both of them.”

“Nicki. Shut the fuck up. You may beat her ass, but you gon be right back to drunk spilling about how good Jey’s dick is when it’s all said and done.” Naomi dismisses, and something tells Solana she’s not wrong. Nicki and Jey seem to have a bit of a…..tumultuous relationship.

“I mean it this time!”

“Uh huh, sure sis.”

“And if you don’t give a fuck about him, why are you here?” Naomi challenges.

All eyes on her, even Solana’s slightly curious gaze, Nicki falls back in her chair and mumbles, “cause that’s my man.”

Naomi and Bayley are a chorus of laughter and whooping and hollering, roasting Nicki for her contradictory statements.

Flashing blue lights illuminate the arena as everyone immediately moves to their feet followed by opening music that almost instantly brings chills up Solana’s arms. The lights then transition to a combination of red and blue, the sound of cheering intensifying as she redirects her focus back to where the first group entered.

Solana’s eyes instantly, maybe even naturally, land on Roman. He stands first among the men, shirtless, ula fala around his neck, championship belt around his waist, a look of fierce determination and stoicism painted across his handsome face.

And that body…..rippling muscles glistening under the heat of the lights.

It’s a strange and miserable experience. Feeling all of the sensations and attractions a human typically has to another human being but having an almost inability to act on them. It’s not that Solana isn’t attracted to Roman. She finds him to be sinfully attractive. The issue is that whenever she thinks about what physical acts take place when two people find each other attractive is when her head is swarmed with vivid memories and flashbacks of being violated in the worst way possible.

And the attraction is stumped by fear and trauma. Fear of being touched. Fear of being with anyone in that way.

It’s like Roman said. He can get that from anyone, so why would he bother with her?

When he has someone like Samantha, prettier, smaller, easier, at his disposal?

It brings a wave of sadness over her that she’s grateful isn’t noticed by the other ladies who are focused on the start of the match.

And to her credit, Solana tries to pay attention, grateful and thankful for Naomi and Bayley occasionally pointing out certain aspects of how it works, why the two groups are separated, individual members from each side periodically being sent into the line of fire.

“Roman always goes last,” Naomi explains at one point.

“Save the best for last type shit,” Bayley adds, finishing off her beer and asking for another.

“More like once he gets his ass in there, it’s a wrap. Everyone left getting smashed.” Solana believes this wholeheartedly. She’s just not sure if she wants to see that, see that side of him up close.

It exists, obviously, but it’s hard to compare the killer she knows he is to the man he’s been to in the short duration of their marriage.

Almost….almost kind.

The fighting, brutal and bloody, all occurs in the ring, but Solana constantly finds her gaze falling back to Roman. He remains seated, patiently or maybe impatiently waiting for his turn, never once ripping his gaze from the match. She sees Paul outside the cage, occasionally speaking to Roman, advising as he always does.

Solana can tell he’s completely immersed, focusing solely on the match before him.

And it’s when there’s some type of in-ring argument between the twins and the other member-in-training of sorts, Sami, she thinks Naomi called him, that she turns to the ladies. “What are they doing?”

“Sealing a death wish,” Nicki answers with a shake of her head. “Roman gon’ have all they asses for this.”

Naomi sighs loudly, advising Solana after the bickering results in one of the men from the other group getting the upper hand, landing a particularly brutal looking kick to Jey. “There’s been some….contention between Sami and the twins, mostly Jey, but Nicki isn’t entirely wrong. They should know better than to let that shit interfere with a match. Roman will most likely make them stay after and……yeah.”

Solana doesn’t need a detailed explanation. She has a good idea of what Roman making them pay will look like. It’s also not something she wants to see.

The match, in and of itself, despite the excitement and pure interest of everyone around her, isn’t necessarily something she wants to see. Solana has seen, been exposed, and experienced enough fighting violence to last her a lifetime.

This is entertainment to them, but for her, it’s been her lived experience.

So, she doesn’t feel any sort of adrenaline rush watching grown men beat the crap out of each other, blood, sweat, and bruised, battered bodies putting themselves through hell. It gives her some relief to see that the Bloodline, for the most part, remains with the upperhand. Even with their in-house argument earlier in the fight.

But, it’s when the timer that ends with another man joining the brawl moves to a ten second countdown that her interest grows a bit more. It grows a bit because Roman is finally about to enter the ring.

She watches him, has mostly just watched him this entire time. He’s just as unbothered as he was the minute he walked in. Adjusting his gloves while Paul clearly tries to bestow some last minute wisdom before he makes his entrance.

It feels a bit redundant. She’s certain this man doesn’t need anyone helping him with anything.

And as soon as the timer winds down to zero, Roman gradually making his way to the ring, Solana knows she was right. Knows he doesn’t need help, because he’s been studying and planning for the past almost 45 minutes. Strategizing.

It shows the minute the men, all 10 of them go at it. It’s hard to keep track of all of the mayhem, fists flying, kicks landing in areas that are sure to require a couple days to recover. But, it’s Roman who still manages to catch and hold Solana’s attention. He moves with such precision and accuracy, blows every bit as barbarous and violent as his reputation warrants.

There’s a small part of her that experiences something she can’t quite label or understand when he takes a hit, especially when a member of the other team manages to catch Roman off guard, sending him into the table, the weight of him snapping it in half.

At that, she nervously starts to move her fingers up and down the side of her dress. But, Roman, while clearly impacted from the blow by the blood starting to stream down the back of his arm only seems further enraged. Like being attacked has somehow refueled him, recharged his already pre-existing rage.

“They are in trouble now….” Naomi murmurs, shaking her head, as if she knows what’s about to come. “Roman hates getting hit, and they made him bleed too?”

It’s the blood part, maybe, that bothers Solana. It’s silly given who he is and the fact that he’s clearly holding his own just fine, but Solana wonders why he doesn’t or can’t have that tended to. It has to hurt.

But, then again, it all hurts, so maybe the pain just numbs itself out.

And maybe Roman is clearly caught up and consumed in adrenaline, in the mad rush of the battle, because it seems from the table slam on out, no one is touching him. He’s all over the place, strong blows resulting in grown men crying out in pain. She’s certain those closer to the actual ring can hear the sound of bones crunching, an inevitable thing given the abnormal distortion of limbs she sees on the other team.

He yells and taunts his opponents, one by one, laying them out with the somewhat assistance of the rest of the men. Truth be told, Roman could have probably tagged out the other four men and handled the other team all on his own.

He’s just that effective.

And when there’s only one man standing, barely, Roman moves to the other side of the ring, face turned up in rage, watching and waiting for the perfect moment for him to dart across, laughing into a spear so forceful that it knocks the man unconscious instantly, guaranteeing an instant, easy pin.

The crowd erupts in cheers, Roman’s music sounding as Samantha formally announces the Bloodline as the winners.

There’s a strange sense of relief that Solana has at that, at the fact that this is all over, that the fighting is done. That Roman is done, because her mind keeps going toward the fact that he probably needs some level of medical attention and when said attention is going to happen.

But while she expects the Bloodline to start their exit, she’s instead met with security dragging the unconscious bodies of the losing team outside of the ring.

“What’s happening?” Solana asks Bayley, realizing that the women are starting to pack up to head out. “Isn’t—isn’t it over?”

“For us, yes.” Her eyes set on the twins, Solo, and Sami. “For them, it’s just beginning.” Solana reflects back on their in-ring argument and Naomi’s foreshadowing about this happening, about this punishment.

And one glance at Roman, his hulking shoulders lifting and lowering with his heavy panting. His eyes are flaming with a fury he clearly intends to take out on his team.

“Come on.” Naomi draws Solana’s attention. “I’ll ride home with you, cause Solo ain’t gon be free no time soon.”

None of them will.

Solana recognizes this and agrees, but it’s not without a sense of disappointment at not leaving with Roman.

And that confuses her. It confuses her a lot.

She didn’t arrive with him, so why would she leave with him?

More importantly, why does she care that she’s not leaving with him?

—----------

“I–I can do that for you.”

There are some things meant to be thought and some things meant to be said. This is one of those things that should have stayed in Solana’s head instead of rolling off her tongue the way it does.

She was only supposed to ask him if he wanted her to make anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow, not offer to freaking suture stitches for him.

Well, that’s not entirely true, because as it’s almost damn midnight, she could and should at least be in bed trying to sleep. She’s been home for almost two hours, showered, changed into her oversized shirt and sweats.

She shouldn’t even be standing before him, but there was some type of unease she had at trying to fall asleep without making sure he made it home, without seeing to it that he tended to any injuries he sustained tonight.

Solana almost feels like that’s what she should do, like she should make sure she’s available to assist him with anything he may need. Like it’s just another thing that could keep him from directing his anger from earlier towards her.

And it’s slightly less stressful for her in knowing that he’s more likely to harshly dismiss her, maybe even chastise her for unintentionally implying he’s somehow incapable. However, instead of a rebuff, he simply looks at her, asking, “you know how?”

Solana doesn’t know why, but she takes this as a sign that he’s accepting her offer. Walking over to where he sits at the kitchen island, she sees he already has the supplies laid out. “I—I’ve had a lot of experience.”

Some of it from patching up her dad and brother but most of it from patching up herself over the years, from watching and learning from her mother tend to her wounds after sustaining beatings from Xavier. “My mom was also a nurse. She—she taught me a lot.” Like the proper way to suture. “Did—did you already disinfect?”

Solana is slightly nervous when he says no. That means she’s the one that’s going to have to inflict that brief but potent burning pain.

Lovely.

Nonetheless, she readies the cloth, holding it over the cut before warning, “this—this might sting.”

“I don’t care.” And she believes it. Seeing him in the ring tonight, his prowess, his brutality, she’s not sure if anything could hurt him.

Solana proceeds to clean and disinfect the area before grabbing the sutures to start stitching him back up.

Roman suddenly asks her. “Did you want to go into the medical field?” Roman recalls from the file he read on her that she never pursued any higher education beyond high school, something else he marked against her at the time. Education and knowledge have always been important to him.

But meeting her and slowly learning more about her backstory, he wonders if that was of her own choosing, hence his asking.

Solana, meanwhile, can’t figure out why he’s even talking to her in the first place. He seemed, justifiably, annoyed with and not wanting to be bothered with any and everyone post match. Now he’s asking her questions about things she hasn’t thought about in years.

Still, she answers with the truth. “I—I wanted to be a nurse. Like my mom.”

This doesn’t surprise Roman as he follows up with, “why didn’t you?”

A lot of reasons. Many of which she has very little desire to share, not that she could or would even want to ever voice as such to the man sitting in front of her.

That’d be an instant death wish.

“My—my father. He, umm, didn’t want me to leave home.” It’s a version of the truth, the unabridged version being he didn’t want her to leave home because he wouldn’t be able to control her if she did so.

And Solana has a feeling that she doesn’t need to share all that, that Roman already knows this.

“Why didn’t you just leave?” Roman’s delivery, like most of the time, is insensitive. But, he genuinely wants to know. For what reason did she stay there all those years, in a house of horrors instead of just leaving and never looking back?

It’s a fair, simple question with a complex, layered answer that she greatly simplifies.

“I tried. It—it never worked out.” And it’s when Roman hears the sudden sadness in her voice, sees the way her eyes temporarily shift to her inner forearms, horizontal faded scars that he’s just now able to see from how close she is to him that he gets it.

He realizes that she tried in more ways than one, none of them being successful.

And in a truly coincidental way, Solana notices he’s also cut on the back of his bicep. It’s also in her being so close to him that she realizes underneath the intricacies of the tribal tattoos on his forearm, there are scars. Burn scars, nothing severe, but visible enough for her to notice.

It makes her wonder about where he got them, how he got them, not that she’d ever have enough bravery to ask.

She instead clears her throat and gestures to the cut. “Do–do you want me to do that one too?”

It takes a second for Roman to think about what she’s asking. “Is it deep enough?”

Without thinking about it, she brings her hand to finger to lightly feel the cut that was clearly poorly and in a rush patched up post fight. Nodding, she explains, “it’s deeper than about 1/4th an inch, so yeah, I—you should let me.” And in realizing she’s touching him, like she isn’t doing the same thing while suturing, she snatches her hand back, apologizing quietly.

He doesn’t think he’s ever had a woman apologize for touching him.

“Okay.”

And that’s it, he doesn’t protest, doesn’t chastise her for making it seem like he doesn’t know or understand injuries. He just allows her to work on him, Solana doing her best to ignore the fact that he’s so close to her, his big, strong body, even while seated, overwhelming her.

But while this would typically cause Solana to go into panic mode, being so close to a half dressed man, she doesn’t feel that with Roman. She doesn’t feel anything at all. No anxiety, no fear, just some nameless emotion that doesn’t evoke her typical nervous responses.

“Okay.” Finishing up, Solana moves to clean up the supplies, discarding what is no longer usable. “Just….don’t get it wet for next few hours, and apply the ointment as needed, but—I’m sure you know all this already.” She feels silly for speaking to him as if he hasn’t patched himself up or been stitched up countless time before. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna go to bed now.”

Not wanting to risk embarrassing herself further, she turns on the heel of her foot and starts walking off, only to stop when he calls for her.

“Solana.”

She turns around, and Roman is briefly caught up in how she presses her lips together, trying to suppress a frown. She thinks she’s done something wrong.

One more sweep of her frame from bottom to top, remembering the stunning complement and contrast of the red dress against her complexion. He compliments, “you looked beautiful tonight.”

She looks absolutely taken back by what is an obvious statement. Taken back and confused. “M—me?” She’s pointing to herself, brows arching together. And for a second, there’s a small hint of a growing smile as she asks, as if he could have made a mistake. “Really?”

He didn’t.

Roman doesn’t make mistakes

Solana has a lot of things fucked up about her, but one thing not a damn person can deny is that she’s absolutely gorgeous with a body to match. That’s just a fact, why he felt the need to express said fact is a bit beyond him, but Roman doesn’t allow himself to think too much about it. It’s not a sentimental thing at all, just a plain fact being stated, if anything.

“Thank you,” she finally says as he notices the reddening of her cheeks. “Umm, good night.” Solana’s hand is on the banister, her finger squeezing tighter than the coils in her stomach. “Roman?”

It would be a hell of a lot easier if he would have just ignored her, but he doesn’t. His gaze snaps up to her from the phone now in his hand.

The same hand she witnessed just tonight pummel grown men, just as muscular and intimidating as he is to a bloody pulp. The same hand that could easily take her life, could have her clinging onto life with just one beating. And that’s all she can see at the thought of telling him about Grayson and Theory messing with her, that it’s now happened twice, they’ve caught her off guard and alone, sexually harassing her.

Nia’s words from the other day return to the front of her mind.

“He wants you to stop being so weak.”

He’ll blame her. He’ll blame her the same way her father blamed her for what they did to her. He’ll blame her for being so weak. That’s what Solana knows will happen. Knows he’ll say she was leading them on, that she must have done something to garner their interest in her. And he’ll be angry.

He’ll be angry at her.

And nothing good ever comes out of Roman Reigns being angry.

She’s seen it for herself firsthand tonight.

Determine to find a way to deal with this on her own, she shakes her head, “nothing. S–sorry.” She’s turned back to the steps when he says her name this time. His tone clear and authoritative.

She jumps, immediately turning back around to face him. He’s now standing near the steps where she stands, halfway between rescue and ridicule.

Something flashes in his gaze at her obvious nervousness, but he quickly refocuses on the topic at hand. “You have something to say, so say it.”

A deep layer of regret and anxiety settles in at the realization that there is no lying to Roman. He’s adroitly skilled in reading between the lines and seeing through bullshit. Or maybe she’s just that bad at lying.

Hopefully not the latter because another lie is about to roll right out.

“I was just—I was gonna sleep in tomorrow, but I have to make your breakfast, so I’ll just—”

“You don’t have to do anything, Solana.”

Roman knows she’s lying. Knows she just pulled that out of her ass instead of sharing whatever it is she initially wanted to say. It’s probably something stupid too, something he won’t give two shits about, but something she thinks he gives two shits about. And he’d push her if not for the fact he can tell she’s getting all nervous and shit on him again. The last thing he needs is her having another panic attack.

“Sleep in,” he directs. This is a conversation, much to his chagrin, that will have to take part in sections. And it’s too late in the evening to hash out one of those sections. And to be fair, there is a part of him that recognizes she probably does feel like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn like him to have his first meal of the day ready to go. And his lunch. And his dinner.

Granted, Roman can’t and won’t complain about all of it, because the girl can cook her ass off.

But, it’s not necessary.

He’s more than capable of taking care of himself.

He’s done so since he was 10 years old.

“Thank you.” She does that thing again where she smiles like he’s just told her she’s won the lottery or been given the cure to world hunger. It’s the simplest things that seem to make her happy. Considering the bar has already been set so low, it makes a bit of sense.

It makes a lot of sense.

“Goodnight.”

Roman is certain she’s intentional in the way she turns on the heel of her foot to move up the stairs, putting as much distance between the two of them to avoid a follow up question. Her avoidance behavior is a bit impressive, irksome, but still impressive, nonetheless.

And it would be remiss of Roman to not sneak a peak of her retreating form moving up the steps, his eyes glued to the sway of her ass, again remembering that short, red dress that momentarily distracted him when he laid eyes on her at the match.

Roman would never deny his physical attraction to her. That’s just a fact. She’s shaped in a way that makes his dick hard at the thought of having that body underneath his, writhing, begging for him to not stop fucking her in all the ways he would if he could.

But, that’s a fantasy. It’s a fantasy because the reality is that he can’t even touch this girl without her freaking out on him, something that would annoy him greatly if he didn’t realize there’s a reason behind her jumpiness.

Something that’s beyond just her shitty father and brother.

Roman doesn’t allow himself to travel down that path, to see what it might lead to because just the thought of what might be the reason she doesn’t like being touched has his fist forming at his side, nostrils flared, and anger brewing at an accelerated pace that doesn’t make sense.

It also doesn’t make sense when he grabs his phone, navigating to the desired thread, sending a text he doesn’t think much about.

Roman: Get me a list of dog breeders. Small dogs. Preferably local. We can travel if necessary.

Paul: Sir?

Roman: Just do it.

Paul: I’ll have it to you by tomorrow morning.

#roman reigns x black!oc #roman reigns fic #roman reigns #roman reigns x black!reader #arisnotebook

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