#this took me a whole afternoon + evening to do

[this-resident-is-evil]

Leathers and Robes

Note: Happy Valentines Day. ;) …. And part 1? Pairing: Rider Leon S. Kennedy x Priestess fem reader Synopsis: You are one of the priestesses that follow a goddess of knowledge which requires all her followers to be celibate. Your path was clear since you were born, you hated how people could be so animalistic when it came to reproduction hence why you decided to pursue the path of the goddess all was well until a dragon rider came to the temple. Contains: Virgin reader, vaginal penetration, fingering, oral fem receiving, questionable use of daggers, dirty talk, body worship, praise kink, use of pet names (princess, holy woman, sweetheart, goddess), unprotected sex, cream pie, cock warming. Warning: Minors do not interact.

Your days have always had the same routine, you would wake up have a modest breakfast tend to the largest library stationed in the temple of your goddess until lunch then back to the books for the afternoon. Around that time students from the academy would slowly and surely tickle in to study and that was about it.

The goddess of knowledge didn’t require extensive praying or even offerings. She wanted her priestesses to follow three simple rules. First, pursue the knowledge they are interested in. Second, to take care of themselves and their bodies in order to stay healthy and third… to never get involved with men and to stay celibate.

This has been easy ever since you joined her temple well until everything went south.

One unfortunate afternoon a fight between some students occurred. One party was going to the War academy trained to be dragon riders, soldiers and royal guard. The others were going to the academy in pursuit of science and knowledge in general. Their fight brought in a headmaster of the Academy of science to the temple’s doorstep.

The man was unpleasant to say the least strict and his distaste for women was evident. It made you uncomfortable to speak to him for the short few minutes he needed to get a grasp on the situation that involved the students of his academy.

What was unsurprising the headmaster of the war academy didn’t bother to show up. Or so you thought until… he landed on dragon back before your very eyes.

Since childhood you dreamed of seeing a dragon in person however your pursuit of knowledge leads you to a place where you will never have a chance unless someone dared to break the rules. The memory brings heist to your step as you approach the man.

“Excuse me, dragons are prohibited from landing on temple grounds.” You spoke up.

The man adorned in dark flight leathers turned to you. He looked strict and dangerous. His whole face was as if he was carved from stone into a beautiful statue. His hair was blonde cut short and slicked back with a few unruly strands escaping to cover his forehead.

“My apologies ma’am.” He speaks his voice rumbling in your ears. “Louis, you heard the lady.” He speaks and the dragon adorned in bronze like scales huffs, his nostrils releasing some smoke before he took flight leaving the grounds.

Your hands moved to straighten your robes before fixing your posture to look up at the man towering above you. His blue eyes bored into your own.

“I’m looking for priestess (Y/N) (L/N).” He spoke up.

You were forced to clear your throat and swallow before you were ready to answer him. “That would be me.”

“Lovely. I heard you saw what happened last week with the rookies.” His arms cross over his chest, his muscular frame was intimidating to say the least but you were not going to allow a man to intimidate you.

“I have.” You confirm. “I would assume that rough housing is a common occurrence among your ranks.” It was your turn to cross your arms over your chest.

His eyes momentarily lost the focus from your eyes landing lower where your arms crossed. This might have lasted for a millisecond but you still caught it.

“Perhaps it is true.” He had a smirk curl in the corner of his lips. “I still need to know what happened.”

“Are you the headmaster of the academy?” You question him suspicion clear in your tone of voice.

A deep chest rumbling chuckle escapes his lips. “No, I’m a Liuetenant, Leon S. Kennedy, think of it as a favor I’m doing for the headmaster.”

You sigh. It wasn’t like this was a serious offense, in fact no one got hurt and it’s not as if the information can’t go public.

“Fine… The students tend to throw insults to the other party but it was never too serious. Common rivalry one side believes they are more important than the other, however the students from the war academy seemed to be on edge that day. I’m not too sure what that ordeal was about but one rude comment and they were standing up and causing a considerable amount of noise. Before I knew it, they started throwing punches. I didn’t hear much of their conversation.” Your explanation seemed to satisfy him and after several official questions he was itching to leave.

It took several days before he came back. This time dragging the students of the war academy by the ear to apologize to the priestesses. While your collogues, waved them off claiming to be too busy you lingered to properly accept their apology.

It wasn’t as if they damaged the temples property so you didn’t expect much. Nor did the temple demand for the official apology but alas the matter was settled calmly and rather quickly.

However, this rider was rather odd. You haven’t seen him before the whole ordeal and now he made it his mission to come into the library at least two to three times a week. He wasn’t worthy of suspicion but even so, you just couldn’t get him off your mind.

This only led you to grow curious about this particular rider and eventually your curiosity needed to be satiated. Hence why you made it your mission to discover everything you possibly could.

There wasn’t much you could find with just his name. The only thing you were able to find were his academy attendance and final grades records. Now all you knew about him was his name, he was a lieutenant and a dragon rider for the military as well as he was a good student nicely nested at the tops of many charts as well as his age. Twenty-seven and at a such position in the military?

“You are a curious one, aren’t you?” The deep voice makes you flinch surprising you as you looked to the source. It was him right as you were holding the academy records.

That’s alright, he can’t know for sure you were looking into him. You straighten your robes as you turn to face him placing a mask of indifference over your face.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. Knowledge is power.” You spoke fixing your posture.

“Right…” He smirks as he leans back against the book shelf and pulling a dagger out of its holster twirling it around is if it was a mere broken off branch and not a razor-sharp blade. “Just what knowledge would you find it the records of the war academy students?”  

So, it seems he is as sharp as his blade. “I don’t see how I must explain myself to you.”

“Oh, you mustn’t ma’am you are the holy lady of the goddess of knowledge, what would a lowly soldier do in face of such high status.” His tone is filled to the brim with mockery and sarcasm.  

His attitude annoys you. As if you were a spoiled princess and not a woman who has dedicated her whole life to the goddess of knowledge. You worked hard to climb the ranks and are currently the youngest among the priests and priestesses.

“You look bored here.” He points out.

“I most certainly am not.” You counter.

Another one of his soul shaking chuckles enters your ears. “Oh really? This mind as well be a retirement home considering there is always more elderly, I doubt even with the students’ who study here can overwhelm them in numbers.”

“Perhaps not, but I doubt that is of much importance. People come here to learn, of all ages.” You spoke up. “After all, it is never late to learn something new.”

He nods as he tugs the dagger into its holster. “Speaking of people willing to learn…” He reaches into his pocket pulling out a piece of parchment that was folded multiple times. “Some riders made a discovery of a cave. It has a whole lock and puzzle system… So, naturally, we think there might be something valuable down there.” He hands you the parchment and you unfold it.

What you found written on it was a request for a priestess to join the riders on a mission to discover what is in the said cave. Knowing the other priestesses, you had a feeling none of them would like to join on this mission.

“I will take this to the high priestess.” You spoke as you put the book you were holding back in its place.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He offers you a bright smile which would make any woman weak in the knees. But you are no ordinary woman. You are the holy woman of your goddess and you shall not falter. Offering him nothing more but a nod of acknowledgement you walk away.

It took several days for the high priestess to consider the said request. “Who would like to voulunteer?” She questioned the other priestesses and you looked around the room.

In theory, all the older women weren’t going to offer to join the mission you could assume as much. It was a new territory and there was no guarantee of the other women being present. If there is anything a holy woman following the goddess of knowledge would be horrified off the most, it was this very situation.

“I suppose we shall refuse the request then.”

“I will do it.” You raise your hand. “I studied similar topics before. I’m curious to find out if my theory is correct.”

“What is your theory?” One of the priestesses questioned you, curiosity evident in her eyes.

“The structures of places that hide valuable items.” You clarify. “More specifically, if all the obstacles could be passed without the need for the creator. Based on my research all of those places contain simple concept puzzles with a more complicated twist.” You continue to explain and the women in the room nod in understanding.

“Very well then. I shall inform the general.”

It took several days for the mission to get into motion. The cave’s location was long ways away from the temple but based on the briefing you received to prepare yourself, the trip there was several hours on dragon back and estimated two to three days to explore the cave and again several hours travel back.

When the time came you changed into more practical but still modest clothing which included lose trousers that did not accentuate your figure as well as a tunic over which you draped a cape. You left the temple that early morning and found yourself at the meet up point.

Your wait was short as several dragons landed before you. “Would you look at that.” Leon dropped down from the back of his dragon approaching you. “Glad to have you on board ma’am.” He bows his head slightly.

He looked about the same as he always does, wrapped into a tightly fitted leather with belt like straps wrapped around his torso and thighs.

“I gotta be going blind to see a Kennedy flirting with a priestess.” It was a turn for a different man to approach the two of you.

His skin was tan and a black shaggy hair was falling over his forehead. He appeared to be taller than Leon which made you step back to keep a reasonable distance from him.

“Carlos Olivera.” He offers his hand for a handshake but instead of taking it you speak your name.

“Priestesses avoid physical contact with men.” A woman spoke as she approached the three of you followed by a man and another woman who looked vaguely similar. “Jill Valetine.” She offers her hand for a shake which you take. “Our Captain Chris Redfield and his sister Claire Redfield.” She points to the man and a woman standing behind her. “And the rest are Brad Vickers, Marvin Branagh and Barry Burton.” She speaks as she points to the three other men.

You nod in acknowledgment. “Let’s move out, Mrs. (L/N) you will be riding with me.” Chris speaks and you stiffen.

His sister is quick to smack him on the back of his head. “No men remember?” She speaks. “You are with me.” She ads as she leads you to her dragon.

Claire was quick to set up a saddle for you right behind hers and kindly helped you mount the dragon adorned in burgundy scales. The journey was exhausting, making sure you held onto your own seat exhausted you quicker than you anticipated. And what was supposed to be a one lane trip ended up having a stop so you could stretch your legs and rest before you were back in the air.

Nightfall was fast approaching as you landed close to the entrance to the cave. You settled between the only women on the team surrounding the fire as you ate dinner before heading early to bed.

“Sorry missy what was the name again?” Carlos questioned you.

As you open your mouth to answer Leon was quick to speak before you had a chance to. “Can’t remember the name? A senior moment perhaps?”

Carlos was quick to punch Leon in the arm which made the men and women around the fire chuckle. “Shut your mouth. Both of you.” Chris warned. “We got no time for your monkey business.”

“I think we have plenty of time. Mission doesn’t technically start until tomorrow morning.” Leon was quick to counter.

“We are still on the clock.”

“Now I’m sure that you didn’t tag along so we can sing kumbaya together at the boy scout bonfire.” You cover your mouth to keep an amused smile from forming on your face.

Chris didn’t look nearly as amused as you did with that line and decided to end the gathering early sending everyone off to their tents. You followed the order to avoid the rage of a man that looked about done with this mission before it even began.

“I don’t think I have ever seen a scholar capable of setting up a tent properly.” Leon approached you by your tent.

“I’m no ordinary scholar.” You let out a quiet chuckle.

“No ma’am you most definitely are not.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You like dragons, don’t you?” His observation makes your head snap in his direction. “It was kind of obvious.” He states.

You sigh being found out from the neutral exterior you kept as a mask to the little girl you once were fantasizing that you too could ride a dragon one day. Today was that day and it was exhausting but it surely didn’t lower your enthusiasm.

“And if that is so?” You question him.

“Well, I may or may not have a very friendly dragon who loves attention.”

You perk up as he speaks. His smirks at you as he proceeds to walk past you towards the bronze dragon. He wasn’t lying. Louis was a friendly one basking in the attention and praise you gave him like a needy tamed animal.

Leon looked to you from the side and his hand reached to tuck a strand of your hair that escaped your bun. The bun that you put up neatly this morning for it to get ruined by the ride here.

What surprised you was that you didn’t flinch away like you would in a presence of any other man. You weren’t as guarded when he was around and you couldn’t tell if it terrified you or if it soothed you.

That night, before slumber took you over, you stared into space. Leon S. Kennedy. A man who was slowly but surely crawling his way into your mind in the beginning was now confidently breaking down the doors. Just what was one supposed to do in such a situation?

It took you two days to reach the end of the cave, the puzzles you found in your way most were easy to crack. By the time you reached the end there was a large treasure hiding in the deepest cervices of the cave. Half of the team was ordered to ride to the closest tower to call in help for transfer, this included Redfield siblings, Jill and Carlos. Leaving you behind with the other four men to take you back to the temple.

It wasn’t ideal but you also couldn’t interfere too much into their operations. So out of the four you asked the one you were most comfortable to fly you back to the temple. And who else would that be but Leon Shit eating grin Kennedy. You mounted Louis with his help and he took off, just about an hour in a storm hit you, making it unsafe to fly so he decided to land near a small town. It was inconvenient to say the least but you will take this over dying mid flight on dragon back any day.

“Two rooms.” Leon spoke as he placed a pouch of coin on the counter in a small Inn.

“We only have one room available.” Spoke the man on the other side of the counter.

“Does it at least have two beds?” He questions and the man shakes his head. “Damn it…” He sighs. “We’ll take it.”

Shortly after the two of you were provided with a key and you made your way up the stairs to find that indeed there was one bed and the room was cold due to the storm raging outside.

“Take a bath first.” He points to the door in the room. “Well figure this out later.”

While sharing a bed with a man was looked down upon among the priestesses of your goddess it wasn’t forbidden. You still couldn’t go about this without proper caution. Leon was a handsome man and the way he invaded your thoughts even while you bathed made you feel uneasy. You were torn between your dedication to your goddess and the natural human desire.

“I would offer to sleep on the floor…” He speaks.

“But?” You question his open-ended sentence.

“But I would rather not freeze my ass off.”

You sigh as you eye the bed. “Then I will take the floor.” You offer.

“You are insane if you think I will let a woman sleep on the floor while I’m cozied up in bed.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then how do you suggest we go about this?” You question him.

“Don’t tell me you can’t share.”

“No way.” You speak with conviction.

“Way.” In the name of all that was holy this man was stubborn as a mule. You glared in his direction. “I saw how you look at me.”

Your eyes shift from a glare their stunned state. “E-excuse me?” You want to cuss yourself for stuttering and he gives you one of his beautifully tempting smirks.

“You are excused. Now you can admit it.”

“I shall make no such admission.” You stubbornly counter.

He removes the strapped belts holding his weapons and places them on the night stand on one side of the bed. “No need to act bashful now.” He teases.

You stay silenced. He wasn’t wrong. You did see him in a different light from the moment he landed on dragon back on the temple grounds.

He steps closer his hair was no longer slicked back but parted on the side. Those blue eyes bored into your own making you weak in the knees. “All you have to say…” He reaches to cup your cheek. “…is stop, or that I’m wrong.”

Silence takes over the room. You are considered to be a holy woman hence you were no liar. So, you don’t speak.

His smirk grows more prominent. All his features pointed to the angelic like appearance but gods did he have a smirk of the devil himself. He leans in closer his lips barely a breath away from yours. He is giving you a choice.

It was up to you if you will disobey your goddess. He was kind enough not to take that choice away from you. He knows the dedication you put into the role you took at the temple and damn him if he will be the one to make you a sinner without your implicit consent.

And you caved.

You closed the barely existing gap as your lips press against his. The cold room seemed to warm up instantly as the kiss grew more passionate. His hands slid down to your waist pressing you against his front while yours laid comfortably against his chest which moved up and down rapidly.

The pure intensity overwhelmed you forcing you to pull back your lungs desperate for air. You didn’t have much experience in fact you had none and he could tell. The panting, the flushed cheeks and the purity swimming in your eyes.

“You never did this before…” He speaks his chest raising at a rapid pace under the palms of your hands.

Your head automatically shakes. Unease settling in your stomach.

“Do you want more?” He questions you. “Or do you want to leave it at just kissing?”

Your whole body seemed to be fueled by this unfamiliar feeling. Was it need? Desire? Want? You couldn’t tell. All of it seemed to be just different words for this feeling. You wanted to chase it. Capture it and study it. You just wanted to know.

“More.”

Your words make him quietly groan. He seemed to be holding back the urge to just take you. But he knew better. A true gentleman will please the woman he is with. And he is nothing if not a gentleman.

However, his body betrayed him, his length hardening against your body so closely pressed against his. It has been a long time since he wanted a woman the way he wanted you. Selfishly he was glad you asked for more.

“Hands around my neck.” He orders and you without much thought do as he commanded. His strong arms move to the back of your thighs picking you up. As if on instinct your legs wrap around his hips as he carries you to the bed.

Leon laid you down on the mattress. Kissing his way down your neck. The sensations were overwhelming making your breathing quicken with every press of his lips against the sensitive skin.

You couldn’t tell how your nightwear found itself on the floor of the room. Left bare for his beautiful blue eyes which seemed to sparkle under the dim lighting of the room.

“So beautiful…” Escapes his mouth as his lips get pressed against your skin once more.

Your eyes roll back as the unfamiliar sensations take over your body. It felt strange. It felt… good.  

His lips moved down from your neck, to your collarbone, over your breasts, down your stomach when his head landed between your legs. He fell to his knees but he forced himself not to burry his head between your legs as his lips pressed against the inner thigh.

“Gods…” The way your voice broke as you spoke in a sigh almost made him crumble and give up his conviction to worship you before burying his length inside you.

“No gods here princess…” He sighs. “Just a lucky man and a goddess.” He smirks against your thigh forcing himself not to rush this. “Even though… I think that a goddess is a bit of an understatement…”

You open your mouth to protest his extensive flattery but instead of words a sound rips from your throat as his lips press against your most sensitive spot.

First it was just a kiss against the clit but then he moved lower taking a slow deliberate swipe of the tongue against you. Afterwards he let go of the control lapping at your center like a starved man. The mere sensations made you shiver and crumble under his mouth and tongue.

It wasn’t long before his thumb joined to put pressure against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You twitched with every new sensation as if your whole body was spasming under his expert touch. Something made you chase after this strange feeling until it suddenly changed and a strange feeling in your stomach took over. He made you come on his tongue. The sensation alone made you want to scream in pleasure.

This only made him kick his need into the afterthought. Damn it all if he didn’t want to see you fall apart from his fingers and tongue multiple times. The second orgasm he pulled from you was from two of his fingers and his tongue on your clit.

He just wanted more. He just had to use whatever he could besides his own length. He stood up staring at your body covered in a thin layer of sweat. “You look…” He pants. “Eternal.”

You could swear that your cheeks felt warmer the moment those words left his swollen lips. He reached for the dagger he often played with holding it by the holstered blade. “Do you trust me?”

Automatically your head nodded before you could think. Just what is going through his head at this moment. The intricate handle of the blade had an orblike shape on the end and the whole handle was adorned in textured swirls.

He presses the orbed end against your entrance and makes eye contact with you as he pushes the handle in deeper. Your eyes widen at the intrusion a sting of pain coming after you this was thicker than his fingers which stung a bit but not too much. As the handle moves in deeper your hands clutch the sheets.

Leon’s movements are slow, allowing you to adjust to the intrusion. By the time the handle makes it to the hilt he stops. The texture is making your legs shake. Your hips involuntarily move and this was a sign he was waiting for to start moving the handle of his dagger in and out.

It doesn’t take you long to come undone with a louder moan which makes him smirk. He couldn’t wait any longer removing his jacket and T-shirt revealing his bare chest to you.

It was adorned in scars he most likely got from battle. As he leans in closer to remove the textured handle of the dagger your hand reaches for his chest tracing the scarring.

“I can keep the shirt on if you like.” He speaks and you are quick to furrow your brows shaking your head.

“They must have hurt.” You speak quietly your voice seemingly lost from the extensive workout your vocal cords got because of him.

His hand grabs a hold of yours against his chest. “It’s okay. Comes with the job.” You chuckle as his tone turned lighter.

He then slides your hand down his chest and stops it against his crotch. “You ready for this?” He questions.

To say you were nervous was an understatement but this was overshadowed by the curiosity. You wanted to see how he would act; will his face stay the same as when he was pleasuring you or will he make a different expression. Will he let out sounds of pleasure or not? You just had to know. So, you nod.

“I need words sweetheart.” He speaks his voice growing deeper and far more hoarse than it ever did before.

“Yes.”

The devilish smirk makes an appearance yet again as he unbuttons his leathery pants. The moment they were off you swallowed a lump in your throat. The only time you witnessed something like this was in a book or on stone statues. But it looked limper than his does now. It was almost elegant looking. And it could have been the desire clouding your vision but it looked almost pearlescent in color. The faint blush on the tip looked like the shine you would see on paintings of pearls. The length itself was quite intimidating.

Leon heard comments about himself before. The most often adjective that was used, was pretty. But no words could replace the sheer fascination in your stunned expression the moment he dropped his pants on the ground.

“I won’t lie; this will hurt… but… it will feel so much better later on.” He warns and you nod as you swallow yet another lump forming in your throat. “I’ll be gentle… promise.” He speaks as he lines his length up against your entrance.

Slowly but surely the tip moves past the initial resistance and he waits. You flinch as the stinging intrusion takes over your body. “Easy going…” He mumbles under his breath. He said that more for himself. He reminds himself of the promise he made to force his body from ramming into you.

He pushes a bit more of himself in and cusses under his breath. The warmth and the slickness making his vision blur and his breathing quicken.

“Leon…” You call out his name and it takes the willpower of all the gods to hold back and go slow. “Hurts…” Tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

“I know sweetheart…” His expression is pained as he cups your cheek wiping the escaping tears. “Just a bit more.” He speaks as he moves about half way deeper and the intrusion makes you shake.

You can’t tell how long it takes until you take all of him. Your clit pressed against his pelvis noticing this his hand moves to it using his thumb to run circles around it to help you get used to the stretch. “Try to relax…” He speaks as he pants.

He forces himself to be patient and waits for a sign. He then leans down placing a kiss against your lips which makes your tense body truly relax.

“Still hurts?” He questions and you shake your head. “I’ll start moving.” He announces as his hips begin to move in slow deliberate strokes.

“You feel… so damn good.” He speaks between deep chest rumbling moans  

“You… too…” You practically whine as the pleasure overwhelms your body.

He smirks down at you slightly upping the pace. “Good girl.” He praises. “I wonder… just what… will your goddess… think… of her holy woman… now…” He speaks again between the pants and almost growling moans.

Before you know it, his pace is faster pounding in and hitting a spot deep inside you making you want to scream. Your hands grab onto his biceps for support, noticing this he bends over and moves your arms onto his back.

“Mark me up… show me… if I’m making you feel good…” He speaks into your ear as his lips slam against yours into a passionate kiss.

You take his instruction to heart as you dig your nails into his upper back. They begin slipping down lower as he continuously slams his hips against yours.

“That’s it…” He praises. “All yours, princess.” He slurs between panting breaths.

“Leon…” You moan his name and he bottoms out.

You just wanted, no… you needed more… to feel all of him… you feel the animalistic like frenzy you once criticized and you get it. It was this man. Leon S. Kennedy who made you feral for him.

The now familiar feeling in your stomach reappears. He makes you come three times on his length for every time he made spasm on his tongue, fingers and a dagger handle.

“Too much…” You practically whine.

“Just one more sweetheart… just one more for me…” He lost his mind just needing to feel your walls clench around him. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t come yet he just had this never ending need to please you before he allowed himself the same release. “One more with me…”

With those words both of you come… you coating his length one more time in your juices and he fills you up with his warm seed and almost collapses on top of you.

He stares in your lust filled eyes, covered in sweat and he would have just kept going but this was far too much for an inexperienced holy woman such as yourself. So, he takes mercy on you, picking you up and placing you with himself under the covers not moving his softening length from your gummy walls.

“You did… so good for me…” He praises.

Your eyes slowly began to feel heavy and you can barely keep them open. “Sleep… we’ll clean up and talk in the morning…” He sighs exhausted as he presses a kiss against your forehead.

[tribalauthor]

THE WISEWOMAN (roman reigns ff) <chapter 16>

word count: 2.7k

Sophia's POV:

I am currently in the studio where "WWE: The Bump" is filmed. The managers told me that I need to be interviewed after my debut and especially after what happened at Royal Rumble.

So me and Joe got back in New York yesterday after our amazing stay at Pensacola. I really loved it. He showed me around some beautiful places too, met his family and relatives.

I kinda hope we go back there soon. I really had a fun time. But all of this got me thinking that I have to introduce him to my mother and that will happen after the interview.

When she found out I met his parents, she said that now it's her turn and today she has no scheduled surgeries in the afternoon. I hope it goes well.

I shrugged the thoughts away now since I have other things to worry about at the moment.

I am sitting on the red velvet couch wearing tight long black dress with no shoulders and the red shoes and jewellery my boyfriend gifted me.

Joe wanted to come with me so bad but he has to train and prepare himself for the coldness of my mother later, so he will come to pick me up when I'm over with work.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today with our newest character in the universe, Sophia Heyman." Cathy announced me and I smiled at the camera waving at people.

"Hi. It's a pleasure to be here." I spoke.

"I have a lot of questions for you, Sophia. First of all, what made you come in WWE?"

"As many people know, my uncle suffered a serious leg injury and when I went to the hospital to visit him, he asked me to replace him temporarily here." I replied simply.

"And you agreed immediately?"

"No." I said frankly. "It took him some time to persuade me. I didn't like the idea at first since I had another job I had to build up but eventually, he convinced me and also there was no other choice but to stand up for him and help him out." I nodded my head.

"And how do you like it so far?"

"I love it. Every single time I appear here I start to understand uncle more why he is so devoted to this business." I was really smiley cause it's the truth.

"And you are doing an amazing job. Ladies and gentlemen, Sophia is one of the most talked WWE characters right now. People even call you the fashion icon of the company. I mean your style is really amazing." Cathy remarked and I thanked her.

"I honestly didn't expect this kind of reaction. See, I was just slightly familiar with the WWE before and one of the things that caught my eye is that fans are really devoted and are not very used to changes. But change is a necessity. You see how real life circumstances put us in different positions and we have no other choice." I replied as I crossed my legs.

"What is your relationship with Paul Heyman?"

"Uncle is a very important figure in my life. He has been next to me always despite the constant travelling the job is requiring." I nodded my head as I tried not to get too personal. "I mean, a lot of people say I am like him."

"I don't know about the looks but you definitely talk like him. And I wonder if you just try to be like that or you are just born this way."

"I was born like that." I replied seriously. "When you meet him you can ask him stories about my childhood. He has a lot. The crowd still hasn't seen my full potential of talking smack." I sneak peeked.

"We are looking forward to it." Cathy smiled softly and pulled out another note.

"What is your relationship with Roman Reigns?" it took her a long enough for thee question.

I just laughed softly and looked down, trying to keep my composure.

"Well, I don't know if you saw the Royal Rumble. Something is going on." I replied while finally making an eye contact with the camera.

"So is this a start of a romantic storyline between the Tribal Chief and the Wise Woman?" Cathy asked excitingly.

"Maybe. You have to tune in and see." I teased.

"And how did Paul react to all of this?"

"He was shocked. As the whole world. I mean me and Roman didn't tell anybody about this. No one knew. Not even Jimmy and Solo." I explained.

"Oh wow. So you really wanted to surprise the world." Cathy concluded.

"Yup."

"Is this storyline just a kayfabe or you really got something going on with Roman?" me and Joe totally expected this question and we were thinking of possible answers to say.

"It's real." I said and Cathy seemed very surprised actually. Maybe she is pretending but regardless, she seems surprised. "I mean even if we hide it, we can't hide it for long. You know, somebody will see us somewhere and the speculations will begin and so on and so on. So yes, we are together." I announced.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are gonna witness two storylines then." Cathy waved her head with eager. "One last question. Are we getting Roman vs Rock for the main event of Wrestlemania? People wanna know."

"Tune in and see." I simply replied. "Maybe we will learn this Friday night at Smackdown." I winked at the camera.

"You heard her, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much, Sophia and see you on Friday." Cathy said the last words. I thanked her and then we got up to exchange a hug.

After that I went out of the studio as she was announcing the next guest which was Austin Theory. He just waved his hand softly at me before he got in the room.

As I hopped in Joe's car that was waiting for me outside and saw that he is wearing a black hoodie with JORDAN written on it, I started seeing black.

"Hi, baby." he greeted me and leaned to kiss me. "You look amazing."

"Thank you." I softly bit my lower lip.

"Sorry, I didn't come out. I just don't want anyone to see me here now." he apologized and he fired up the engine immediately leaving. "Plus, I don't want us to be late."

I just softly chuckled.

"Is everything okay?" he asked. How does he know it isn't? Maybe my face speaks too much.

"I'm just a bit nervous." I spoke frankly. "My mother isn't as warm as your parents. I gotta warn you."

"And it's completely normal. She is a surgeon and a widow. I don't expect her to be bubbly." he replied. He knows my father is dead and I know his only brother is too but we really never talked about it deeply since the topic is very serious.

"I'm just saying that she will probably act cold. That doesn't mean she hates you, she is just like this." I explained and he seemed kinda unfazed.

"I'm gonna be okay as long as she doesn't curse me out or something." Joe chuckled.

"With that Jordan hoodie? She might." I muttered.

"Oh my God. Is she a Lakers fan?" he exclaimed, obviously heard what I said to my nose.

"Yeah." I just responded. Didn't quite lie. Mom is watching the NBA and ever since I remember myself she is a Lakers fan. I wonder why (haha).

I can't tell him mom used to date Michael Jordan. I don't know how he is going to react and mom doesn't want anybody to know, so I'm keeping her secret with me.

"Crap. I gotta grab something else then. Thankfully I got some WWE merch in the back." he said with relief and I was even more relieved than him.

"Those jeans look good on you." I remarked as I looked at the dark blue jeans he is wearing. Not the skinny ones. Completely normal jeans which define his big thighs just perfectly.

"Thank you." he replied sweetly.

Roman's POV:

I eventually changed into the "Levels Above" hoodie since I want to make the best impression I can to Sophia's mother. Sophia seems a bit nervous and it makes me wonder if she is just reacting naturally or her mother is actually brutal.

I don't know if she will like me, I just don't want her to hate me because that would make the things hard...and also awkward. My parents didn't quite like Michelle neither her parents were okay with me. Therefore, I don't want history to repeat itself.

I bought a little present for Olivia. Since I don't know anything about her, I decided to play it safe and buy a retro ceramic mug set. Women love mug sets, so I hope she loves it as well.

"Mom. We're here." Soph shouted as we entered in her house. I was looking around the furniture. Her house is totally different from mine. While mine is more on the contemporary side, theirs is more from the industrial side. It really screams Brooklyn.

How does a wrestler know about interior design styles? When his ex-wife was an interior designer.

"Just on time, wow." Olivia appeared and woah. Such a beautiful woman radiating class. She is wearing a dark blue top and white pants and high heels.

These two women make me feel so poor and I'm the millionaire here. This is crazy.

Obviously Soph inherited her mother's beauty and elegance. You could tell they are related, for sure. However, Olivia's aura is way more serious than Sophia's. Well, she is the OG after all.

"Hello, Joe. Nice to meet you." Olivia gave her hand for a handshake. Even their voices are very similar.

"Pleasure is all mine, Olivia." I smiled at her as we shook hands. "I'm bringing something for you." I gave her the gift box.

"Thank you so much." she said politely with just a tiny bit smile forming on her mouth. She took the box and slightly peeked through it. "These are beautiful." she remarked and I think that maybe she looked impressed...a little bit.

Damn, this woman is hard to read.

I did a quick glance to Sophia and she gave me a reassuring nod, so everything is fine, let's say.

"Let's go to the dining room." Olivia said and we followed her.

I really love the style of this house. I can't describe it but it gives off really cozy vibes mixed with a traditional note. Everything is in different shade of brown and beige.

The light brown wooden table was set with the plates and cutlery, napkins and candles. I don't know how else to explain it but it feels like an early 00s rom-com where the guy meets his girlfriend's parents.

"So how was the interview, Soph?" Olivia asked her daughter.

"It was alright." my girlfriend replied as she made a sign to sit. "Joe, you want something to drink?"

"I'm just gonna pour myself some water." I replied as I took the water cup.

"So for a dish I wanted to make something healthy since I am a doctor and my daughter's boyfriend is an athlete." Olivia started explaining.

"You cooked?" Sophia asked with shock and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Of course I did. It's not the first time I'm doing it." the mother replied with almost zero emotion but maybe she got a bit mad at Sophia. I mean I can't really blame her.

Her job is literally the toughest of them all. I don't even wanna imagine what that woman sees every day and the fact that she is a widow. It's just heartbreaking.

"And what did you make?" I asked trying to prevent a passive aggressive conversation.

"Chicken glazed with home made honey mustard dressing and roasted vegetables." Olivia replied and I could sense a vague excitement.

"That sounds perfect." I exclaimed and Olivia hid herself since she is probably taking it out of the oven.

"Let's see how it tastes." Sophia whispered really quietly and I gave her the angry look to be quiet.

I actually decided to go up and see if I could help with something and Sophia followed me.

"It looks amazing." I remarked as I looked at the portions she prepared for everyone.

"Thank you but the taste is the most important. Something can look very good when you first see it but then it's not what it looks like." she started speaking philosophically. I tilted my head in agreement.

Just like my marriage. I thought it was good at first and that I found the right woman but it turned out it's not like that.

As we put our plates at the table Olivia offered something to drink but I politely refused since I'm driving later. Me and Sophia were next to each other and she is in front of us.

We tried the dish and it was very delicious. I made sure to give all my compliments and acknowledgements to Sophia's mother and she seemed actually flattered.

"So how is Sophia as a girlfriend?" she asked me a very odd question.

"Perfect." I simply replied. "The ideal woman. Smart, well-spoken, beautiful. What more you could want?" I asked rhetorically and Olivia's lips downturned and looked at Sophia with something like a proud look.

"I hope it works out for you two." she spoke and ate from her plate.

I thanked her and Sophia had that weird look on her face. Yeah, she is way easier to read than Olivia. Hundred percent.

"By the way I found out you like the Lakers." I spoke breaking the awkward silence.

"I do. I watch basketball since forever. Fun fact before I decided to pusrue medicine, I wanted to become a sports journalist instead." my mouth slightly dropped but Sophia's almost hit the floor.

"What?" she yelled. "Why haven't you ever told me this?" Olivia shrugged.

"Cause I didn't want you to be led by some sort of an example. There was a time I hoped I would influence you to become a doctor like me but the way you work at WWE. This is the job for you. As I say, her uncle actually birthed her." Olivia slightly smiled again.

"What is your relationship with Paul like?" I couldn't help but ask. I'm just wondering since she really seems like the Paul type.

"I have the best brother-in-law to exist. I got so much love and grattitude for this man." Olivia replied as we were all eating from time to time. "When my husband died, he was really next to me and Sophia as much as he could. He even neglected his own family because of us." she explained and I just nodded my head. I could imagine that yeah but he did the right thing. These poor women needed a man next to them.

"Although Paul didn't quite like me when I got with his brother, Pete Heyman." Sophia's mother left out a soft chuckle remembering the days. "He told him numerous times that I am way too much and you know what? He was right." she shook her head.

"Nah." I denied. "I will disagree with him on that one." I spoke and I just saw with my peripheral sight how Sophia tries to hold her laughter.

"Oh my God, look at you." I exclaimed at Sophia's old pictures. "A living doll."

"I honestly have no idea where she got those genes from." Olivia shook her head in confusion and then I furrowed my eyebrows at her.

A cute family picture of Sophia and her parents came out.

"I mean she literally looks like you and with her father's eyes. And oh my god, Paul's brother is way taller than him." I grinned.

"Yeah, my mom has a thing for the tall ones." Sophia remarked and tried to hold in her laughter while her mother gave her a side eye.

"You too, apparently." I snapped back at her.

"Robert wasn't very tall." she replied calmly while I expected her to fire up but she is her mother's daughter after all.

The most I have seen her get angry was when I jokingly threatened to slap Julian. She really doesn't play when it comes to kids. Maybe she is that kind of woman who saves her emotions for her future kids which is very sweet.

What I learned today is that both Sophia and her mother are some exceptional and even quite exquisite women that aren't just for any man and to be completely honest, I feel so honored to be around them.

[lexumpysfunland]

Aquarium

Day 2 of the road trip! today I'm not referring to a specific place in France so just have them enjoying a little moment~

[tekablade-chronicles-3]

Metaphor has come out now ! I know it's late but i was tired yesterday.

I haven't had any time to draw lately, but here are doodles and concepts i drew some time ago ! Enjoy !

[brionysea]

what if jinx is a blessing, not a curse. zaun's prodigy, piltover's karma, and the arcane's favourite

[e-adlirez]

Wooo nothing like a vent poem to air out what I felt about AI (it made me have an emotional breakdown due to a complicated set of feelings I dunno how to identify exactly in technical terms; most identifiable feeling is "insulted"), enjoy if you wanna read that lmao

Human

I was told of a device that can create a human from scratch, A living, functioning human, with thoughts and feelings, With intelligence to discern, to conclude, to solve, to create, And I was brought to see the machine and how it can make a man.

It is easy to use— simply adjust the controls on a screen, Finalize the parameters, and press the big button. The machine whirs to life, it hums and clatters as it works, And with the click of a latch, it swings open to reveal what it’s made.

Inside the machine is a human, whose eyes blink at human pace, A human, whose skin stretches and folds like my skin does, A human, whose face expresses like everyone else’s, A human, whose hands spread and clutch like hands are meant to.

A human, who can figure out a screw-top lid within seconds, A human, who can draw opinions on who’s good or bad, A human, who can think and give answers to questions A human, who can learn to write and dress and calculate.

“A remarkable thing,” the people around me said. “He is intelligent but impressionable, and he is so easy to make! “I can’t help but wonder what he could be capable of!” I sat silent as they clamored, asking about machines for personal use.

I stared at the human in silence, my gut twisting like it’d been stabbed, I stared on in silence, as the realization hit me. I’d spent 20 years learning how to live a human life, But they’ve made a machine where a human is made in seconds.

I watched as his muscles flexed, how easily they defined themselves, I watched as his skin flapped, how perfectly it fit his body, I watched as his eyes focused, with not a single shift in glance, And I watched as his mouth moved, how it gave an unreadable smile.

I watched as his fingers clasped around a pen to write, As they made perfect characters perfectly aligned. I watched as his form was perfect in every way, And I couldn’t help but reel back.

This human, this thing has done in five minutes what took me two decades. It has taken away the struggle, taken away the effort. It has taken away the journey and gone straight to the end, And it has taken away everything that made someone human.

As I stared, it began to look less and less human to me, Its skin looked more plastic, its hair felt less genuine, Its eyes felt more soulless, its hands felt more robotic, Before I knew it, I thought it looked nothing like a man.

It was a collection of what meant to be human, How humans decided what was and wasn’t human. The collection was brought here, to this very machine, Where it was twisted and contorted into the amalgamation before me.

Its gait as it approached felt perfectly bouncy, just enough to look natural,

Its eyes stared into mine, but I could see nothing behind them. Its hand reached towards me— it was frigid when I shook it, And it opened its mouth and told me its name.

Everything about the conversation was normal. Everything about the small talk, the discussion was normal. Everything about its tone and inflection was normal, And everything about it standing before me was normal, and I hated it.

Now I am here, at a loss for words to say how I feel. I have written about my experience, but nothing about my turbulent feelings. After all, I am human— and this is part of what a human is, I bet it could tell me exactly what I'm feeling and why, and I hate it.

[mystichistoria]

Tonight was fucking weird.

[redflannelsheets]

.

[raeathnos]

.

[chastiefoul]

love and deepspace men when you (playfully) reject their kiss ft. zayne, xavier, rafayel

fluff, fluff, FLUFF

zayne

his kiss landed on the outer corner of your lips instead as you turned away at the very last second as he leaned in

he just stared at you for a solid five seconds.

“was this because i left you on read this afternoon?” his voice was soft, uncertainty danced across his feature. you just shrugged, turning away from him to hide the smile you’ve been trying really hard to suppress.

he grabbed a hold of your waist first, keeping you in place. he saw the shameless smile on your face, couldn’t help but let out a little chuckle of his own. “should’ve known.”

you laughed, “but you did left me on read, how dare you?” his thumb moved up and down on your side as he made no change on his expression, like doing a gesture he didn’t even realize doing it. “alright then, i apologize for not replying within twenty minutes, since i did give you a call as soon as i was available.”

you put your hands on either side of his cheeks, he leaned into the touch. of course, it didn’t bothered you one bit when he didn’t reply right away since you knew very well how demanding his job was.

you planted a sweet kiss on his lips, you could feel his little smile as you pulled away. “good work today, zayne.”

“hm, then surely you would indulge me more of that for a moment longer?”

xavier

he’s quiet for a moment; he did kiss you, but he didn’t know why you’d turn your head on the last second like that as he kissed you on the cheek instead.

he casted his gaze downwards, looking like a rejected kitten in a pouring rain searching for its owner.

your heart squeezed at the adorable act, lifting his chin with your palm. he tilted his head questioningly, the words was obvious on his face. did i do something wrong today? were you mad?

xavier stared at you as he recalled today’s events, but he reached his wits end pretty fast since he still had no idea why you’d reject his kiss.

you then giggled at his clueless expression, and xavier immediately understood that you’re being playful. he let out a little sigh of relief, embracing you. his neck deep at the crook of your neck, his soft hair tickling you in the best way possible.

“you’re too playful at times,” he mumbled, he looked like he had all the peace in the world. “sorry, will you forgive me?” you ran your fingers through the back of his head. “i’ll forgive  you if you promise not to reject my kiss ever again,” he said.

you laughed, “okay then, if you insist.”

rafayel

oh. he looked so offended beyond belief. you’d think someone had insulted his painting; a product from his passion and effort. but to think it’s just a face he made because you didn’t want him to kiss you.

“i see what this is,” he started, the dramatic side of him just wouldn’t let this slide. you challenged, “yeah? what is it?”

“you tell me. this is just the beginning isn’t it. first you reject my kiss, next thing i know you’d be packing your bags, telling me you’ve fallen out of love.” he crossed his arms in front of his chest, his pout was the most exaggerated as it’s ever been.

you had to hold your laugh so hard, you covered your mouth with your fist. “it was just a kiss rafayel, i wasn’t feeling it.” you replied, trying your best to sound serious.

“wasn’t feeling it?” he gasped, like you just insulted his whole entire bloodline. he put up a palm in front of your face, like refraining you to say more controversial things. he took a deep breath to calm himself, “it’s fine, it’s not like i was eager to kiss you either.” he mumbled like he was talking to himself, although it’s obvious he’s being a little loud on purpose. also, lies. he practically bounced on air when he approached you.

finally a laugh escaped you, rafayel looked at you and he just fumed. “just so you know i expect you to make up for all the emotional distress i just went through.” you laughed a little more as you grabbed a hold of his face. “i would kiss you many times to make it up but i think someone just said he wasn’t really that eager to kiss me?” you raised an eyebrow.

his eyes lit up for a moment at the mention of a kiss, and next second he looked around frantically to make an excuse. “it’s okay i understand, fighting that many wanderers who make a lot of strange screeching noises? it’d disturb your hearing a little. i said i was eager to kiss you.” he smiled, nodding to himself. you laughed once more at his ridiculousness.

“sure, let’s go with that excuse.” you kissed him and when you pulled away he held your head, giving you multiple kisses before he let you go with a grin.

[wifelepsy]

man today was wild

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[thatsouthernstate]

September 11, 2023

Pure love

It's twelve past midnight

Don't close your eyes

Your soul's half alive

And I'll be by your side

I've come to take you there

Show you how to care

Just be aware

That you'll have to share

I want your love

I want it tonight

I'm taking your heart

So don't you fight

I'll be your answer

I'll be your wish

I'll be your fantasy

Your favorite dish

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

100% pure love

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

100% pure love

You saw a brand new high

Thought that you could fly

Did I hear you cry

Or did you like the ride?

You call my name again

No, it's not a sin

I'll show you how to win

And where I've been

I want your love

I want it tonight

I'm taking your heart

So don't you fight

I'll be your answer

I'll be your wish

I'll be your fantasy

Your favorite dish

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

100% pure love

From the back to the middle

And around again (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

I'm gonna be there till the end (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

100% pure love (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

100% pure love

From the back to the middle

And around again (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

I'm gonna be there till the end (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

100% pure love (Don't you want it, don't you want it?)

You'll never have to run away

You'll always have a friend to play

You'll never go out on your own

In me

You will find a home

Home

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end of

100% pure love

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

100% pure love

From the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end of

The back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And around again

I'm gonna be there till the end

The back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And the back to the middle

And around again

The back to the middle

And the back to the middle

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

Don't you want it, don't you want it?

You'll always have a friend to play

Not 10, not 20, more than 30, baby

I'm givin' 100% pure love

I'm talkin' 20, talkin' 30, more than 40, baby

I'm givin' 100% pure love

[retiredteabag]

Wishful Thinking

arranged marriage with Nanami… a continuation

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - next part

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It was fair to say that the Belmond Eastern & Oriental Express was by far the most luxurious space you had ever occupied.

Your honeymoon was a weekend-long excursion aboard the aforementioned train. It would take you through the breathtaking Malaysian mountains, right through the heart of the country's culinary capital, and finally over to the coast, where you could spend the night on the beach.

You fiddled with your luggage as your husband left to speak with a steward about getting a cup of coffee. Nights ago, after much berating from your clan elders, Nanami discussed the plans of the trip with you. At the time, you had politely asked if there was a possibility you could have a joint cabin. Nanami told you he had already requested two suites, and that you did not have to worry.

When you arrived, however, giving the polite stewardess your last name, they insisted that there had only been one cabin under your now, shared name.

At this news, your husband seemed more distressed than you. For you though, in the back of your mind, you had almost expected it. Certainly, you would not have put it past your family.

Arriving to your room after some questioning from your husband, you found that the king bed, lavishly accessorized with pillows and throws, could actually become two twin XLs.

He had lifted your suitcase from your hands with one arm and set it on the luggage rack as if it weighed no more than the pillow he had simultaneously been extricating from the dual bed.

He ran his now free hand through his hair, he almost looked panicky, "I apologize. I should have called ahead to ensure your comfort. I can speak with them again and see if they have any other open cabins but for now-"

"Nanami, it's okay-" You move forward to help him de-fluff the mattress. "I should have anticipated this anyway..."

He stands up straight, "In any case, I can sleep in one of the scenic cars- I looked and there are couches and-"

You interrupt again, "Nanami, I am not going to have you sleep on the couch" You chuckle, knowing he really would. "I think I might have given you the impression that you make me uncomfortable."

His eyes raised at this, you continue, "I can assure you that you do not. And I don't mind sharing a room with you."

This whole interaction played through your mind as you waited for your husband to return. He had seemed so professional in that moment, so tense, eyes so wide. He had cleared his throat and asked if you were sure. All you had done was laugh, asking if he was hungry and would like for you to order refreshments.

Of course, he had insisted on going in your stead.

--

The train had fifteen carriages. Eight sleeping cars, two restaurant cars, a piano car bar, and an open-air observation car. After having shifted the bed around, you sat at the table overlooking the window in your room. Nanami had brought back coffee, afternoon tea, and a wide variety of treats. Tarts, fresh fruit, scones, and cookies.

There was a mildly awkward silence between you two as the breathtaking Malaysian jungle passed you by. Just as you were about to take a sip of your drink, Nanami pipes up.

"I wanted to make sure..." He says.

You turn to look at him but he's focused on the foliage just beyond the rails. "I need you to say if you're uncomfortable. I know you have a problem with pleasing people, but nothing would upset me more than your silent discomfort."

You choke down your tea quickly. It took you a moment, but you realize then that you hadn't even been trying to appease him or the staff when you suggested sharing the room, it had felt natural.

After having known the man hardly a week, you had come to view him almost as a friend. The notion, of course, might be due to the fact that you hadn't many friends to speak of, but nobody could deny how kind Nanami was.

"I'm not." You wave your hands in front of your face. "Uncomfortable, I mean."

He squinted at you in a funny way, attempting, you guess, to read your expression. Finally smiling, he takes a sip of his beverage and accompanies you in looking out the shared window. If only you could explain how much you appreciated every thought he gave you.

--

There were two restaurant cars on the train, and you would be swapping between them for meals your duration on board. There was a formal dress code at meal times, and as you spun in the mirror, you wondered if you would be able to fit in amongst all the opulence.

See, you had been trained in table manners, small talk, and most every other area of etiquette, even so, you had rarely strayed from clan meetings or school. It was not common for you to have an outing intended for pleasure.

Without the watchful eye of your family or higher-ups, you could do or say anything you wanted. You had a friend there to speak with.

You fiddled with the sleeve of your dress. Turned this way and that to get a look at every angle. Blurred your lip stain with a finger, then considered if you should reapply.

You ran a finger over the waist of your outfit, brushed off some imaginary dust, and pursed your lips.

Yes, you decided, and reached over for your lipstick once more.

A knock came at the bathroom door.

"Yes! Sorry!" You spun and unlatched the lock, pulled the door open. Hopefully you hadn't been hogging your shared lavatory. You took in the man before you.

On your wedding day, he had been dressed to the nines, hair quaffed, and likely just as striking to observe as he was now. However, you had been a tad bit occupied by your mind back then. And since that day, he had dressed comfortably around you. Smart casual, not too much, not too little either... he even appeared handsome in his pajamas, all this to say, before you now, it felt like you were seeing him for the first time.

He was adjusting his wristwatch when you opened the door. Seeing him like this, you almost wanted to hide behind the wall of the bathroom. You knew, based on what type of man he was, that he would likely feel obligated to spare you a compliment. Even the idea flustered your mind. For the first time since adolescence, you felt a sudden embarrassment at trying to look attractive. You wanted to wipe the lipstick off completely.

You tried to rush and tell him something nice before he got there first, but it seemed as though he was distracted by the image of you. His pupils looked huge in the light of the sconces on the wall and his head twitched ever so slightly to take in the whole image of you.

He didn't rake his eyes up and down in a lustful way, no, he kept his looks appropriate and gentlemanly. Even so, he looked wildly absorbed stepping forward to settle against the doorframe. He held out his free hand to help you step down.

"You look...great..." You beg yourself not to trip, holding his palm and settling to the floor. Shaking a little at your poor choice of words. He simply laughs.

"Me?" He keeps his eyes at the back of your neck, your shoulder, your embarrassed little smile, "You," He shakes his head, "you are the sight to behold."

It tickles your stomach, how genuine he sounds.

--

There was a table reserved specifically for you both, the window beside you painted tropical mountains that raced past at record speeds. The food came in courses and everything was delicious. There was wine and lit candles atop the intricate tablecloths in this car. Under close inspection, the wallpaper seemed to twirl in textured spirals of cream. You felt enlivened to be here.

Even happier still, dessert was coming.

"I think it might be time we try and practice." Nanami tilted his head, observing you.

"Practice what?" You asked, brows raised.

"Discovering you." He smiled.

You laugh, "Nanami. We have been talking all meal, what is there to discover?"

"We have been talking about me all meal." He mimics your tone. "That or the food...or the decor."

You roll your eyes dramatically, "I wanted to know about those things. And the food was good. And the decor is lovely."

"I agree," He nods, "but when I asked what type of refreshment you would like, I was hoping you would tell me, not simply go along with whatever I say."

You chuckle. He's a little too attentive, "I don't have much experience with wine, I preferred you picking."

"That may be true," He smiles goodnaturedly, "but you have been affirming every little thing I say. Did you know that? You know you don't have to avoid disagreements with me, right? I want to know who you are and what you think, not have a copy of myself."

No, you hadn't realized you had been doing that. As a child, you had made yourself small on purpose, it was an easy way to get people to like you. Now, it wasn't even a conscious effort. Nobody seemed to notice before, in fact, everyone prior to Nanami had seemed to appreciate how mailable you were.

"How's this," He started again, "What's your favorite dessert?"

You think and think, tapping your foot. You liked all kinds of desserts, earlier you had ordered the cheesecake alongside Nanami. And back in the cabin you had enjoyed the petit fours.

Nanami knocks a knuckle on the table. "See, this is something most everyone knows. Did you order the cheesecake because that's what I like?" He is grinning at you but his eyes seem discouraged at the thought.

"What? No!" You say, "I really do like cheesecake!"

Your husband grins, "Me too." He points to you now, speaking gently, "But what is your favorite?"

You're taking some time to answer but it really was because you didn't know. It's not as if you were granted allowance to every sweet the kitchens made growing up. You racked your brain trying to conjure a memory of a delicious custard you had eaten at a banquet once.

Just as Nanami was about to speak again, you nearly jump our of your seat, "Crème brûlée!" You recall the dish. Pleased that you could provide an answer. "That's my favorite."

As you reply, your hand comes down onto the table. Suddenly surprised by your force in response. Nanami, though, does not seem embarrassed by your show of joy.

"Very good!" He smiles as you awkwardly sip from your glass. "Crème brûlée," he considers, "very fancy, I've actually never had it."

You set your glass down, "Never? Really?" Once again, you assumed those who were not apart of a clan must be infinitely free. Free to eat whatever they crave.

"I've only had it once but it was so good. I wonder if it was because of the difference of texture... I believe that I would like it even without the caramelized sugar on top though, maybe now... since we live away I could make it sometime..." You taper off, pick up your glass and cover your face with it, had you said too much?

Since when were you such a loud-mouthed?

Nanami never once took his gaze from you. In fact, he might not have all evening, eye contact seemed to be a thing of his. "Well, that sounds delicious. I think it would be nice to share some at home."

He was so good at carrying a conversation, especially after you feel into a mood of humiliation from oversharing. At one point he had excused himself to the restroom and you allowed yourself a moment to breathe.

He was so focused on you. Not your clan, or your abilities, or your placement between the higher ups. No, he was purely focused on you. For the first time, a man had made your heart race.

Throughout all your life, at home, at school, in clan meetings, you had been viewed as a broodmare, a piece of meat that would carry on your clan name and ensure strong sorcerer children.

Knowing that, it was not difficult to become revolted by the seductive men who roamed their eyes over your body. Saw you how everyone else did. Wanted you for a prize.

Nanami Kento. You tightened your lips to keep your grin from showing. Did everyone feel this way about their friends? Maybe you are just weak to kindness.

The very man occupying your thoughts was at that moment leaned against the wall of the the locomotive, nowhere near the restrooms.

He had so much praise to speak but he did not want to embarrass you further. It seemed it was easy to do so.

He waited patiently for the steam engines attendant to return. When she had heard his request, she was more than happy to fulfill his wishes.

"Excuse me," He had asked, "I'm here to celebrate my honeymoon, you see, and my wife is very fond of Crème brûlée. You wouldn't happen to be able to specially make some?"

This must be a sign of luxury, he thought. To order something that was not on the menu and still have it presented to you.

Kento grinned like a child on Christmas as he passed between train cars. Two ramekins were tucked behind his back. He lived to see your smile, to hear you laugh, to admire this person, this strange woman he was hardly familiar with, yet craved to know. His wife.

--

When Nanami arrived from the bathroom, he had an oddly mischievous glint in his eye. He seemed to move something to his lap once he was seated. This grin of his was contagious.

"Well, you look suspicious." You chuckle. But it did not last long, no, because the man before you reached out to hand you a small chilled spoon.

"I suppose I cannot hide it." He said, placing two ramakins on the table. It only took a moment before you gasped, pointing at him as if to accuse him of a crime.

"You! Is that- w-when? Wait a moment." You placed both your palms facing him and coughed a laugh. "Did you really- I-" You could hardly believe him.

"Use your words." He hummed, placing the dessert in front of you, "I know you've got them."

The teasing forced you to breathe slowly. "Nanami." You whispered harshly.

"Quite the array of sweets in the bathroom, you wouldn't believe."

"No!" You laughed, Nanami swelled at the sound, "I daresay I wouldn't."

"Try it, is it as good as you remember?"

You take your spoon, look up to the man that had gone out of his way to bring you this small joy, crack the sugar, and scoop the custard into your mouth. It's hard not to make some obscene noise at the shuttering chill it brings you.

"It's even sweeter."

--

That night, after changing out of your dress, and he his suit, the two of you squeeze past partygoers in the bar car and walk your way to the very end where the open observation car was left vacant.

One might imagine the night air humid but only a warm breeze flies past you as you both take in the scenery. It seems impossible to suggest that you had only met this man a week or so prior. The fear you had felt being chained to him left almost as quickly as it had greeted you. How warm it feels to have a friend.

Never before had you been so free to speak of what you wished and to eat what you wished. You had three whole days ahead of you to explore this beautiful country, there were so many excursions to choose from and a man at your side who was very good at making decisions.

"I always wanted to come to Malaysia." He suddenly spoke up.

As fantastical as this whole day had seemed, you couldn't help recognizing the illusion that was being hidden. The two of you were practically strangers. Polite acquaintances perhaps. Married or not, this was likely not how Nanami saw his life going. Without the looming responsibility of a clan on his shoulders, he probably felt less free than ever before. Had he even wanted to be married prior to the higher-ups enlisting him for this role?

"Really? I'm glad you're able to come...though-" you pause, "I am sorry the circumstances are a bit..." You tapper off, waggling your head, hoping he would pick up what you meant.

He, of course, did not follow, "What? No, don't be sorry, what do you mean, 'circumstances'?"

His focus, that was once so ardently on the countryside passing by, was now on you, attempting to read the hidden pages of your shameful smile without breaking your delectably closed spine.

"I just mean... I'm sure you didn't intend to come in this position." You make a show of your hands. Trying to make light and humor of the situation. He simply cocks his head. "Married. I mean, arranged to me. It's just probably not what you expected."

He doesn't speak for a long moment. But then he is bending down and meeting your eyes. You can feel his breath on the exposure of your neck and he still smells of the caramelized sugar he had sought out just for you.

"I'm glad you're with me. You haven't...don't say that." He sighs, looking at you closely and whispering your name, "Don't apologize. I wouldn't have it any other way."

The idea is so absurd, your shoulders tense with your laugh. "How could that be true? You-you barely know me?"

He stretches his hand down to your own, softly strokes it, "And I get to know you. How exciting is that? We can learn together."

And as the wind whips in your face, you feel grateful for the slightness of the moons reflection hiding your flush. He settles your hand down again and smirks at you. A world away from the higher-ups, it's hard to imagine any trouble or obligation coming your way. This weekend was the two of yours. And as your heart raced and mind dazed at your husbands gentle and warm touch, you hoped this feeling never departed.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

tags: tag list is unfortunately full :(

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[afterglowsainz]

Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻

jealousy | jude bellingham

obsessed with this concept already !!

summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it

warnings: none

word count: 738

a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3

you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.

“someone dm you.” he says.

his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.

“who?”

“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.

“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.

jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.

“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.

“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.

when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.

some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.

he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.

“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.

you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.

“sure.” you say.

he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.

when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.

“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.

“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.

“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.

“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”

“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”

jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

HIM & I

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe confronts the pogues after they try to get his girl to turn on him—big mistake.

based on this ask !! sorry it took a while anon, but i hope you enjoy it and it’s what you asked for :) got a couple request in the drafts stm, just editing them and i’m gonna’ start posting them one after the other <3

(check out my other drew starkey & rafe cameron works here !!)

WARNINGS: cursing, rafe threatening the pogues, mentions of murder, maybe a sliiightly toxic relationship (?), alcohol consumption. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

THIRD PERSON +

The summer heat hung heavy in the air, thick with salt and gasoline, the scent of the Outer Banks. The island was split in two—the Kooks, who had everything, and the Pogues, who had nothing. And in the middle of it all stood Y/N, Rafe Cameron’s girl.

Not just his girlfriend. His obsession.

Rafe wasn’t known for being soft. Not with his father breathing down his neck, not with his so-called friends who only stuck around for the drugs and money, and certainly not with the Pogues, who were a thorn in his side. But Y/N—she was different. She was the only thing in this world that could make Rafe pause, the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to destroy.

He was still reckless, still dangerous, still a ticking time bomb—but with Y/N, he was something else too. Soft, almost. Not in the way that made him weak, but in the way that made him even more dangerous. Because if anything ever happened to her, he would burn this island to the ground.

They were inseparable, always tangled up in each other, whether it was his arm slung over her shoulders at a party, his lips trailing down her neck when no one was looking, or the way she fit perfectly against him when he finally let himself rest.

Y/N would do anything for Rafe. And he’d do anything for her.

So when the Pogues pulled her aside one afternoon, she already knew there was no world in which she would betray Rafe Cameron.

They had found her alone near The Wreck, waiting for Rafe to pick her up. Pope was the first to speak. “Y/N, listen, we need your help.”

She raised an eyebrow, already uninterested. “With what?”

“Proving John B’s innocence,” Kie said.

Y/N scoffed, crossing her arms. “You’re joking, right?”

They weren’t.

“Rafe killed Peterkin,” Pope said, low and serious. “We know it. And we know you know it too.”

“Sarah saw him,” Kie added. “We just need something—anything—that proves it wasn’t John B.”

“You don’t have to protect him,” JJ said, his tone a little different from the others. He wasn’t pleading with her, wasn’t trying to reason. He was taunting. “I mean, come on, Y/N, you think Rafe would do the same for you?”

That made her blood boil.

“You don’t know anything about me and Rafe,” she snapped.

“Then prove it,” JJ challenged. “Help us, and I’ll believe it.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You actually think I’d turn on him? That I’d betray my Rafe for you?” She took a step closer, her voice venomous. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not afraid of Rafe. I love him. And if you think for a second that I’d help you take him down, you’re out of your goddamn minds.”

She left them standing there, stunned, and walked away without looking back.

Rafe was waiting for her in his truck, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other tapping against his knee impatiently. He relaxed the second he saw her, his sharp features softening, his whole body exhaling in relief.

“Where the hell were you?” he asked as she climbed in.

“Talking to the Pogues,” she said, her voice laced with irritation.

Instantly, Rafe’s expression darkened. “What?”

“They tried to get me to help them prove John B’s innocent.”

Rafe went still.

It was a terrifying kind of stillness, the kind that came before a storm. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“They what?” His voice was calm, but she knew him too well to be fooled.

“They think I’d turn on you,” she said, shaking her head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That I’d help them prove you killed Peterkin.”

That was all it took.

Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, one that sent chills down her spine. “That’s fucking hilarious,” he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “They actually thought you’d betray me?”

His laugh faded just as quickly as it came. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and that familiar rage flickered to life behind his blue eyes.

“They think they can talk to my girl,” he said, his voice dark and dangerous. “That they can turn you against me?”

She could see the storm brewing inside him, the way his fingers twitched like he was itching to grab something—someone. His knee bounced violently, and his breathing was slow, controlled, like he was trying not to explode.

Y/N reached over, placing her hand over his. “I shut them down,” she murmured. “They’re idiots if they ever thought I’d turn on you.”

Rafe exhaled through his nose, his knee stopping its frantic movement. He grabbed her hand, gripping it tightly.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “They don’t get to talk to you. They don’t get to look at you. They don’t even get to fucking think about you.”

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his jaw. “Then make sure they don’t,” she whispered.

Rafe turned his head, his lips crashing against hers in a bruising, desperate kiss. He kissed her like he was staking his claim, like he needed to feel her, taste her, to remind himself that she was here, that she wasn’t going anywhere.

When he pulled away, his eyes were still burning with fury.

“They’re gonna regret ever coming near you,” he muttered.

Y/N didn’t doubt it for a second.

—

The Boneyard was alive with the pulse of heavy bass and the crash of waves against the shore. Fires burned bright, illuminating the faces of Kooks and Pogues alike, their rivalries momentarily drowned in the haze of alcohol and summer heat. But that peace wouldn’t last.

Not tonight.

Because Rafe Cameron had a score to settle.

He stood at the top of the dunes, looking down at the crowd like a king surveying his kingdom. His jaw was clenched, his hands curled into fists at his sides. Y/N stood beside him, her lips curled into a smirk, arms crossed casually over her chest. She knew what was about to happen—hell, she’d been waiting for it just as much as he had.

“You ready?” Rafe asked, voice low, eyes burning.

She turned to him, expression playful. “Always.”

Rafe smirked, but there was no humor behind it. Just something dark and volatile, barely contained. Then he was moving, striding down the dunes with the confidence of someone who owned this entire island.

Heads turned as he passed. Kooks raised their cups, cheering for their golden boy, oblivious to the rage simmering just beneath the surface. But the Pogues? They stiffened the second they saw him.

John B, JJ, Pope, and Kie were gathered near the fire, deep in conversation, but the second Rafe and Y/N approached, they all fell silent.

JJ was the first to react, straightening up and rolling his shoulders back like he was ready for a fight. “Oh, look,” he drawled, taking a swig from his beer. “Kook Prince and his loyal queen.”

Y/N scoffed, but Rafe barely acknowledged the remark. His eyes were locked on them, sharp and unrelenting.

“Which one of you dumbasses thought it was a good idea to talk to my girl?” he asked, voice deceptively calm.

John B tensed. Kie shifted uncomfortably. Pope kept his mouth shut.

JJ, of course, grinned. “You mean about you, uh, murdering someone?”

Rafe laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. “That’s funny,” he said, tilting his head. “You know what else is funny? Thinking Y/N would ever betray me.”

JJ’s smirk faltered for just a second before he masked it with bravado. “I don’t know, man. She seems smart enough to know when she’s on the losing side.”

Y/N let out a laugh, stepping closer, brushing against Rafe’s side. “You’re delusional if you think there’s any world in which I’d choose you over Rafe,” she said. “I mean, come on, JJ. Are you really that desperate?”

JJ’s jaw clenched, but before he could say anything, Rafe took another step forward, closing the distance.

“You don’t talk to my girl,” he said, voice dropping to something low and dangerous. “You don’t look at my girl. You don’t even fucking think about her. Understand?”

JJ, never one to back down, scoffed. “Or what?”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, his smirk returning, but this time it was cold, calculated. “You don’t ‘wanna find out.”

There was a pause, thick with tension.

JJ met Rafe’s stare head-on, but for the first time, there was something hesitant in his gaze.

Rafe had always been unhinged. Dangerous. But this? This wasn’t just some Kook/Pogue rivalry. This was personal.

And when it came to Y/N, there was no line Rafe wouldn’t cross.

John B finally spoke, stepping between them. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Rafe let out a short, mocking laugh. “Yeah? Then you should’ve kept your mouths shut.”

The Kooks were starting to notice now, whispers spreading, eyes darting toward the confrontation. It wouldn’t be long before the whole party knew.

“You think you’re untouchable,” JJ muttered, shaking his head.

Rafe smirked. “No. I know I am.”

Y/N chuckled beside him, slipping her hand into his. “You should’ve known better,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Rafe isn’t someone you fuck with. And neither am I.”

JJ’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. He couldn’t say anything. Not when it was so obvious that they had lost whatever game they thought they were playing.

Rafe leaned in, voice just loud enough for the Pogues to hear. “This was your one warning. Next time? I won’t be so nice.”

And with that, he turned, dragging Y/N with him as they walked away, leaving the Pogues standing there, seething.

The night continued around them, the music blaring, the drinks flowing—but everyone knew.

Rafe Cameron had made his point.

Loud and fucking clear.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

i loved this request sm, thank you anon and i hope it’s what you asked for !! <3 i’ve had this a couple request in the drafts, just editing them so i can start posting them, so there might be a couple more posts tonight :)

as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) i’m gonna try my best to keep replying to reblogs and comments, because genuinely i am SO insanely grateful for all the love you’ve all given me :’) i’ve gone up by 400 followers since december and i’m so insanely grateful for the love on my page and my works <3

pls keep requesting my loves !! request are still open and i’m working through them until i go away on wednesday <3