#even if roman hates him lol

[chooey]

common kendall L

[kinnenvy]

you can't make a tomlette without breaking some greggs

[thegetdownrebooter]

I mean I feel like it would come from a genuine place of caring about Roman and recognizing that this is a positive change and also perhaps subconsciously awakening his own repressed gender feelings, but even then it would still be very uncomfortable and that internalized bigotry would definitely not go away. Also even if he could get himself to outwardly treat her as a girl Kendall would still only ever really see her as his weird gay little brother, while also just being more directly misogynistic at her.

no yeah, even if ken "accepted" roman out of love for his sister then it would still be uncomfortable to watch because ken hasn't (and maybe never will) unlearned logan's prejudices so it would be him like, performing generic lip service and being the 1# ally for roman, however it would come across as performative and fake (because it is) and as you said he would be outwardly misogynistic towards her.

Even then he would still "slip" either by misgendering her or calling her a homophobic slur.

But like, even in a scenario where they could get to the point of him outwardly treating roman as a woman then he still wouldn't be able to mentally see her as anything other than his "weird gay little brother" .

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it. 

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?  

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits. 

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong. 

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch. 

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius. 

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight. 

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud. 

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child. 

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader. 

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air. 

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you. 

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream. 

And he turns. 

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from. 

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart. 

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him. 

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast. 

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual. 

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . . 

You are brought to his tent, screaming. 

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock. 

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood. 

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot. 

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should. 

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle. 

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately. 

It’s just that none of them were portents of war. 

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless. 

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you. 

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself. 

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself. 

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?” 

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up. 

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know. 

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen. 

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good… 

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful 

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

[disneyprincemuke]

they ask, "do you have a man?"

alternatively: can’t be discreet to save anyone’s life

in which everyone is curious why the grid princess is still single despite instagram posts from them seem to be giving out another narrative

(series masterlist)

logansargeant posted on their story!

alexalbon ur never beating the dating allegations if u keep posting shit like this i fear

kidy/n omg i look so slay in that dress

logansargeant ugh you’re so right bb

lilymhe i need to know where she got this i fear 😔

logansargeant she said she will text you like a true girls girl ✊🏼

lilymhe ugh im in love with her

user1 gonna need you guys to announce you’re dating actually

user2 posting this and denying every dating allegation is actually crazy

user3 what if i jump in front of a moving train???

user4 such a boyfriend coded story from someone who’s not her boyfriend

kidy/n posted on their story!

oscarpiastri HAVING FUN WHILE I AM IN MELBOURNE I SEE.

kidy/n is there ever a day u wake up n ur not an outright hater?

oscarpiastri no cause you guys are hanging out without so that really fuels my ability to hate

kidy/n u got ur own gf mate, spend time with her?? >:(

oscarpiastri SHE IS LITERALLY WITH YOU RN TAKING THIS PICTURE

sebastianvettel this doesn’t scream “not dating” to the rest of the world btw

kidy/n ugh nobody will know grandpa

sebastianvettel wow hater alert

georgerussell63 still not dating i presume? 🤨

kidy/n no sir

georgerussell63 i smell a big fat lie i fear

user5 IS THAT LOGAN HUNTER SARGEANT QUEEN?

user6 pls stop lying to the world and just kiss after a race 🙏🏼🙏🏼

user7 and why exactly is he nOt the one pushing u in a kart??

kidy/n

📍 home

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kidy/n didn’t see the news cause we were somewhere else

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oscarpiastri having fun without me should be a crime tbh

sebastianvettel this is why u weren’t answering ur phone?? ☹️

lilyzneimer photo credits where? 😔

kidy/n omg so trueeeeee i’m sorry i forgot

charles_leclerc making the uk look fun is a magic power

maxverstappen1 i heard the uk is only fun cause y/n lives there

landonorris what’s all this slander???

logansargeant

🎵 rex orange county - best friend

liked by oscarpiastri, kidy/n and 56,940 others

logansargeant the only problem living with your best friend is that every night is party night

view 288 comments…

kidy/n why are u telling people we’re alcoholics

oscarpiastri first you move in together, and now you’re not even inviting me to drink???

lilyzneimer cant believe i scored an invitation and u didnt

oscarpiastri wtf

kidy/n lol tough life oscar

user8 wow i thought they lived with oscar ngl

oscarpiastri ugh i wish

user9 why would he? he’s got a girlfriend

user10 really not dating?

sebastianvettel not sure how to feel about this

user11 them actually not being romantically involved is my roman empire

user12 in one universe, they’ve GOT to be dating

user13 it HAS TO BE THIS UNIVERSE PLEASE PLEASE PL

kidy/n so based

user13 wait i

formula1 drink safely pls 😀 (i’m begging for an invite)

logansargeant only if u pay for the alcohol

williamsracing not very family friendly of u ngl

kidy/n im sorry williams i tried to stop him ☹️

williamsracing its only ok bc its u

logansargeant ?

kidy/n posted on their story!

logansargeant wowwww look at you go bb!! so pretty!!!

kidy/n ehheheheehhe

oscarpiastri wow busy girl

sebastianvettel and kristen approved of this!!?!?

kidy/n WDYM SHE GOT ME THE ON THE PODCAST

sebastianvettel oh ok. youre just kinda wild lately idk

kidy/n whats that supposed to mean

sebastianvettel 🤷🏼‍♀️

maxverstappen1 the uggs are a no from me

kidy/n ok red bull merch lover

“thank you so much for being on the show,” hannah smiles into the mic. “i’m shocked to even receive the email from your pr manager, actually.”

“no, yeah,” she grins, nails pressed against her lips, biting down on the bottom. she’s never actually been on a podcast before. “we were talking about making an appearance somewhere, but i’m kinda - very - intimidated by men. i chose this podcast specifically.”

“oh, you know of our existence,” emma gushes, giggling slightly. “we feel so honoured. thank you so much.”

“honestly, i’m always around men,” she laughs, scrunching her nose. “i live with a man. so being around women is always a very nice change.”

“right, you recently moved in with logan sargeant in the uk,” hannah points out. “if you don’t mind me asking, how did that decision come about? because you’re really good friends with oscar piastri as well, how come he doesn’t live with you guys?”

“oh, that’s an interesting point,” emma frowns. “i never thought of that.”

“yeah, so growing up oscar and logan actually stayed with my family on and off just because they’ve got brothers and sisters that their parents would have to attend to back home,” she recalls out loud, remembering the sleepovers they’ve spend in the living room with her siblings. “i think when i was… like 15, oscar was 16, and logan was 17, obviously.

i think my sister and i had a really bad fight that turned the house upside down. i mentioned that i couldn’t wait to move out and never speak to her again — i was very overdramatic as a teen. and they were like ‘yeah, that’s a good idea! we should get a place!’”

“oh, so you didn’t even propose the idea of living together?”

“exactly! they just love inviting themselves to be a part of my life. they’ve got cars while i don’t, so that’s a big plus,” she laughs. “then, well, oscar met lily when he was 18 and they got an apartment together after oscar landed reserve driver for alpine. which then left logan and i to kinda figure things out. then, we both landed a contract to race in the 2023 season and both our racing headquarters are in uk, luckily. so we made the decision to move in together earlier this year.”

“so oscar bailed!”

“that’s okay,” she scoffs, waving off the host’s concern. “we live pretty close by, so lily and oscar are always at our place anyway.”

“so, i totally don’t wanna get into it. but like, girl to girl,” hannah grins giddily. “and i promise we’ll get into the racing stuff in a bit, but i’m just curious.”

“it’s okay because i like you guys,” she jokes. “ask away.”

“there’s a lot of speculation that you and logan seem to be too close to just be best friends,” hannah explains. “and it’s seemed to be a trend since you were in f2 together, so i just wanna ask you if… well…”

she smiles. this isn’t exactly the first time she’s heard that. while they preferred to keep their relationship under wraps for several reasons, her and logan aren’t very discreet either.

there are pictures on the internet, after races where they head to weigh-in together with logan holding her things, laughing as they walk, which is normal. but there are also a couple of pictures where they were caught with logan’s hand on her cheek, or of them walking in the paddocks with her hands wrapped around his arm.

she’s not shocked that people talk about their relationship, but more shocked that everyone seems to shrug it off as them being really good friends.

“we’re actually not romantically involved at all,” she lies, though her cheeks flush up at the thought of her boyfriend. “i think we met really early on in life so we’re super comfortable with each other.”

“so, you’re setting the record straight. you don’t have a man.”

she nods firmly. “i don’t have a man. not planning to get one — i’ve just been really busy with my career. if anything, logan is my stand-in date for every event.”

“that’s true friendship if i’ve ever seen one.”

[fryingpan1234567]

some CHB headcanons

every cabin has LEDs around the inside, but there’s a constant battle over what color they are

Percy has his rippling back and forth from teal to blue and it looks like light dancing through water all over his walls and floor

the Apollo cabin can usually settle for orange and yellow as a common ground

the Aphrodite kids have a different color for each time of day and sleep with pink on the lowest brightness setting

the Hermes cabin has like ten different strips and they’re all constantly shifting

Demeter cabin’s shifts with the seasons

ANYWAYS MOVING AWAY FROM THE LEDS

they have movie nights, which I will talk about in a different post

before everybody goes back to school, the Aphrodite and Hecate cabins have a massive salon at the end of the summer with new haircuts and magic hair dye and outfit recommendations and fake but enchanted sturdy nails and a whole bunch of other stuff and basically it’s a week straight of spilling hot tea between everyone in camp

if someone asks where a camper got their hair done when they get back to school they just go “oh, um… summer camp.” and their friends will snort and be like bro isn’t summer camp the opposite of a makeover?? but they get no argument, just a shrug and a half smile

when I tell you pride month over there is a fucking riot

because Mr. D is in on it, right?? because he’s the god of gender?? and Chiron is aroace and has been raising dumbass gay heroes for literal centuries?? PLUS the sheer fucking amount of queer peeps up in there?? dude yeah

cabins competing for who shows the most pride

Demeter’s roof is covered in rainbow flowers

Hecate’s is enchanted to emit actual light in whatever flag colors of whoever uses the front door, even when they’re straight (it’s just a rainbow)

Percy collects a bunch of shed scales from the hippocampi at the bottom of the lake and then puts them all over his cabin

I could make a whole post about CHB pride but

every single Apollo kid is also a theater kid fight me

Rachel Elizabeth Dare painted a skateboard for Percy’s birthday and he brings it everywhere now, it even sits in his backpack at school

Leo, Annabeth, Percy, and Piper fucking love horror movies. Frank, Hazel, and Jason fucking hate them. They watch through their fingers, if at all

Piper loves the band Surfaces with all her heart, but she also is a die hard Green Day and P!ATD fan

Jake Mason is covered in burn scars up to his neck, just like Deadpool, just not bald lol

Hephaestus and Apollo kids faintly radiate warmth (like more so than a normal person)

the Stolls sometimes stay at camp year-round because their mom is off on international missions that are too high-risk for them to help with

the seven are AVID Smash Bros players

really everyone but

not as many people go to the Athena campers for help with homework as you might think, but whenever anyone does, they’re happy to help

the sun chariot blasts music at a frequency only the Apollo kids can hear, so their life kind of has a shitty soundtrack that consists of a mix of Broadway, Queen, modern stuff, and random bits of Beethoven every now and then

the Romans swear on few occasions

the Greeks know when to swear and when to be polite

the Valhalla peeps swear unbridled and all the time

the Egyptians never swear (in English)

for the longest time, Will Solace thinks the only gift from his dad is his healing prowess— which is obviously great, but he expresses being upset over the fact that he’s not very good at archery

well, considering this is the dumbass who didn’t bring a weapon to actual fucking Tartarus, Nico drags him to the weapon shack thing immediately afterwards and made him pick something out

he's immediately drawn to the Celestial Bronze shotgun.

Nico’s just like “what in the redneck shit did you just pick up” and Will jokingly aims it at his chest and grins and says “you know I’m from Texas, right?”

that’s how they find out Will is one of the damn best marksmen in Greek demigod history

some of the Disney nerds in the Apollo cabin sing What Once Was Mine to the little ones who need bandaids for knee scrapes and give them lollipops afterwards

Percy Jackson absolutely used to make poverty and struggle meal jokes all the time, but he got weird and concerned looks for it at CHB, so he kind of just stopped. But one day, aboard the Argo II, the PERFECT opportunity came up and he just HAD TO and as per usual— everyone else looked at him like he’s crazy— but Leo laughed so hard chocolate milk came out of his nose and that’s the story of how the two of them became Best Friends

[pumpkinbxtch]

Hello, a request please from Percy x reader x Tyson (family member) what would it be like if the 3 of them went to an mlp movie

What's your favorite pony?

— percy jackson x fem!reader (ft. Tyson!)

warnings: kinda short, language and ponies, lol. a/n: hi! This is too short and I don't know if it's right but I think it's because Tyson is very chaotic which I love to see in the writing, like those episodes where nothing happens but everything happens.I hope you like it and it hasn't disappointed you. I send a kiss!

— No way.

— c'mon, percy! It's just a movie of my little pony

your boyfriend stared at you for a few seconds and nodded obviously with a grimace of annoyance.

—... yeah, now you get it?

You snorted and poked him in the shoulder which made him jump. You knew the hardest one to convince was Percy and for now it didn't look too good.

— for him — you pleaded with your hands together and your lips pressed into a pout. You knew that was the face he would never resist and he took it as a personal challenge by turning around, avoiding to see you.

There was nothing more that Percy hated than those movies, because... because... uh, why? He didn't even need a reason, he just didn't want to watch colored ponies for a little over an hour but Tyson...Tyson could die watching that non-stop.

— Then I guess I'll tell T that he came from your father's palace for nothing. — You sighed dramatically and looked at his face with a sad grin — The next time you'll see him is to give him his birthday present.

Now Percy had a dilemma.

With you holding the tickets - all three exactly - now he remembered the fact that Tyson's (made up) birthday was approaching and Percy didn't have a gift or money either. Suddenly he didn't see that as such a bad idea and took his movie ticket from your hand with a huff.

— Go get him, I'll ask Paul for the car — He grumbled.

You jumped up and gave him a kiss on the cheek, running to the bathroom to tell Tyson the big news, which cost Percy a half hour of driving with him singing the show's theme in his ear.

— my little pony! holy fuck

You opened your eyes and Percy almost braked. Last time, Tyson barely cursed or said that kind of things, but being in forges and surrounded by Romans was giving him some of their habits.

— Uhm, you better not say that in the cinema or the parents will kick us out and we won't see the movie.— Percy reprimanded like the older brother he was to him and nodded but both knew that was very uncertain because Tyson could be unpredictable.

But it turned out to be the complete opposite and Tyson ended up leading a mob of children eager to see the new movie. Every time he shouted a character's name, everyone did and he ended up with around 50 new, little friends.

— best duckin day!

— duckin? — asked Percy with the eyes on the road, you giggled still amazed.

— yeah, trevor said that we can't say fucking, instead is ducking.

Percy laughed and shook his head playfully. — Oh little brother.

[eastgaysian]

okay here's one post i have to make. Finally racism confirmed real in succession. other people have talked about this before but it is a huge blind spot of the show not to acknowledge the intersection between racism and capitalism, and the excuse that the characters are the 1% and the 1% are vastly white is pretty weak. the fact that the show sidelines its existing characters of color while every now and then broadly gesturing towards race makes this worse, especially as the show more directly focuses on fascism and just Doesn't bring race into it. like i don't even think race is totally absent as a concern of the writers but it's clearly not a priority. i think a lot about how mo's widow is a filipino woman

anyway. ken and rava's conversation in this sense doesn't really qualify as, like, revolutionary in terms of succession's commentary on race esp since it's a discussion between two white parents about their brown daughter without her present. the point of interest to me really is that kendall completely fails to recognize racism as a systemic issue, much less that he works for and is trying to sustain a company that actively works to perpetuate that hegemony. his questions are why was sophie on the street? why wasn't rava there? in the same episode where he calls matsson homophobic for saying the numbers are gay. socially aware king

it's not particularly revelatory to say that a rich white man doesn't grasp the concept of systemic racism LOL but i do think it's more than that for kendall, and i also think this trait is something his siblings don't share. it's like how he doesn't realize he's in a position of power over anna and she was pressured into attending the recny with him, and his adoption of a faux-feminist stance in s3 while continuing to treat women like shit. kendall's whole concept of Everything, including systemic social issues, goes back to logan. there's no system outside of dad. the doj doesn't find the cruises evidence compelling? that's because they're scared of logan. logan's the source of the evil in the world, therefore opposing him is inherently progressive, leaving kendall with even less of a coherent moral framework after his death. and he's completely unable to process the idea that he could be participating in and benefiting from the greater racist or sexist system, because that's fundamentally incompatible with his logan-based idea of his own identity.

i don't think roman or shiv or even connor share this particular nearsightedness. roman 'we do hate speech and roller coasters' roy knows what's going on but he doesn't really care and he doesn't believe it can be changed (or, maybe more accurately, that there's any point in trying). he doesn't buy into fascism on the ideological level, exactly, but the spectacle appeals to him and he does believe it's profitable to align with it, so he's perfectly happy to do so. i think he's the most similar to logan in this regard. and shiv and connor have actual political ideologies, even if they're far from being meaningfully opposed to fascism, which requires a base awareness of the fact that We Live In A Society and That Society Has Systems In It. for kendall it really boils down to logan and logan alone

[msbigredmachine]

WIP Wednesday - You Again (Roman Reigns/OC)

A/N: Thanks to @empressdede for the tag! I appreciate it! I know it's Thursday not Wednesday lol, sorry I'm late!

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

His familiar scent reached her nose, triggering memories of the years he had tortured her in school. Fuck, he still smelled the same. She stiffened at the reminder, fighting her body's response to his closeness. She had very little room to move seated the way she was, but she tried to put a few inches between their bodies.

His hard chest. His big hands encircling her upper arms, holding her in place, trapping her against his body.

Her breath caught, torn between crying out for help and giving in to the heavy arousal that flooded her body. 

She felt his mouth close to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. "Evie," he breathed. Joe's low, raspy voice uttering her name set off flutters throughout her tummy and heat spread throughout her body. Her skin broke out into goosebumps and her nipples hardened into sharp little points. Despite her body's involuntary response, she held herself rigidly, staring straight ahead, giving no indication she'd heard anything.

Joe chuckled softly at her refusal to look at or acknowledge him. His warm breath tickled her ear and her hardened nipples chafed against the lace of her bra almost painfully. "I thought I was imagining things," he said in that velvety soft tone. "But no. I'd know that beautiful face anywhere.”

“Oh look, here comes the leader of N’Stink.” She rolled her eyes.

“Leader of what?” he laughed. She didn't see what was so funny.

“That was my name for you and the evil twins. Jon and Josh.”

“Who knew little Evie Ashton was so creative.”

“I’m not ‘Evie’ anymore. I go by Evelyn now. This ain’t high school anymore.” She dared to look up at him this time, and hated that he was as gorgeous as ever, and was still able to effortlessly awaken her body with just one look, just his proximity. It reminded her how, as a teen, she had been so confused and embarrassed by the way she simultaneously loathed him and desired him. She sucked in a breath as his lower body now flush against her. She let out a small gasp as she became aware of a sizable hardness prodding into her ass. His mouth was by her ear again. 

"This is the other reason I knew it was you." He rocked into her, letting her feel the length of his impressive erection. "All you had to do was come near me and you had me so hard I wanted to beg you just for a taste of your sweet pussy."

What? 

She did turn around this time, eyes wide. “What are you talking about?”

“You have no damn idea how much I wanted you, Evie.”

“You’re fuckin lying.”

He shook his head. “I'm not. You feel that, don’t you?”

She clenched her thighs together, feeling a rush of warmth between her legs at his words. She opened her mouth to tell him to get the fuck away from her, but all that came out was a whimper.

His hands moved from where they held her arms in place down to her hips. She glanced down, seeing his strong, tanned hands grasping her. Lust coursed through her, drugging her into docility. The same thing kept happening back in high school - even when she was furious at him, he'd affected her so strongly on a physical level that she felt almost drunk when she was around him. What was worse, he was the first and only boy who had turned her on like that without even lifting a finger. Not even Chuka, her fiancé, ever set her body on fire like this, despite his impressive attempts.

As a teenager, she would imagine, at night, alone in her bed, herself with Joe, what it might feel like, the heights he might take her to, if he actually tried to bed her…

Her fantasies didn't even come close to the electricity his touch sent jolting through her body.

She held herself still, barely managing to breathe, as his bulge seared into her bottom. She was flushed from head to toe, and as she squeezed her thighs together to relieve the ache there, she could feel herself gushing into her panties. Mindlessly, she pressed back into him just the smallest bit.

In response, his hands moved around to cup her ass, gently spreading her cheeks so he could nestle his iron-hard cock between them. She tried to remember that she hated this man, that he'd made her life miserable for three years, and she never even knew why. But her body had taken over, her aroused state freezing her in place.

Encouraged by her complacency, Joe ground into her, his steel length feeling like it was branding her through her short dress. She panted, air coming in short bursts, as she pressed back into his groin…

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

This is not finished at all and just a little excerpt, I hope you like it! I will be posting a brand new Roman one-shot real soon so look out for that.

As usual, tagging everyone else: @jxtina-86 @wrestlingprincess80 @fame-ass-ers @southerngirl41 @alyyaanna @squishyguishy @jstarr86 @murrylove @thewarlordsworld @mzv11 @cozyaliensuperstar7 @nayys-world @hunnidmilly @cyberdejos2 @papireigns-05 @niknakbucks92 @captainwithoutmakingitlove @sovereigngoth @aisharmi @kennedi0818 @alichesmi @thesamoanqueen @herwickedlittlesins @harmshake @questionable-behaviour @tribalchiefreigns @2-muchsauce @thatbxtchsblog @raya-hunter01 @marchi36753 @lovelysuccess @christinabae @wooahmiri @thatonecarebear @tabletheofhead @rheaanddamianfan @vebner37 @hanley1577 @princessesareforsuckers @-naturally @joannasteez @bbygirlky18 @lilucey @theninthwonder @melaninsugababy @chocovibesonly @msbluehaz3 @scarlettnoir01 @heerah34 @empressdede @tbmotw @darkangelchronicles @visionarymode @marasdeathnote @aintnorainbows @meggylynnloves @shantinextdoor @harlemblipster @trc-punzel @afterdarkprincess @nbanenefrmdao @sassginaswanmills @purplehairgawdess @holisticcoach @girlwhogaf @royalkay23 @heyitsnajabrinee @stoner2k @reci1996 @catxo @iamimanim @lookmais @ts1mp0ne @shonny09 @lizzyd1ish @gomussy @m3llowww @skyesthebomb @final1miya

[strxwberry-milku]

Hello :3 it’s been a while since I requested a fic. How about evil!spoiled!fem!reader x Roman R. - she causes hell around backstage but in front of Roman she’s a saint lol

“ 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 ,𝐖𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐢𝐥 ”

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 🎀 : You going around causing chaos wherever you go , but hey whose gonna stop you ? exactly no one cause they know not to mess with THE tribal chiefs woman.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 🎀: Nothing accept a lil kissing

Backstage was a living hell the workers had to face this demon like women every day , but if they hated it so much then they could leave . You wouldn’t care and certainly Roman wouldn’t care ether cause he knew he would be able to replace them real quick .

“ But i want it , and i want it now ! ” the short woman screamed at the older panicked looking women “ i know darling but-” the younger girl raised her finger meaning silence and god forbid someone speaks over her . “ I SAID, i want it now . You don’t want me to tell your boss aka my husband that you’re denying his precious princess now do you ? ” you said playing an evil smirk on your face watching the worker start to get even more frightened than before . There’s something so sweet and delightful at the fact that you can get anyone wrapped around your finger just by mentioning your man’s name . Sighing in defeat the older woman named Janice got on her walkie talkie to make an announcement. “ This is Janice speaking, could one of you guys please order wing stop for y/n ” she said while looking elsewhere because she couldn’t look you dead in eyes knowing damn well you were boring holes straight through her head .

“ Ummm… what-t was your-r order aga-a-ain Mrs Reigns-s ? ” the poor lady trembled while speaking because she knew world war three was about the start . Looking offended you grabbed the walkie talkie from her hands and pointed it to your mouth “ listen here , you people have been working her for about a year now so how the fu-” just as you were about to finish your sentence you hear Romans voice come from behind you . Janice was probably thanking god above that she got saved from your tantrums by her boss . “ Is everything going on alright baby ?” he questioned and looked between both you and Janice who still seemed a bit shooken up.

Turning around you got on your tippy toes and kissed him which he happily obliged and wrapped his arms around your waist pulling you closer . Both of you still couldn’t give a fuck if anyone saw you guys making out because as stated before , if they don’t like it they can simply work somewhere else . Departing your lips from his you turned back around facing a shocked Janice , you almost busted out laughing from her expression , but nobody told her ass to stare .

“ Yes baby everything is ok , she was just ordering me my wing stop ” you replied while smiling up at him . Leaning down he kissed your forehead and said “ that’s good my love , however make sure you still have enough room to eat another meal because i’m taking you out for dinner at the new restaurant that just recently opened up down our street ” he then blowed you a kiss and took of round the corner back to his office .

Squealing in delight you shook Janice by her shoulders “ Did you hear that Janice ? my man is bout to take me out to eattttt , can you believe that ? who am i kidding, your man can’t even afford one of those microwave meals to give you ” without giving her a chance to respond you took off running to god knows where.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : Ik this is a bit short but i did what i could do 🤷🏾‍♀️ i hope you liked it bae 💋

[keyaho]

Sorry

summary: you were much too good for a cheater pairing: roman reigns x black!character warnings: sexually explicit material, power dynamic shift, language One-shot notes: I recycle this story a lot. I’ve written it for others. Hopefully I got all the changes so it fits WWE, lol.

In their weakness We plant roots so our emotions have something to anchor to Untamed and wild We crown ourselves as Queens Paint ourselves in jewels of endless “sorry” dms and  Armor our bodies from the weight of their inadequacy we're born from the pain, blooming into a sun ready to shine on us once again

To the world, he was Roman Reigns. He was known as the Tribal Chief, Undisputed & Universal Champion. There were people that hated him but wanted to be him. You, well, you had him. To you, he was honey, baby, or Daddy when he was hitting it right. And with the dick the size of a Red Bull can tucked in his pants, he always hit it right. But you weren’t some silly actress or fellow wrestler. Not to toot your own horn, but you were the Beyoncé of the American fashion world. You own various fashion houses, had stock in Chanel, Dolce & Gabbana, were the executive producer to many television shows and held the number one spot on Forbes 30 Under 30 lists as the most earning for the past six years. You employed the women walking fashion shows, covering magazines, and could make or break a girl’s dreams in seconds. Anna Wintour came to you for what was in. 

So, there was nothing Joseph could give you that you hadn’t bought, made, or had influence on. Your world was set, you just wanted a man to share it with. You graced his life with your presence two years ago at a party held by Chanel for the 85th birthday of the Coco Chanel fragrance. The company wanted to celebrate your birthday as well and launched a limited-edition diamond encrusted bottle for the Chanel N. 5 fragrance in your honor. 

The theme had been the 1920s, when the fragrance was first launched, but since it was supposed to be period specific you opted for a custom flapper outfit. Bare shoulders and a low back with two diamond chains fluttered against your back. Simple heels completed the look and with side swept hair, you knew all eyes would be on you.

As they should be.

Including his.

He’d been talking near the side of the venue with a glass in his hands. Amidst all the women dressed in the same flapper style dress, you looked like their madam, ready to pimp them out to the overly cologne’d men watching them. If you were into that, you might consider that career choice when you retire. However, while you were standing at the bar for a glass of champagne, you could smell an Armani Code fragrance. You knew it was him before he opened his mouth to speak. You had this rule, if a man wanted you, he would ask for what he wanted upfront. No games. It wasn’t recess. You were grown and wanted to be treated as such.

That night, in the study room on the second floor, Joseph grew acquainted with your precious peach as you fed him your fruit. Your nails had made a home in the thickest part of his beard, scratching the skin as you left your mark on him. That was all he was getting that night as you whispered your cell number in his ear. You knew he wouldn’t forget it. Not if he wanted you beyond tonight.

Instead of calling, he showed up at your office in Manhattan with six bouquets of roses, lilies, tulips, and orchids like you two had been dating for months. You went along with it. You even let him kiss you while his hand wandered over your backside. He’d done what no man dared to when it came to dating you: take control.

From that point you two were inseparable. Parties, red carpets, jet setting across the world to a playlist of your own making. You shared a private plane, penthouses in many countries, and on his birthday, you bought him a Maserati. On yours, you literally took a bath in water flaked with gold, rare roses, and pampered for an entire week. Every day brought a ton of gifts to your job and home. You were spoiled and it felt good having a man cater to you just as much as you could cater to him.

In all of that, the most important thing you wanted from him was his time. There was no place you could be kept out of, so when the gatekeepers on movie sets saw you pull up, the doors were open so you could walk through like you were the owner. Backstage at WWE shows had no roadblocks as you walked down the concrete halls to his suite for the night in whatever area you decided to show up in. Curled up in his lap, you were in love with him. His smile, the way he talked, smelled, and how he could match you in everything. You could take a step and he would match it. He could make love with you and to you. The girl in love you wanted to be in your dreams had finally come true. You had given him something you never gave anyone. Your heart. 

He was your other half. God was looking out when he put the two of you together.

Yet, after two years, things started to fizzle. The real test came when the tabloids were trying their hardest to cause some sort of relationship tiff between you and Joseph, but you were no fool and he knew better than to feed into it. So, you had nothing to worry about. You were never going to care about some random bitch thinking she had the right to even lie about being with your man.

The conversations you had with him about these random women always went the same and they were happening too frequently for you to continue to ignore them. It was always in the private space of your bedroom when you would talk things out.  

“Baby, you know it’s not true.”

His hands wandered over your curves as his lips sucked on the skin of your neck. In front of your vanity, you applied a layer of red lipstick to your plump lips while he took a step back.

“Then you need to get a grip on it before I do, and I promise this will blow up bigger than the Montreal Screwjob. Only one of us has a career to lose.”

Not even the venom from the most poisonous snake could match what could course through your veins. That was one thing about your relationship with Joseph that made things even more beneficial to you. He needed good press all the time. Not that it mattered, because his fan base would cushion him, but you both knew you made him better. People wanted you and they knew to get you they had to go through him. Not only physical, but your relationship with Joseph was a business one as well. You two were a brand and you just couldn’t choose what parts to deal with.

He had better get his personal business under control before business erupted and you reminded him of where he was before you let him eat you out. He was well known in America, but when he stepped out on international soil he might as well have been an American Idol reject from season one.

He was no one and you put him on. He’d never see another bespoke suit in his lifetime. 

He didn’t know who he knew without you and those connections could be clipped with just one phone call. He knew you could make someone and you damn sure loved to break them. 

“Don’t be like that,’ he sighed as he sat on the edge of the four-poster bed. “I will fix it.”

As he ran his hands over the expensive sheets, he could only think about getting you mixed up in them. He was sure this was just the tabloids trying to start trouble and like you told him, he’d get a grip on it. He knew you weren’t jealous, but you weren’t going to be disrespected either. His silence on the matter was doing just that and that was why you were so upset about it. You were his girl, and he was doing a piss poor job at defending you.

Coming to stand between his legs, you sighed. There were times when you could feel your guard being built back up and you knew that it could make you meaner than normal. But your love for him wasn’t going to be played with. Reaching down, you placed your hands on his shoulders and smoothed them towards his neck.

“I know,’ you ran your thumb across his bottom lip, ‘but I need you to start doing that.”

Deciding to tease, Joseph grabbed your hips and pulled you to straddle his lap. His lips found your neck, kissing gently while his hands did more lewd things to your ass. “Is my girl jealous?”

Slipping his hand beneath her robe, his fingers left a heated trail as they gripped your thighs. You wanted to snarl in disgust, but his fingers flicked gently over your clit and the sound got stuck in your throat.

“No,’ she whimpered.

Your rough disposition had dissolved from earlier. You were putty in his hands at this point.

“Baby, baby, we can’t,’ you pleaded, your body wanted it, but you hated being late for anything.

Tonight was too important to be late.

“We have a full hour to get there. I don’t need much time to make you come for me.”

To prove his point, you felt his fingers dipped into your moist folds. He stroked your walls, carefully rubbing against that one spot that made you see stars. Your fingers gripped his shoulders tightly. He shifted his weight and pulled you closer to him. Hoisting one of your legs on the bed, he pushed back the robe and pushed your panties to the side. He wasn’t going to take them off. When you got dressed, he wanted you to feel how wet you’d gotten and would be for the rest of the night.

“We can’t be late.”

“We won’t.”

Leaning forward he placed his mouth right at your clit while scissoring his fingers. Instead of stroking your spot and drawing out this game, he pressed against it; causing immediate pleasure and the strength to almost give out in your legs. He held you up with his hand beneath your ass. You could feel the way the muscles tensed all the way down in his fingertips. Keeping that pressure up, he flicked his tongue against your clit while groaning at your taste.

Looking at my watch he should’ve been home

That was probably the last orgasm you remember having. He didn’t come home that night and had been working a little more than normal, but so had you. There were times in the year when your schedules didn’t line up. He was champion after all. When he was there, he was sleeping; too tired for you to even give him head. Which he never turned down. It was aggravating to want to be intimate with your significant other and then be pushed aside or told no. Especially when they could be just as needy. You couldn’t even snuggle up against his back before he was letting you know he was too tired or had a ‘headache’.

There was something wrong. You could feel it but pushed the ebbing feeling away because he would never do anything to hurt you. There was a lot on him as the face of a company. You knew he was dealing with a lot. This was going to change the course of his career forever.

While your nose was buried in the photos for an upcoming campaign, you were shaken from your intense judgment by a knock on the door. Closing the photos, you looked up and frowned. Your assistant walked in carrying tabloids. You didn’t read them and only gave them the time of day when they would cross your twitter feed on long flights. However, her eyes were full of apprehension and hesitation. Whatever she had to show you was probably going to make your sour mood turn rancid.

“What did I tell you about that?”

“I thought,’ she swallowed, ‘this time would be different. Someone had delivered this a few minutes ago.”

As she stepped closer to the large desk, you started to think of the various articles she could be wanting to show you. When the magazine was placed on your desk, she left the room just as quickly as she had come. Sticking out of one of the pages was a sticker marking where you should open to.

Swallowing, you flipped the pages, your blood boiling with each image your eyes landed on.

Joseph was always in the news for something. He had all eyes on him, but this time he was going to wish he was no one. He was going to wish he was the same wanna be boss sucking your pussy in an old study after being told to get on his knees. 

In glossy print the headline ‘Power Couple on The Fritz?’ taunted you. There were small images of you and him, a quick info post about you, but none of that irked you more than the two-page spread of photos with some black-haired actress whose name you knew without even looking at the adjoining tag.

Harlow James.

Of course, he’d go back to an ex. It wasn’t your business to know about who he had been with before you. However, it became your business each time you were compared to her, and you’d seen her around. Floating around at parties and events like a social butterfly whose wings needed to be clipped. You made it known, when you graced the press with a comment, that NO woman was competition for you and if Joseph wanted to float away, he had your permission to, but you wouldn’t be there when he got back.

You had your own line of exes and one of them, who you grew to be friends with, was always on speed dial. If needed, he’d get the call.

Sorry, I ain’t sorry

You weren’t upset. You’d never let some other woman, or possible cheating, make you mad. What had you ready to fight and get belligerent was his lack of respect. It was one thing to have women as friends. It was another to be in restaurants, clubs, and other events with them and not let your girlfriend know. Based on the time stamp on these photos, those were all the nights you had waited up for him or found him already in the bed tired from ‘working’.

But you weren’t going to sweat it. No. Talking at this point was over. You were going to take it all in as a lesson learned. No matter what you could do and give a man, he was going to wander to some bitch he thought could give him more. Harlow couldn’t even get him in front of the line at Starbucks, but he could have that flat ass bitch. Extra foam since he was feeling himself.

During your lunch, you called him. You knew he knew you saw the tabloids, so there was no answer. Not even to your text messages. You never sent more than two and you always sent what would get a reaction. Blush pink lingerie and a high ponytail. You had your own photo shoot in your bathroom after calling out of work for the rest of the evening. He’d come home.

But this time he didn’t.

So, you changed the locks on the main door and the pass code to the keyless entry door. It was a simple change; he’d know the answer without calling to ask so it wasn’t like he was completely locked out of the house.

Sorry, I aint sorry

Except he didn’t come home.

You gave it two weeks. His absent behavior had become common, so it surprises you when he comes home one evening. You were in the kitchen, phone tucked between your ear and shoulders as you talked with your godchild. He walked past you and said nothing. You just let him think about his lies so he could come tell them to you.

But you were missing him. You hated that you missed him. So after your call you finished dinner and made a bowl of the soup for him. Placing it on a tray, you took it to the bedroom, he was fresh out the shower in bed on his phone, which he placed face down when you came in, but you ignored that in favor of a peaceful night.

“Hungry?” You asked him with a smile on your tired face as he nodded.

You were tempted to feed him. All those sneaky dates had bags under his eyes.

“Thank you,’ he smiled.

There was something in his eyes as he looked at the side of your face. He was guilty, that much you knew, but he wasn’t going to admit anything, and you already had a plan for how you were going to make him understand he fucked with the wrong one.

“No problem,’ you sighed, grabbing your phone charger as you left the room.

He seemed perplexed. You guess he thought you were going to feed him after all.

Plopping down on the couch, you sent a group text to a few of your friends. They were going through their own shit and at this point you all needed a break.

Clear your schedules for a trip…. Seconds later replies came flooding in. Why..  I got kids! Bitch……..aight, when? What the fuck did the big nigga do? Hoe we got jobs we can’t just take a weekend! I figured we could have a girl’s weekend on me. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll pay for the sitters. His ass did something and I want to know! Just pack your bags. 

The texts went like that for the rest of the night. You were in the living room and Joseph must have thought he was quiet because he snuck out through the side door without saying a word. You could smell his cologne as he shut the door behind him.

Booking a hotel, flight, and some spa treatments for you and your girls, you would let him do what he wanted. He was a grown ass man and could make his own decisions, even if they were going to fuck him over in the end.

I ain’t sorry

Nigga nah

As the weekend to your trip grew closer, you wanted to give it one last shot. Maybe he would come clean, but all you got were more tabloids, him never home, and an incident where you almost went to Harlow’s job and let her know who you were.

His out-of-pocket behaviors nearly made you step out of character.

Fuck him.

Instead, you were getting dressed for a party to celebrate the movie filming being done. In a peach chiffon dress and gold heels, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The top was fitted and had a deep V-neck. Your hair was pinned up in a messy bun with a few pieces framing your face. At the waist, the dress was flowy and brushed against your legs.

“How do I look Joseph?” You spun in a small circle, a smile on your face. He barely looked up from his phone before giving you a reply.

“Cute.”

The party was divided into two parts, the first being a sit-down dinner and then the actual party room would be converted from the current room. There would be performances and endless glasses of wine and other drinks. Paramount had really gone all out.

You were halfway through your first course when you felt eyes on you. Looking up and slowly around the tables, Harlow made eye contact with you and rolled her eyes. She had a smug look on her face and as you talked with the waiter about a second glass of wine, you could see her tapping on her phone still looking in your direction.

“Damn, can I have my face back,’ you mumbled.

Beside you, Teyonah Parris frowned. “Huh?”

“Ah, nothing.”

Joseph’s phone lit up a few minutes later and you almost lost it. Placing your hand on his thigh, you rubbed it up and down before dipping it between his legs. His grip on your wrist surprised you as he gave you a hard look. You smiled and leaned over slowly as if to kiss him. But his phone rang, and you both looked at it. It gave him an excuse to lean away from you.

You tried to lean into him as you all stood to toast, and he would step away.

You wanted to dance with him, and he had an issue with it. Citing that you drank too much. His attempts to humiliate you in front of her didn’t go unnoticed. He was showing his half lily-white ass. You couldn’t even hold his hand without him blowing his breath at you and you almost reminded him you weren’t some needy ass bitches, but he was going to be in the hospital if he did that shit again.

But being belligerent at this party wasn’t going to make the situation better. His bed was already made.

I pray to the Lord you reveal what his truth is

And he was about to lie in it.

On the eve of your girl’s trip, you made sure you had all the boarding passes and your luggage. Phone charged, you turned out all the lights in the house and contemplated leaving a note that it was up for sale, with a few potential buyers, but opted against it. He didn’t tell you anything about his late-night session so why should you tell him you were about to fly to Japan? It was all irrelevant, like Harlow’s career was about to be. It all depended on how you felt once you landed with your girls. Forever surrounded by hype men, she might just end up at her local Dollar Tree swiping EBT cards for expired meat and old bags of bread.

When you woke up the following morning, unchanging and unconditional love surrounded you. Six of your best friends were in all states of sleep. The flight had been longer since there was a delay, but that meant you were just going to extend the vacation by a week. Maybe fly everyone to another city for some more traveling experiences. Bring out your god son and friend’s kids so they could see the world too.

Currently, hung over from an early morning round of shots and other cocktails, you blinked as you stared up at the ceiling.

“You all right,’ you peered at the floor where one of your friends ended up after a few drinks.

“Yes.” You paused. “I should be asking you that. How’s Damien?”

“He’s better. I went and saw him in rehab a few weeks ago. He’s still a horny fucking ass in a cast.”

“Yall,’ a groggy voice called from the bathroom floor. “We aint finna talk about these crusty ass dudes on this trip.”

“So, you and Orton aint living la Vida loca no more hun.”

“Hoe, you lucky my foot got stuck in this damn toilet.”

Silence.

“Wait, why is your foot in the toilet?”

Now you want to say you’re sorry

Now you want to call me crying

Now you gotta see me wildin’

It was a blur from then. When people realized you landed in Japan your hotel room flooded with invitations to parties, fashion shows, concerts, and the only way you accepted was if you could bring your girls with you. That meant non stop partying and you hadn’t had that much fun since you all celebrated Christmas last year. All of you needed the break.

“Girl,’ one of your friends said while you were all waiting for room service one night. “You are all over the internet. Like pictures of you in that bikini are at the top. I knew that Japanese men loved booty.”

“Wasn’t her left nipple out!”

“Shut up,’ you giggled, falling back on the bed in said bikini. Your left nipple was currently covered, but it had slipped a few times. Allegedly. 

“Thot ass. Remember when she sucked that boy in the closet at Marco's party?”

“Boy ain't been right since. I saw him at Peaches house, and he still look like she sucked the soul from him.”

Laughing, you glanced down at your phone, over the past six days, Joseph had been calling, texting, sending you DMs on all your social media accounts and trying to *69 you.

You interrupting my grinding.

After piecing together his images with Harlow and your images with your friends and your titties out all the time, they figured you two had broken up. Checking his timeline on twitter you could only laugh as he posted old pictures of the two of you. He deleted the ones of her and it still wasn’t enough for you to answer his calls. Why should you talk to him?

He rebuffed your affection.

Disrespected you too many times to count.

None of his messages or voicemails said, ‘I’m sorry,’ so you weren’t going to be sorry he was feeling the way he was. He brought it on himself.

“You miss him don’t you,’ Nadia whispered from the side. “I mean it’s normal. We all know you two were in love and it’s okay to talk to him.”

“Didn’t I say we ain't talking about crusty men? Six days ain’t changing that.” Imani huffed.

“Okay but,’ Lea interrupted, ‘I caught you sending nudes to Jey.”

“But was I talking to him?”

“Nah,’ Sade mumbled, ‘but your breath is.”

You put down your phone, Nadia smirked as you pushed it to the floor. “I’m not calling him. I’m not even going to think about him.”

When you were hurt, you lashed out. This trip was the reason for that. It was needed, but you wanted some space. He took his time, so you needed to take yours. You didn’t care if he was missing you or even worried. You were good and he needed to know you could be good without him, if necessary, by any means necessary.

I ain’t thinking ‘bout you……

He got to graze where he thought the grass was greener, so he was going to deal with eating her shit.

He was going to miss you until he was crawling back.

And he was going to crawl.

He only want me when I’m not there

He better call Becky with the good hair

[kissesfrombangtanatnight]

Tribal Chief

❤️❤️Author's Note: For those of you who are unaware, I am a co-author for my sister over on Wattpad so with her permission this story has been requested to post on my Tumblr as well. Oh, and this was inspired by the recent backstage segment between Roman and Nick Aldis. My boy is not playin' with the Tribal Chief. xD Anyways, Enjoy!

I do not own the pictures used in this, credit to the owner(s).

~~

Warnings: not really, other than some vulgar language lol

~~

Since being promoted to the general manager position on Smackdown, you must say that you have made a great impact on the show. Ratings are booming; endorsements are rolling in, and you were not only showing your powerful role as the WWE Women's World Champion but also as a top manager for the business. Sure, it meant more responsibilities, but you were more than up for the challenge, and everyone loved you.

Well, everyone except the Tribal Chief, Roman Reigns, who you've bumped heads with on several occasions since being drafted to Smackdown. The 6'3, tanned Samoan hated that you never acknowledged him and two, you were trying to tell him what to do....no one tells Roman Reigns what to do.

*Live Backstage Segment*

You've been summoned by the arrogant asshole Chief himself as told to you by Paul Heyman. Said that you and his Tribal Chief needed to talk business. You inwardly roll your eyes, knowing that this most likely had to do with tonight's booking. You smooth out your dress and had to admit to yourself you looked too damn good. Although you weren't a face, nor a heel either, the crowd cheered for you as the camera panned to you:

Not bothering to knock, you barge into the Bloodline's locker room, adjusting your championship title on your shoulder. The crowd began booing loudly as the camera switched to Roman sitting on the couch, while Solo stood behind him, Jey and Jimmy sitting across from him on another couch. All conversation stopped when you walked in. You strut over to Roman, standing off to the side as you fold your arms over your slightly exposed chest.

"Good evening gentlemen...I've been summoned." You say in a mocking tone. Roman takes his eyes off of his phone before eying you up and down; eyes roaming over your body a little longer than he'd admit.

You looked so beautiful. So sexy.

"......Leave us." He says in a smooth, yet deep tone.

All four men glance at their Tribal Chief before nodding. They exit quietly leaving you and Roman to yourselves. The tension in the room was apparent as you took your championship and placed it on the table beside you. You cross your beautiful brown leg over the other, noticing how Roman eyes them before subtly licking his lips. He can't help but be amused.

It's been a while since you two have talked being that for about three years, you've been over on Raw. Though Raw is no stranger to random Bloodline attacks on the Raw superstars, which you've witnessed firsthand. Long story short, you used to be in a three-person faction, you being the only woman of the three. Your two members challenged the Usos for their undisputed tag team titles and the Tribal Chief did not like that. He didn't like anyone disrespecting his family and when you did, you were dealt with. Unfortunately, the Usos ambushed your members after a match and put both men on the shelf. They haven't been active for over 6 months now. Hence why WWE decided to push a storyline between you and Roman to further your hate for one another.

"How do you know I wasn't talking to you?" He challenged.

"With all due respect, I wouldn't give a damn if you were." The crowd oh's loudly as Roman lets out a humorless laugh as you give him a coy smile. He straightens up his posture, reminding you of just how big he was compared to you.

"Ha, okay." He rests his elbows on his legs as he rubs his beard. A habit you've come to know of his. His brows furrowed and his face twisted slightly as he sat there thinking. "You booked my cousins, the Usos versus Sami & K.O.?" You sit up slightly as you nod.

"I did."

"And you booked Solo vs LA Knight?" He asks not looking at you. You eye his side profile as you again nod.

"I did." He shakes his head nodding.

"Hm........those are some pretty good ideas, but you know what would've been an even better idea? If you would've run that all by me first." You snort as you look away momentarily.

Just who the hell does he think he is? He thinks just because he and his family are the top superstars in the company, everyone has to bow down and kiss their damn feet?

"You see...I'm the Tribal Chief...the Head of the Table, everything goes through me. And I need you to understand that. Adam Pearce did." He states his voice smoother than silk and deeper than the ocean, but he still don't know who he's dealing with.

"Is that right?" He nods.

"Well Mr. Reigns, sorry to break it to you but, I'm not the Usos, Solo Sikoa nor am I the Wiseman Paul Heyman. Or anyone else in this locker room for that matter. I'm the general manager of Smackdown. Which means...I tell you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Which also means, I'M the Head of the Table. And if I'm the Head of the Table....that means, I'm in control of who sits at the table and what you eat and when you eat. I feed you now." You say smartly as the crowd ooo's loudly.

Roman runs an annoyed hand down his face as his face twists in anger. Just who exactly did you think you were talking to? Sure stature-wise, you had nothing on him, but apparently, all that power has gone to your head.

You stand to your feet along with Roman as he is more than annoyed. The corner of his mouth twitched angrily. Oh, you got under his skin. You take your championship and place it back on your shoulder as you smirk at Roman. Damn, he looked sexy as fuck angry.

"Trust...you don't wanna be on my bad side Mr. Reigns." You say as you trace the outline of his belt that sat on his waist like the king he was.

You were both standing so close to each other, you were almost chest to chest. Damn, he smelled good. He lightly bites his lip as you do so, trying not to break character. He couldn't help but find you attractive. All of this confidence you oozed was going straight to his dick. He prayed no one could see the boner building in his pants. You keep this up, he was gonna tell them to cut the cameras, get the hell out, and fucked you silly on this damn couch.

"Wanna know why?" You ask batting your lashes up at the man.

"Why?" He says in almost a deep whisper. You smirk as you tap your manicured nail on his championship.

"Because...I'll make it hard for you." You say as the crowd goes crazy.

You definitely meant that in more ways than one and he seemed to have caught on. You back away slowly as you smile at him innocently.

"Now! If you'll excuse me, I have a show to run. Maybe we can get to know each other a little better. Enjoy the rest of your night Mr. Reigns." The crowd cheers as you strut away.

Roman was going to learn one way or another, you were the authority...not him.

[thefudge]

i know the halfway joke is that the successor turned out to be just an empty suit who’s always willing to “suck the biggest dick in the room”, and that’s valid, but the fact that tom immediately chose karolina over hugo and brought gerri back into the fold tells me that he has learned what logan and even the boys did not, which is that while you may not let the women take the lead (because this is still a patriarchal pecking order), you keep them close and you always make them work for you. because, at the end of the day, you still need them. really, tom won by relying on women. kendall lost jess and rava, roman lost gerri. kendall and roman screwed shiv over, which gave her plenty of reason to side with matsson. tom, meanwhile, got shiv to protect him from matsson and relied on her to get ahead. tom may suck dick when needed, but, and i hate to say this, he understands the value of pussy lol.

[snek-panini]

Got a bit of a different bookbinding post today. @renegadeguild got an ask from a new binder saying they were intimidated by everyone's gorgeous binds (me too, actually, some of you guys are scary good), and so they've asked people to share their first binds. And I realized I'd never even taken photos of my first one, so here it is, warts and all:

This is E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops, a public domain scifi short story that you can read for free at the link. The first reason I chose it was that it's an interesting story, and I'd bought a print-on-demand copy a few years previously that was just terrible. Baffling cover choices, basic errors in the typeset (like quotes that face the wrong way), weird size that didn't fit on my shelf; just not a good product. I couldn't do it with more indifference than the PoD people. The second reason was that I was too intimidated by the thought of asking a fic writer if I could bind their story and then producing something with a thousand sloppy beginner mistakes, and then they'd want to see photos and I'd have to show them this and it would have been mortifying, but Forster has been dead since 1970 so I could not disappoint him. It was very freeing. I bound it in 2021 as an experiment, to see if I liked this hobby enough to stick to it. The cover is green cardstock and faux leather scrapbook paper that I bought at... probably Hobby Lobby. I added the title later, as a practice project when I first got my Cricut; for the first two years of its existence it had a blank cover.

There are more photos under the cut!

In this photo we can see:

--Too much glue when attaching the leather-print paper, so it oozed out onto the cover.

--Cricut font too thin and too much heat/too long of a press, so the letters have gaps and the glue also oozed out here. It's a continuing theme with this bind.

--I tried to use a bone folder to give it a sharper hinge crease and accidentally pressed too hard and tore a hole in the paper; you can see this in the little white vertical line near the top of the hinge

The fore edge is not square. I actually don't remember why this happened. I may have eyeballed the board position when I made the case, or the paper may have slipped while the glue was wet, or I cut it crooked and didn't notice till later. Either way it's bad enough that the book doesn't stand on its own. There was a crooked man/who walked a crooked mile/and found a crooked sixpence/against a crooked stile./He bought a crooked cat/which caught a crooked mouse/and they all loved together in a little crooked house, and I bet they read this little crooked book from their little crooked library.

Top view, you can see that the case is too big and the text block doesn't sit straight in it. It has no endbands or bookmark, and it's hard to see in this photo but there's glue on the top of it, at the spine. This still happens to me but I know how to trim books now so this bit gets cut off. You can also see that the scrapbook paper has some cracks where its white core is visible. This is why I do cloth or actual faux leather on the spines now. Endpaper shows uneven trim (did I not use a ruler for this??), too much glue causing major seepage, and it doesn't sit evenly in the case. I'm not sure if this is because of the case itself being crooked, a badly-trimmed endpaper, or if the text block is also crooked. Or it may be a combination of all these factors. Unclear.

Typeset photos! Here we see:

--Title page has a page number on it. This is a pet peeve of mine and I fixed it after this book.

--There is no half title, summary, or metadata. All my later binds have these things.

--It's typeset in Times New Roman. Unlike many I don't actually hate this font but reading it reminds me of being in high school so this is the only book I used it for. Baskerville is my beloved now. The font is also much bigger than it should be. It's not huge but it's like a large print book so it feels weird for me to read it.

--Lol what are margins

--Lol what are page headers

--Actually I think I left the headers out so it wouldn't have a header on the first page of each chapter, because I knew about page breaks but not section breaks at this time.

--It's on regular-ass lightweight printer paper. There's nothing wrong with this but I switched to heavier weight paper shortly after to help with bleed-through and the light stuff feels so flimsy now.

--I didn't understand how Word's book fold worked at this time, so when I had to set the sheets per booklet and it had an option for 4, I chose that thinking it would give me 4 sheets of paper (16 numbered pages) per sig. It did not do this. It gave me 4 numbered pages per sig. So every signature is 1 sheet of paper. Every page is its own signature. I am still mad about this but it sure drove home how the setting works and also how to make kettle stitches since you make one after every sig. A book of 48 pages has 12 signatures which is just ludicrous.

--There's no photo of this but it has a piece of printer paper on the spine because I didn't have mull. I did use PVA though. Lots and lots of PVA.

--It's stitched with regular sewing thread, which means it doesn't have much swell for a book with that many sigs, but it's less sturdy and more likely to tear the paper.

And that's that! It probably sounds a bit like I was tearing it to shreds but I actually love this book quite a lot. I learned so many things that I applied to my next binds, it was an invaluable experience. It let me fall in love with the hobby so I could make the awesome things I make now. I've got those all posted on my main blog under the tag #snek makes books, or you can see them all on my side blog @papersnakepress. For a first book it's functional and readable, and still better than the PoD copy I had before. I've been thinking of doing a rebind as a sort of progress gauge, actually. Maybe next year.

[somewhereincairparavel]

General Jason Grace headcanons ⚡

⚡ I feel like he's kinda sensitive. He isn't the crier type of sensitive tho but since he's super emotionally attuned to body language reading and stuff, he gets a little hurt easily, sometimes misinterpreting someone's behaviour to him, so maybe if one of his friend's start getting snappy with him because they're having a bad day, he'd actually be pretty damn upset about it, but would hide it.

⚡ Also also, this man HATES being yelled at. Sure, he's been trained harshly and stuff but he's very hard on himself too so I feel like if someone yells at him (like in an argument or something) the poor boy's whole day would be ruined.

⚡ This is also why I feel like he NEVER raises his voice harshly at anyone even if he's super super angry because he knows how much damage yelling can do.

⚡ But. He can still manage to be terrifying if he's mad. He'd have that intense icy stare directed at the person (I'm pretty sure this is canon and is pointed out by multiple characters in the books). And his voice would be steady but VERY firm and strong. Kinda like a strict dad.

⚡ Also, his eyes would get a slight shade lighter if he's super angry. Like he usually has bright electric blue eyes right? It would just turn into ice colured ones.

⚡ Okay I feel like before they all go to bed, he'd go check on everyone in the Argo ii to see if they're comfortable or if they need anything, etc. definitely an overbearing mother friend tbh. He gets this habit from camp Jupiter where he was kinda in charge for cabin rounds since he was centurion.

⚡ I hc him to have like lemony yellow hair, instead of platinum or golden blonde. It's not too light but it isn't dark either.

⚡ Why do I feel like sun tan literally never affects this guy? Like for instance, I totally hc that percy gets tanned pretty quickly, but this man's skin just wouldn't budge. Instead of his body getting tanned I feel like his hair would get a few yellow shades darker instead lol

⚡ I felt like he'd be sunburnt instead tho. There would be blotchy pink patches on his face and arms after he comes back from the beach.

⚡ He definitely LOVES his roman baths, could spend hours in that bath (honestly if u guys have seen traditional Roman baths, you'd know that they look like a spa day DREAM omg) so he would feel super disoriented when he has regular baths in chb instead and would miss Roman baths SO badly.

⚡ Like the Roman baths literally ease his muscle tension after a long day. It would be like the only part of the day in camp Jupiter that would actually feel relaxing for him.

⚡ He's such a foodie okay. Remember how he kept munching on his brownies religiously when the crew were in such a dangerous situation? ("Pass me the brownies bro") or when he loved the sweet stuff the snake people had made for them? Like food just makes him forget his duties and be a kid for once.

⚡ Which leads us to our next hc, he has such a sweet tooth! (Tho I feel like this was aluded many times in the books aswell). Like he's every dentist's nightmare tbh. He has like teeth stains which he'd deliberately try to get rid of by aggressively brushing his teeth (it does come off lol)

⚡ As opposed to what people usually assume about him. Jason is secretly such a hopeless romantic tbh. Nothing like his dad in that category. Remember how he snuck Piper out the window, led her into his secret rooftop passage simply to recreate their first kiss under the stars, since Piper was super upset about it being fake? Yeah, he hates upsetting his s/o. he's like super thoughtful and plans stuff like these days ahead so he doesn't forget :(

⚡ He's such a people pleaser even with people he barely knows, and the effect only doubles when he has a partner tbh. Like if his partner doesn't like a particular place? He won't like it either. So he needs someone to encourage him and tell him it's okay to like something the others dislike.

⚡ Which is also why I think that he'd be easier to emotionally guilt trip and manipulate. :(( somone wrap him up in a fluffy blanky pls

⚡ As opposed to canon, I feel like Jason only dislikes Camp Jupiter, not New Rome itself. He ADORES that place to shreds. I feel like instead of settling in a mortal area or something, he'd definitely stay in New Rome for long-term living (bc screw canon, him wanting to leave new Rome all together seems SO ooc to me idk) some parts of his roman self would ALWAYS be there tbh. That place was practically his home. Also, he only wants a peaceful, monster free life right? New Rome would obviously provide with all that, yk since they have a strong barrier for the city to prevent invasion.

⚡ He would have an aptitude for sculpting statues and stuff. He'd love to do it as a hobby, not like an architect or something like annabeth tho. He made such cool dioramas for his shrine ideas, so I feel like he just pours his heart and soul into making cool sculptures.

⚡ He would totally study in law school. His dad's legit the god of justice, he's a great speaker, can hold debates calmly, can canonically hear both sides of an argument before coming to a decision, seems very lawyer coded.

⚡ But he'd also be a good history professor. Have yall heard his yapping? Leo called him professor Grace for how much dedication he goes into explaining roman history. And he genuinely LOVES it. A very passionate teacher material to me.

⚡ Also, all he wants is for his partner to listen to him talk :( he has SO much to say but he feels like no one listens, so hed literally cry if someone takes interest in his long explanations (kind of like annabeth in this tbh)

⚡ Also, Octavian can NEVER argue with Jason because that man is just THAT good at smart and witty answers that even octavian saw him as a threat.

[heart4reigns]

i wanted to know if i could ask for a Roman Reigns x fem reader imagine. Like based off that one tiktok sound, ‘are you in the mafia? Am i in the what?’ although he’s most definitely in the mafia lol

UNDERGROUND PROBLEMS, roman reigns.

warnings: cigarettes, alcohol, guns, violence, curse words, blood, slight age gap, pet names, creepy dude trying to flirt with you

tags: owww mafia roman in action.. i need him

summary: maybe it's okay to be suspicious of your rich boyfriend

THE sun was literally on top of your head. it was a great thing that you decided to buy an extra pair of sunscreen because the sun was going to be the death of you. the wind tingled your skin as you breathed out the fresh air. "hey, do not provoke me, i'll beat your asses in volley if i can!" you heard your boyfriend yelling at his cousins. "they're still going?" you asked. "looks like they're not stopping anytime soon." he chuckled. "a private beach, jimmy, jey, and solo. doesn't sound like a good combination to me."

yes. a private fucking beach. you told him you wanted to go to the pier for a date, but again, he just had to do something out of your reach–your boyfriend, roman, had a private beach near his house. you knew dating him was an extraordinary experience, he was very extra. at certain times you wondered about his life and why he didn't like going out to public places. "i hate crowded places." was always his answer.

you started dating him 6 months ago. the two of you met in a bar, for your best friend's brother farewell party. it was a stretch but hey, you could never decline free drinks. the two of you hit it off right away, finding similarities that you thought was kind of weird at that time. you were the polar opposite of him when you first met. he was intimidating, of course, he had the figure of a man you wouldn't mess with. but when the two of you started talking, he was a totally different person.

ever since your first meeting, your days were never filled with mundane things. sure, he was rich, but the way he treated you, it was like something that came out of the movies. he gave you the full princess treatment, even if you didn't ask for it. roman showered you with love, gifts, affection, and everything you could ask for. you were very lucky to have him in your life and he was very lucky to have you too.

"how are you enjoying this, baby?" he asked, tying his hair. "i love it, thank you, love." you looked at him with a smile. "although, you went very extra with it, i should know by now." you chuckled. roman held your head and kissed your forehead. "you deserve good things in life, baby." the warmth of his love gave you nothing but happiness. he was genuine and it showed. you couldn't help but to wonder about his daily life with you knowing only a little about his life.

you felt the sun disappear for a second. someone was standing in front of you. it was his personal assistant, paul. "sorry to bother you, but you have a call, chief." roman looked confused for a second. "i told you i'm not accepting any calls if i am with (y/n)." "it's from hunter, chief." he immediately let go of his embrace. "babygirl, how about you play with them? i have a very important call." you pouted. "okay."

"(Y/N)! FINALLY! SOLO SUCKS ASS, WE NEED ANOTHER PLAYER."

weekdays came and you were back in you class. not to study, but to teach. you were a college lecturer, teaching criminology. you loved your job and you loved your students. "good morning, as i promised after your finals, we're going to watch a movie." your class was filled with excitement. "jason suggested we watch joker, but no one voted for that movie. sorry jason." you let out a laugh. "asuka suggested the shining, with the highest votes, we are going to watch that today."

"these kids will be the death of me." the lecturer lounge was empty, leaving only your best friend and old college buddy, seth. he was practically your wingman in every scenario. he taught english literature, which was the class next to you. "looking rough, buddy." you chuckled at his distressed hair. "they beat my ass in word games. i'm devastated." he groaned, taking a seat in front of you. "where you going after this?" "home, i have to check their finals." he nodded. "well, stay safe. i think i might be sleeping here."

you checked the time, it was 11 pm. to your luck, roman was going to pick you up in 15 minutes. you pulled out a cigarette and lit it up. it was a bad habit, you knew–but a single cigarette after every lesson was something to look forward to. as you were walking outside the campus ground, you heard footsteps behind you. you felt goosebumps as you looked behind and didn't see anyone.

once again, to your luck, it was very dark. you were practically power-walking. your other hand was inside your bag, trying to look for a pepper spray–incase things went downhill. "hey, you alone?" an unfamiliar voice rang in your ears. "no, i'm waiting for my someone." your voice was laced with venom. "i don't see that someone here, how about you leave with me?" you shook your head. "sorry, he'll be here anytime soon."

"code 03." roman read the text solo sent to him. "fuck." anger boiled inside him. "paul take care of this deal, i got a code 03 from solo." paul nodded and took the paperwork inside his bag. "i don't want the fucking guns from damian, they're a rip-off. if they want to score a deal with us, tell them they shouldn't bring counterfeits in front of my fucking eyes." paul nodded.

code 03 meant that someone in the business was bothering you and he wasn't there to intervene. solo could've step up if things went to an extreme extend, but that would leave you more confused on how he got there in an instance. "dude, please leave me alone!" you yelled at him, looking for someone to help you. "i'm just being nice sweetheart, i can treat you nicely." he kept pestering you. seeing you like this broke solo's heart, he wanted to lunge on the guy but he had to wait for roman's command. the guy had a familiar tattoo on his neck, solo noticed that. the guy reached out for your arm. "come on!"

"she said no." you were relieved to see your boyfriend in front of you. "i don't give a shit about what she said." the guy said, still holding your arm. "get the fuck out of my face and let her go." your heart skipped a beat. you've never seen him like this. he was always a sweetheart to you, even with his cold facade. "just trying to give her a good time." the guy continued. "oh, you're going to have a very good time if you don't let her go now." the sentence was dripped with sarcasm. "let's go." roman slightly yanked your arm, pulling you away from the guy.

roman had to make sure that the guy wasn't following the two of you or he just might whip something out that you weren't supposed to see. he knew that guy, he was familiar with his face. "baby, are you okay?" as soon as you entered the car, he let his guard down. "i'm okay, love." you assured him that you were fine. "i'm sorry i wasn't there... baby, i'm sorry it happened." you shook your head. "love, i'm okay. now let's go back, i have to grade some papers." you gave him a reassuring smile. "let's get you ice cream first."

you passed the street that you were on earlier and the guy was nowhere to be seen. you could've sworn that you saw someone dragging the guy away, but it was probably your mind playing tricks as you were very tired.

after grading your papers and eating ice cream (which you insisted getting a cone but roman just had to buy the entire tub for you), you felt sleepy. "i'm going to bed." you announced, seeing your boyfriend slump on your couch watching football. "go to sleep baby, i'm still watching the game." you nodded and went over to give him a kiss. "i love you." "and i love you too, baby."

you were fast asleep and roman silently went outside your apartment, already thirsty for blood. you were his and no one should lay a finger on you. the drive to his warehouse went quick as he was already boiling with anger. the guy earlier was tied up to a chair, shaken up by the act. "well look who is here." his voice was deep, greeting the guy. "r- roman, i'm sorry." he stuttered. "sorry for what you did or sorry because your sorry-ass messed with the wrong person?"

jey, jimmy, and solo stood by waiting for his command. "i don't usually deal with situations like this. but you touched my girl and you're going to pay for it." roman barked, intimidating the guy. roman was in love, his cousins thought. he could't careless about other people except for his bloodline before he met you. his family business was his top priority, but now, you were always on his mind.

the first punch roman threw sent the guy on his back. all those private trainings pulled off. "who sent you?" he didn't answer. roman picked him up with force. "i said," he paused a second to throw another punch. "who sent you?" the guy cracked. "t- the judgement day! they didn't like how you insulted their shippings! they told me to get your girl to intimidate you." the fucking judgement day. roman clenched his fist, preparing for another punch.

blood splattered across the room. his fist was busted as well. "if you and your little emo band cross our path again, i'll fucking kill you. if i ever see you again, i'll fucking kill you." the guy was beaten up to an extent where he was already begging for roman to stop. "throw him somewhere in the east coast, give the judgement day some warning." jey nodded.

roman was powerful in many ways. he was feared by everyone, no one crossed his path and they knew not to mess with him. as one of the top dog for the mob business, everyone respected him. it was hard hiding things from you. he didn't want you to see him in a different light. so he told you that he was the one in charge of his family's company. there were almost slip ups along the way, but being the man he was, his secret was still safe–not for long.

his cousins; jey, jimmy, and solo all worked for him. they owe him their lives and they were ready to take a bullet for you and him any day. you were special for them, like a shining with light glimmered with hope, you were a breath of fresh air.

you woke up to the sound of his snoring. "love, get up. seth is picking me up today." he groaned in despair. "you know i can drive you or have the twins drive you there right?" you shook your head. "seth and i are going to our weekly lunch, it's a tradition since high school. you've met him countless times, i'm safe with him." roman was still on top of you, unbothered. "i'm going to kick your ass if you don't move in 5 seconds." "i'd like to see you try, babygirl."

lunch with seth was always fun. it was in his nature to make people laugh their asses off. "becky made me workout last sunday, my arms are sore." he complained. "because you never workout and your wife has her own gym." you stated the obvious. "well, you're a criminology lecturer and your boyfriend is a ceo, that doesn't add up too!" he defended himself with a chuckle following his sentence. "that's because i don't pry." you replied.

"i don't know, (y/n). it's kinda fishy." seth shrugged his shoulders. "what's kinda fishy?" you raised an eyebrow. "you've never been to his workplace, you don't know his work life. he doesn't like open places, always takes you on a private date. hell, the dude doesn't even have instagram. what if he's like a mafia or something?" his question made you laugh.

"seth, just because he's jacked doesn't mean he beats up people for a living. he's afraid of cockroaches, for fuck's sake!" you furrowed your brows. "well, i don't know. even my brother doesn't know what he's up to. but as long as you're happy, (y/n)." seth gave you a thumbs up while fixing his sunglasses. "you're thinking about it now!" he pointed his fork at you. "i am not! there's no way my boyfriend is in the mafia, he's just your regular joe!" "i've known you since we were babies, i know when you are thinking about something."

it did get to your head though. but you brushed it off, there's no way your oat milk-loving boyfriend was in the mafia. roman picked you up, exchanging goodbyes with seth. "you owe me a lighter!" seth yelled, waving at the two of you. "i don't owe you shit, rollins!" you laughed. "how was lunch?" roman asked, driving away from the cafe. "it was fun, we gossiped about you." his right arm was on the steering wheel, weirdly enough–covered by bandages, the other was holding yours. "gossiped about me? what'd you say?"

"oh we thought you were in the mafia, so like are you in the mafia?" you joked. for a second you saw him clenching his jaw and the grip on your arms tightened. "am i in the what?" he furrowed his brows. "i don't know, it all adds up." you continued your joke. "you have paul as your personal assistant, i've never been to your work and you rarely talk about it, you have random bruises on your back from 'working out'." yet again, the grip tightened.

he pulled over some random street. "baby, you know i am not in the mafia. that's just insane." roman chuckled. "right? seth is out of his mind, you know how he is!" roman had to be careful, as your best friend was picking up some clues. but he knew he couldn't hurt seth. you'd burn the entire world just to find out who laid a finger on your best friend. "paul has been working for my family since god knows when, you've never been to my work because there's nothing going on, it's just boring board meetings. i rarely talk about my work because i want to be a hearer not a talker, baby. i get bruises because i work out." he explained.

"baby, you don't really think i'm in the mafia right?" "no, that would be very stupid of me, love."

he was relieved. "okay baby, do you want to go somewhere tonight?" roman asked, starting the car again. "let's go watch a movie." he nodded. "right, i'll rent a place." "NOOOO, I DON'T WANT A PRIVATE NIGHT. LET'S JUST GO TO THE MALL NEXT TO MY PLACE." he was sure that you were going to be the death of him. "okay baby, whatever you say." roman would risk his life for yours. but little did you know, the mall was filled with his men. it was never a normal day with the mafia boss of the reigns clan.

"you do realize this is the first time we ever went to a public date?" you teased him. "yes." he was oddly wary of your presence. "are you okay? you look distracted." you furrowed your eyebrows. "baby, i'm okay." he made eye-contact, giving you a warm smile. "i just don't like going out in public places." he confessed. "i'm sorry, love. do you want to go home instead?" roman nodded, feeling very tense at the thought of being out. "okay, love. let's go home now."

the walk back to the parking lot was filled with conversations about the movie that you watched. "thank you for watching barbie with me." you chuckled as he rolled his eyes. "anything for my baby." he stole a kiss from you. "i knew you would like it." the black-haired male actually loved the movie. despite his strong persona, he was a softie. especially to you. "it was a fun date-" before you could finish your sentence, you heard screams coming from... solo? when did he get here? you thought.

there was a sudden bang outside. "GET DOWN!" solo yelled. roman immediately pushed you inside the car. "JEY, DRIVE!" roman yelled, taking off his sweater, revealing a gun strapped to his side. "WHAT THE FUCK!" you yelled in a state of panic. "I TOLD THOSE FUCKING EMO CLUB NOT TO MESS WITH ME, NOW I'M FUCKING PISSED." you've never seen roman like this. "PAUL, CLOSE THE DEAL WITH THEM. THEY FUCKING PISS ME OFF! THEY MESSED UP MY DATE NIGHT." roman yelled at the phone. the two of you almost got shot and you were only the one panicking.

"SO YOU ARE ACTUALLY IN THE MAFIA?" "YES BABY, I AM ACTUALLY IN THE MAFIA, NOW GET DOWN!"

a/n: THANKKK YOU FOR THE FIRST REQUEST <3333 i hope you enjoyed it!!! requests are always open!!