joannasteez · 10 hours
loving all the birthday fics🥳
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Roman Reigns & Fem Black Reader | 18+, NSFW, fluff, a hint of birthday smut | 939 words
a/n: Just a little something I whipped up because it's his day. 😍
Happy reading! Read my other Roman stories here, if you'd like. ✨
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The lights were low to let the candles on his cake be the only glow in the room. But once your husband made his wish and blew them out, you flipped all the lights back on and Roman's smile glowed even bigger. He looked down at the strawberry cake you did your best to bake, the oven behind him still hot as you had pulled the cake from it and frosted it too soon—rushing to finish it before he got home. 
His brown eyes watched the strawberry frosting as it melted and dripped down the sides of the cake and pooled on the plate it sat on, threatening to spill from the sides and onto the marble counter. You looked up at him from his side, then the cake, and then him again, seeing his eyes crinkle with that glowing smile that wobbled into a tiny laugh.
"This is beautiful," he said but then you both burst out laughing together. The candles that you wedged into the cake were slanting into the icing, flopping like your entire attempt to surprise him. You had dimmed the lights, decorated the dining table with birthday gifts, and thrown on your cutest dress and stilettos so you could hold the supposed-to-be-cute cake and greet him at the door after you made him run to the store for ice cream as a distraction to set up. You both laughed so hard at the little disaster that was your cake that a tear slipped from your eye and you wiped it away before you felt his hands cradle your face with his wide thumbs stroking your cheeks, that glowing smile spreading his cheeks as his deep voice became softer. "Baby, no, seriously. I love it. I love you."
"That's a relief. Happy birthday, baby. Love you, too." You reached your hand up to hold his as he leaned down to give you a kiss that was as soft as his tone. You didn't bake very often but when you did it usually came out edible. If only he hadn't gotten back from the store so quickly. "Guess I should run back out and get a real cake, huh? Still want strawberry?"
Roman shook his head before he swiped his pointer finger in the puddle of icing that dripped onto the marble, slipping it between his lips to taste. "Naw, this is perfect. I'mma eat it as is," he said with another dip of his finger in the goopy mess. 
"Want me to grab you a plate at least or you just gonna eat it straight from the counter?" you teased as you turned to grab a kitchen towel that hung from the oven door to clean the counter. When you tried to switch around, Roman's arms were suddenly around your waist to pin your backside to him, his bearded chin on your shoulder when you went to look at him before his lips were on yours, sweet like the frosting. "Don't tell me...you trying to eat me, too, huh?"
That made him chuckle, especially since you could feel every inch of him in his joggers as he pressed himself to you. You pushed your butt against him to make him rumble a sigh in your ear and squeeze your hips in his hands as he said, "You know I always gotta taste for you...but psssh. I thought today was my birthday."
Roman shifted you to face him then, his hands still on your hips but his eyes on your juicy lips that glistened with your lip gloss. He bit his bottom lip as you nodded, catching his drift as you caught his gaze that grew hungrier for more than cake. You rested your hands on his massive chest in his white tee shirt before you slowly let them fall to his waistband that you tugged. 
"Didn't I spoil you enough with a homemade cake?" you asked with a grin as you pulled him by his waistband to the dining room where you pushed him down into the seat at the head of the table. Roman licked his lips as he watched you sink onto your knees between his burly thighs. He didn't have to answer because you could see from the greedy look on his handsome face that he wanted to be spoiled a little more—and you wouldn't deny the birthday boy on his special day. "Better be glad I love to spoil you..."
"Don't I spoil you on your birthday?" Roman wanted to tease but all that bass in his voice simmered into a heated sigh when you ran your hands up his legs and over his thick bulge until they reached his waistband again, pulling until it and his boxer briefs settled around his ankles. 
"You sure do..." you purred as you eyed his pretty, brown, thick piece of flesh that spoiled you almost every night and extra on your birthday, studying how it twitched for you before you could even touch it. You loved the way it felt hard yet smooth in your palm when you did...and loved the way your husband stirred with another sigh when you massaged it. You couldn't wait to hear the beautiful sounds he'd make when you wrapped your lips around it. "I love you, baby."
And you knew Roman couldn't wait, either, when he cupped your chin as you kissed his head with a flick of your tongue to catch his pleasure that tried to trickle from it, making him twitch again and making you tremble to taste him melt in your mouth and down your throat... 
"Mm, you love me, baby?" Roman softly growled to you, his eyelids low with his glowing smile shifting into a seductive smirk as his thumb grazed your bottom lip. "Show Daddy how much with this pretty mouth."
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joannasteez · 11 hours
In Too Deep: Part 1
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*look at me making my own little banner 😆
Roman x Arianna (OC)
Warnings: 18+
This is a complete rewrite of an old story I wrote and posted elsewhere years ago! So, if it seems familiar to anyone, that's why.
You can check out my other stories here: Master List
Shout out to my girl @theninthwonder for the title. 💗
Thought I'd go ahead and post the first part in honor of our Trbal Chief's Birthday 🎂
Part 1:
Growing up in Stamford, Connecticut, it was impossible not to be aware of the towering headquarters of the WWE. The imposing building loomed over the city, a constant reminder of its dominant presence in the world of entertainment. So when Arianna graduated from college, it was only natural for her to set her sights on a job there. She worked her ass off as a production assistant, making her way up the ranks until she became an associate producer for Smackdown in just two short years.
At first, the glitz and glamour of working for such a well-known company were exhilarating. Every week brought new locations, from bustling cities to small towns, and each one offered a different experience. But with constant travel came its own set of challenges - early morning red eye flights that left her bleary-eyed and disoriented, lost luggage that caused stress and delays, trying to fit meals in between commercial breaks while also missing out on important holidays and birthdays back home. And then there were the dynamics within the company itself - where the women could be catty and the men could be competitive and aggressive. It was a cutthroat world where true friends were few and far between.
While others reveled in the spotlight, Arianna preferred to blend into the background. She spent most days in Gorilla, behind the scenes but close enough to feel the adrenaline-pumping energy of the live shows. Her standard uniform of jeans or leggings paired with a WWE polo was simple and practical, a stark contrast to her personal style outside of work. But she didn't care about impressing anyone - she was there to do her job and make sure everything ran smoothly for those who did shine in front of the cameras.
As she lay in bed after a particularly hectic live event she checked her email, trying her best to be prepared for the upcoming week. An email from the head of creative caught her eye, it wasn’t unusual for her to collaborate with them on projects but as she read the email she was intrigued.
We would like for you to join us next Friday at 2:00 pm for a meeting between creative and Paul Heyman’s team. More details to follow.
See you there. 
Paul Levesque
Arianna sat nervously, tapping her foot as everyone filed into the small conference room somewhere in the depths of the arena. Her curiosity peaked as she watched Joe and Paul Heyman walk into the room, taking a seat across from her. And although Joe had a lot of creative control over his character it wasn’t often that he was actually present during these meetings.
“Thank you all for meeting us tonight.” Paul Levesque said, his usual half grin plastered on his face. "I think we all know each other so there's no need for introductions." He tells everyone while taking a seat at the head of the table.
A binder sat in front of each person, simply titled, Roman Reigns.
"As you'll see in the packet in front of you is the direction we'd like to take Joe’s character."
Paul spoke first of the wardrobe changes they'd like to make, “Nothing too drastic there,” he noted. Then moved on to the six different shirt designs he'd have for the year, releasing one each PLE he would be involved in, along with other forms of merchandise.
Arianna flipped the binder open as he spoke, pages of merchandise and shirts filled the first few sections. She glanced across the table and watched Joe as his eyes skimmed the pages. His expression remained stoic as he absorbed the proposed changes.
She couldn't help but study his features, the way his jaw clenched slightly and his brow furrowed in deep thought. She had always admired Joe's dedication to his craft, his ability to bring authenticity to every performance.
Then, Paul spoke up again, his deep voice commanding attention in the room. "Now let's talk about Joe's storyline for the upcoming months. We want to build a compelling narrative that will captivate the audience and showcase Joe's strength and charisma." He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locking with Arianna's for a brief moment before continuing.
“Ari.” Paul turned his chair toward her as he spoke, “This is where you come in.”
She felt a jolt of surprise at being addressed directly by Paul. She straightened in her seat, meeting his gaze with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. "Me?" she asked, her voice coming out softer than she intended.
"We want to incorporate a new element into Joe's storyline," Paul continued, his tone serious yet inviting. "Something that will add depth to his character and resonate with the audience on a more personal level."
Arianna could feel the weight of the responsibility settling on her shoulders. She was being entrusted with shaping the trajectory of one of the company's biggest stars, and she wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through her fingers.
Paul chuckled, "Now, before you turn that page. Please don't scream at me." 
Everyone in the room immediately flipped the page and saw. Love Interest: Arianna Donovan.
"Umm…" Arianna felt her cheeks flush with heat as she tried to process the information in front of her. She glanced at Joe, whose expression was unreadable, before nervously meeting Paul's expectant gaze. The room was quiet, all eyes on her, waiting for her reaction.
Again Paul chuckled, "You're exactly what we're looking for. Someone that no one knows, behind the scenes, someone the fans won't see coming, they'll be as surprised by it as you are."
"Surprised is an understatement Sir."
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she cleared her throat before speaking. "I...I appreciate the opportunity to contribute to Joe's storyline in such a significant way." Arianna nodded absentmindedly, trying to mask her inner turmoil. But couldn't deny the flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension swirling in her stomach.
Paul’s grin widened at her response, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "I know, we should have spoken to you first but this needs to get some feet under it and start moving."
As the meeting continued, ideas were tossed around the room about how to introduce Arianna into Joe's story arc. Some suggested a slow burn, with subtle hints of attraction building over time. Others proposed a dramatic reveal, with fireworks and grand gestures to capture the audience's attention. Arianna listened intently, taking notes and trying to envision how this new development would play out on screen.
Joe remained silent throughout most of the discussion, his gaze occasionally flickering towards Arianna before returning to the table in front of him. Her instincts told her that these changes weren't sitting well with him, despite his outward composure. She got the sense that this didn't align with his vision for his character. And as the meeting progressed, she noticed subtle cues - a tightness in his shoulders, a flicker of frustration in his eyes, not to mention the half dozen times he scratched at his beard.
She wanted to speak up, to voice her concerns about potentially derailing Joe's character development for the sake of a forced romantic subplot. But she hesitated, unsure of how her feedback would be received by the higher-ups in the room.
Clearing her throat, she caught Paul’s attention and spoke with a newfound confidence, "I understand the intention behind adding a love interest to Joe's storyline, but I believe we should tread carefully to ensure it aligns organically with his character arc. Perhaps we could explore alternative ways to showcase his depth and vulnerability without resorting to clichéd romantic tropes."
The room fell silent, all eyes turning towards Arianna in surprise and contemplation. Paul leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together, studying her intently before remarking, “But cliché is what our audience wants.”
As the meeting drew to a close, Paul stood up, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I think we've made some great progress here today," he announced, clapping his hands together. "Let's reconvene next week with some solid ideas on how to integrate Ari into Joe's storyline seamlessly." With that, the meeting dispersed, leaving her with a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind.
Arianna’s mind was reeling as she did her best to concentrate on the show that night. It didn’t help that there was an endless string of texts between Paul and the creative team buzzing her phone every few seconds.
Ari, we’re converting your Instagram to an official WWE handle, so please send over your log in credentials ASAP.
Five minutes later she was officially @AriDwwe
We need this to be as authentic as it can be. So make it real and don't tell anyone otherwise.
I want you to start by commenting on his Instagram, not every post but enough that people notice because that's where ninety-five percent of his engagement is right now.
We’ll have Joe reply to your comments, that will draw people's attention because he never replies to anyone. We'll gauge everyone's reaction and go from there.
This was going to be an interesting ride. 
Arianna was apprehensive as she navigated through the sea of notifications flooding her phone. She hesitated before logging into her newly converted Instagram account, feeling a sense of unease at the thought of mixing her real life and work life. But she knew she had to play her part in this orchestrated social media dance.
As she scrolled through Joe's Instagram feed, searching for the perfect posts to comment on, she couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort in her chest. Each keystroke felt like a step further into a realm where truth and performance intertwined, blurring the boundaries between Arianna and Joe, fiction and reality.
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Their first few comments back and forth with each other received an immediate response. The fans took notice, their comments flooding in with speculations. The rumors began to spread like wildfire, fueling discussions across various social media platforms.
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Paul: Great job on the post.
Arianna: Thanks! It wasn’t too much?
Paul: Nope, it was perfect. Need you to start hanging out with Joe a little more. Meet him in catering, share a meal, get to know one another. We’ll take care of the rest.
Arianna: Okay…
Arianna felt a knot form in her stomach at Paul's latest directive but she made her way to catering to meet Joe. From casual encounters in the hallway to shared moments in catering, every interaction was scrutinized for its impact on the narrative being woven around them. But she hadn’t gotten to know Joe, as a person, only Roman the character. After each take, he would disappear, leaving her feeling like an outsider looking in.
One day, as they were both waiting for their cue on set, Arianna mustered up the courage to strike up a conversation with Joe. She found him sitting alone, staring out at the bustling activity around them with a distant look in his eyes.
"Hey," she began tentatively, taking a seat beside him. "Mind if I join you?"
Joe turned to look at her, his expression guarded yet curious. "Sure," he replied, his voice neutral.
As they sat in silence for a moment, Arianna searched for the right words to bridge the gap between them. "I know things have been...different lately," she started carefully. "And I just wanted to say that I appreciate your professionalism throughout all of this."
Joe raised an eyebrow, studying her intently. "Professionalism?" he echoed, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
“I don’t know what else to call it.” she says with a laugh.
Joe's gaze softened at her words, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he schooled his expression back into his usual stoic mask. "Yeah…" he replied quietly. "This whole situation has been… unexpected, to say the least." They sat quietly for a moment before he sighed, "I didn't sign up for any of this," Joe continued, his eyes betraying a mix of frustration and resignation. "I just wanted to focus on my character, on telling a good story in the ring. Shits being pushed on me. Now it feels like everything is spinning out of control."
Arianna nodded sympathetically, sensing the weight of Joe's words. "I understand. trust me, this is the last thing I wanted to do, no offense." She paused, trying to find the right words to offer comfort. "But maybe we can try to navigate this together, find a way to make it work for both of us."
Joe regarded her for a moment, his gaze softening as he studied her face. "You're not like the others," he remarked quietly. "You actually care about how this affects me."
Arianna smiled gently, a warmth spreading through her chest at his words. "Of course I do. We're in this together, whether we like it or not.”
To be continued:
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joannasteez · 13 hours
with me + part five
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authors notes: hi! you guys are so freaking awesome and sweet and like gawww, so grateful for such kind words and support!
so i realized that i used the wwe names for jimmy, jey, naomi, etc. that was my bad. i'll be using their real names moving forward for the sake of flow and consistency.
also keep forgetting to state that current timeline is 2023. like, this chapter is fall 2023. everything, so far, post breakup for joe and reader has been 2023. i plan to follow that timeline, so make of that what you will.
i hope this chapter isn't too boring to people!
warnings: fluff, language, suggestive content
song inspo: with me by destiny’s child
words: 5.7k
tags: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion
“So, are we just going to continue to ignore each other?”
You’re not sure how, but you sense his presence long before he even says anything. And instantly, your mood is dampened, not that you were in the best spirits to begin with. You didn’t get much sleep the night before, for reasons you cannot fathom. But, it’s annoying as hell, especially when you have an ex turned fuck buddy who can’t seem to get a fucking clue ready to confront you outside of your daughter's preschool.
Sighing heavily, you pull out your phone to play around with your lock screen, because you really don’t have anyone you need to message in this moment. But, he doesn’t need to know that. “Not now, Amir.”
“Because you’re so busy?”
“Because I don’t care.” One thing you’ve learned about yourself over the years is that once you’re annoyed with someone, there’s no filter on your mouth and you cannot be held liable for what comes out of it. “Now, please, go away.”
He just looks at you, sun shining down on his waves and chocolate complexion. It’s unfortunate outside of his looks that he’s an overall trash partner. Decent friend. Shitty boyfriend. “You always do that shit, you know? Pull and then push. It was kinda cute when we were kids. Now, it’s just annoying.”
You were standing outside of Callie’s preschool, waiting for the kids to be dismissed, waiting for your little girl to come running out with a smile on her face, request on the tip of her tongue. It’s usually something small like wanting to show you what she learned in school. Lately, it’s been the same.
Can I call Joe?
A part of you feels bad for the amount of calls he probably gets in one day just from Callie alone. She took your offer for her to call him whenever he was available to another degree, not that he minded. He took as many as he could, listening to her talk and talk about whatever happened to be on her mind in that moment. And you let her.
What kind of mother would you be if you stopped her from talking to her dad? Even if she doesn’t know that’s who he is. 
It’s been almost two weeks since he left, and she clearly misses him. You often overhear her asking about when he’s coming again. You also receive those questions. It’s something you and him discuss via text but haven’t landed on a date yet. 
Communicating with Joe is also something that’s still an adjustment. It’s not as difficult or uncomfortable, because it’s almost entirely about Callie, but still. 
“If that’s the case, why do you bother?” You manage a less insensitive tone, even if you know good and well you’ve never led this man on. Amir has always heard and believed what he wanted to believe. That was the problem. He never listened to you.
“Because I fucking care about your annoying ass, duh.”
His delivery, the tone, and cadence. You laugh. It’s probably inappropriate at the moment, but it does bring a smile to his face as well. “Softie.”
He moves closer to you, arms crossed. “I’m serious, Y/N. You know how I feel about you. How I’ve always felt about you.” 
Leaning against your car, you respond as calmly as you can, “and you know I’ve always made it clear I’m not looking for anything more. We had our time, Amir. It didn’t work out. Now we just help each other get off. I don’t know why you keep trying to make it more than what it is.”
“A date. One date,” he implores. A waste of time, because your answer is no. It’s been no and will continue to be no. “You haven’t even given ‘adult’ us a chance.”
There’s a headache in your near future, one that’s reminiscent of past ones only Amir seems to induce. It’s interesting how he went from indifferent asshole to clingy asshole. You almost miss the earlier version.
Chocolate was supposed to be good for the soul, so why was he so draining to yours?
“Amir…..” You try to pick your words carefully and be mindful of your tone. “This is getting real old. I think we need to stop messing around, because we’re clearly not on the same page.” The next part is something you probably shouldn’t share, but you call yourself trying to be open and clear. “Calista’s dad is back, and we’re trying to navigate coparenting, so—” 
“What?” He stops you, shock written over his handsome face. “Are you serious? You’re letting that motherfucker back in ya’ll life?”
This time, it’s his tone that jumps, accusatory and harsh. You immediately grow defensive. “You don’t know him.”
“God, why do you defend him like this? Is it that Stockholm Syndrome shit? He left you. He left you and his kid. What kind of man does that? And you’re just letting him back in? Just gonna jump back on his dick? Letting him around Callie? She’s old enough now to remember when he decides to leave again. I don’t get how you don’t see that. You her mama. You supposed to look out for her.”
And now, you’re done trying to be nice, trying to be mindful that he’s still another human being with feelings. Because one thing you never have and never will tolerate is someone insinuating you’re not looking out for your daughter. You’re not perfect, but you know that you’re a devoted, dutiful mother. 
“It’s obvious comprehension isn’t your strong suit, which I should have known based off the fact that I always had to help your dumbass do your homework back when we were in school.” All bets….off. “My baby? My life? My pussy? All my business. You don’t get to judge the decisions I make for my child nor the role that her father has in her life. That’s between me and him. Keep your nose out my fucking business. Don’t worry about me hitting you up anymore. That’s dead.”
Your rose will do just fine. Hell, there’s gotta be at least one other eligible bachelor in town you could fuck if absolutely need be. But, you know damn well you won’t be messaging Amir anymore. He comes with too much baggage. It’s not worth it. You refuse to let a nigga whose height starts with a 5 stress you out.
True to his nature, he starts gaslighting you. Typical Amir. “There you go overreacting and shit.”
“No, I’m not. You’re trying to question my parenting when you don’t know shit about shit.”
He sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes. This was why people used to say you had a temper in high school. Because of him. Because he loved to tell people what you said but never what he did. Always tried to make you feel crazy. Truth be told, you’re stupid for even opening that door with him again, even if it’s just for sex.
“Whatever, Y/N.” He turns to walk back over to his car. You really wish his damn sister would change her work schedule so she can pick up her son instead of this asshole. You’ll catch a case fucking with his dumbass. “I’ll wait for your text.”
He’ll be waiting. “Fuck you, Amir.” 
You should be more mindful of your language at a damn preschool, but Amir has managed to get under your skin, something that hasn’t happened since you were in college. You know a good part of it is because you’re sleep deprived, but you also know it’s partially because of his dig at Joe.
You understand the optics seem to indicate that he’s a deadbeat, but you’ve expressed to Amir countless times that it was a complicated situation. He didn’t know the specifics, but you made it clear Joe didn’t abandon you or Callie. That’s just the narrative Amir keeps running with, and now with Joe being back in your life and especially in Callie’s life, you’re not gonna let it continue. 
“Mommy!” Your head snaps to see and feel Callie run up to and hug her body against your leg. “Boo!”
Shit. Did she hear any of that? You hope not and paste on a smile that’s hopefully authentic enough to sell that everything is fine. “Callie Bear.” You lean down and pick her up, kissing her cheek. “Did you have a good day?”
She nods and starts explaining the activities while you buckle her into her carseat, trying your best to calm down and not give away your high stress levels in that moment. Callie is super perceptive, and you don’t want to ruin the obviously great day she’s had.
And sure enough, as you’re putting on your seatbelt and starting up the car, the golden question is shouted with pre-excitement. 
“Can I call Joe when I get home?”
Smiling at her through the rearview mirror, you answer, “yes, you can.”
In the almost two weeks that have passed since Joe’s departure, not one day has passed that Callie doesn’t asks to call Joe or just outright helps yourself to her iPad to call him. Sometimes several times a day during the weekends. And she’ll talk to him for as long as she can, as long as he’s able to hold a conversation with her. You’ll give it to him, he’s done an exceptional job handling all of it. On some level, you wonder if you should set some restrictions or time parameters, but how do you limit how much a daughter interacts with her father?
Callie rejoices at your approval and requests for you to put on the Disney playlist you made specifically for her on Spotify. 
The drive, no more than 10 minutes, consists of the two of you singing along to a few Disney tunes. It’s a bit of a tradition between you, a way to bond via your shared love of Disney. A love that ties not only you to her but to the women before you. Your mom and grandma. 
Arriving to your apartment complex, you decide to leave your work bag in the car. It’s Thanksgiving break. You most likely won’t do any work until the day or two before having to return.
You do carry Callie on your hip and swing her bag around your shoulder, walking the two of you up to the second floor. Sometimes, you regret not accepting the apartment they had available on the first floor. The older you get, the less your joints like to cooperate, your almost 15 years of cheer probably taking a toll on your body. 
And just age in general. 
But your regret quickly turns to a level of gratitude when you reach your door. 
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Dropping Callie to the floor, she’s of the complete opposite reaction, gasping and smiling broadly. 
“Look mommy, more boxes!”
The smile is strained but you manage to maintain it, sticking the key in the door, unlocking and pushing it open.
She walks in, and you place her bag on the floor near the door, one foot keeping it open. “What do you think it is?” She asks as you pick them up and bring them inside, kicking the door closed behind you.
You know exactly what it is. What it all is. 
From Joe. 
In his absence, you’ve had several deliveries waiting outside your door when you got home from work and picking Callie up. And all of them were for Callie, gifts of variable nature but all of them things she loves. Disney, stuffed animals, dolls. Essentially anything that could make a 4 year old feel like she’s won the lottery. 
She’s literally bouncing on her toes, already with her kids scissors in her hands. 
When the hell did she grab those?
“Can I open them, please? Please?”
A part of you wants to say no, save them for christmas gifts, though you’re almost entirely certain he’ll have another set of gifts for her then. And it seems almost cruel to make her wait over a month when she knows there are presents waiting for her.
“Sure, but….” You scamper into the kitchen and grab your adult size scissors, returning and showing her. “Let mommy cut them, and then you open them.”
You don’t need this child accidentally cutting herself. Again, medical bills are not in the budget, especially around the holidays. Money’s already tight to some extent. 
Not that….not that it’d be much of an issue with Callie. You’d never fix your moth to ask Joe for anything, especially not financially, but if it was something involving your daughter, you’re pretty sure your tune would change. It would still bother you to ask for help, but you know he’d have zero qualms helping you out.
He’d probably pay for it in its entirety.
Your proposition pleases her. “Okay!” She places her scissors on the nearest flat surface and sits down, legs crossed, bouncing impatiently. 
Chuckling, you glide your scissors across, careful not to open anything. You want to save that moment for her and your plan. 
Once done, you place the scissors on the kitchen island and reach for your phone. “Wait before you open, baby.” 
Immediately, she frowns and scowls, “whyyyyyy.”
Rolling your eyes, you sit on the floor too to be at her eye level and open Snapchat. “Okay, now.” 
You hit record and watch intermittently through and outside of the screen as she opens the boxes, smile permanent and excitement palpable. She especially gets excited when she pulls out a freaking box of the new Little Mermaid and all of her sisters. More….dolls. 
“Look, mommy!!!” She then grabs a doll who has a surprisingly similar complexion and curl pattern to hers, holding it against her face. “She looks like me!”  
“She does,” you agree, realizing it’s a customized American Girl doll. Damn. Those things can run up to $200. You weren’t stupid, knowing Joe’s probably spent more money on Callie alone in two weeks than you’ve spent all year, but just how much has he spent?
It’s when she opens the final box, surrounded by nothing but toys and packaging that you’re already dreading having to stuff all this in your trash bin, “what do you say, baby?”
Callie hugs the American Doll close to her chest and directs to the camera, “thank you, Joe!” She gasps and adds on, “I miss you, but mommy said I can call you tonight!”
You hold back your giggle and agree, adding, “after she helps mommy clean up all this.” 
Her smile drops, pout returning, “I hate cleaning.” 
Snickering, you mutter, “you and me too, sis.” 
You end the video, save it and enter Joe’s chat to attach the video, adding a message.
You: You’re spoiling her, Joe. 😫 This is the third delivery this week alone. 
You’re able to clean up some of the packaging and throw it away before your phone chimes with his response. Callie has grabbed the amount you expected her to grab and discard. Her attention span is trash at the moment. She’s a child surrounded by toys. It’s expected. 
Joe: She's my little girl. Of course, I’m gonna spoil her.
Joe: There should be another one by the weekend. If not, let me know.
You sigh aloud, this man is gonna have your place looking like freaking KB Toys.
You: Omg
You: ….You know I live in an APARTMENT, right? Just where the hell am I supposed to put all of this stuff?
It’s sweet he’s so keen on gifting her these things, but he also has to realize you’re not living in a mansion in Malibu. And despite having a child who leaves messes wherever she goes, you do your best to keep your place tidy. 
 If you didn’t know Joe, didn’t see how easily he connected with Callie, you’d maybe accuse him of trying to “buy” her love. But, you know that’s not the case, know that he clearly just wants to make her happy. You just hope he knows that he does that all by himself, no gifts needed. 
Joe: She has a whole playroom.
You: Yes. Playroom, not Toys-R-Us. 
Joe: 🤷🏽‍♂️
You: 🙄 You’re aggravating.
He doesn’t say anything after that, so you decide to finish cleaning because at some point your child wandered off, most likely to her playroom to add all her new stuff with her slightly new stuff. Taking advantage of the alone time, you also decide to text your mom to figure out thanksgiving plans. Specifically, what drink, dessert, and/or condiments she wants you to bring because you damn well know she won’t ask you to cook.
She still hasn’t forgiven you for that accidental fire that one year.
And it’s when you’re sitting on the sofa, also starting to think about black friday plans that your mind wanders, your anxiety grows out of nowhere.
You’ve taken the approach to not have any say in Joe’s relationship with Callie, to intervene only when absolutely necessary. And as that hasn’t hasn’t occurred, you’ve not done so. You let him and her do their thing. But a small part of you wonders if you should put some parameters around Callie. She calls him several times a day, Joe, who spends more time on the road than there are days in the year.
You know he wants to establish a relationship with her, but that can be done with boundaries. Anxiety getting the best of you, you grab your phone and shoot him a text. 
You: Is it okay if she calls you today? I know it’s been a lot, and if too much, just let me know. I’ll talk to her. 
His reply comes almost immediately this time around.
Joe: She can call me 100 times. I don’t care. I wanna talk to her.
And instantly, the anxiety is almost non-existent. Deep down, you know this is what he wants. He wants to have interaction with her, and incessant Facetime calls are the only option with his crazy schedule, so it’s what he takes. It’s what he wants. 
Pleased and no longer stressing over an issue that was never an issue, you lock your phone and place it back at your side. A quick glance at the clock reminds you that it’s almost time for Callie’s bath. 
A couple minutes later, your phone dings with a text notification. From Joe.
You open it right away. 
Joe: This weekend. Don’t tell her. I wanna surprise her. 
You have to read it a couple of times before it registers. He’s coming back in town. This weekend. As in less than two days. You’re excited at this, happy as well. For Callie. But also, for yourself. Why? You haven’t a clue, well, maybe there’s a slight clue, but you don’t want to acknowledge that right now. 
You simply want to focus on the fact that you’re happy your daughter will be happy her dad is town. 
Who cares that you will be too.
Joe’s just walked out the bathroom, having showered and almost entirely prepped for bed when his phone rings. 
Moving over to the hotel nightstand, he’s surprised when he sees Callie’s smiling face filling his screen. A glance at the clock in the corner of his phone reads 11:06, which means it’s 9:06 her time. Well past her bedtime. What is she doing up?
Curious, and regardless, he answers the phone. It takes a second for the connection to finalize when it does, he’s instantly smiling, mostly because it’s Callie but also because of her setup.
It’s obvious she’s under a blanket, a flashlight in the corner illuminating the space, a stuffed animal in her lap. 
She’s the first to speak, her voice both loud and hushed in a way only she can do. “hi!”
“Hi, sweetheart.” He can’t help but ask almost immediately, “what are you doing up?” As he told you, he’d talk to her 24/7 if he could. And even though this call is unexpected and appreciated, she’s also a 4-year-old kid who needs her sleep.
Her little shoulders lift in a shrug. “I can’t sleep.”
Nodding, he follows up with, “where’s mommy?” 
“Sleeping,” she answers with a level of disappointment. “I don’t wanna wake her up. She had a bad day.”
“Really?” Joe moves around so he’s laying on the bed, on his side, phone propped on the nightstand. “How do you know?”
“Cause–cause she was yelling at Mr. Amir, and–and he was yelling at her too.”
Joe hasn’t a clue why, but that instantly upsets him. Who the fuck is this Amir person, and who the hell does he think he is to raise his voice at you? Around Callie of all people.
“Who is Mr. Amir?” Joe hates asking her all of these questions, but it’s also hard not to. 
“The basketball coach at the school for big kids.” She’s caressing the fur of the stuffed animal in her lap. “Aunt Mariah said he was mommy’s boyfriend when she was a big kid.”
“Really.” It’s not really a question as much as it is a general statement. Joe doesn’t know why he’s suddenly annoyed, not with Callie, but the entire situation. And definitely this Amir person even more now. He’s an ex. He dated you. It shouldn’t make him feel any type of way, but it does, and he hates that shit. 
He hates a man he’s never even met.
“I don’t like Mr. Amir,” Callie suddenly announces with a scowl. Same, kid. Same. Joe looks at her, seeing so much of you in her right now. He knows you’ve mentioned how you see a lot of him in Callie, but when she’s glowering like this, she’s 100% her mama’s daughter. “He made mommy mad today.”
“Has he ever been mean to you?” Joe has to ask, because he’s also realizing a part of him is upset at the thought of Callie being around men. You’re a grown woman and allowed to do what you want, but bringing men around Callie….that’s an absolute fucking no. 
He doesn’t give a damn if he’s only been in her life for two weeks or two minutes. She’s his daughter, and outside of himself and family, who you date should be kept far away from his daughter.
Joe mentally prepares to have this conversation—potential argument—with you. 
“No,” she answers, slightly calmer. “He doesn’t like Disney.” She says it like it’s a sin, like it’s almost inconceivable for anyone to not like Disney.
Playing along with this, Joe gasps, grateful for the distraction that is Callie’s intricacies. “He sucks.”
“Yeah, he sucks,” she agrees, nodding. Joe has to keep his smile to himself. “Do you say bad words?”
The randomness and topic change take him by surprise, but he’s learning that you weren’t exaggerating when you said Callie was filled with incessant, unrelated questions. “Sometimes.” 
“Mommy does too,” she reveals. “Grandma says Jesus doesn’t want us to say bad words, but I heard grandma call Ms. Beverly from church a bitch.”
At that, Joe can’t help his laughter. Her delivery, the punctuation she puts on the word ‘bitch’, to how she seems to not even process that she’s just said a bad word. It’s hilarious. “Well, sometimes grown ups say things we shouldn’t, and you just make sure you’re not saying things you shouldn’t.” 
“Okay,” she agrees, almost sheepishly. And then, a yawn. “I’m sleepy.” 
Joe knew she was from the moment she called, but he had a feeling she just needed to get the whole Amir thing off her chest. She doesn’t seem like the child who likes to or even can hold things in, which is preferable. “You should try to go to sleep then, sweetheart.”
She wipes at her eyes, expression suddenly saddened. “When are you coming back? You’ve been gone a really long time.”
He’s torn in this moment, wanting to tell her that he’ll be there this weekend but also not wanting to get her hopes up in case something comes up. There’s few things that could come up to keep him from going to see her, wrestling be damned, but still. Life has a way of lifing. So, he goes with the safe yet disappointing answer.
“Soon, I promise.” She’s clearly indifferent to this answer and doesn’t say anything, instead shifts on her bed, moving to lay down. “You should really try to sleep, Callie.”
Eyes starting to blink, clearly her exhaustion catching up with her, she asks, softly, “will you stay with me till I fall asleep?”
Her request tugs at his heartstrings. “Of course, sweetie.” 
Seemingly pleased by this answer, she closes her eyes, and he watches. He stares at this tiny human whose existence he only learned about not even a month ago yet would do anything to make happy. Joe thinks about Callie constantly, finds himself smiling at the thought of some of the Snapchat videos you’d send him of her in all of her randomness. She was so entertaining, so full of life, a genuinely happy kid. His kid. 
And it’s why he’s going to find out more about this Amir guy and why Amir is having any type of interaction with his daughter. 
Joe: You should know she called me last night.
You’re in the middle of perusing early Black Friday deals, needing to budget for that now and taking full advantage of Callie being down for a nap. However, you frown, reading his message, not understanding why he’s stating the obvious. You were there when she asked for the iPad and when she returned it after the call was finished.
You: I’m aware….
Joe: No. After that. 
Your eyebrows arch together, confused.  
You: What? when?
Joe: It was 11 my time, so 9 yours.
You gasp, typing away, wondering how the hell she snuck in your room and managed a whole ass Facetime call without you hearing shit. Were you really that damn exhausted?
You: What the hell was she doing up at 9? What did she say?  No wonder she was crabby this morning. 
Joe: She said she couldn’t sleep.
You: A bad dream?
Joe: Naw, said you got into an argument with someone named Amir earlier that day and didn’t want to bother you….I think it was bothering her.
Your stomach twists at that. You had a feeling she’d overheard the incident with Amir, but you prayed that you were wrong. Clearly, you weren’t.
Joe: Who is Amir?
You pause at Joe’s question. Why is he asking this? What business of his is Amir? Irritation washes over you, but is waned by realizing he’s probably asking because of Callie. As her father, he has a right to know if you’re with someone, because for all he knows that someone could be around his daughter. 
You really are trying with this co-parenting thing.
You: A lot of things. A pain in the ass being the most recent one. 
You: We dated in high school and college on and off. He’s the basketball coach at our local high school. 
It’s more information than probably what’s necessary, but there’s this small, conflicting part of you that wants him to know you have no ties to Amir. That there are no feelings there and haven’t been for literal years. 
That you’re not with Amir.
Joe: Are you dating him again? Why were you arguing around Callie?
The interrogating is getting old, but you’re trying to play nice. Coparent peacefully. His delivery is off, but he has valid questions.
You: No. We just….we fuck around from time to time. He tries to make it more than what it is.  Was about that. 
You: I was waiting for her to be released from pre-school, and he picks up his nephew for his sister. It just happened, and I didn’t know/mean for her to hear.
Honestly, you’re more worried and concerned about Callie and how to approach this with her without making her feel like she was in trouble. Yes, she knows damn well she shouldn’t be on the iPad that late at night, but can you really be mad at her for talking to her dad about something that upset her?
Joe: You bring him around her?
You absolutely can be mad though at her dad who’s about to make you cuss him out next too. All of the questions are becoming too much. He gets to be concerned, but he doesn’t get to micromanage and invade. 
Feeling petty and recalcitrant, you type out a reply that you should probably think twice before sending.
But fuck it.
You: No. I only ride his dick at his place. 🙂 
There’s a small ounce of regret for being so crude, but not a whole lot. He knows how you are, or he should, at least.
To some extent.
But your phone rings again, and you find yourself staring mouth agape at his reply.
Joe: You may ride his dick, but you had my kid. Clearly, only one of us knows how to please you. 
Your face is burning hot, and you hate how you shift in your seat. Why the fuck would he say that? You want to say it’s inappropriate, but you also opened this door. 
Is he entirely wrong?
Slapping away that wild ass thought, you focus on the real conversation at hand here. It takes a couple of rewrites before you ultimately decide to change the subject. 
You: I’ve never bought any man around her and never will that’s not you, if that’s what you’re asking. 
You’re grateful to see he’s also agreeing to change the subject.
Joe: It is. Thank you.
Rolling your eyes, you send a text back, getting back to being annoyed at his 21 Questions. This is a two-way street, and since he’s opened this door, why not?
You: You know that goes both ways though. I don’t want her around any bitches.
Joe: Seriously? 
Joe: There’s no one for me to bring her around. 
You…..you don’t know how to feel about that, don’t know how to feel about the bit of relief you feel at this message. Why should you feel relieved? Even if there was, that’s his business, and he’s allowed to….do whatever it is that he does.
It reminds you and brings you to your next topic. 
You: What about your wife? We need to figure that out as well. She’s eventually going to need to know about Calista and will probably be around her at some point. I get she’s your wife, but I’m Callie’s mother, I need to be there whenever you wanna introduce Callie. I need to be involved in that process as well.
He doesn’t reply. 
Joe doesn’t really get mad. 
Not often at least and definitely not outwardly. 
It’s always been his thing to never let anyone have access to that “button” that triggers his anger, and for the most part, it works well. 
Except for when it comes to you.
You’ve always been able to trigger many things for him, anger being one of them.
He knows he should have spoken to you in person about the situation, or even over the phone. But with the craziness of his schedule and differing time zones, he just decided to message you, and while it didn’t go horribly, it didn’t go great. He knows you’re annoyed with him.
Hence your crudity. 
Joe also refuses to admit that the thought of you fucking this kid pisses him the fuck off, even though you’re not together, even though he has no right to be upset. 
But goddamn that doesn’t make him any less upset or annoyed at the thought of someone else touching you.
“Uce?” Jon asks, standing at the door before inventing himself in Joe’s locker room for this week’s Smackdown. “You ready to talk man?”
At that, Joe looks confused. “Talk about what?”
“Whatever it is that got you all worked up.” The twins have always been very perceptive, even back when they were all kids. Joe might be good at hiding his frustration from others but not them. The difference between Jon and Josh though has always been Josh has the wherewithal to not say anything. 
Jon hasn’t caught on to that just yet. 
“I’m fine,” Joe dismisses, hoping it’s enough to dead the conversation, even though he knows better. 
“Lie detector determined that was a goddamn lie.” Jon can be pushy, but he means well, and truthfully, Joe doesn’t have a strong desire to outright shut down this conversation. A different perspective is always beneficial. 
So, he explains it all, starting with his call with Callie and ending with the text exchange between him and you.
“I see,” Jon nods, clearly absorbing all of this information. Finally, he concludes, “so you’re jealous.”
That’s the first thing to evoke a genuine laugh out of Joe since his exchange with Y/N. “I’m not jealous.”
“And I’m not a twin,” Jon dismisses. “Look, Uce, it’s obvious you still got feelings for ole girl. You ask me, I don’t think you ever got over her—”
“I didn’t ask you.” 
“--Now you sitting up here annoyed cause she fucking Coach Carter nephew instead of doing something about it.” Joe rolls his eyes. “I mean have you even told her about you and J—”
“No,” he interrupts, swiftly. “Not yet, at least.”
Nodding, Jon speaks again after a minute of silence. “All I’m saying is ya’ll got the history, got the connection, got the kid too! Don’t see why you need to be letting Jesus Shuttlesworth steal your girl.”
At that, Joe chuckles. One thing his cousins will always be good for, especially Jon, is comedic relief. Even some sound advice from time to time.
Joe is, surprisingly, thankful for the equally surprising advice from his cousin. He’s not entirely sure if he’s really jealous or just overreacting for a reason he hasn’t quite uncovered, but he is starting to lean more on the side of he does still have some level of feelings for Y/N. 
It’s not a complete shock. He had a feeling when he reacted so strongly to just seeing your picture. It was the whole Callie situation and finding out how you kept her from him that made his vision murky. 
But, as his relationship with her strengthens, the clearer he can see. 
The clearer his feelings are becoming. Now. it’s just a matter of figuring out what to do with said feelings.
And find out where you stand as well. 
Joe remains quiet, thinking more and more how this might end up being an eventful trip.
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joannasteez · 13 hours
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joannasteez · 13 hours
carmelo hayes…. i dont go here but maybe i could…
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joannasteez · 1 day
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so beautiful! feet kicking worthy
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gif credit: here
Featuring: Jey Uso x female reader
Content Warning: Smut, smut, smut-- 18+ ONLY!
Word Count: 360
A/N: A little 200 word challenge. Went over. Hope y'all don't mind... 😉
Your moans are soft and urgent. Strong hands that belonged to your boyfriend tightened its grip on your trembling thighs; the rush of water along the riverbank were not enough to conceal your sounds of pleasure and contentment. Your body writhed on the grass as your boyfriend delicately circled your clit with the tip of his tongue.
“Right there, Jey… ugghh… just like that, baby.” Your words were tinged with hunger, with delicious need.
You were more thankful to whomever responsible for you still being able to form intelligible words, and hoped that Jey would understand the request. If not your words, the insistent roll of your hips against his beard stained with your juices.
His growl sent a rumble through your core. He yanked your body toward him so that he breathed you in, his nose pressed against your swollen clit and his tongue buried deep into you. The sweet honey which seeped from you was collected by his greedy mouth, not a drop wasted. Your breaths were drawn out by each suckle and probe of his velvety tongue; your grass stained jeans clenching to the side of his head. He spread your quaking legs apart with ease and slid a long, languid lick from your dripping pussy back toward your bundle of nerves.
Jey flicked that tongue before he closed his lips over it; his beautiful, dark eyes hooded as he stole breath from your lungs.
“Cum on my face.” His words, a strangled groan, ripped over your heated body. Your hips had no other choice but to grind hard against them; against Jey. They rolled like the river stream mere feet from you and your lover, and just as fierce. His hands clutched onto yours as your nails dug into the grass bed below. Jey was right there with you as you filled his mouth with your nectar. Your breath left you in ragged sighs, which carried your delight and pleasure away in the soft gusts of wind. Your man peppered kisses upwards your body; a smile in each kiss and a gentle reminder of how much he loved you. And how much he loved making you breathless.
Tagging the Lovelies (if you'd like to be tagged or like to be removed, please let me know!)
@whatdoeseverybodywant ; @southerngirl41 ; @empressdede ; @jeyusos-girl ; @reci1996
@harmshake ; @msbigredmachine ; @visionarymode ; @alyyaanna ; @afterdarkprincess
@raya-hunter01 ; @joannasteez
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joannasteez · 1 day
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joannasteez · 2 days
one chapter ending and another beginning… and im just getting started
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joannasteez · 2 days
just a dream
pairing: roman reigns x reader warning: its angst if you tilt your head and squint. smut. so minors dni pls! authors note: i'd been in a bit of a rut but just banged out a part of chapter 5 of TOB and then this was residuals of still being in a writing mood. this is for the month of may 200 word challenge! its a little over 200 but whatever. who cares. tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @kill-the-artiste @thesamoanqueen @empressdede @southerngirl41 @spritelucozade @theninthwonder @2-muchsauce
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and what becomes of him? becomes of the man amidst a dream. knowing the failures of such a fantasy, the waywardness that threatens to befall him, and drifting anyways. lost in the soft pillowy press of your kiss and that slight of tongue that curls to sweeten his blood. tongue and breath laying over words sounding not so dissimilar to confessions of a seamless adoration. a forever feeling, palms pressing over his hard body. gentle and resolute. a moan in his ear, slipping over warm and delicate like silk. his fingers kneading desperate. ungracious. at every inch and fold and bend. through the wet drip over of arousal and against that sloping plain of skin that holds your pulse. searching for evidence of life that he can just barely find. his belly tight. restless. ready for release. hips deft and skilled. aching. he breathes into your neck. over warm, tender skin. "this is a dream", aware. frightful of the end. your lips over his. throat singing wispy. charming. the moan of an angel. "then it is a good dream", you whisper. withering above him hard. the heat of you tight and unrelenting. wet and working him possessively to finish. 
roman jerks hard amidst such refined pleasure. comes to himself in the darkness of a hotel room. breaths undone and his body damp with sweat. a clinging ache in his chest. the failure and consequence of living in such a fantasy. 
the gentle touch of your body not real at all. your face nameless, and your voice slipping dutifully from his memory. 
just a dream. 
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joannasteez · 2 days
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joannasteez · 3 days
hey so two people in a row on my dash just commented that trying to open the new communities popup on tumblr mobile(?) brings up major flashing lights, so please please PLEASE take caution doing so. i don't like asking people to reblog stuff but please reblog this or make your own post about this to tell people about this because this could seriously hurt someone
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joannasteez · 3 days
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joannasteez · 4 days
Some tips on the do’s and don’ts of adding more description to your Writing
Make your writing come alive by describing things that appeal to the senses. Instead of saying "It was a beautiful garden," you could say "The garden was filled with the scent of fresh roses, the sound of buzzing bees, and the vibrant colors of blooming flowers."
Instead of just saying what something is like, show it through your words. For instance, instead of saying "She was sad," you could describe her actions and surroundings to show her sadness: "Tears welled up in her eyes as she stared out the rain-streaked window, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand."
Instead of using general words, get specific. Instead of saying "He drove a car," you could say "He drove a sleek, black convertible, the wind tousling his hair as he sped down the open highway."
Keep your writing interesting by mixing up short and long sentences. Don't always write in the same way. For example, "The sky was dark. The trees swayed in the wind. It felt eerie," could be improved by adding variety: "Dark clouds gathered overhead, causing the trees to sway ominously in the gusting wind, casting an eerie feeling over the landscape."
Use your descriptions to set the mood of your story. Instead of just saying "It was a scary place," describe the setting to evoke fear in your readers: "The abandoned house loomed in the moonlight, its broken windows and creaking doors whispering of unseen terrors lurking within."
Don't just drop descriptions randomly into your writing. Make sure they fit naturally into the flow of your story. Instead of stopping the action to describe something, weave it into the narrative: "As she ran through the forest, the branches clawed at her skin, leaving scratches like whispers of the dangers lurking in the shadows."
While descriptions are important, don't forget to keep your story moving forward. Don't spend too much time describing things at the expense of the action. Find a balance between describing the scene and keeping the plot moving.
Using too many adjectives can make your writing sound cluttered and overwhelming. Stick to the essentials and choose your words carefully.
Don't forget that dialogue and interactions between characters are key parts of your story. Use them to reveal personality and move the plot forward.
Don't repeat yourself. Once you've described something, trust your readers to remember it. Don't keep saying the same thing over and over again.
Sometimes, what you don't say can be just as important as what you do say. Let your readers read between the lines and draw their own conclusions.
Avoid using tired old phrases that everyone has heard before. Try to come up with fresh, original descriptions that will grab your readers' attention.
Be mindful of the pace of your story. Don't slow things down with long descriptions in the middle of an action scene. Save the detailed descriptions for quieter moments when the pace naturally slows down.
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joannasteez · 4 days
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⸻ Roman Reigns as Universal Champion
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joannasteez · 4 days
my little drabble and headcanon posts are the only things in the cm punk x black reader tag… and if i said ill be dragging my eye balls across asphalt then what…
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joannasteez · 4 days
just wanted to remind you and the girlies that you are an ARTIST and you are GOAT'd and that they need to be reading all of your work asapually. 💐
ASAPUALLY 😭💀 ma’am pls LMAOOO, but thank you for always showing me love. 🫂 youre literally the sweetest
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joannasteez · 5 days
just saw a post about the word “oriental” and it reminded me of how some writers in the wwe fandom refer to members of the bloodline as “exotic”. specifically amidst the smuttier parts of a fic. sht makes my brain itch in a bad way
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