joannasteez

[joannasteez]

would do egregious things to swap places with amanda

Roman Reigns x Amanda (fem!black!oc) | 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut | ~2,600 words

a/n: As y'all know, I have a million Roman drafts and I found this first draft of "The Waiting Game" from last spring. Hope you enjoy. 🥰

Happy reading! Read more Roman and Amanda or my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨

The full moon hung in the dark sky, the stars barely visible as the Manhattan lights created their own nighttime glow. As she strolled down East 35th Street, Amanda soaked in the feeling of being in New York City for the first time. Immersing herself in new places was just one of the many perks of her job at WWE as their SmackDown ring announcer.

Before she landed her dream job, she hadn't ventured much outside of her home state of Georgia. Now she made it a point to reserve time after work to explore the food and nightlife each city she landed in had to offer. It made spotting the iconic Empire State Building with its windows glittering like lights on a Christmas tree feel extra special to her as it stood above the horizon of towering buildings. 

The evening air was cool and brisk, blowing her longish, red auburn afro off her bare shoulders and lifting her strappy, silky, pink-blue dress to reveal her thick, brown thighs to oncoming traffic. Amanda yanked her dress down and pulled her black, faux-fur coat tighter around herself to shake the chill as she continued down the street, her slingback heels clicking with her every step. Suddenly, she felt a heavy arm drape over her and bring her in close to the broad, warm body it was attached to. She glanced up at Joe as he walked alongside her, his overwhelming heat instantly calming her shivering body. The way he held her as he gazed down at her with his wolfish, chocolate-colored eyes made her almost swoon.

“Could you tell I was gettin' cold?” she asked him with a little smile.

“I figured as much since your coat doesn’t cover your legs,” he replied, giving her an admirable once-over. “I mean, you look beautiful in this dress. But I know it’s not keepin' you warm.”

“I think you’re warm enough for the both of us,” Amanda said, poking him in the ribs and making his handsome face break into a smile that matched hers.

That was another perk she treasured about her newish job. She got to rub shoulders—in this case, literally—with pro wrestlers she’d only ever seen on TV. She’d been a big fan of Joe, or Roman Reigns, and now she was being paid to announce him as the undisputed WWE Universal Champion and Tribal Chief of The Bloodline as he sauntered to the ring with his golden title belts, surrounded by his entourage consisting of his cousins, the Usos, and the legendary manager, Paul Heyman. Amanda felt like she was quickly becoming a part of Roman’s off-screen entourage as he was one of the first people to befriend her—encouraging her to call him Joe, his real name, instead of his stage name—and make her feel welcomed on the job.

Yet she could tell right away Joe was a huge flirt. He proved her right as they became fast friends with a salacious spark always simmering between them. It was the way he’d be glued to her hip at after-work parties or invite her to his locker room to kill time before work…or the way they almost kissed once. 

For two months, Amanda tried to ignore that spark as she didn’t want to put her dream job in jeopardy by screwing around with WWE’s top guy. But she found herself hopelessly and agonizingly attracted to Joe, often yearning for much more than a kiss from him...

She had gotten used to working out her sexual frustrations by herself, fantasizing late at night about how deep Joe’s dick could fit if he had her on all fours. She certainly didn’t expect to find out last night in his locker room when he bent her over and wore her out to the point that she felt compelled to call him “Daddy”—a fan-given nickname of his that she despised until he had her moaning it to him over and over—and send her on her way to ring with no panties, her pussy still tender from him stretching her out.

While she was still a little delightfully sore between her thighs, she couldn’t deny that she craved him all over again. And when Joe messaged her earlier in the day and asked her out to dinner, saying he wanted to “treat” her tonight, it was obvious that he craved her, too...especially with the seductive questions he sent her about her fascination with being dominated and her favorite toys. Amanda knew then he had more in mind than just a bite to eat...

As Joe held the door to the steakhouse open for her, she already felt pampered by the restaurant’s red and gold elegance and yummy smells wafting through the air. The kind hostess led them to their table, covered with white linen and softly lit by a candle, in the center of the dining room. Amanda noted how Joe took her coat and purse, placing them on the back of her leather chair before he pulled it back for her like a gentleman. He then sat across from her and studied her in her dress with those hungry eyes that seemed to see right through it, ready to devour what was beneath.

She had the same thoughts as she gazed back at him, soaking in how gorgeous he was in his navy suit jacket and baby blue button-down that almost strained to conceal his muscles beneath them. He’d trimmed his full, salt-and-pepper beard and mustache since yesterday, and slicked back his long, dark hair into a cute, messy bun behind his head, making his tanned, angular face appear more chiseled and menacingly handsome...and making Amanda want to let his hair loose and run her fingers through it as he hid his head between her legs...

“Can I just say how good you look right now? Like...good enough to eat,” Joe spoke, his deep voice a subtle growl. It was like he could read her mind, she thought in awe as her lips pulled into a smirk. 

“Don’t tempt me. We can skip dinner and go straight to dessert,” Amanda half-joked. She wanted to eat but Joe looked so good, too, she could go for his dick in her mouth rather than steak...

“Nah, we’re gonna eat. You’ll need the energy,” Joe replied coolly, flashing her a devilish smirk right back.

“Just me?” she chimed. 

“Yes,” he stated matter-of-factly, his sultry eyes on hers before they fell to her shoulders and cleavage from her big breasts pushed together in her scoop neck dress. When he gradually brought his eyes back to hers, she bit her lip as he added in another low growl, "I have plans for you tonight, sweetheart.”

She raised one arched eyebrow at his words, yet when she opened her mouth to hopefully uncover what those “plans” were, their waiter arrived with menus, a tray that held two wine glasses, and a bottle of Pinot Noir chilling in a gold bucket of ice. Once he poured them each a glass, took their order, and went to check on another table, Amanda gave Joe a curious glance.

“Do those plans include you fuckin' me in the restroom?” she asked softly, testing the vibe. Amanda didn’t think he’d care about getting nasty in public after backstage. Her pussy was getting wet from the mere thought of him curving her over the restroom sink. “We’re, like, the only ones here…and I’ll be quiet. I promise.”

She deliberately ignored the two other occupied tables that were thankfully out of earshot. Yet she watched Joe's mouth and eyes widen a bit from her unabashed lust for him. But then his lips twisted into a grin as he said in a near whisper, “I see you didn’t learn your lesson last night. Well, I learned you can’t keep quiet while I’m in you, baby.”

He had a point, Amanda thought to herself. They had never touched before yesterday and yet Joe seemed to know how to make her lose herself and forget her surroundings. And that was why she couldn’t wait to feel him inside of her again...no matter the risk.

“Let me prove to you that I can…” Amanda whispered back. She’d do her best to keep the patrons in the dining room blissfully unaware. She hoped the way she discreetly tugged at her dress and exposed more of her cleavage would entice him. She saw Joe take the bait, glancing at her breasts with a mischievous glint filling his eyes. He then wrapped his fingers around his wine glass and took a long sip, like he was considering it. She suddenly realized needed his fingers around her throat like that...

“I know for a fact you can’t. So, I guess you'll have to wait,” he declared, his voice playful yet firm enough to make her realize she was pressing her luck. She swallowed a healthy swig of her wine and decided to press that luck further, anyway. 

“And what you gonna do if I don't want to?” she asked, catching a drop of wine from her top lip with her tongue. Her tone was half-pouting as she pursed her full, pink, glossy lips, half-challenging him to get back at him for teasing her. He let out a dark chuckle at her defiance as he put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together, staring at her with a grin like he was impressed that she dared him. 

“You tryna find out?” Joe asked, his tone a little sinister.

“Hell yeah,” she replied, doing a poor job of containing the excitement in her voice.

Joe glanced at the watch on his wrist before he demanded, “Then get up and act like you're goin' to ladies' room...”

Amanda wasted no time obeying the demand she wanted to hear, hopping up from her seat and trying to look normal as she made her way to the single-occupancy restrooms. She couldn’t believe she was about to get her way when she learned last night what a stubborn, sexy jerk Joe could be. 

Yet he did make her wait for what felt like five minutes before she saw the door open and him slip in, locking the door behind himself. Her patience to feel his mouth on hers had already run out and she took the initiative to reach for him. But Joe abruptly caught her forearms and spun her around, pinning her against the wall with his large hand around her throat. 

“So you couldn’t wait 'til later, huh? You need me in this pussy right now?” Joe snarled in a steamy whisper before he brought his lips to hers. 

“Yes, please…please fuck me,” Amanda pleaded in a whisper just as heated, her body trying to melt from his grip tightening on her throat and his soft lips on hers that curled into a devious smile. She’d never been so desperate for dick that she’d beg for it, but his effect on her was consuming, breathtaking even. “Please...fuck me...Daddy,” she panted and brought her hands to his chest, his nickname on her tongue making him pant back as he kissed her harder.

“How do you want Daddy to fuck you?” Joe cooed in her ear as he dropped his hand from her throat to her breast, fondling it and tweaking her nipple through the thin fabric of her dress before his lips found their way around it. She whimpered to him in response before his hand fell lower on her body and under her dress. Amanda moaned softly again as he suckled her nipple with his fingers teasing over the wet mess that was her thong, teasing his thick, middle finger past it to fit inside her with one, long fluid thrust. He let out a satisfied sigh when it glided in with such ease, his lips smudged to her chest and then her neck with kisses before he murmured to her, “I’m still waitin' for you to tell me how you want me in this pussy, baby…”

“I want—”

“It doesn't fuckin' matter what you want,” Joe cut her off with his finger seeking her spot, his touch swirling on it as he reminded her in a hushed grunt, "I tell you what to do. Not the other way around, sweetheart. Understand?"

“Oh, my god,” Amanda almost cried instead when he rolled his thumb over her clit as he continued to swirl his finger on her g-spot. It dawned on her that his plans to treat her involved whipping her into submission as he controlled her with simply the palm of his hand. 

She bit down on her bottom lip to choke back a moan as she helplessly looked up at Joe. She could see it in his eyes that he knew he had her right where he wanted her: Incapacitated and at his mercy. She could hear it in his voice when he stated gruffly, “Try that again, sweetheart..."

“Unghh...yes, Daddy.” 

He watched Amanda mewl to him and nod as he pushed in another finger, his languid, elongated strokes becoming quick and pounding on her spot that was giving in to his torture and giving way to those hot, quivering tingles that spread throughout her entire body. She squeaked in a failed attempt to hold in a moan as he nurtured her sweet spots until it was futile, his kisses barely catching her gasps.

“Damn…you cummin’ for me already?” Joe breathed a dark laugh but followed it with a light moan as one of her hands slipped from his chest to the seat of his slacks that protruded with his bulge. Yet he refused to let Amanda have any control, plucking his hand that was on her hip to snatch away her grasp and pin it to the wall above her head. “Naw, don't worry 'bout that. This is what you get since you couldn't wait...this right here.” 

His fingers pumping and swirling on her spot kept up with the rapid fluttering of her pussy around them, only slowing down when Amanda's gasping moans teetered into airy whines. She wanted to curse for him making it too good, making her thighs tremble around his wrist, and making her want to cry when he tugged his fingers out. He then checked his watch like his fingers weren't about to drip her wetness to the tile, smirking at her mess on them. He kissed her with a flick of his tongue that he carefully replaced with his fingers as he held her jaw with his other hand, watching her slowly suck them until her lips touched his knuckles.

"It tastes how Daddy makes you feel, don't it? Good as fuck..." Joe uttered with one more wet kiss that Amanda nodded and moaned into before he swiftly went to wash his hands and open the restroom door. “I’m pretty sure they’re about to bring out our food, so you might wanna hurry and clean up.” 

The way he left her with his conceited smile and her panties soaked made her finally suck in a long, shuddering breath before she exhaled, "Goddamn, Joe..."

She palmed the wall to steady herself as she removed her thong and wobbled over to the sink where she tossed them in the bin, pumped soap into her hands, and ran them under cold water to cool herself down. It felt like prying eyes could see the orgasmic glow still radiating from her body as she made her way back to the dining room. But Amanda knew it was only Joe who couldn't take his eyes off her, that sexy smirk on his lips as she slunk towards him. Their ribeye steaks and roasted potatoes looked scrumptious but he continued to observe only her as she fell into her seat.

“So. You gonna behave now, sweetheart?” he asked haughtily as he slid a piece of his steak into his mouth. 

"That depends." Amanda unfolded her napkin and picked up her knife to cut her steak. The sharp edge reminded her of how Joe responded to her pushing her luck...and she caught his eye as she decided to dare him once more with a lick of her lips. "Are you gonna finish what you started and let me throw it back on you? Or are you afraid you won't keep quiet this time?

.

.

.

Dare

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Join my tag list here, if you wanna!

🫶🏾 Tagging: @iguessilikewrestlingnow @visionarymode @cyberdejos2 @thesamoanqueen @vebner37 @dreamsinfocus @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @jeyusos-girl @msbigredmachine @purplehairgawdess @mohawkmama @po3ticb3auty @alyyaanna @murrylove @papireigns-05 @vintage-pvssy @bebesobrielo @urasunflower @555sage @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @theninthwonder @tabletheofhead @venusesworld @ariieeesworld @sassginaswanmills @theglamclosetsl @2-muchsauce @empressdede @woahdude9481 @browngalmal @leaderofthebadbitchbrigade @twocentuar @claymorexpunisher @althegreat33 @alichesmi @eclectic-tee @joannasteez @whatdoeseverybodywant @puppetmastermya @caramelcleopatraa @femdisa @megamindsecretlair @headoftheetable @brwnsugababe @heauxvibez

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns smut

[joannasteez]

Blackwater XIX

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: well I said a couple of months ago that something was toxic… there’s a lil bit of non-con this time, so if someone of you is not ready, im sorry, is that chap.

A/N: this chapter wasn't very easy to write, but the next ones won't be either, let's wish each other good luck.

She had hoped to go somewhere else, but with problems piling up day after day doing so wasn't even an option. It was safer to stay south, where their reservation still acted as a natural stop to any external influence coming from across the border, plus Roman was in the area, though again not there with her, having yet another meeting with yet another person for yet another deal.

She hadn't been very happy about it at first, but had to admit at least to herself that maybe it was for the best. In town she had finally found something she could bring to Lisa to thank her and plus they were relatively close home, which meant they would be there before night and she could go to bed to recover a bit.

The stress caused by the situation did not help either her mood or body already affected by hormonal swings of a heat that Y/N prayed to postpone as long as possible. She wasn't sleeping well due to too many thoughts, she was losing her appetite, as well as the desire to go running and that afternoon she had another one of her waves of shivers which was trying to fight with some hot chocolate in an attempt to also replenish a sugars. She had bought Solo a coffee too, but he kept holding it in his hand without drinking, too busy glaring at anyone who dared come closer than necessary, that was not even so close.

- You didn't grow up here, did you? – she asked, interrupting silence between them once again, because they spent a lot of time together, but even if he seemed willing to talk with her, their conversations were never long.

He looked at her a bit confused, putting aside his perpetual serious face for a moment, coffee still in his hand.

- Jimmy said you came here after, like me – she explained, letting out an encouraging smile and he shook his head no.

- I grew up in the area, with my family.

Y/N let out a surprised oh, going back to twirling the straw in silence as they walked towards the suv.

From the stories she had thought he had come from out of state to help Roman, but she probably misunderstood. She hadn't spent much time with Solo's family, she had only seen them once actually and he didn't open up more than necessary, most of the time talking about what there was to do during the day, well she talked, he was more comfortable listening.

- Not with them. They were always together somewhere. – he added unexpectedly, perhaps not to make her uncomfortable with another silence or perhaps not to make her feel so out of place and Y/N smiled gratefully.

Y/N saw him nod slightly, as if satisfying her had satisfied him too.

She had never really thought about it, but there was an age gap between him and those three. Now he was a big boy with muscles and a menacing look, in those years he had probably just been a kid that them didn't want around. She couldn't imagine what it was like, Y/N hadn't had any brother or sister, she had grown up alone, but the half year spent with all of them before the chaos was enough for her to understand. Maybe he couldn't have tolerated them as a kid, always together already as pack leaving him at home and doing their own business, but now he was a man, it was different.

His family is broken.

- I'm sorry, Solo...

Standing next to the black suv, he looked at her, again confused by her reaction.

- We have to do what needs to be done.

- They're your brothers no matter what.

- I swore to the Tribal Chief. They did it too. – he said serious, his tone almost angry.

In packs like theirs, still tied to old laws and traditions, it was normal to have a relationship of deep respect with those at the top. Those were legacies that were now intertwined with a changed society but still subject to natural balances, such as the amendment on property rights between mates and social hierarchies for those who belonged to or were born from groups not commonly seen well. Y/N, with her omega smell, knew a lot about it and had had to deal with it there too in the first few months, but the prospect of an acknowledgment, oath, was new and something she hadn't heard.

She saw Solo open the door to let her in, his face less angry, but still solemn.

- You don't have to – he reassured her, mistaking her silence for concern, dark round eyes stopping too long lower, at the base between her neck and shoulder, where Y/N had tightened her jacket trying to send away the cold shivers – you already have his… smell.

Smell wasn't the word he wanted to say, but what Solo was referring to, she didn't have yet.

Our mark. His mark.

That too was an old legacy, dangerous in her case, but Y/N didn't have time to think too much about it by looking for her phone which in the meantime had notified of a message.

***

Paul was a smart man. Roman had chosen him as a wise man for that very reason. There was no one in the entire country more capable than him, no one who had his level of experience. He was a lawyer, an advisor, a connoisseur, he had political support, important acquaintances within the packs and outside, plus his family had practically adopted him when he was a boy, so he was not a stranger. The wise man was many things, but honest only when necessary and Roman had never had a problem with that kind of approach in their time together. He tolerated all sorts of expedient for his purpose, he had learned the hard way how much it cost to have feelings, but everything changed if those tricks helped something of which he was not made aware.

Because Roman knew from years and life lessons. Loyalty and trust were something he no longer expected, from anyone and certainly not from someone who had stayed afloat when everyone else drowned. Everyone could be a friend, everyone could be an enemy, his wolf now did no exception and all the whispers, phone calls and messages that kept Paul busy even when they were together were nothing but further proof of a picture that he knew. The wiseman acted driven by the feeling of ground crumbling beneath their feet, frightened by changes that his cousin and those dogs on the border threatened, by the possibility of a future that Roman would not allow as long as he was able to breathe. He loved the wise man, he could forgive him being a coward, pretending not to see, at least until he took a step too far.

- So? – he asked annoyed, almost making the phone fly out of his hand.

- Two weeks. Tomorrow both of you will exchange the sogi – he reported in a heavy voice, his shoulders low, his face frowning as if someone had just stepped on him after the news.

He didn't like the prospect of that fight, first of all because he was risking his head. Roman knew even without having to ask that he would play his cards to make things better and save everything, but for him the two weeks he had dealt were too much time and those plans useless. Fourteen days were the ritual time to provide what was necessary for families, so that both parties were ready for any outcome, but for him were just a useless wait. He wouldn't be the one to lose, he had no alternatives to plan unlike Jey, he just needed to have free way and get his hands on his cousin.

- About the stipulations, I was thinking- he advanced, trying to recover as much as possible.

- There are none.

- My Tribal Chief, if I may, considering what we are facing now, it would be better to leave a few more resources and perhaps-

- There will be no stipulations.

He had complied with stipulations, conditions for weeks, suffered weakness for months, the time for mercy was over. He had left many doors open for his cousins, he had tried everything and Jey however had gone where he shouldn't, disrespecting him to the point of contesting him with the Elders, they had gone too far and now there was only one way to put an end to it. The only acceptable stipulation was unconditional surrender, total humiliation, there was nothing else to talk about. Guts were needed to keep their family in line, his dad had reminded him of this and Roman was not willing to receive other reminders in the future, he was no longer a boy. Whatever happened next, he would handle it the way he handled everything, with a firm grip and without regard, he didn't need those two to do it. He was the alpha, he had control and winning cards to play against everyone.

- How much longer do we have to stay here? – he asked, tired of waiting, staring with annoyance at the watch on his wrist.

They had been in that office longer than he was willing to tolerate and he couldn't stand listening to the wise man calls or him typing messages anymore, he didn't have all day to waste signing a deal with the governor. He had to train, dedicate the next fourteen days focusing on the goal, not sitting bored in a chair waiting for a paper that should have already been ready the second he set foot in that building.

- I'm going to immediately check where Pearce has ended up, my… – the wise man snapped to attention, but he barely managed to turn to go towards the door – tribal… chief.

Roman smelled him before even moving his gaze to the man accompanying Pearce. He had no idea who he was, he didn't remember his face if they had ever met before, but he had a smell that he didn't like. He didn't like the smell of him, he didn't like the way was staring at him, he didn't like the attitude and he sure as hell didn't like that he came around when he had business to do.

We don't like him.

- Reigns.

Pearce greeted, already adjusting glasses on his nose, his expression stressed as always. Roman didn't even look at him, focused on observing the new arrival who was already taking place at the table without having been invited. Pearce had that same attitude in the past, a couple of years ago, until Roman had taken it away from him in his own way and since then had never reappeared. He almost wanted to do the same with that new guy.

- What’s this idea Mr. Pearce?! It was supposed to be a private meeting for private business! Very important business! It's unacceptable! – complained the wise man, standing up against that lack of respect.

- Our new neighbors have informed the governor of activities across the border. It seemed right to him to invite Mr. Aldis as a delegate to clarify before signing anything. He’s in charge of that area now.

That's what he was. Another puppet, another well-dressed small dude convinced to have power or a chance against him, thought he was worth something, that he could stand face to face with Roman, thanks to the talks of those idiots to whom his cousins had left the field free. They were becoming arrogant, stupidly brave, throwing in his face that he had lost his hold in the north and that now there were others there. They hadn't gone too far yet, keeping everything legal, moving with what they could to make their voices heard, their new influence known, but Roman was fine with those games as long as they didn't go beyond the limit. And the limit was his patience running out.

- Since you no longer have jurisdiction there and the upcoming Bloodline activities threaten the entire area, restrictions must be established for the future. Real restrictions Mr. Reigns that I will take care of enforcing and making clear to you. Without it, nothing new will be authorized. – the new dude, Aldis, announced, openly defying his influence, head held high and the wise man behind him jumped.

They wanted to authorize him.

- How dare you- he screamed, but Roman simply raised a finger to silence him, the other hand gripping the chair.

That tanned, smug face of him would have looked perfect smashed onto his table or on the floor, better under his foot.

They wanted to play the big game, gamble when he already had more important business to take care of. It was almost hilarious, almost because that little game would be short-lived. He would let them do it, for a while, until Jey got what he deserved since everything that was happening was his fault. That was what happened if they left their side exposed, if they allowed a pack of strays to smell weakness, it was the price to pay for a crack and the reason Roman would have no more second thoughts.

Elders were right, he had to focus, do what he had to do and what he had been chosen for. He couldn't afford any more weaknesses or they would become ready and able to bite his throat.

- Go ahead – he conceded, collecting himself.

He would get rid of them one by one, blood of his blood or not. Without mercy.

***

She had sought comfort between now cold sheets smelling of him, curling up her legs for extra warmth, keeping her eyes tighter to ward off thoughts ready to fill her mind, but hadn't made it and her she-wolf had found Roman through the link. She had sensed him immediately, probably because he wasn't shielding anything believing that she was still asleep and Y/N had snuck out to join him in the dim light of his home office.

Mate is not here with us.

He was sitting on the couch with a solitary lamp, his face serious, fingers running through the seeds of his necklace. He was physically there, but his head was somewhere else as happened too often now. In the house he always kept the ulafala in the case, but Y/N didn't need to ask to know why he was there staring at it when he was supposed to be resting by her side, in their bed. Paul had told her as soon as he received the news, keeping to their agreement or perhaps already seeking help and Y/N had finally given a deadline to the anxiety that was weighing on her.

Fourteen days of peace before chaos, before completely crumbling what was left of the family, but in a few hours it would truly become inevitable. Or it was probably already late judging by Roman's face.

- Will you have to wear it? – she asked in a whisper, entering the room almost on tiptoe.

He hadn't told her anything about how the meeting would take place nor had he added anything about the fight, but she couldn't blame him. She had promised to stand by him, to defend him, yet she hadn't reacted well to his drastic change of plans and he didn't seem to really understand why she hadn't accepted it. What had happened was serious, but what could happened next would be even worse. Standing, she watched him keep his gaze fixed on the symbol of sacrifices, of his role and pains without turning to look at her and she too observed it, perhaps expecting a revelation.

Red for power, seeds for the rebirth of the dynasty.

She knew the value and pride behind that object, Roman had told Y/N all the stories about the ulafala, but no matter how hard she tried in her eyes it was only a necklace left weighing him down. It should have given him strength, conveyed his strength, represented the family future and instead he found himself fighting to keep it around his neck, to keep what he had gained after an argument born from unpleasant circumstances and degenerated due to old grudges.

- I earned it, represents me – she heard him reply, because in his mind it was the only thought.

She felt it, she knew it. He felt his efforts, sacrifices threatened and they were, but Y/N still felt like it wasn't Jey or Jimmy who was the real danger. At least not initially, now everything was a danger, even the elders who were supposed to accompany and advise him. Them all had fallen into a trap were building with their own hands and she couldn't resign herself to the sight of that disaster.

He's not just that for us.

- You don't need it – she reminded him, stopping looking at the ulafala to focus on him.

She saw him inspire with frustration, felt annoyance pass through him at the mere idea of continuing that conversation, his eyes far from hers.

- Go back to bed Y/N.

- Come with me then, is not mornin yet – she insisted, refusing to give up.

They had different opinions, different approaches, it had always been like that and perhaps it would never change, but they were on the same side. She didn't want to go back to their room if he wasn't there, didn't want to sleep if he wasn't there, she had been alone for too long to throw away moments, to wait two weeks to pass and then hope to go back to what they had before. She trusted Roman, she had never trusted anyone like him, but it wasn't going to end up with Jey and Y/N was honestly afraid of the aftermath he talked about. The threats were different, without blood ties and were just waiting the right moment to attack him, they wanted to get him out of the way and take everything, not just his role. No one can get rid of a weed without pulling out its roots. It had already happened with her family and now can happen again because he was focused just on what was in front of him. But she couldn't wait for the inevitable, it wasn't in her nature to do what she had to do or what he wanted, she existed to do what he couldn't.

She saw him stay silent, sign he had no intention of moving. So she stood in front of him, slipping the ulafala from his fingers without asking. That move finally forced him to raise his head, trying to understand what was happening, while she carefully placed it back in the case where he kept it and then went back to the couch. She listened him breathe heavily, scratch his dark beard with a grimace, and she sat down on his lap to take up the entire view.

- Ain't doing this talk once more – he stopped her soon, shaking his head.

- Not even if im the one asking? – she tried, seeing him immediately clench his jaw.

- Im doing it for you, for us, all! I told you and you said we were on the same side, now what?!

- I'm not taking anything back. I'm just worried it’s already too much – she confessed, not really knowing how else to explain the feeling in her.

Maybe she was giving in to the hormones, anxiety, or maybe was the fact she hadn't cared about others in years like she did now for him, but it was all happening so fast and whether Roman was ready to admit it or not, he was losing control and not facing things with a right mindset. Those outbursts of anger, the way he turned against everyone, judgments, drastic solutions, he was getting carried away by the desire for revenge and his justice. He kept saying he was doing it for them, for their future and instead seemed like a pretext to rush towards other problems. They didn't need acknowlegment, a border to build anything, they were fine, everything worked when it was just them, together. They had never been happier than in the time spent getting to know each other, digging their bond out of the dust and strengthening it. Life certainly couldn't be made up only of moments like those, dates and runs in the woods, but things could certainly have been different.

- Whatever it takes, doesn't matter, at all – he announced, almost exasperated by having to explain, by having to hear, his gaze so confident and Y/N stared at him for a moment without being able to say anything else.

Whatever it takes, he said.

The prospect of those sacrifices and ease which he said he wanted to face them would torment was heavy, but as she had sadly learned to do growing up, she hid all the worry in the back of her mind.

He didn't listen or maybe he didn't want to.

So Y/N simply moved closer, challenging his growing temper, to seek some warmth and his lips in an uncertain kiss. Saw him look at her almost suspiciously for her reaction, studying before reciprocate the kiss and sliding his hands down her thighs. Close, felt their breaths slowly mix in the silence of the dark house and that warmth she had found too late, growing from the most vulnerable part to her chest begging for comfort.

- You matter to me – she reminded him in a heated murmur, forehead resting on him, swollen lips touching, eyes burning for something that went beyond words.

She didn't really care about anything else. They could have been anywhere, surrounded by anyone or in utter desolation and Y/N would still have searched for those eyes. They were her firm point, he was her person. The thought of it terrified her, but she was done fighting and pretending. Roman was everything for her, she had nothing else anymore and she wanted, hoped... he would understand that for that exact reason they couldn't give in. They had to stay together, as a pack, mates.

She saw his gaze lingering on her lips, rising then to meet her eyes, two brown pools now dark in the dim light of the room. Felt his fingers gripping her hips, digging into soft flesh with possession, domineering and lust, marking her skin to claim and force her where she already was.

- Then you gonna be there with me, as you should – he demanded, resolute and despite fighting with everything her head suggested, Y/N nodded to please him again, letting Roman finally crash his mouth against her, satisfied.

They would find a way, they would find a solution even if it seemed difficult, they could do it together, but in that moment Y/N just needed to feel him close, just for her, far from all the noise and problems that awaited them out. They could give themselves that moment of rest, cherish it and Y/N rocked on him, moaning into his hot mouth as their bodies inexorably warmed up. His tongue was insatiable, ready to devour and intoxicate her with his good taste, thrown into a fight that she didn't even dare win. She preferred to let him have control in those moments, while her fingers made their way through dark soft locks, scratching the back of his strong neck to once again elicit that raw growl that vibrated through his broad chest into her bones. Felt his hands slide deeper, grasping her ass, encouraging Y/N to move her hips, pushing on his boner which was quickly answering to juices already wetting his pants.

She had stopped wearing panties when they went to bed a while ago and now was even grateful. She would bear nothing but the feeling of his hard body against her, pressure building like a blessed torture as he guided her growling for her to ride him shamelessly. Y/N had been trying to slow down and control herself for months now, so as not to give in to the heat of their bond, stay with feet on the ground and mind clear now that everything was falling apart, but it was an inexorable descent faster every time Roman touched her. She clung to him, feeling one of his hands travel up under her shirt to roughly grab one of her breasts, his calloused palm rubbing her sensitive nipple making her squirm. Her body had always been hyper-reactive to his attentions, but now she had fallen into a spiral with no exit. Y/N yearned him like a castaway for salvation and in moments like that the need mixed with something more, something that Y/N had never felt for anyone else and her she-wolf fought to make her whisper.

Tell him. We need him. Our mate. Tell him.

- My pussy wet as fuck hm? You need me, don't you? – he said voice like velvet, breaking their kiss and motioning for her to raise herself just enough to sink easily into her cunt – Ima fill you up good, babygirl… don't worry. Aint going nowhere and you'll be stuck with me.

The heat caused by his intrusion had already forced Y/N to open her mouth without being able to speak back, but the sudden thrust of his hips quickly accelerating to pound her almost made her cry. Hands tightened on his shoulders, eyes narrowing with each thrust and then opening as the wave of heat rose from her belly, sending her entire body into flames. Bouncing on his lap, she felt Roman moving his hand from her breast to give her a sharp slap on her ass, he did it one more time drawing a moan and then move up to her throat, to squeeze it just enough to bring tears to her eyes. Quickening the pace, in the frenzy of their moment, Y/N began to confuse the her own pounding heart with the slick sound of bodies slamming together. Her mind becomes more clouded by the second, ears filled with Roman's growls and threatening promises like dark spells ready to tear her soul and climax away. Confused between pleasure and desperation, she held him to her as he held her by the throat, twitches of her wet center uncontrolled amidst the panting of both of them that grew angrier. Room around flashed, throbbing like folds around his cock, impregnated with smell of their bodies, air charged and heavy, saturated with sweat and lust, with a mix of their smells.

They were racing with no intention of slowing down, as if the only goal was to consume, melt and crumble thanks to the other one. Y/N end came sudden and violent between a sloppy kiss and a particularly insistent push on that soft point on which Roman loved to rage without any mercy, fast, powerful, in a strangled moan that made her bare feet tingle, rising in an electric discharge up her legs to a sweaty body, chest begging and hot face. She closed her eyes, grabbing Roman's arm for her life, throwing her head back and then immediately hiding her face on his shoulder because he wasn't slowing down, he wasn't even giving her a moment to breath and she had already went over her limit. Heat kept growing and shake her, causing Y/N to lose all contact with her surroundings, ears ringing as if she had been underwater, body still crying out for more while Roman pounded furiously. Stunned, she stood abandoned in his arms, letting him have his way as he wanted, until something made her eyes widen, pushing her to gasp.

- R-Ro- she tried, because his hand had somehow left her throat, to grab Y/N by the back of her neck and tilt her head to the side.

He was holding her by her curls, beard scratching her hot neck, tongue ready to lick away sweat from her sweet pulsing weak spot to prepare it.

- Easy, stay still – his breath against her skin, so close, pushed Y/N to stiffen as much as his words – I'll be gentle, ssh…

Roman had never pushed, he had never held her like he was doing at that moment and feeling his teeth on her flesh sharper than usual, Y/N wriggled away.

- Don't - she tried again, feeling him tighten his grip, slowing down his thrusts, another hand moving to her wrist.

Why he was acting like that?

- Don't panic, its me – he reassured her, words heavy, attitude raising for her reaction and she planted her feet, her only free hand tapping on his bare chest.

It was him, Roman? Was it really him that one? Suddenly Y/N wasn't so sure and ignoring her wolf pleas, confused between the sense of discomfort and desire to give in, she pushed again to put some space between them.

- Y/N

- No, not like this! – she wailed and when finally managed to slide away from his legs, Y/N saw him jump up with a growl.

The crash of the coffee table froze her on the couch, eyes wide as she watched him pant in anger with clenched fists, body stiff. Still dirty for their moment, but with her mind completely clear now, she watched him stand there trying to regain control in a heavy silence she hadn't felt between them in a while. Roman rubbed his face, rolling his large shoulders, rocking his head and even though she was shaken, something in Y/N's chest tightened following the imperceptible direction of his gaze across the room, where she had put the ulafala away.

Did he want to mark her to prove a point? To have full control in order to not go through what had happened with his family? It was that?

Mate…

She moved her eyes to his hand, the one would have grabbed to calm him, to bring him back to there with her, the one she always found on herself for any reason even the stupidest, the one Y/N had learned to want, but a second too long passed and her hesitation was enough for Roman to quickly settle down, deciding to walk out of the room without a word to leave her again.

***

Uncle Afa was a man bent by age and illness now. When him and his dad stopped traveling around the country, he opened a gym in a recreation center on the eastern outskirts of the city where family had settled. He only trained their people at that time, city folks didn't want to set foot among savages, but his uncle ignored comments like his dad, dedicating himself heart and soul to the pack. Roman remembered going into that place the last time when he was sixteen, probably with the twins, to put on muscles that had grown bigger on their own later and fill his stomach always asking for more. The gym was different now from then, it was larger, it had incorporated buildings next door and it wasn't dusty at all. There was a sign, clean walls full of photos and articles, in the central one there was also him, right at the top.

They had organized the meeting there to have a neutral place, a place that represented everyone, a symbol of the pack values as the Elders demanded. Yet sitting at the head of the table in the gym hall, with the attention of many of his blood just beyond the threshold, Roman kept undaunted watching that perfectly framed photo at the top of the wall. He was there to talk, ready to prove his worth even if it was thanks to him that that picture had a wall to still be on, if that gym existed after his uncle's family had spent almost everything to pay the national healthcare system, if the next generations would have a place to go or eat like he did. He acknowledged his family efforts, but all of them would have been still in that dusty past of mediocrity if Roman had not taken everything into his own hands knowing he was more than what the world saw.

- Don't try, don’t think about it, I wouldn't do it if I was in your place - he heard Jimmy warn, blocking the wise man from trying to come forward to break the silence of their meeting that had already started a few minutes ago without a word.

Roman heard him clear his throat anyway, but payed no attention until Jey, the only one sitting besides him and Y/N, decided to cut it short.

- I don't have any piece of paper with me – he announced, rubbing his hands on his legs.

Roman eyed him silently, slowly tilting his head and Jey shifted in his seat, face so serious as he settled himself better to speak.

He could broaden his shoulders and give himself as much tone as he wanted, but he would never be on his level, he would never be like him and it was evident. That meeting was ridiculous, disrespectful even.

- It's just between us for me. Families have nothing to do with it – he explained, quickly nodding to whoever was outside the door – Same for Solo, he's my brother... and Y/N, she's family too. He disappears with you though and won't set foot in the packland again as long as I'm here. – he concluded, pointing to the wise man who didn't even manage to mutter his disappointment before Roman burst out laughing.

He’s crazy and dumb.

His hoarse laugh echoed throughout the entire empty hall and he didn't bother to hide it or hold back, simply running a hand over his beard to regain control only after a while. With the entire family's eyes on him, he knocked the table with his hand, eyeing his cousin once more.

Jey. The little soldier Jey. Roman had tried to keep him close, to teach him how things worked, because he loved him and still he didn’t get it. Not a single thing. Anything at all.

He persisted with his speeches even a few days before the moment which Roman would have removed him from the family, putting everything on the table to play the good pup. He wanted the title, he wanted to chase him away, but he was willing to vouch for his family anyway, for Solo who had kicked him and even Y/N… as if there was only one scenario out of all the ones imaginable in which Roman would have left her if not as a deadman or it would have allowed him to realize the ideas he had in his dumb head. He still thought the problem was him or the advice the wise man had given him to stay on top, he thought he could keep his hands clean, not involve anyone and he didn't understand that the situation they were in already, was the exact reason for which he would never have survived in Roman’s place.

- You're wasting my time – he said, giving him an annoyed smile.

Jey didn't reply, cashing in without even a nod. He was good at cashing in, Roman acknowledged it, it was his talent, perhaps his only one, but it still wouldn't have been enough against him. He might be determined and willing to fight him one more time, but it would be no use. Roman had no limits and had learned over the years and blows what was needed to kept the role he had.

- Whoever will standing at the end decides, tha’s the deal, the stipulation. There's nothing else to say – he established, tone suddenly deadly heavy.

There was nothing he wasn't willing to do or lose to keep what was his.

He saw Jey nod, imitate him and stand up and in the silence of the room leave the table to join him. Face to face to each other, he stared at his reflection in his cousin's dark eyes, the ulafala still around his neck as it was in the photo of him on the wall and as it always would be. He squeezed Jey forearm and allowed that even if the bond between them no longer existed, their wolves shared a final breath.

Blood of my blood. Brother. Traitor.

When the air left his lungs again to fill them with the stale smell of the center, Roman let go without hesitation, Jey imitating him in a perfect mirror. However, was he who turned his back on his cousin this time to go away first, ignoring the wise man's sad look and those of the rest of the family outside waiting. Y/N who had been on the sidelines the entire time, unexpectedly joined him, her back straight and face betraying nothing as she took her place next to him. Roman didn't comment, there was nothing to say.

Two weeks and he would have control again. Only two weeks before moving on.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @reignsangel444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @spritelucozade @tribalchiefdaily @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318

#lovely lovely stuff!❤️ #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfiction #tw non con element #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns fic #roman reigns fanfic

[joannasteez]

humiliation. degradation. pain. the man is a bonafide masochist. like do u know how down bad u gotta be to be expecting some mean and nasty sht to get said to u and when it doesnt ur disappointed? lmaooooo cody i want better for u, pls seek help😩

Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Part 1

Title: Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Part 1

Story Type: Kayfabe Based.

Part: 1/2 (with intro)

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom/s: WWE

Characters: Cody Rhodes

Characters Mentioned: Roman Reigns.

Pairing/s: M/M (Cody/Roman)

Synopsis: Cody doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows where he wants to be.

Rating: 18+ M: Angst, Humor, Rivalries, Pining, Swearing

Note : Sequel to Breakdown. This is a Kayfabe based WWE story, meaning that it takes place in the wrestling verse. The events in this story take place after Wrestlemania. This is a complete work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story. 🖤 Credit for part of the title goes to Zeromancer, as that lyric is in the song “Raising Hell.”

Intro

Your (Cody based) Playlist:

1. “Ghosts” - Scarlet House

2. “Do You Wanna Get High?” - Weezer

3. “The Love Machine” - Varials

4. “(But I’m Still Here)” - Evans Blue

5. “Somebody Told Me” - The Killers

‘I’ll still be better than you.’

Wide awake in his bed somewhere around 3,  still very much three sheets to the wind, Cody stares at the newly won title he’d draped over a chair in the far corner of his hotel room.  

‘I’m gonna miss whippin’ your ass .”

For the entire night, Roman’s words had been replaying themselves in his head. 

Over, and over again. 

Future tense. 

It was making him think. 

Why was it that Roman kept foreshadowing some kind of departure in the ring that night? He kept using the future tense. 

Was he making good on all those threats he made about walking out if he lost at Wrestlemania? 

It couldn’t have been that easy. 

It took Cody years to pry that title out of Roman’s hands. Years. That power hungry lunatic cheated, lied, and almost destroyed his own family over it. He sacrificed his body and a good portion of and his mind for it.

The man had an ego the size of Jupiter. Spite, violence, and winning were what soothed it best when it was bruised. This wasn’t the kind of accolade that Cody was allowed to achieve without Roman making it his business to make him regret pursuing it. His thing was retaliation. 

There was no way that Roman fucking Reigns would let him beat him for anything and allow him to just live in peace. 

It wasn’t in his shitty little vindictive nature. 

So where the hell was he, and why wasn’t Cody currently regretting his entire existence? 

Was Roman holed up somewhere with Heyman, coming up with a way to blindside him?

Was he even still in Philly? 

Why wasn’t he on TikTok mocking Cody’s victory speech, and where were the snide, dickhead comments about the way he carried the title?

And why was Cody lying in bed, beating himself up over the prospect of Roman leaving when the one of the points of winning the match was to end his reign of control over the WWE?

Well, that probably had a lot to do with the fact that his thoughts were being steered in the wrong direction by tequila, mixed feelings, and his dick.

Which Cody resented.

This was the same person who made it his mission to destroy and humiliate Cody in front of the whole world. For fun. He was the orchestrator of almost every single attack on him on the road to Wrestlemania.

Roman wasn’t some dreamy love boat, He was a tyrannical maniac that got what he deserved.

Cody needed a grip and some sleep before he started giving in to questionable thoughts provoked by alcohol consumption. 

He shifts around onto his side, pulling the blanket back up around him.

‘Fuck it, I’m gonna ask him.’

Inching a hand under his pillow, Cody blindly feels out his cellphone. 

Like that one.  

He could’ve just gone to bed, but no. 

He just haaaad to poke the tribal bear. 

Bring on the prequel to WWIII.

Pulling his phone out, he taps the screen and lets out a frustrated groan into his pillow. 

“I’m an an idiot.” Cody mumbles to himself as he squints at the screen, struggling to type his password out.

He fails twice, but manages to unlock the screen after slowly entering the letters on his third try. 

Swearing under his breath as he navigates to his contact list, Cody wishes he would’ve taken not being able to unlock his damn phone as a sign.

He had all the intentions the world and nothing to say. 

What could he even say?

Sorry for taking the one thing you valued most in this world?

Sorry for offending your entire lineage?

I don’t know why, but I think I need to see you again?

Cody chews his lip as he scrolls the seemingly endless list of names absentmindedly, forcing the memory of Roman’s long, skilled fingers sliding in between his ass cheeks to the very back of his brain.

It was probably best that he kept things simple. 

His body reacted everytime he so much as thought of the Roman’s name, he was already well on his way to “complicated.”

Pressing his thumb down to hold his place when he catches sight of Roman’s name, he taps it once to open up the text screen. 

“Don’t be…weird.” He coaches himself quietly, as he composes his message. 

When he was finished, he squeezed an eye shut to focus his vision, read it over once, then pressed send. 

Fast. 

Cody R.: U said u wld miss fighting me what did u mean? R u leaving?

It took ten seconds and three manic rereads for him to start hating himself.

He sounded like a dumb teenaged girl. ‘So do you like me? No like, do you like me, like me?’

Cody lets out a disgusted groan and smacks his hand against his forehead lightly a couple times, squirming in embarrassment. “Or not, whatever…”

He doesn’t know why he bothered to even do this. It wasn’t like he expected Roman to respond and want to hold some sort of light hearted conversation with him.

His gaze falls back on the belt.

‘Especially after last night.’

…But it couldn’t have been enough to make Roman want to quit.  

Right?

Wanting to rip his throat out was one thing, but quitting? 

How could he just quit? 

‘He’s not gonna quit.’

This couldn’t be him quitting, Cody refused to believe that it was.

Because Roman was a liar. 

That’s what the sick bastard did. He lied. 

He was lying when he told Cody that he wouldn’t be at RAW the night he and his cousin teamed up to attack he and Seth, and he was lying now. 

He lays there for moment and stares at the clock. “Goddamn lia-“

*Buzz*

Cody’s heart jolts in his chest when his phone vibrates in his hand, and he shoots up onto his elbow. In a fit of mindless panic, he throws it down, smacking it off the side of the bed.

He cringes at the sound of it hitting…something. 

*Buzz*

Then he lets his head hang, rolling his eyes shut with an irritable sigh.  

‘Real smooth.’

“Shit.” Cody hisses, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

What the hell was he even doing? He felt like such a moron. 

*Buzz*

Cody’s head lifts warily. 

Inching to the edge of the mattress at the pace of a snail, he lays on his stomach and reaches down to feel around the floor.

“Aha’ing” when his fingers hit something hard and smooth, Cody tucks his pointer finger around it and drags the recovered phone toward him. 

After plucking it up it off the carpet, he uses the floor for leverage and pushes himself back upright with a grunt. Letting out a string of hushed expletives, he flops back onto the bed and taps his phone screen twice. 

Sure enough, there was a two message “text preview” with Roman’s name on it.

He’d texted him back. 

He’d texted him back.

Roman had actually texted him back. 

Scolding himself mentally when his stomach does that annoying fluttering thing, Cody shakily unlocks his phone. 

The message thread he started with Roman floods his screen as soon as it clicks.

Roman R.: Good morning, idiot. 

Roman R.: Are you trying to tell me that you’re having a stroke or something? Is that why you’re typing in code like an illiterate middle schooler that got left behind twice?

Gawking at the screen in a combination of relief and shock, Cody rereads the first text. 

Good morning, idiot.

As he rereads it for the second time, slowly, a strange sense of comfort starts to creep up on him. The familiarity of Roman’s tone through the text message was soothing.

He’d been expecting him to “one word” him or something, but…he hadn’t. 

Cody reads it again. 

Good morning, idiot. 

The tension that had been trapped in his shoulders starts to melt away.

The message may have been nasty, but it wasn’t malicious or threatening. It was just Roman being himself. 

An asshole. 

Good morning, idiot. 

Rolling his eyes helplessly, Cody snorts out the breath he’d been holding hostage and shakes his head. “Guy’s a complete and total prick.” 

But he didn’t hate him. 

Cody’s lips twitch, threatening to twist up into a grin. 

It was a good start. 

He’d take it.

All Cody had to do now was get the bastard to answer the questions he dodged. 

He wasn’t going to insult his way out of this one.

Tapping his thumb on the side of his phone idly, he shifts on the bed and racks his brain for a  clever response to Roman’s obnoxious messages.

‘He’s not gonna leave.’

He needed this figured out quickly so he could get Roman out of his head. 

#cody rhodes x roman reigns #roman reigns #cody rhodes #roman reigns fanfiction #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody being a pushpin puppet #cody in masochist mode #something something these chapters are always flawless and entertaining #i look forward to them!!❤️

[joannasteez]

Kay Redfield Jamison, An Unquiet Mind: A Memoir of Moods and Madness

#tanks of blood

[joannasteez]

sneak peak!

#cody rhodes #dominik mysterio #hitman!cody rhodes #john wick au

[joannasteez]

writing fight scenes is hard☹️

#hate it here kinda

[joannasteez]

@harmshake my tiktok algorithm unfortunately listens to everything i say… now i feel like i need to write a longer version of that headcanon

📸 by Distracted by Wrestling

[joannasteez]

this app is losing sight of what really matters. the girls are wrestling between short form and long form fics and completely forgetting the ways of headcanons.

the greatness of a good bullet pointed post. ideas too good to leave alone but ones we don’t wanna fully commit to. i got y’all though.

#bring back headcanons #bullet pointed greatness

[joannasteez]

its easter. im feeling generous. this is the lil mood board for the john wick inspired fic and a small excerpt!!!

new york. the continental hotel and it's flatiron shape. september 2019. the rain, this soft unsteady pitter patter. a gently dreadful grey coloring the sky. the air cold and biting. the city filling its brim with a sleepless droning. bath water sloshing till it overtakes the tub to spill against the floor. his lips working over yours. fingers kneading deep enough into skin till its staining with the print of his touch. nails tender in his hair and your body melting in till the heat of him breaks over your skin. his everything settled into the wisp and charm of your voice when his pleasure is too whole. too great.

but his memory tires, has been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for sometime. but this straining is singular. a throbbing at the forefront of his skull and a tight pulling pain at the nape of his neck, till it's creeping wild at the tip of his spine. he grows ill always, sore in his attempts to reminisce. body wistfully undone. and what words do the men of our time say about insanity? to be in a perpetual state of trying, doing, in hopes of something new. and so on he went, flirting with this disaster, this run of nostalgia, so much so that memory has forsaken him, taking these little complexities—the new york rain and the taste of your lips—along with it.

but cody can handle the load and reload of a glock 26 as fast as he does it well. a deft maneuvering before the barrel raises and he pulls the trigger, the recoil driving sharp. a bullet through the skull and the splattering of blood. whoever meant to kill him, now dead in his wake.

but what cruelty this is. a traitor to his own body. living with nothing but the means to kill and tattered memory. with him still, only, all of the things left unsaid. 

#i didnt forget about this! #its a wip but shes getting #slowly but surely #cody rhodes

[joannasteez]

#succession #the show ended why am i still in pain #kendall roy #shiv roy

[joannasteez]

Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Title: Acts of Service. | Pulse.

Part: 1/3

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom: WWE

Characters: Roman Reigns, Kia Moore (OC)

Pairing: M/F, (Kia/Roman)

Synopsis: Kia pushes Roman too far. He has a unique way of expressing his displeasure.

Rating: 18+ M | Sex, Electrostimulation, Dark Humor, “Pleasure Torture,” Swearing, Humiliation kink, Established relationships, Brat Taming, Manipulation, Overstimulation, BDSM, Aftercare

Note : This is a Kayfabe based story. Roman is The Tribal Chief, and it takes place during The Bloodline’s run as a stable. This fic, in particular, is set during Kia and Roman’s week long vaca in Pensacola. This is a work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story that is not my OC, Kia. Please don’t copy or repost. Credit to whomever owns the gif. Credit for the song used in the gif goes to GloRilla for “Lick or Sum’”

Roman was acutely aware of the fact that his curious, hard-headed, and habitually bored other half had a “kink” for testing his limits.

Kia liked to exercise the control she knew she had over him by playing with his emotions, riling up his body, and fucking his mind. 

Roman’s never ending patience with her only enabled her to see how far she could go. She enjoyed being one of the only people on the planet who could threaten his stability. 

He didn’t mind it. He was the one that had given her that power, after all. 

Roman’s “kink” was reminding Kia that he could take that back from her anytime he wanted. 

It was the third day of their vacation week. They’d agreed to spend it holed up together at his house in Pensacola.

Kia left the house around 1 PM. She was supposed to be home for their date night at 10, like she’d promised when she was on her way out. 

Fed up with waiting, Roman tore apart the beautiful set up he put together for her in the dining room at approximately 12:30 AM 

He ensured he marked the time for future reference too, just in case she tried to play in his face. 

He knew she would. 

————————————————————————-

“I don't post his ass, I ghost his ass, and leave him on the Snap!!”

It was 2 AM now and Roman was pacing the floors of his living room, clutching his phone in his hand. 

Staring down at the screen impassively, he watches his skimpily dressed girlfriend shake her ass to GloRilla at somebody’s turnt up Miami house party.

With a group of girls he didn’t recognize. 

9 hours away. 

Like the selfish, impulsive brat that she was. 

Naomi was there with her too. She may have been trying to keep herself out of the frame, but she was definitely the one recording and throwing up gang signs. 

Roman recognized her custom, glow in the dark nail set. 

Oh, they were having the time of their lives, huh? They were out there making a whole movie. 

It was “girl’s night,” apparently. 

He must’ve been getting old. He was forgetting his dates again. 

“Just couldn’t help yourself, huh?” Roman murmurs, cracking a wry smile when Kia makes a gun motion at the camera and shouts along to the lyrics. “you ain’t shit, Kia.” He laughs shortly, tapping the “love” react on the live. “S’alright though, baby girl. I got sum’ for you.”

Swiping the app closed, Roman pockets his phone and makes his way over to the couch, leaning down to grab the tv remote off the coffee table on the way. 

Kia had to bring her audacious little self home at some point.

And when she did? Her ass would be his.

A/N: Pray for our sis. Please. 🙏

Let me know what you think…

-ink 🖤

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #his ass is crazy your honor #kia u r in my prayers

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (4) - i'll be your mirror

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: angst. talks of parental neglect. consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) roman and reader are 17 & 16 in this flashback authors note: we going down that memory lane again. this chapter is inspired by the velvet underground's song "i'll be your mirror". it's such a bittersweet song, something that i think perfectly sums up the relationship. word count: 3900 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade @gg-trini

roman didn't, and still doesn't have the burden of being an only child—thank God—and certainly not the burden of being an only child to such disagreeable parents. i love you, i hate you, and then that heavy  drowning silence to follow. and no, he's never seen your mother and KG fight, but the after affects of such tumultuous affairs are always evident. cleaner and more clear than a chrome finish. a force fed sort of isolation he can feel, even if such feelings are just, to him, a secondary burden. pain by association. and he hates to imagine the messiness of it, that mangled and tattered sort of hurt littered everywhere, but his imagination is all he has, because you never say much about it.  leaving the air as dry and brittle as they had. but maybe if you do ever say something, give the silence a soft solemn touch, he can restore it the rest of the way. or try to at least. he can do or say or be something, enough of whatever you need to remedy what he can. but even the idea of that is scary, a new desire the sixteen year old him that existed the year prior wouldn't have. lacking so much urgency about anything that wasn't him inspired. 'you need to grow up fast', he'd heard his mother say once. maybe this is what she meant. his seventeen year old sensibilities a little different. a little more urgent than easy, a little more ardently driven. 

priorities are funny though. a list constantly shifting. everything ever that he liked, maybe even loved—parties, bikes, parties, girls, his hair, his bike—trumped by the state of your emotional being. which was interesting. a tire skid of an abrupt shift. and not to mention your hair, and your eyes and your face. full lips that love to pout in time with their irritations. and how would he notice that unless he was lingering? his eyes there, trailing up and over, down and everywhere. a twist in his belly, hearing you call his name. he can't help but to like it. to crave that rushing energy of getting you to squirm, to smile. to have your eyes fix themselves on him.  

and if he didn't like you so damn much he'd probably hate you. his heart sinking into himself all the time now. a habitual falling that couldn't be stopped. regardless of how deep he breathed. self soothing be damned. so its nothing new to work through, when he gets to you—twisting open the door with a spare key he forced you to get made for him because he hated the idea of you being alone a lot at night —comfortable in your very empty house but not really. wrestling still with his body, because doesn't it know he has a coolness to maintain? an air? a quality? prince of pensacola and all that nice prestigious shit. but maybe that wasn't the point. maybe that wasn't supposed to exist with you. his fingers playing over the velvet box in the right pocket of his sweatpants.

but when roman says empty, he doesn't mean barren because your house is homey. comfortable. lived in. theres just no one here to indulge in it. to indulge in earth tones and splashes of green. plants and throw blankets. KG staining the place with pops of black leather jackets and silver things. little harley bikes and idle jewelry. no one but you. but whatever you've done, it leaves him hungry. the air warm and savory scented. tomatoes and garlic and bread and other fragrant little seasonings. 

roman's sneakers thud over hardwood floors. your voice carrying from the lit kitchen. music low and melodic under your words, just enough to fill in the emptiness of the house. "roman i swear if you don't have my ice cream, please turn your ass about face and exit stage left". 

he leads himself into the kitchen easy paced. overly familiar with the lay of the house. sliding into a too tiny for him kitchen island table high chair. his body half way off the seat. "you tryin to kick me out when i have a key is real backwards shit". 

and you pout. full lips down turning. brows pulling. it makes the tip of his fingers itch. his tongue working over the roof of his mouth. he'd thought about it, once or twice. your mouth. questioned how good mango lip balm tastes. 

you throw a balled up napkin his way. "the one little thing i ask for, you keep forgetting. its like you hate me". 

"first", he starts. eyeing the portion of food you've tonged onto a plate. "that lil market you want it from is out of my way", snagging a fork and dipping it into the heat of the plate. your hand sliding him a can of coke. "second, its expensive as hell. tryna have me travel damn near across country for a forgettable ass flavor". 

you gasp offended. full on dramatics that confirm just how spoiled you are. because KG and your mother were many things. complicated people he couldn't at times understand. but they always gave you things. whether it was wanted or needed. you always had it. 

"my needs are forgettable?" 

his eyes roll playfully. pulling his fork to watch the heat rise from it. "gimme a few days. i'll draft up a nice fat invoice for your pops. show him just how needy you are. spending all my money".

"money you let me spend!", you give. smiling. because you were right. there was never a moment where he let you buy things around him. not since the development of such abrupt, overwhelming feelings. harsh butterfly's and hard to quell desire making him do things he otherwise wouldn't think of. and he never saw his dad do it. never saw his mother reach into her wallet. your fingers pointing to the once upon a time crew neck band tee that you cut into a tank top. "your contributions paid for this top by the way. and my shorts", the neck of it slit into a v shape that gave him a view he didn't need to see. it wouldn't do much but excite things that didn't need exciting. ideas that didn't need encouragement. not now anyways. the biker shorts hitting mid thigh, soft brown skin left to the air. and you seem none the wiser to his examinations. cleaning out the contents of the fridge. your voice carrying over to him still. "the best thing you can do for a woman is open up that little wallet of yours". 

roman snorts. sips at his coke with a smile. "when this so called woman shows up, give her my number so we can chat". 

your teeth suck. throwing in a little mumble of "whatever", taking a towel to the fridge shelves. a diligent but bizarre work of your hands. because the house was already clean. already presentable. there was no reason for you to drench cloths in pine scented product. to work in a wipe down that left reflections rivaling the fresh chrome finish of his father's vintage cruiser. maybe that's why you've been on him about ice cream pick ups and late night last minute shopping mall trips for band tees and flannel shirts. everything a project. a process to pass the time. and his sudden willingness to say yes to everything didn't help. it only drew him in. manifesting itself in the form of a little black velvet box. one which sat in his pocket, waiting for some much needed exposure. exposure roman is sure won't be given tonight. not if his fears have anything to say about it. obnoxiously loud, heart thumping fears. seventeen isn't the age for rejection anyways. and he's seen it before, he can do well without that type of pain. 

and with all this passion filled anxiety, roman goes unaware. tunnel visioned by thoughts and the impression of that velvet box pressing into his leg. levels the good heap of food you've given him easily. growing boy and all that jazz.

your reaction is cute though, when you do finally face him again. a play at disgust. pretty brown eyes watching the roll his tongue takes over his lips to taste the remnants of flavor. and he can feel the exacting of them. a sensation over his mouth from your eyes. hesitant and curious. 

"y'know you could've chewed it right? it wasn't going nowhere"

roman stands. a finished plate in one hand and his unfinished coke in the other. shuffling to the sink. "the way you mindin my business is kinda crazy actually". 

"the way you eat is crazy actually. very much like a starved animal". 

and roman does a lesser by the day rare thing, slipping out of the hesitancy that comes with what if's and unknowns. the saucy mess of his plate in his right hand, body inching close, smooth and unashamed, till he's caging you in between his height and the sink. his eyes catching onto the slight hitch in your shoulders as you flush up against the counter. his head tilting, narrowing in on the surprise of your face. the stillness in your body that comes with unsure thoughts. mixed desire. or at least. thats what he hopes. this would be bad if you absolutely hated everything about what he was doing. but he kills that way of thinking. pushes it to a deeper, quieter corner. his blood racing. something in him wanting to see you thrash and break against the hold of your resolve for him. for him only. "all that jealous energy for a plate of food is unnecessary. i got enough attention to go around".

you gasp. catching his drift. his thigh nudging into yours. this teasing, faint knock in that has your hands rushing into him. a not so hard pushing away. "be so fuckin for real right now".

"starin me down, watchin me cause you like the way i eat", his emphasis on words, sharper on some than others. it makes your nose flare and the pulling in your brows deepen. his body rife with sweet satisfaction. he smiles, teasing, and the slip of it catches your eyes again. "it's ok to admit i make you feel something". his hand reaching down to dump the plate in the sink and sit down his can of coke. a maneuvering that gets him closer, deeper into the warmth of your space. "squirmin n'shit away from me like you don't like it". 

your eyes dilate. a black heat pushing against the sweet docile brown. something new and unknown pushing against something comfortable and old. telling him everything he needs to know.

you bristle. short of breath."roman shut the fuck up and-...", your teeth sucking as you push against him again. "...and make yourself useful". getting away from what he's sure is suffocating air. and no this isn't totally his ego, but he knows that the intoxication of such a new feeling is more than likely overwhelming, because roman isn't new to making girls melt. to having them go weak and silly eyed for him. he was and is who he is, and the aura is natural, comes to him as true as would a birthright to the firstborn son of ancient nobility. but its never left such a satisfaction in him as it does now. 

"need me to eat somethin else?"

your fist balls around a towel you've picked up. standing in front the light of the open fridge. you hurl it fast to hit him, approaching to have your hands push at his solid chest. so obviously overdone by whatever truths you're fighting to avoid. because why else would it bother you so much if it isn't true. if you don't feel the same way he does. 

"close this", your finger pointing as his mouth. "wash this", directed at his still saucy plate. 

eyes rolling for dramatic effect. to really sink home that overflowing of disgust. you fooled nobody. nobody but yourself. 

"not sure if you know this...", his hands soapy and wet as he starts to clean his plate. heart pounding in his chest. a giant step of words tumbling down off his tongue. heavy and thumping as they hit the air less implied than they've ever been. "...but we can't work if you're gonna be violent to me. it's gotta be fifty-fifty. give and take and all that good shit". 

you wipe mindless at another fridge shelf. from what he can see of your face, the gears turning slow and cautious. "and what exactly is supposed to be workin?"

"don't be dense". he throws a look your way. mocking and a little impatient. 

you wince. a slight hitch in your arms. like such a thing to hear was painful. "roman. stop saying that", you scold. his name leaving you violent and parental. 

and he feels an immediate failing in his chest. a stuttering that forms as the complete summation of every heavy bout and measly piece of anxiety since he's taken his first step past your front door. of course he didn't mean to be so wounding as to bring up in your eyes a more than mild detesting but there it is. brown and burning and heavy. a loathing born from the awful slip of his memory. too comfortable in his slip from caution to reign in the no go phrasing. because KG—as cool as roman thinks him to be—says not so nice things sometimes. 'don't be dense', as a way to inspire common sense from the other guys romans age. ones that hang around lazily. doing half ass jobs and wasting his—your fathers— time. but it doesn't mean you hate it any less, even if it never is directed at you. 

"sorry", he gives softly. "sorry".

and the silence after is agony. like his body is working through the painstaking process of drowning. a suffocation that makes him squirm. uncomfortable in his skin. soft music playing still, the only thing that attempts to fill in the deep well of quiet. his hands toweling dry, leaning up against the sink to watch you work. steeping further into a self directed annoyance. the banter at one point ok. teasing but never so much that it made you go quiet. because quiet, from you, means that roman can't access whatever you're thinking. he can't gauge whatever feelings exist. and he's never been so brainless about a thing before, so disconnected that his words make you mount with a displeasured heat that quickly. again, this care for all of your feelings all the time. happening so quickly. when the fuck did that start and how the hell is he going to catch up? 

he needs to fill the silence. the loudness of it nearly killing him. 

"how's your mom?"

because he hasn't seen her for a while. her always less than warm stare and short words. smiles that don't reach the eyes and tense, unsure hugs. it was better when you both were younger. she gave him more to work with then. always smiling and cooking and present. her eyes bright and warm and brown, similar to the ones you have now. they looked at him with less distance then. 

the circular wipe down of your hand falters for some seconds. picks back up as if nothing has happened. "she's fine", your voice flat. unenthused. "went up north to visit family". 

and he's heard his own mother and father talk about it before. hushed words when they think others don't know. a sadness to the syllables. to the air when they say things. he figures its an excuse. visiting family is an excuse for other things. 

the curiosity crushes into him. for the sake of wanting to do something. to have you not be so quiet about it. so alone in it. "how long has she been gone-"

"a few days", sighing out answers. seemingly exhausted with his prying. you stack things back into a clean—it was already fairly clean—fridge. dumping out not so old containers and ceramic dishes into the sink. "she'll be back whenever". 

"whenever?"

you give him a look. one that peers up from under your lashes. one that says to stop. to drop the subject. to let it go. but roman is compelled by his own needs to get closer. to be something more than whatever it is that exists now. he wants to be let in. 

"listen", picking his brain for words to say. anything that will properly stick. "...i'm here... if you wanna talk about it... you don't have to shutdown-"

you wipe out a tupper-ware bowl. old food and a nasty smell. disinterested. "don't really know what you want me to say". 

romans jaw clenches. "don't do that". 

"don't do what?"

"don't downplay shit", words toughing out harsher than he means them to. he sighs, tightening his eyes and going for a deeper breath. "i'm just trying to-", but you maneuver about him regardless. eyes not meeting and your fingers soapy and wet with too hot water. like he's not there. a twist in his gut performs well enough that he thinks somehow it'll bruise internally. his jaw clenching. "stop ignoring me-"

the dishes in your hand drop hard. but somehow not breaking. the fire in your eyes small but dangerous. "s'nothin to say...", you start. each word cutting out. "...because everybody knows. because it's very fuckin obvious. she gets tired, she goes to visit family", your tone playing patronizing. like a parent to a child. "he gets tired, he stays at the clubhouse". 

"...and they leave you here alone", he finishes. upset for you. upset alongside you. why is that so hard for you to see? 

"oh really roman?", sarcasm washing over. "i didn't notice. thanks for telling me". 

and he doesn't really know what to do now. what to say. to much of an abrupt turn back into the banter could make you grow more sour. but he doesn't want to leave you to quietness either. doesn't want you to stew in the heat of all this unaccounted for anger. he's lost. ill feeling. but finally at least coming to some resignation of just how deep the care for you is steadily staking its claim into him. and that insistent scrubbing you're doing, roughing your hand into hot soapy water, almost mindless the way your arm works. like maybe whatever it is you're not saying, you're bleeding into the motions of it. your lips between your teeth. biting in. he wishes you'd just say something. even if that thing is small.  

the ceramic dish breaks. a clacking sort of crack from too much heat and pressure. weak and overworked. the water it suffers under running red from the spill of blood. the skin on your hand lifted and pooling steadily. the pieces dropping to shatter more as you let them go. beads of blood pull up still past your skin but you don't dare to move. shocked maybe? the pain waiting to sink in. 

"shit", a full registration. roman running to your bathroom. rummaging for anything first aid. bandaids and alcohol and gauze and ointments. but the cut itself was easy enough to bandage. yeah no, his speed isn't for the cut. it's for distance coloring your eyes and the way your body refuses to react. the speed of his running is to get back to that. to help that. attempt at a bandaging for that. or maybe thats not something mendable by his hand. maybe not at all.

the kitchen water is running when he comes in. hands full of helpful things and eyes filled with worry. your hand under cold water. grimacing with pain. 

"here", he gives. stripping paper towels and pressing them into your hand. holding tight to pressure over. staring hard at sad eyes. 

your hand pulls from his. releasing him. "thank you", fragile. on the precipice of breaking. soft breaths and a firm standing in front of him. amongst a too clean house and a bloody hand. your eyes not meeting. your lip suffering under the tension of weary teeth. and roman aches but the tower of his body stands over you present and waiting. a comfortable patience. your head falling into his chest. a lean in that asks for the permission to gain relief. if not from pain than from the  carrying of a full burden. something that can be shared. and he takes it gracefully. his arms coming over and around till you're flushed into his chest. fingers spread and soothing. a pleasant caress. 

you sniffle. small like but he can hear you. and maybe in this moment, this is all you can give. a simple cry without the heavy complexity of words. but it's enough. for him it's enough. 

and your face is warm when you decide to shift away from tear staining his shirt. his fingers feeling the brunt of the heat as he thumbs the wet streaks along your cheeks. feeding his eyes into yours. no examinations or readings. just simple presence. an undefiled attention. here now, not so similar to before, he knows what to say. 

"i gotchu". a tender thumbing caress just under glassy pink eyes. 

everything about you here soft and abruptly undone. 

his eyes slip against the seam of your lips. yours doing the same for his. looking away quickly to your hand. 

"i got blood on your shirt", you say. his hands leaving the comfort of your face. looking up to him from under wet curled lashes. "sorry". 

"it's cool", smiling. fingering the fabric of his t-shirt before tugging easy at yours. smudges of blood on it pressed in from the impact of your embrace. "we gotta get you a new tank top though. time to open up my little wallet i guess". 

"that and my ice cream is the least you can do". 

and roman goes about the work of wrapping your hand patiently. a tenderness he's never really known existed in his till the first breaths of this moment. soft music that played before, playing still. his fingers steady as the gauze folds over and over to cover the wound against your palm. 

he can still feel the impression of the velvet box in his pocket. the pressure of it calling to him. heart thudding ill-controlled. with no mind to give him reprieve. 

his thumb runs over the wrapping of gauze against your hand. taking in just how much he towers over you easily. something like possession working into his blood. wanting to keep you safe. 

he does the lesser and lesser rare thing. slipping out of hesitancy. 

"can i show you something?"

you nod. "show me".

the velvet box gets its much needed exposure. after living so long in the shadows of such a deep pocket. his thumb opening it to reveal a pretty silver necklace. slim and simple. a heart at the center covered in diamonds. surprise takes you whole, pretty post-tear brown eyes full of questions. 

"you like it?"

you nod again. "its pretty".

"it's yours if you want it". 

his heart. if you want it, it's yours. 

your eyes trail to his lips again. his tongue licking sly over them, feeling the burden of such a sensation. you reach on your toes, lips planting delicate and shy. an unsure take to his mouth that burst' the ways of his seventeen year old heart. he clutches the necklace dearly, the slim silver of it nestled in his palm as it circles your waist. hugging you in as his lips slot. pursing to pull against yours. a hum of sweet satisfaction slipping up as he maneuvers your mouth gracefully. something tender and fleeting, like a moan, from your throat. breaths heavy as you part from him. his nose knocking gentle into yours. mango lip balm sugary and addicting as he pecks your mouth again. 

he latches the pretty heart to secure around your neck. thumbing your cheeks. his body urging him to go for more. pursing against your lips for another kiss. 

angst and fluff… theyre so sweet!! makes all the present animosity and tension better i think. let me know what you think!!

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (4) - i'll be your mirror

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: angst. talks of parental neglect. consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) roman and reader are 17 & 16 in this flashback authors note: we going down that memory lane again. this chapter is inspired by the velvet underground's song "i'll be your mirror". it's such a bittersweet song, something that i think perfectly sums up the relationship. word count: 3900 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade @gg-trini

roman didn't, and still doesn't have the burden of being an only child—thank God—and certainly not the burden of being an only child to such disagreeable parents. i love you, i hate you, and then that heavy  drowning silence to follow. and no, he's never seen your mother and KG fight, but the after affects of such tumultuous affairs are always evident. cleaner and more clear than a chrome finish. a force fed sort of isolation he can feel, even if such feelings are just, to him, a secondary burden. pain by association. and he hates to imagine the messiness of it, that mangled and tattered sort of hurt littered everywhere, but his imagination is all he has, because you never say much about it.  leaving the air as dry and brittle as they had. but maybe if you do ever say something, give the silence a soft solemn touch, he can restore it the rest of the way. or try to at least. he can do or say or be something, enough of whatever you need to remedy what he can. but even the idea of that is scary, a new desire the sixteen year old him that existed the year prior wouldn't have. lacking so much urgency about anything that wasn't him inspired. 'you need to grow up fast', he'd heard his mother say once. maybe this is what she meant. his seventeen year old sensibilities a little different. a little more urgent than easy, a little more ardently driven. 

priorities are funny though. a list constantly shifting. everything ever that he liked, maybe even loved—parties, bikes, parties, girls, his hair, his bike—trumped by the state of your emotional being. which was interesting. a tire skid of an abrupt shift. and not to mention your hair, and your eyes and your face. full lips that love to pout in time with their irritations. and how would he notice that unless he was lingering? his eyes there, trailing up and over, down and everywhere. a twist in his belly, hearing you call his name. he can't help but to like it. to crave that rushing energy of getting you to squirm, to smile. to have your eyes fix themselves on him.  

and if he didn't like you so damn much he'd probably hate you. his heart sinking into himself all the time now. a habitual falling that couldn't be stopped. regardless of how deep he breathed. self soothing be damned. so its nothing new to work through, when he gets to you—twisting open the door with a spare key he forced you to get made for him because he hated the idea of you being alone a lot at night —comfortable in your very empty house but not really. wrestling still with his body, because doesn't it know he has a coolness to maintain? an air? a quality? prince of pensacola and all that nice prestigious shit. but maybe that wasn't the point. maybe that wasn't supposed to exist with you. his fingers playing over the velvet box in the right pocket of his sweatpants.

but when roman says empty, he doesn't mean barren because your house is homey. comfortable. lived in. theres just no one here to indulge in it. to indulge in earth tones and splashes of green. plants and throw blankets. KG staining the place with pops of black leather jackets and silver things. little harley bikes and idle jewelry. no one but you. but whatever you've done, it leaves him hungry. the air warm and savory scented. tomatoes and garlic and bread and other fragrant little seasonings. 

roman's sneakers thud over hardwood floors. your voice carrying from the lit kitchen. music low and melodic under your words, just enough to fill in the emptiness of the house. "roman i swear if you don't have my ice cream, please turn your ass about face and exit stage left". 

he leads himself into the kitchen easy paced. overly familiar with the lay of the house. sliding into a too tiny for him kitchen island table high chair. his body half way off the seat. "you tryin to kick me out when i have a key is real backwards shit". 

and you pout. full lips down turning. brows pulling. it makes the tip of his fingers itch. his tongue working over the roof of his mouth. he'd thought about it, once or twice. your mouth. questioned how good mango lip balm tastes. 

you throw a balled up napkin his way. "the one little thing i ask for, you keep forgetting. its like you hate me". 

"first", he starts. eyeing the portion of food you've tonged onto a plate. "that lil market you want it from is out of my way", snagging a fork and dipping it into the heat of the plate. your hand sliding him a can of coke. "second, its expensive as hell. tryna have me travel damn near across country for a forgettable ass flavor". 

you gasp offended. full on dramatics that confirm just how spoiled you are. because KG and your mother were many things. complicated people he couldn't at times understand. but they always gave you things. whether it was wanted or needed. you always had it. 

"my needs are forgettable?" 

his eyes roll playfully. pulling his fork to watch the heat rise from it. "gimme a few days. i'll draft up a nice fat invoice for your pops. show him just how needy you are. spending all my money".

"money you let me spend!", you give. smiling. because you were right. there was never a moment where he let you buy things around him. not since the development of such abrupt, overwhelming feelings. harsh butterfly's and hard to quell desire making him do things he otherwise wouldn't think of. and he never saw his dad do it. never saw his mother reach into her wallet. your fingers pointing to the once upon a time crew neck band tee that you cut into a tank top. "your contributions paid for this top by the way. and my shorts", the neck of it slit into a v shape that gave him a view he didn't need to see. it wouldn't do much but excite things that didn't need exciting. ideas that didn't need encouragement. not now anyways. the biker shorts hitting mid thigh, soft brown skin left to the air. and you seem none the wiser to his examinations. cleaning out the contents of the fridge. your voice carrying over to him still. "the best thing you can do for a woman is open up that little wallet of yours". 

roman snorts. sips at his coke with a smile. "when this so called woman shows up, give her my number so we can chat". 

your teeth suck. throwing in a little mumble of "whatever", taking a towel to the fridge shelves. a diligent but bizarre work of your hands. because the house was already clean. already presentable. there was no reason for you to drench cloths in pine scented product. to work in a wipe down that left reflections rivaling the fresh chrome finish of his father's vintage cruiser. maybe that's why you've been on him about ice cream pick ups and late night last minute shopping mall trips for band tees and flannel shirts. everything a project. a process to pass the time. and his sudden willingness to say yes to everything didn't help. it only drew him in. manifesting itself in the form of a little black velvet box. one which sat in his pocket, waiting for some much needed exposure. exposure roman is sure won't be given tonight. not if his fears have anything to say about it. obnoxiously loud, heart thumping fears. seventeen isn't the age for rejection anyways. and he's seen it before, he can do well without that type of pain. 

and with all this passion filled anxiety, roman goes unaware. tunnel visioned by thoughts and the impression of that velvet box pressing into his leg. levels the good heap of food you've given him easily. growing boy and all that jazz.

your reaction is cute though, when you do finally face him again. a play at disgust. pretty brown eyes watching the roll his tongue takes over his lips to taste the remnants of flavor. and he can feel the exacting of them. a sensation over his mouth from your eyes. hesitant and curious. 

"y'know you could've chewed it right? it wasn't going nowhere"

roman stands. a finished plate in one hand and his unfinished coke in the other. shuffling to the sink. "the way you mindin my business is kinda crazy actually". 

"the way you eat is crazy actually. very much like a starved animal". 

and roman does a lesser by the day rare thing, slipping out of the hesitancy that comes with what if's and unknowns. the saucy mess of his plate in his right hand, body inching close, smooth and unashamed, till he's caging you in between his height and the sink. his eyes catching onto the slight hitch in your shoulders as you flush up against the counter. his head tilting, narrowing in on the surprise of your face. the stillness in your body that comes with unsure thoughts. mixed desire. or at least. thats what he hopes. this would be bad if you absolutely hated everything about what he was doing. but he kills that way of thinking. pushes it to a deeper, quieter corner. his blood racing. something in him wanting to see you thrash and break against the hold of your resolve for him. for him only. "all that jealous energy for a plate of food is unnecessary. i got enough attention to go around".

you gasp. catching his drift. his thigh nudging into yours. this teasing, faint knock in that has your hands rushing into him. a not so hard pushing away. "be so fuckin for real right now".

"starin me down, watchin me cause you like the way i eat", his emphasis on words, sharper on some than others. it makes your nose flare and the pulling in your brows deepen. his body rife with sweet satisfaction. he smiles, teasing, and the slip of it catches your eyes again. "it's ok to admit i make you feel something". his hand reaching down to dump the plate in the sink and sit down his can of coke. a maneuvering that gets him closer, deeper into the warmth of your space. "squirmin n'shit away from me like you don't like it". 

your eyes dilate. a black heat pushing against the sweet docile brown. something new and unknown pushing against something comfortable and old. telling him everything he needs to know.

you bristle. short of breath."roman shut the fuck up and-...", your teeth sucking as you push against him again. "...and make yourself useful". getting away from what he's sure is suffocating air. and no this isn't totally his ego, but he knows that the intoxication of such a new feeling is more than likely overwhelming, because roman isn't new to making girls melt. to having them go weak and silly eyed for him. he was and is who he is, and the aura is natural, comes to him as true as would a birthright to the firstborn son of ancient nobility. but its never left such a satisfaction in him as it does now. 

"need me to eat somethin else?"

your fist balls around a towel you've picked up. standing in front the light of the open fridge. you hurl it fast to hit him, approaching to have your hands push at his solid chest. so obviously overdone by whatever truths you're fighting to avoid. because why else would it bother you so much if it isn't true. if you don't feel the same way he does. 

"close this", your finger pointing as his mouth. "wash this", directed at his still saucy plate. 

eyes rolling for dramatic effect. to really sink home that overflowing of disgust. you fooled nobody. nobody but yourself. 

"not sure if you know this...", his hands soapy and wet as he starts to clean his plate. heart pounding in his chest. a giant step of words tumbling down off his tongue. heavy and thumping as they hit the air less implied than they've ever been. "...but we can't work if you're gonna be violent to me. it's gotta be fifty-fifty. give and take and all that good shit". 

you wipe mindless at another fridge shelf. from what he can see of your face, the gears turning slow and cautious. "and what exactly is supposed to be workin?"

"don't be dense". he throws a look your way. mocking and a little impatient. 

you wince. a slight hitch in your arms. like such a thing to hear was painful. "roman. stop saying that", you scold. his name leaving you violent and parental. 

and he feels an immediate failing in his chest. a stuttering that forms as the complete summation of every heavy bout and measly piece of anxiety since he's taken his first step past your front door. of course he didn't mean to be so wounding as to bring up in your eyes a more than mild detesting but there it is. brown and burning and heavy. a loathing born from the awful slip of his memory. too comfortable in his slip from caution to reign in the no go phrasing. because KG—as cool as roman thinks him to be—says not so nice things sometimes. 'don't be dense', as a way to inspire common sense from the other guys romans age. ones that hang around lazily. doing half ass jobs and wasting his—your fathers— time. but it doesn't mean you hate it any less, even if it never is directed at you. 

"sorry", he gives softly. "sorry".

and the silence after is agony. like his body is working through the painstaking process of drowning. a suffocation that makes him squirm. uncomfortable in his skin. soft music playing still, the only thing that attempts to fill in the deep well of quiet. his hands toweling dry, leaning up against the sink to watch you work. steeping further into a self directed annoyance. the banter at one point ok. teasing but never so much that it made you go quiet. because quiet, from you, means that roman can't access whatever you're thinking. he can't gauge whatever feelings exist. and he's never been so brainless about a thing before, so disconnected that his words make you mount with a displeasured heat that quickly. again, this care for all of your feelings all the time. happening so quickly. when the fuck did that start and how the hell is he going to catch up? 

he needs to fill the silence. the loudness of it nearly killing him. 

"how's your mom?"

because he hasn't seen her for a while. her always less than warm stare and short words. smiles that don't reach the eyes and tense, unsure hugs. it was better when you both were younger. she gave him more to work with then. always smiling and cooking and present. her eyes bright and warm and brown, similar to the ones you have now. they looked at him with less distance then. 

the circular wipe down of your hand falters for some seconds. picks back up as if nothing has happened. "she's fine", your voice flat. unenthused. "went up north to visit family". 

and he's heard his own mother and father talk about it before. hushed words when they think others don't know. a sadness to the syllables. to the air when they say things. he figures its an excuse. visiting family is an excuse for other things. 

the curiosity crushes into him. for the sake of wanting to do something. to have you not be so quiet about it. so alone in it. "how long has she been gone-"

"a few days", sighing out answers. seemingly exhausted with his prying. you stack things back into a clean—it was already fairly clean—fridge. dumping out not so old containers and ceramic dishes into the sink. "she'll be back whenever". 

"whenever?"

you give him a look. one that peers up from under your lashes. one that says to stop. to drop the subject. to let it go. but roman is compelled by his own needs to get closer. to be something more than whatever it is that exists now. he wants to be let in. 

"listen", picking his brain for words to say. anything that will properly stick. "...i'm here... if you wanna talk about it... you don't have to shutdown-"

you wipe out a tupper-ware bowl. old food and a nasty smell. disinterested. "don't really know what you want me to say". 

romans jaw clenches. "don't do that". 

"don't do what?"

"don't downplay shit", words toughing out harsher than he means them to. he sighs, tightening his eyes and going for a deeper breath. "i'm just trying to-", but you maneuver about him regardless. eyes not meeting and your fingers soapy and wet with too hot water. like he's not there. a twist in his gut performs well enough that he thinks somehow it'll bruise internally. his jaw clenching. "stop ignoring me-"

the dishes in your hand drop hard. but somehow not breaking. the fire in your eyes small but dangerous. "s'nothin to say...", you start. each word cutting out. "...because everybody knows. because it's very fuckin obvious. she gets tired, she goes to visit family", your tone playing patronizing. like a parent to a child. "he gets tired, he stays at the clubhouse". 

"...and they leave you here alone", he finishes. upset for you. upset alongside you. why is that so hard for you to see? 

"oh really roman?", sarcasm washing over. "i didn't notice. thanks for telling me". 

and he doesn't really know what to do now. what to say. to much of an abrupt turn back into the banter could make you grow more sour. but he doesn't want to leave you to quietness either. doesn't want you to stew in the heat of all this unaccounted for anger. he's lost. ill feeling. but finally at least coming to some resignation of just how deep the care for you is steadily staking its claim into him. and that insistent scrubbing you're doing, roughing your hand into hot soapy water, almost mindless the way your arm works. like maybe whatever it is you're not saying, you're bleeding into the motions of it. your lips between your teeth. biting in. he wishes you'd just say something. even if that thing is small.  

the ceramic dish breaks. a clacking sort of crack from too much heat and pressure. weak and overworked. the water it suffers under running red from the spill of blood. the skin on your hand lifted and pooling steadily. the pieces dropping to shatter more as you let them go. beads of blood pull up still past your skin but you don't dare to move. shocked maybe? the pain waiting to sink in. 

"shit", a full registration. roman running to your bathroom. rummaging for anything first aid. bandaids and alcohol and gauze and ointments. but the cut itself was easy enough to bandage. yeah no, his speed isn't for the cut. it's for distance coloring your eyes and the way your body refuses to react. the speed of his running is to get back to that. to help that. attempt at a bandaging for that. or maybe thats not something mendable by his hand. maybe not at all.

the kitchen water is running when he comes in. hands full of helpful things and eyes filled with worry. your hand under cold water. grimacing with pain. 

"here", he gives. stripping paper towels and pressing them into your hand. holding tight to pressure over. staring hard at sad eyes. 

your hand pulls from his. releasing him. "thank you", fragile. on the precipice of breaking. soft breaths and a firm standing in front of him. amongst a too clean house and a bloody hand. your eyes not meeting. your lip suffering under the tension of weary teeth. and roman aches but the tower of his body stands over you present and waiting. a comfortable patience. your head falling into his chest. a lean in that asks for the permission to gain relief. if not from pain than from the  carrying of a full burden. something that can be shared. and he takes it gracefully. his arms coming over and around till you're flushed into his chest. fingers spread and soothing. a pleasant caress. 

you sniffle. small like but he can hear you. and maybe in this moment, this is all you can give. a simple cry without the heavy complexity of words. but it's enough. for him it's enough. 

and your face is warm when you decide to shift away from tear staining his shirt. his fingers feeling the brunt of the heat as he thumbs the wet streaks along your cheeks. feeding his eyes into yours. no examinations or readings. just simple presence. an undefiled attention. here now, not so similar to before, he knows what to say. 

"i gotchu". a tender thumbing caress just under glassy pink eyes. 

everything about you here soft and abruptly undone. 

his eyes slip against the seam of your lips. yours doing the same for his. looking away quickly to your hand. 

"i got blood on your shirt", you say. his hands leaving the comfort of your face. looking up to him from under wet curled lashes. "sorry". 

"it's cool", smiling. fingering the fabric of his t-shirt before tugging easy at yours. smudges of blood on it pressed in from the impact of your embrace. "we gotta get you a new tank top though. time to open up my little wallet i guess". 

"that and my ice cream is the least you can do". 

and roman goes about the work of wrapping your hand patiently. a tenderness he's never really known existed in his till the first breaths of this moment. soft music that played before, playing still. his fingers steady as the gauze folds over and over to cover the wound against your palm. 

he can still feel the impression of the velvet box in his pocket. the pressure of it calling to him. heart thudding ill-controlled. with no mind to give him reprieve. 

his thumb runs over the wrapping of gauze against your hand. taking in just how much he towers over you easily. something like possession working into his blood. wanting to keep you safe. 

he does the lesser and lesser rare thing. slipping out of hesitancy. 

"can i show you something?"

you nod. "show me".

the velvet box gets its much needed exposure. after living so long in the shadows of such a deep pocket. his thumb opening it to reveal a pretty silver necklace. slim and simple. a heart at the center covered in diamonds. surprise takes you whole, pretty post-tear brown eyes full of questions. 

"you like it?"

you nod again. "its pretty".

"it's yours if you want it". 

his heart. if you want it, it's yours. 

your eyes trail to his lips again. his tongue licking sly over them, feeling the burden of such a sensation. you reach on your toes, lips planting delicate and shy. an unsure take to his mouth that burst' the ways of his seventeen year old heart. he clutches the necklace dearly, the slim silver of it nestled in his palm as it circles your waist. hugging you in as his lips slot. pursing to pull against yours. a hum of sweet satisfaction slipping up as he maneuvers your mouth gracefully. something tender and fleeting, like a moan, from your throat. breaths heavy as you part from him. his nose knocking gentle into yours. mango lip balm sugary and addicting as he pecks your mouth again. 

he latches the pretty heart to secure around your neck. thumbing your cheeks. his body urging him to go for more. pursing against your lips for another kiss. 

angst and fluff… theyre so sweet!! makes all the present animosity and tension better i think. let me know what you think!!

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns fanfic #roman reigns fic #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns x black reader #biker!roman reigns #biker au #roman reigns fluff #angst #tanks of blood #joannasteez

[joannasteez]

unfortunately down bad for cm punk @harmshake 🫡 possibly more to come

Can someone please make a blurb/headcannon/oneshot with CM Punk based on this look right here!!🤭😩🤍

Credit to wenn3ck in TikTok

[joannasteez]

LONG FIC FAN-WRITERS*

If you’re searching for longer fics (at least 5k), check these individuals who write them. To connect fandoms to particular writers, click here for the list and browse for this icon: ✒️ Enjoy a few outside of your usual fandoms 💋

If you’re on the list and write longer fics/series let me know, I’m browsing through list to find you and add the tag as I can. Not on the list? DM let’s get you added.

@blkkizzat | @boxofbonesfic | @chrollohearttags

@cardierreh15 | @clouzyday | @dejwrld | @diorsbrando

@dreamsinfocus | @ellethespaceunicorn |

@empressdede

@fineanddandy | @getosbigballsack

@halfofmysoulsblog | @harmshake | @highpri3stess

@honeybleed | @jazzthatonewriterchick | @joannasteez

@jbarneswilson

@kechiwrites | @keikiri-kitten

@kill-the-artiste | @kingkonoha | @mik0rin

mybonafidefeelings | @nymphoheretic | @neesieiumz

@pinkmirth | @pwncez

@ramp-it-up | @soft-girl-musings

@xblackreader | @xoxovivafics

@xsapphirescrollsx | @wakandas-vibranium

@wide-nose-and-wonderful

▪️

*If you’re tagged and prefer not to be, dm and I’ll remove you ✔️

Fandoms represented (not all inclusive): wwe, bleach, marvel cinematic universe, dc comics, aot, jjk, cod, jjba, demon slayer, haikyuu!!, snowfall, black panther, they cloned tyrone, the last of us, the mandalorian, actors, original characters, more

#thanks for the tag!!

[joannasteez]

jey is such a “cuz ill knock all this shit over” ass person lmaooo. liquored up and so damn rowdy. and not him wanting to fight the youth. let them live pls😭

and those little roman excerpts from last chapter…. chefs kiss…. everything that cody does to try to forget only reaffirming everything roman says about him. he’s so down bad its ridiculous. hes so me after a bottle of soju>> LOL

Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Intro

Title: Spiral. (Non-Stop Mentality.) | Intro.

Story Type: Kayfabe Based.

Part: Intro

Author: Ink. 🖤

Fandom/s: WWE

Characters: Cody Rhodes, Jey Uso

Characters Mentioned: Roman Reigns.

Pairing/s: M/M (Cody/Roman)

Synopsis: Cody doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows where he wants to be.

Rating: 18+ M: Angst, Alcohol Use, Humor, Rivalries, Pining, Swearing, Cody is miserable despite being a winner, Jey is there to be a good friend.

Note : Sequel to Breakdown. This is a Kayfabe based WWE story, meaning that it takes place in the wrestling verse. The events in this story take place after Wrestlemania. This is a complete work of Fiction. I do not own anyone or anything in the story. 🖤 Credit for part of the title goes to Zeromancer, as that lyric is in the song “Raising Hell.”

Your (Cody based) Playlist:

1. “The Only Time” - NIN

2. “FMLYHM” - Seether

3. “Addicted” - Tetrarch

4. ”Raising Hell” - Zeromancer

5. “Stitches” - Orgy

Having promised Jey that they would meet up for a drink on the night he became Undisputed Champion, Cody found him backstage at the following week’s RAW and extended his invitation.

The latter was in a jovial mood and was still riding the high of having settled the score he had with with his brother. Wanting to celebrate some of his own victories, he happily received it and told him he’d text him to figure out their plans sometime after the show. 

It wasn’t easy for Cody to slip away from Hunter once the cameras started going for the after show. With all the press that surrounded his match, he would’ve been a fool to believe that it would be. 

Which was why he’d been smart enough to take note of the “Champion’s itinerary” that he sent him at the top of the morning. 

If there was one thing Cody knew about Hunter, it was that he valued initiative and productivity. 

Once Cody reassured his boss that he’d be present (bright and early) for a “Post Wrestlemania” interview that he was scheduled to sit for on Tuesday Afternoon, he was able to make a smooth, fast exit. 

‘S’real typical of you to end up swallowin’ more than you can handle by tryin’ to overcompensate.’

————————————————————————-

After a last minute browse of Google Maps via screenshare with Jey and a quick trip to the hotel for a change of clothes, Cody met up with him at a small nightclub they agreed on a few blocks away from the arena.

Terra 9 was packed, filled to the brim with sloshed twenty somethings that were there for some party that had probably been advertised on a free RSVP poster. 

It was a busy, divey sort of establishment. The floors were sticky and you didn’t know what you were stepping in. Everything smelled like stale beer. It was dark, crowded and loud. 

It was the type of place that had drinks with questionable colors in them and dark corners to disappear in. 

They selected it by design, hoping to escape the madness they were used to for a while by getting lost in the chaos of somewhere unknown.

Not knowing where you were meant everything when you didn’t want to be found. 

‘It’s ‘cause you need someone to tell you where to go. You need direction…’

———————————————————————-

Shortly after he’d been cajoled into going shot for shot with Jey, Cody came to the downright sad realization that:

A. He had absolutely no willpower, nothing had changed since he was seventeen.

And:

B. His constitution was not what it used to be in his current old age.

He did not still have it.

At all. 

Those were the famous last words of a man on his way to nursing a migraine and a bunch of regrets as he emptied his guts into a toilet bowl. 

‘Off you go again, not caring how ridiculous you look…’

————————————————————————

Made lazy by the Don Julio doing its job, Cody leaned against Jey and fell into his usual routine of bonding over trauma with him at the tail end of hour two.

The commiserating and sharing of war stories only spurred him on further. He worked his way through the bottle with Jey as they shouted at one another over the music, recounting all the shit that Roman and The Bloodline put them through. 

They took turns venting their frustrations, consoling one another with words of vindication when things got heavy. Cody would drag Jey back to the surface if he waded in too deep, and Jey did the same for him.

Cody ranted and swore. He screamed.

He freed himself of doubts, fears, and realizations until the screeching turmoil in his mind quieted to a pleasant hum.

With a raw throat and shoulders that felt ten times lighter, Cody eventually fell into a comfortable, relieved silence. 

Because it was over. 

Getting rid of the excess emotional buildup allowed him to start processing that he won. 

He finished his story. 

It was a feeling that numbed him out so pleasantly that nothing else needed to be said. 

“Look at that, the light’s on after all…”

————————————————————————

Wisely, Cody made the executive decision to cut them both off somewhere around Jey screaming “I’ll smack the shit out of all y’all, with your dumb lil’ asses” at a bunch of twenty five year olds across the bar, and 2 AM.

One of the golden rules for going out with Jey was that drunken physical threats were code for “it’s time for bed.” 

Jey protested, but the fact that he’d been two seconds away from kicking the dude’s head off his shoulders made it incredibly hard for Cody to make an exception. 

No matter how tempting the idea of releasing some excess tension with a good old fashioned bar fight was.

Some of those brats could’ve used a good ass kicking in his opinion. They were lucky they weren’t worth the headlines. 

 Or a holding cell. 

He placated Jey with one last set of shots,  paid the tab, wished the lovely people that took care of them goodnight, and hauled his torched drinking buddy (he was singing Cody’s entrance song at the top of his lungs) out of the bar on his shoulder. 

The night had been everything he needed. 

Enough to distract him from the vivid vignettes of a “couple weeks back” that were playing themselves in his head, stirring up the nagging feeling that he still may not have had what he really wanted.

He’d won. 

“Have a good night, sweetheart. Try not to get yourself hurt tryna do anything too brave…”

A/N: I guess we know who really won.

Let me know what you think…

-Ink. 🖤

#roman reigns x cody rhodes #roman reigns #cody rhodes #cody rhodes fanfiction #roman reigns fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #jey uso

[joannasteez]

these flashbacks are so much longer than i anticipated cus idk how to shut up in the descriptions. i feel like the longer stuff is a lil more tedious to sit and read through anyways so ill cut it into two parts

#tanks of blood