#Roman Blinds Ready Made

[werribeeblindsau]

Discover Stylish Roman Blinds Ready-Made at Werribee Blinds

When it comes to enhancing the look and feel of your home, window treatments play a crucial role. Roman blinds offer a timeless elegance that suits a wide range of interior styles, from modern minimalism to classic charm. If you're looking for a hassle-free way to upgrade your windows, consider the ready-made Roman blinds available at Werribee Blinds. This blog post will explore why Roman blinds are a fantastic choice for your home and why Werribee Blinds is your go-to destination for ready-made solutions.

What Are Roman Blinds?

Roman blinds are a type of window covering characterized by their elegant, pleated design. When raised, the blinds fold into soft, even pleats that create a streamlined and sophisticated appearance. When lowered, they provide a smooth, flat surface that blocks out light and offers privacy. The versatility and aesthetic appeal of Roman blinds make them a popular choice for many homeowners.

**1. **Elegant Design

Roman blinds are known for their refined and sophisticated design. The fabric is neatly folded into pleats, creating a clean and tailored look that adds a touch of class to any room. Whether you choose a classic pattern or a contemporary fabric, Roman blinds bring a sense of elegance and structure to your windows.

**2. **Versatility in Fabric and Style

One of the key advantages of Roman blinds is the wide range of fabrics and styles available. From luxurious silks and velvets to casual linens and cottons, there’s a fabric to suit every taste and decor. Roman blinds can be found in various colors, patterns, and textures, allowing you to customize your window treatments to perfectly complement your interior design.

**3. **Practical Functionality

Beyond their aesthetic appeal, Roman blinds are also highly functional. They provide excellent light control, allowing you to adjust the level of natural light entering your room with ease. When fully closed, they offer complete privacy and help to insulate your home from outside temperatures. This makes Roman blinds a practical choice for both comfort and energy efficiency.

**4. Easy Maintenance

Roman blinds are relatively easy to maintain, especially when compared to other window treatments. Most ready-made options can be spot cleaned or gently vacuumed to remove dust and dirt. The durable fabrics used in these blinds are designed to withstand daily wear and tear, ensuring that they continue to look great over time.

Why Choose Ready-Made Roman Blinds?

Ready-made Roman blinds offer several benefits, especially for those who want a quick and convenient solution for their window covering needs. Here’s why opting for ready-made Roman blinds from Werribee Blinds can be a smart choice:

**1. **Convenience and Accessibility

Ready-made Roman blinds are designed to fit standard window sizes, making them a convenient option for many homeowners. They come pre-cut and pre-designed, so you can skip the lengthy customization process. This means you can quickly update your space without waiting for custom orders or dealing with complicated measurements.

**2. Cost-Effective Solution

Ready-made Roman blinds are often more affordable than custom-made options. By choosing a pre-designed style, you can save money while still achieving a high-quality look for your windows. Werribee Blinds offers a range of ready-made options that provide excellent value without compromising on style or quality.

**3. Immediate Availability

If you’re in need of a quick update for your windows, ready-made Roman blinds are readily available at Werribee Blinds. With a variety of styles and colors in stock, you can find the perfect match for your home without the long wait times associated with custom orders. This is ideal for those who want to refresh their space promptly and efficiently.

**4. Wide Range of Options

Werribee Blinds offers an extensive selection of ready-made Roman blinds, ensuring that you can find the perfect style to suit your needs. Whether you’re looking for a classic design or a more modern look, their collection includes a variety of colors, patterns, and fabrics. This wide range of options makes it easy to find a set of blinds that complements your existing decor.

Why Werribee Blinds?

When it comes to purchasing ready-made Roman blinds, Werribee Blinds is your trusted partner for quality and service. Here’s why they stand out as the go-to source for window treatments:

**1. **Expertise and Experience

Werribee Blinds has extensive experience in the window treatment industry, providing customers with expert advice and high-quality products. Their knowledgeable team can help you navigate the selection process and find the best ready-made Roman blinds for your home. With their expertise, you can be confident that you’re making an informed decision.

**2. **Quality Products

Werribee Blinds is committed to offering high-quality products that stand the test of time. Their ready-made Roman blinds are crafted from durable fabrics and designed to deliver both style and performance. By choosing Werribee Blinds, you can be assured of receiving blinds that are built to last and enhance your home for years to come.

**3. **Personalized Service

Despite offering ready-made solutions, Werribee Blinds is dedicated to providing personalized service to every customer. Their team is available to answer any questions, provide recommendations, and ensure that you are satisfied with your purchase. This level of customer service helps create a positive and enjoyable shopping experience.

**4. Professional Installation

For those who prefer a hassle-free installation process, Werribee Blinds offers professional installation services. Their experienced installers will ensure that your ready-made Roman blinds are fitted perfectly and operate smoothly. This professional service takes the guesswork out of installation and guarantees a flawless finish.

Conclusion

Ready-made Roman blinds are an excellent choice for homeowners looking to add elegance and functionality to their windows. With their timeless design, versatile fabric options, and practical benefits, Roman blinds offer a stylish and practical solution for any room. Werribee Blinds provides a wide range of ready-made Roman blinds that combine convenience, affordability, and quality. Transform your home with beautiful Roman blinds from Werribee Blinds and enjoy the perfect blend of style and practicality for your windows.

Click Here for More Information : https://werribeeblinds.com.au/roman-blinds/

Contact Us For More Information

Phone: 399742355

Fax Number: 399742366

Email : info@werribeeblinds.com.au

Address : Unit 13 33-39 Railway Ave Werribee, Victoria 3030

[closingcurtainsposts]

Closing Curtain - Custom Curtains and Blinds in Dubai

Closing Curtain, the best curtains shop in Dubai, brings you a wholly new outlook on both home decor and home improvement, making use of the classy and calmative Curtains Dubai. Our trendsetting collection of the best and cheapest curtains in Dubai will dress up and decorate your homes in ways that make a huge difference!

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!Reader x Roman Reigns 🖤 Summary: Reader has been sleeping with both Damian and Roman Reigns, confident they’re ignorant of one another. After being invited to Damian's hotel room late one night, she discovers he’s not the only one she’s there to entertain. 🛑 Warnings: NSFW. Oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v/a, anal, double penetration, praise, Daddy kink, name-calling, cum 18+ 🖤 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By: @bearbutlikeprincessbear. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST

When she first began sleeping with Roman Reigns, she never expected, had any interest, or even needed to seek out other suitors. Until Damian Priest came along at the club, wrapping an arm around her waist and leading her to the dance floor where their bodies moved in synchronicity, their skin perspired, and he whispered the absolute filthiest things in her ear as she was grinding her hips into his. And so while entertaining Roman, she made the easy decision to also see Damian on the side. Nothing wrong with it—none of them were attached and none of them were interested in long-term relationships—so she never foresaw any issues, considering the Tribal Chief was on one brand and the Archer of Infamy was on another, which would give them no reason to ever cross paths. Unfortunately for her, she’d been so blinded by the all the fucking, she’d failed to consider the paid live events.

And so here she was, on her knees and elbows on a generic hotel bed with generic, scratchy hotel blankets under her. Her baby pink blazer and white satin tank top were heaps on the floor, matching mini-skirt bunched around her waist, panties in tatters around her thighs. Damian’s long cock buried itself in her tight cunt every few seconds, the momentum shoving her forward and impaling her throat further on Roman’s spit-covered, thick cock. She gagged, body convulsing, but she purred from the intrusion—on both ends—as her eyes rolled back and her cheeks hollowed.

“Fuck,” Damian wailed, hands vices on her hips. “Every time she gags, her cunt fuckin’ milks my dick.”

“You hear that, baby girl?” Roman rumbled. He was seated in front of her, back against the headboard, legs spread lewdly, a woman receiving the pounding of the century from behind slobbering all over his cock. She tilted her head so she could comfortably look up at him. “He likes it when you gag almost as much as I do.” Both his hands cradled the back of her skull as he pushed her down on his length once more, her entire being again contracting, and suddenly Damian wasn’t inside her anymore and she felt abandoned and empty and a little fucking pissed off. 

“Uh-uh,” the Puerto Rican refused. She pulled off Roman’s dick, however reluctantly, and glanced over her shoulder. Damian had backed up several steps and he had a hand virtually strangling his polished-with-pussy-juices cock. “If we’re gonna do this, we gotta do it now.”

Roman tenderly cupped her chin between his fingers and turned her face back to him. “You ready?”

She cast her gaze down at Roman’s weeping, rigid cock as he stroked it with a loose fist, and she bucked her hips and clenched her pussy around nothing. Roman’s chuckle was like thunder in the distance, and it did nothing to suppress her agitation or prevent the baby pterodactyls in her stomach from taking flight. She had no idea what awaited her, having never experienced before what was about to happen, but she couldn’t deny how bad she wanted to at least try it … to at least attempt to get both these impressive cocks inside her ass and pussy at the same time. And she couldn’t think of two better men to experience it with. Her blown pupils slowly lifted to meet Roman’s.

“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.

“Good,” Roman replied, before the declaration was even completely out of her mouth. He leaned forward so his fleshy lips grazed hers as he finished, “Because it’s this dick right here that’s goin’ in that ass.” He wiggled his cock for good measure, and it wasn’t very quiet when she gulped.

The men were fluid as they moved about the room, as if they’d practiced, as if maybe they’d done this before. Heading off any thoughts in that particular direction, she smiled as she climbed atop Damian. His grip was once again on her hips, and her hips throbbed and she might’ve winced a time or two when he squeezed, but she knew this pain paled in comparison to the new kind of pain that was in her immediate future. She sank torturously slowly onto his cock, her soaking pussy sucking him in deep much like her throat had with Roman’s dick.

“There she is,” Damian breathed, fingers gliding from her hip, tickling her belly, scraping a nipple barely peeking above the cup of the bra she still curiously wore, ending their journey at the back of her neck. He pulled her lips to his, capturing them, imprisoning them with his expert technique and unmatched ability to be both delicate and voracious simultaneously. A cold trickle slipped down the crack of her ass, her body froze, and she severed the kiss. Damian was quick to cradle her face and focus her attention on him and not the pain and discomfort about to befall her. Maybe you should stop thinking about it that way. Maybe it’s gonna feel amazing. It’s Damian and Roman, after all. “If you don’t wanna do this, we can stop right now,” Damian whispered, the tips of their noses kissing.

She gazed into his smoldering eyes, easily finding comfort and true sincerity, and her hand floated to his cheek. “I wanna do this,” she murmured.

Damian once more claimed her mouth while Roman’s finger circled her puckered hole, and it tickled and it was a little weird, but then it felt … good. Incredibly erotic, and her pussy gushed around Damian’s cock. He pumped in and out of her slowly, occupying her mouth and tongue, and before she knew it, Roman had three fingers buried in her asshole, and she was virtually screaming down Damian’s throat, rocking her hips to ride both his dick and Roman’s digits.

“Oh, your ass is ready for this cock, ain’t it?” Roman teased, easing his fingers out of her so he could slap her ass cheek with his length. “Cute little tattoo,” he uttered, now rubbing the leaking head along her sensitive skin, and she knew exactly where he was spreading his precum. She’d never even imagined a scenario where Roman and Damian randomly met at the hotel bar, shared a few drinks, and then a few stories about the women they were sleeping with only to discover those women had the exact same tattoo in the exact same spot, but here they were. “Let’s find out if it’s true, huh?” That hadn’t been the meaning behind the beautiful red script spelling out the word paradise on her right cheek, but she supposed it did seem appropriate now. She hoped, anyway.

She felt the fleshy head of his cock poke at her entrance and her hand left Damian’s face to instead dig her nails into his chest. She felt blood before she was without warning hauled backward, shoulders slamming into Roman’s sturdy chest, and she cried out as he slipped further into her passage. Roman was a true dominant, in and out of the ring, in and out of the bedroom, so it wasn’t very far fetched for her to expect to be degraded, at least a little, for not immediately being able to take his length, or for whining in pain as he pressed another inch inside her. His tattooed arm came into view, fingers applying surprisingly gentle pressure on her chin until she turned to him.

“You’re takin’ me so good,” he praised. Her eyes lifted, full of renewed hope,  determination, and pride. Compliments in a non-derisive way were few and far between, and she intended to bathe in the accolades for as long as possible. “I know it hurts, baby girl, but you’re a fuckin’ champion. You hear me? Our champion.” Her heart swelled and her fingers unconsciously slid down her body and directly into her dripping folds where she found her clit and, just a little further inward, the base of Damian’s glazed cock, the rest of which was still stuffed deeply inside her cunt. Damian grunted and squirmed, and her smile was drunk as she stared blankly at her Tribal Chief, hypnotized by Roman’s unusual softness. “See, that was nothin’.”

Snapping out of her reverie, she was overwhelmed by the sensation of being utterly full. Roman had genuinely mesmerized her with his words, with the bottomless pits that were his eyes, and he’d sheathed himself to the hilt in her ass without her noticing. Now fully aware, however, the burning returned, the splitting, and she whimpered, clawing at Roman’s arm now. Easily noticing her stress, Damian untangled her from the Samoan’s embrace and pulled her back down to him, cradling the back of her head and splaying a hand across her upper back.

“Right here,” he rumbled into her gaping mouth, “stay right here with Papi. You hear me?”

She nodded, her eyes bouncing back and forth between Damian’s soulful ones, and her lips collided with his before she knew it. He was her comfort, her weighted blanket, her favorite teddy bear, and the spell he cast on her through his lingering lips kept her mind occupied as Roman gripped her hips, pulled out, and shoved himself back in as if he were fucking her pussy. It hurt, bordering on agonizing, but Damian’s mouth was so perfect and gifted that it hurt just a little bit less, the three of them going on like this until she’d fully accepted Roman with an amount of pain that was both uncomfortable and pleasurable. 

“You love this, don’t you?” Roman panted. When she gave no answer, he snatched her hair and yanked, her lips releasing Damian’s with a wet smack.

“Yes, Daddy, I love it,” she breathed.

“Yeah, you do,” Roman mumbled. “Show me. Ride these dicks like the whore you are.”

Hands on the bed on either side of Damian, she rose until her elbows locked. Damian’s hands were coarse and callused as they traveled the invisible roads of her upper body, and she smiled down at him as she began gently rocking her hips, drawing the cocks within her ass and pussy as deep inside her as possible before releasing them to the cold air surrounding them, repeating the process until she couldn’t bounce fast enough on them. 

“That’s it,” Damian moaned, “just like that.”

“Shit, all you need is a cock for this mouth, huh?” Roman mocked, giant hand wrapping around her throat. “What you think about that, Priest? Plug up all this bitch’s holes.”

“Fuck,” Damian muttered, pinching and tugging at her nipples.

She screamed, jaw dropping, and Roman’s hand was swift in making the relocation from her neck to her face, long fingers dipping inside her mouth. Her lips automatically closed around his digits and her cheeks hollowed as she sucked because what else is a girl supposed to do when Roman Reigns sticks his fingers in her mouth?

Time went on, doused in a mixture of sweat, screams, desire, and the fundamental need to cum. Roman lost control first, hand between her shoulder blades, shoving her chest into Damian’s, and he leaned forward, most of his weight now on her hips and ass as he fucked into her recklessly. He cried out—she thought he was speaking Samoan, but she couldn’t be sure—releasing himself inside her, and his pumps became slower and less powerful until he pulled out altogether, slapping her tattoo once more with his softening dick.

“Y’all can … take care of that, right?” He had to be referring to the mess he’d just made that would eventually come leaking out of her. “I got somewhere to be.”

The relief alone she felt when only Damian was buried within her nearly sent her head first into an orgasm. It had been a wild moment, an experience she could check off her bucket list, but she’d be lying if she denied feeling a bit stressed at the thought of being responsible for pleasing two men. Of course it was a hot idea, but realistically, the logistics were a bit more muddled than she cared to deal with again. And, though she would never admit this to anyone, especially the two men involved, she preferred Damian and his attentiveness and his kindness and the gentle fucking he was famous for. Roman was the choice when she needed to be used or slapped around. Damian was the choice for everything else.

“We’ll take care of it,” Damian mumbled, and she smiled just as he seized her lips once more. 

She hardly registered the hotel room door opening and closing, Damian flipping their positions smoothly, putting her on her back and settling between her sticky thighs. Her hands glided reverently up his chest, squeezing his shoulders, continuing to his face.

“Did you have fun?” he asked, taking her hands off him one after the other, imprisoning them between his hands and the mattress on either side of her head, his grip secure, though not constricting.

“Yeah,” she purred, rolling her hips in an attempt to find some friction, and Damian grinned at her desperation. 

“But you need your special time with Papi, hmm?”

“I always need my special time with Papi.”

Finally he started fucking her, lazily at first, gradually picking up speed. She suddenly felt Roman’s warm cum begin leaking out of her ass and into a puddle on the bed, Damian’s thrusts now coming with a wet smack every time he slammed into her. She gasped, lips parting, pussy pulsating around Damian’s solid length, breasts bouncing, and she came with a wail she would be embarrassed over later. Her hands were fists as they wanted nothing more than to touch Damian, feel him, run her fingers through his hair, but he refused to release her until after he’d filled yet another one of her holes with sticky cream.

“You’re a mess,” Damian grinned, climbing out of bed. She couldn’t help the satiated smile and stretch as she watched Damian disappear into the bathroom, assuming he was on a mission to retrieve a wet washcloth. They were gonna need more than that, she thought, just as she heard the water in the tub come to life, and her smile nearly broke her mouth. “Now let’s get you cleaned up,” Damian returned, clapping his hands and holding them out. She rolled her eyes, moving into a sitting position, but Damian suddenly scooped her into his capable arms, tossing her an inch or two in the air to get a better grip. “I don’t think it’s big enough for both of us, but …”

“I guess you’ll just have to wash me from outside the tub then,” she sighed.

Damian kissed her forehead. “My pleasure.”

[wwestrang-fan]

Something different teaser

jey uso x reader

Summary :After Jey's divorce, he found himself overwhelmed by the support of family and friends who were determined to help him move on. They became a relentless support squad, arranging blind dates and social outings, believing that a little push would lift his spirits. However, Jey craved solitude to process his emotions. One night, despite his reluctance, his friends insisted he join them at a new restaurant, where he unexpectedly encountered someone who wasn't his usual type completely different from the partners he typically sought.

warning : a little bit of angst insecurity bit of a age gap scars past surgery

author's note : this is my first time writing so let me know what you guys think

Jey was waiting for his friend sami zayn by the exit of the arena ready to go back to the hotel

Hey Jay, you good to go?" Sami asked while walking over to me. "I've been ready," jey replied while headed to the parking lot. "Yo, me and the guys are heading out tonight. You in?" Sami asked while hopping in the driver's seat. "Nah, I'm just gonna chill at the hotel and call it a night," I replied as I got in the car. "Come on, man. You've barely hung out with us since the divorce. All you do is work! You should come out more," he said. "I just wanna be alone right now, man," jey told sami. He sighed and started to drive.

Jay and Sami arrived at the hotel, Jay headed to the front desk to grab my room key. "Here’s your room key, sir," the receptionist said, handing it over. "Thanks," Jay replied, making his way to the elevator. "You really don’t want to come out with us?" Sami asked. "Yeah, I’m sure," Jay told him. "Come on, man, your brothers want to see you. They're worried," Sami insisted. Jay sighed and stepped out of the elevator, walking toward our room. "I told you, I just want to be alone," Jay said. With another sigh, they continued down the hallway to our room.

As soon as Jey walked into the room, he lay down on the bed, sinking into the comfortable mattress as the exhaustion of the day washed over him. Just then, a knock echoed on the door, prompting Sami to walk over and open it. Standing there was Jimmy.

"What's up, uso?" Jimmy said, walking in with an easy smile.

What up man you good Sami asked

"I'm good. Y'all coming out tonight?" Jimmy asked, his enthusiasm palpable

"Yeah, I'm coming," Sami replied, a grin spreading across his face. "You coming, Jey

"Come on, uso," Jimmy urged, his tone persuasive

"Yeah, come on! Don't make us beg," Sami added playfully.

Jay let out a sigh, finally giving in. “Alright, alright, I’ll come.”

“Great!” Sami replied, grinning. “Everyone’s down in the lobby waiting for us.”

“Okay, let me change real quick; I’ll be there in a minute,” Jey called after them.

“Okay!” Sami and Jimmy echoed in unison, their voices trailing off as they walked out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the hallway

Jey walked out of the elevator and into the bustling lobby. He spotted Sami, Jimmy, Naomi, Cody, Seth, Roman, and Solo all gathered together, animatedly chatting and laughing.

“There he is!” Cody called out, his wide grin.

“How you been, man?” Seth asked.“Hey, man,” Jey replied, stepping forward to give Cody a fist bump.

“I’m good, thanks,” Jey replied

“Glad you guys decided to come with us.”Naomi teased

Jey rolled his eyes playfully and responded, “Yeah, yeah, I know." Where are we going.

“We’re going to Korean BBQ! Damian and Rhea found this amazing place,” it’s supposed to be the best in town. Roman said.

Jey felt his stomach rumble at the thought of sizzling meat and savory flavors. “Sounds great! Let’s go, then!”

With a renewed sense of anticipation, the group made their way towards the exit, laughter and chatter filling the air as they headed out for an evening of good food and great company.

Everyone arrived at the restaurant and spotted Damian and Rhea in a booth. They walked over to join them.

“Hey, glad you guys made it!” Damian said, scooting down to make room.

“Yeah, especially you, Jey,” Rhea added teasing him. “Me and Jimmy almost had to beg him to come,” Sami said, causing everyone to chuckle.

Jey playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he said. Just then the Waiter came up to the table

“Hello! I’ll be your server today. Do you guys want to start off with drinks?” the waiter asked.

“Yeah, um, I’ll have sweet tea,” Damian said.

“I’ll have sweet tea too, but with a lemon,” Solo added.

“I’ll take a Sprite,” Rhea said.

“I’ll have lemonade,” Jimmy chimed in.

“Me too,” Jey agreed.

“I’ll just have water,” Sami said.

“I’ll have the same,” Naomi replied.

“I’ll also take a Coca-Cola,” Seth said.

“I'll have one as well,” Roman added.

“Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks,” the waiter said, tucking his pad into his pocket and walie away.

Sami looked at the menu and asked, “What’s everyone in the mood for?” Damian chimed in, “How about we go for chicken, beef, some rice, and ramen?” Naomi nodded, “That sounds great!” Everyone agreed. Just then, the waiter brought over their drinks and asked, “Here are your drinks. Are you guys ready to order?” Damian replied, “Yep, we’ll take chicken, beef, rice, ramen, and veggies.” The waiter nodded writing down on the pad and headed back.

While everyone was chatting to kill time, Jey zoned out and started looking around the restaurant. His gaze landed on someone who really caught his eye— a stunning person with snow-white skin and Native American roots. They seemed a bit mixed, and Jey couldn't figure out if they were a guy or a girl, but one thing was for sure they were absolutely gorgeous.

"Hey, Jey, you okay?" Sami asked, noticing his distant expression.

[dailymonraszkic]

A mirage

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60859564

"Old man's dream?"

"That's what it is," he said, his voice dropping lower. He stared at his bloodied hands and chuckled. "A dream, nothing more."

Part 1

The sound of a cheer from the Colosseum brought her back to her predicament. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she listened to the mindless cheering from the building. The vendors close to it were happily selling their goods knowing that people used to buy more once they saw a fight. None of those people seemed to see the homeless and hungry lying by the walls, how little children were lying unmoving and staring at the sun not playing or running. She shook her head once again and thanked the vendor, turning around to ask her servant to grab the food baskets when she noticed a wagon stopping near the Colosseum.

Men of different ages walked out, some watching the buildings and people in astonishment, some not looking up. She noticed that most of them were covered in bloodied cloths and some were bandaged. She grimaced. Such was the fate of the gladiator - to die for the cheer of the crowd.

“My lady,” Aora stepped closer, a basket with bread in her hands. “Are you ready to return?”

She nodded and looked at Areas. She waved her hand to him and he jogged to grab the baskets full of vegetables and fruit. They could return to her house and start preparation for her brother’s return. She knew that it would be a long day before the Emperors would allow him to go back home to his wife and sister but she also knew that after everything he saw and done for Rome, he would need his rest.

Slowly she made her way with the deeper basket to the wall, children perking up at her sight. She smiled at them and kneeled next to some of the youngest children. She uncovered the inside of the basket. Bread rolls, dried fruit, fresh vegetables. She started to divide the food while Aora distributed the water she had bought. Her brother always said that her heart was too soft for the suffering of others. As a child, she gave away her things, food, and allowance to others who needed it.

“Are you a Princess?”

An innocent question from the child brought her back from her thoughts. She was daydreaming way too much. She smiled and turned her head to him.

“No, sweet one. I am a citizen of Rome and a believer it is a place for all of us to be equal.”

“You believe in old man’s dreams then,”

Her head snapped back and the sun blinded her for a moment. She moved her head a little and blinked to get rid of the sudden heat in her vision. Before her stood one of the men brought by the wagon, he had blue eyes in the shade of the stormy sea and curls framing his face. His face looked Roman but his voice held an accent she couldn’t place. He had blood on his tunic, at his throat, but wasn’t hurt anywhere close to it.

“Old man’s dreams?” She asked curiously and stood. Areas was close to the man, ready to help her if needed.

The man, the gladiator, nodded. His broad build was making her feel like she was staring at the statue of one of Roman heroes.

“Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that Rome could be for everyone, that it could be a wonderful republic with people equal.”

She blinked surprised, how did he know about the Emperor’s vision? She cocked her head and looked at him from top to bottom. Even if she tried to place his origins her answer would be wrong. He looked like a Roman man. But why would a Roman man be a gladiator from the conquest? He could have deserted his legion but it was rare for men to do so.

“And how a…,” She stopped to look for the right word her brother used. “A barbarian would know about the Emperor’s dream?”

He chuckled and looked over her head; his eyes glazing over.

“From the stories,” his voice got deeper as he said those words.

She frowned; sudden footsteps made her turn around and look at a bald man in leather armour. He was the handler of the gladiators.

“My apologies,” he breathed out. “They just got here and never thought of the rules not to talk to a lady higher in society than them.”

She smiled tightly as she watched the man grab the gladiator and drag him towards the area. Before they both disappeared behind the wall, the gladiator turned his head and locked his eyes with hers.

“A dream,” he mouthed.

She swallowed hard and returned to her task. She needed to get back to her brother’s villa before his legion would return. If she could, she preferred to avoid the Emperors at all costs. The twins were spoiled children not fit for rule but alas they were the only children of Emperor Severus and there was no other choice after his death.

When she stepped into the villa it was quiet. Her sister-in-law must have retired to her chambers or was meeting the senators. Marcella knew about the meetings since she was fifteen. Lucilla was supposed to be banished after her brother’s death due to Severus’ fear of her taking over but Acacius argued to marry her to allow her to stay.

Marcella adored Lucilla but she knew that there was no real love between her and Acacius. Adoration? Possibly, but both were too vulnerable from their losses to be open for more.

Lucilla’s servant was as always a shadow in the villa. There was nothing that happened without her knowledge. Marcella early on learned that if she wanted to do something secretly she needed to check on her first.

“Marcella,” Lucilla appeared suddenly.

The young woman smiled at her warmly and looked around to search for the servants. Two-spotted her shopping and took it to the kitchen while she was led to the garden by her sister-in-law.

“The Emperors will want something ostentatious for the newest victory. I prayed for Acacius to return safely and unharmed. Gods seem to favour me in this at least.”

The memory of the young prince going missing was fresh even after fifteen years. Lucilla mourned her son every day and never missed a prayer for him. She held onto the hope that Lucius found a place to stay somewhere safe and was living a peaceful life somewhere far from Rome and his ancestors’ madness.

“People have been more and more restless for some time now. There is less food than before, and many decide to leave the city and make their settlements in the country to have more provisions,” Marcella wasn't often told about matters of the Forum but Lucilla was and thus Marcella knew from her. “The Emperors seem to not pay much attention to their citizens' well-being.”

Both of them looked at the film to see if Leta was close. Lucilla knew her servant was spying and used that to see who exactly it was. It started slowly with her talking loudly about matters that were non-existent and then she waited to see who would ask. It became a surprise that it was Senator Thraex who ordered to have her under observation. She had hoped their goal was the same and they both wanted to see Rome as a Republic.

“Acacius will be coming soon. I saw a transport of barbarians near the Colosseum today. If they're here, he will be home soon as well,” The younger woman smiled.

“Hopefully for longer this time. There is not much more land for Rome to conquer and not much more food in Rome to feed its citizens,” Lucilla had a look on her face that Marcella saw sometimes. She remembered the old times.

She only learned from stories about how it was under Marcus Aurelius' rule. Nobody ever said anything particularly bad about it. Even Lucilla was very open about the past. It brought the pain of losing what was dear to her and remembering much happier times when it was completely different now.

“We received a message from the palace. Geta and Caracalla want us to come to the games held in Acacius' honour and his victory for Rome,” Lucilla sighed seeing the look on her sister-in-law’s face. Rome's citizens weren't favourable towards their Emperor's but they did love the games. The only entertainment they were provided by the Empire.

“Emperor Caracalla will cry again because of his pet not playing with him and Emperor Geta will kill every gladiator he can. Such wonderful victory celebration,” Marcella murmured under her breath and looked into the sky. The weather was beautiful and she wished she could've been in the gardens instead.

“When are they expecting us to arrive?”

“It depends if Acacius returns for the night. If not, we go tomorrow. I believe The Twins had games prepared as soon as they heard he had won.”

Marcella had to agree. The Emperors were always prepared for games. Since they took over Rome started to decline in its prosperity. She often thought about the times when she was little and both of them, Marcus and she, were growing up on their father's property. They had an orchard with apples and cherries, their mother also planted figs and olives, the herbs were always the strongest scent around the house.

“Be strong Marcella,” Lucilla smiled as she held her hands. “Soon the fate may change.”

There was something in Lucilla’s voice that made her mysterious and reminded Marcella of the travelling seers. She never believed in the power of their sight, her mother taught her that only the gods held the power to see what was to come. But looking at her sister-in-law now, Marcella was pretty sure she got shivers. It was a little terrifying how Lucilla looked as if she would do unspeakable if it didn't work.

“My Ladies, shall we prepare your meal?”

Marcella nodded and then turned back to her rooms. There was no strength in her to speak to Lucilla anymore.

“Rome has enough people. It needs to feed them,” Acacius' clear distaste for the Emperors was evident in every word he spoke.

The servants looked at each other. They were children raised during Marcus Aurelius' final years and Emperor Commodus's power. They knew hate, lust for power and vile people fighting and killing just to be called more powerful. General was different, he was more focused on the people who did not interest the Emperors at all.

“We’ve decided that your victorious return shall be celebrated,” Emperor Geta said with his usual tone that was the only warning not to decline. “Games! For thirty days!”

Caracalla looked at his brother with the same maniacal glee in his eyes as his older twin possessed. Acacius swallowed and cursed in his thoughts. There was no way to change their minds especially since mindless killing was involved.

“I am most grateful, my Ceasars.”

“And where is your wife today? Did we not honour her enough to be here to welcome you?” Geta’s question made him freeze.

“I suppose my wife is along with my sister awaiting me in our house,” Acacius smiled tightly. He hated to mention Marcella close to Geta. The Emperor killed the last noble lady who caught his interest because of her age. “With your permission, I would like to join them soon.”

Caracalla laughed and clapped his hands suddenly. They turned to see how one of the testers choked on the poisoned food. Acacius’ eyes widened when the twins dismissed him and walked closer to watch the dying man.

“Both of them are children holding power that could burn the world down,” he stated as his chariot moved among the alleys of Rome. His trusted captain Oracus was listening at his side. “They care not for prosperity, love, hate, hunger, thirst. Just for power.”

They rode by the Colosseum and Acacius watched as children gathered close to the entry of the underground. He raised his hand to stop the chariot and got out, people who saw him bowed their heads. He bowed back with a slight nod. The men from Numidia ought to be brought to the Colosseum by now.

“General,” A man ran to him. “It is a surprise to see you here.”

“Indeed. I want to see the newest gladiators. The ones from Numidia.”

The man frowned and nodded, turned around to walk away when he paused suddenly.

“We only have three of them.”

Acacius let out a breath. He thought it might happen. Most probably didn’t survive the travel and some died at the province at the training grounds.

“Show them to me,” he stated.

They walked to the cells and past long tables where some of the gladiators sat. They looked at him in his white and gold armour as if he came from the gods. He remained stone-faced, he did not want to show them how weak that armour made him. They stopped close to the medical room.

“Ravi, we have General Acacius here for the barbarians,” he called as he pushed the door open.

Inside two men were sitting with their eyes closed, bandages around their forearms and torso. One was being stitched, his wound irritated and bleeding. He raised his eyes and Acacius was surprised to see them being blue. This was not a colour common to Numidia. He narrowed his own eyes and stared at the man and then at the other two.

“I have come to offer you a choice,” he spoke and turned to Theio. “I’ll talk to them alone. You may leave.”

The man seemed stunned for a second, then he opened his mouth to say something but Acacius’ glare made him turn around and leave the room.

“Ravi,” he nodded at the medicus.

“General,” Ravi parroted his tone and smirked.

“I am offering you a way out of here. Join my legion and you shall be taken from here even today. You’ll be given housing and food and will be paid.”

Two sitting next to the wall exchanged glances before they sneered.

“I would rather die than be a servant to this ‘Empire’.”

“They’re loyal,” Acacius head snapped to the blue-eyed man. “They swore they’d listen to their leader and until he’s dead, they will follow him.”

“And I assume it is you,” Acacius looked at how the man smirked and raised his head.

The features on his face didn’t fit the rest of the people from Numidia. If Acacius didn’t know better he would say he was looking at a citizen of Rome. Someone familiar even.

“They won’t go. They stay and will kill as many of you in that area as possible. So will I.”

He stood and took a step towards Acacius. Hate, his gaze held pure hate.

“Very well then,” Acacius turned and left the room. Before he left he heard Ravi gathering his medicine and speaking:

“You’re too harsh, my friend. The General is a tool for the Emperors but that does not mean he wants to be one. You should think about it.”

[beyralxoxo]

{Amor Omnia Vincit-Lucius Verus Aurelius}

Chapter 2-Omnes viae Romam ducunt: All roads lead to Rome

SUMMARY: Tillotama's strenght is forced upon her by her aunt, she is tired but dares not to show it, yet her mother seems to see right through the cracks of Tillo's resolve. Geta and Caracalla are awaiting their gift while Macrinus makes sure that a quarrel will happen either way between the brothers.

PAIRING: Lucius Verus Aurelius x South Indian OC

WORD COUNT: 5,5K

WARNINGS: bit of mistreatment, Tillo debuted to young as a dancer

The horizon shifted, the vast expanse of blue turning into a dimming canvas as the first outlines of the Roman coast appeared on the distant edge of the world. Jagged cliffs and rocky promontories emerged from the darkening sky, their shapes unfamiliar, their presence both imposing and distant. The winds carried a new scent—earthy and strange, tinged with the salt of the sea but also something sharper, a promise of the unknown. For those aboard the fleet, it was a moment pregnant with anticipation and unspoken fear.

In her cabin, Tillotama stood still by the narrow window, her golden-blue eyes locked on the land that had grown nearer with each passing moment.The only thing she felt was a gnawing unease, a tightening in her chest that felt too tight for breathing.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the wooden frame, the faint creak of her grip the only sound in the room. She held on as though the ship might carry her away from the land, away from the future waiting for her on those foreign shores.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. Rambha stepped inside, her face composed but her eyes betraying the concern she couldn’t hide. Despite the calm exterior, her sister carried a storm of emotions just beneath the surface—just like Tillotama.

“They say we’ll reach the harbor by morning,” Rambha said quietly, stepping inside, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Her voice was soft, but the tension in it was unmistakable. She hesitated before moving closer, her presence grounding. “Are you ready?”

Tillotama didn’t turn from the window. Her voice was low, distant, as if the land before her could somehow absorb her words. “Ready?” She repeated, her lips curling into a bitter half-smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever been ready for anything they’ve demanded of me.”

Rambha stepped forward, her hand resting gently on Tillotama’s shoulder. The warmth of it anchored Tillotama, but it also reminded her of the weight she carried—how everything had always been her responsibility. The weight of her people, the weight of their expectations.

“You’ve always found a way, Tillo,” Rambha said softly, her voice thick with conviction. “You’re stronger than they think.”

Tillotama exhaled a sharp, bitter laugh. “Strength? Do you know what strength has brought me, Rambha?” She spoke without turning to face her sister, her gaze still locked on the horizon. “It’s made me a jewel for their amusement. A prize for them to play with. A symbol they can parade around. Strength... it’s never felt like strength to me.”

Rambha’s hand tightened on her shoulder, her voice unwavering. “Strength brought you here, yes. But it will carry you through this. You’re not just walking into their world as some victim. You’re Tillotama. The woman who can turn kings into poets, soldiers into dreamers. They will see that. They will see you.”

Tillotama turned then, her expression softening, but her heart still heavy. She searched her sister’s face, the fierce determination that never wavered in her words a balm to the storm inside her. “And yet…” she murmured, a shadow passing across her gaze, “I wonder if they’ll see anything more than a prize. Something to conquer. Something to own.”

Rambha stepped closer, her voice low but firm, a promise wrapped in every syllable. “They might not see it. But that’s their blindness, not yours. If they see a jewel, then blind them with your brilliance. If they see a prize, then make them pay for it in ways they can’t even imagine.”

Tillotama studied her sister, feeling the storm inside her calm just slightly. She reached for the steady presence of Rambha’s words, though she didn’t entirely believe them. “You make it sound so simple,” she said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“It’s not simple,” Rambha replied, a quiet fire in her eyes. “But nothing about you ever has been.”

Before Tillotama could respond, the door opened again, and Ezhili entered, her small frame hesitant in the doorway. She darted her eyes between her two sisters, sensing the tension hanging like a cloud between them. “The captain sent me,” she said, her voice quivering with nervousness. “He says… he says we’ll need to prepare. The Romans will send representatives to meet us at the harbor.”

Rambha nodded sharply, her posture straightening as she absorbed the news. “Then we should be ready. The Romans will expect perfection.”

“They always do,” Tillotama muttered, her smile fading as she turned her gaze back to the window. The coast was much closer now, the details of the land sharpening in the dimming light. The Roman capital was just beyond the horizon, a place filled with both wonder and peril, a place that promised to change everything.

Ezhili stepped forward, her small hands trembling as they gripped Tillotama’s. “I’m scared,” she confessed, her voice breaking, barely a whisper in the heavy air. “What if they’re cruel? What if... what if we can’t go home? What if this is forever?”

Tillotama pulled her close into an embrace. The feel of Ezhili’s delicate frame against her own made her chest tighten, the protective instincts she had always carried rising to the surface. “We won’t go home,” she said softly, but with certainty. “Not in the way we knew it. But listen to me, Ezhili, whatever happens, we’ll endure. We’ve survived worse, haven’t we?”

Ezhili’s body shuddered as she nodded, her cheek resting against Tillotama’s shoulder. “Yes…” she whispered. “But this... this feels different.”

“It is different,” Tillotama admitted, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “But we’re different, too. Stronger. And no matter what they see when they look at us, we know the truth. We know who we are. And no one can take that from us.”

The three sisters stood in silence for a moment, the weight of the journey pressing on them, the weight of everything that was to come. Then, after a long pause, Rambha stood, her voice resolute as she spoke, more to herself than to the others. “We’ll show them,” she said, the fire of determination rekindled in her eyes. “We’ll make them see us for who we truly are.”

Tillotama stood, her chin lifting slightly, her shoulders square with resolve. “If they want a spectacle, then that’s what they’ll get. But on our terms. Not theirs.”

As the ship swayed gently in the sea’s rhythm, and the Roman coast drew nearer, the sisters began their preparations. Tillotama’s jewels glinted in the soft light of the cabin’s lamp, each one fastened carefully into her hair. Her sari shimmered like flames against her skin, every fold and pleat an intricate work of art, meticulously woven to capture the light. Beneath the layers of opulence, though, there was something much more powerful—a quiet, unyielding strength that could not be seen, but could always be felt.

The harbor was close now, the outlines of Roman soldiers and dignitaries barely visible in the gathering dusk, their presence a reminder of the spectacle that awaited them. Tillotama’s heart beat steadily, each thud matching the rhythm of the ship, her resolve growing with each passing moment.

She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible in the quiet cabin. “I’ll meet their stares,” she said, her voice firm and clear. “And I’ll make them remember my name.”

As the ship surged toward its final destination, the first step into a world she could never undo, Tillotama stood with her sisters, her heart a mixture of fear and fierce pride. She would not break. Not for them. Not for anyone.

Whatever came next, she would face it—head held high, eyes unflinching—and she would make them see her for what she was. She was no mere prize to be claimed. She was Tillotama. And they would remember her name.

ROME:

The Roman night cloaked the imperial chambers in a soft, restless silence, broken only by the faint crackle of oil lamps and the occasional murmur of waves against the distant harbor. The golden light from the lamps carved sharp contrasts in the opulent room, painting shadows that flickered over the intricate mosaics and marble columns.

Geta reclined in his chair with practiced indolence, his goblet dangling loosely from his fingers. The elder son of Severus had the air of a man who had already seen too much, his sarcasm as finely honed as a gladiator’s blade. Across from him, Caracalla paced like a restless lion, his youthful energy bouncing off the walls. His expressions shifted rapidly, irritation giving way to excitement, then to frustration, all with the volatility of a summer storm.

Macrinus, standing near the window, was the calm eye of that storm. The former slave turned master of Rome’s gladiatorial stables, his demeanor was as smooth as the polished marble floors, his sharp gaze like a predator’s assessing its prey. He watched the brothers with faint amusement, his expression unreadable save for the glint of cunning in his eyes.

“So,” Geta drawled, swirling the wine in his goblet, “the famed jewel of the East arrives tomorrow. I wonder if she sparkles in the dark or only in the light of her own myth.”

Caracalla stopped pacing, throwing his brother a glare. “You’re insufferable, you know that? the messenger said she’s a gift of unmatched value. Do you have to sneer at everything?”

“Oh, forgive me,” Geta replied, leaning forward and resting his chin on his hand, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. “How thoughtless of me to question the virtue of parading a woman halfway across the world to entertain the mighty Caesars. Truly, an act of benevolence.”

Caracalla’s jaw tightened, and he rounded on Macrinus. “Say something to him, Macrinus! He’s always like this.”

Macrinus’s lips curved into a slow, measured smile, his voice low and deliberate. “And why should I? Your brother has a point, young Caesar.” He stepped away from the window, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. “A woman of her caliber—if we’re to believe the tales—is no mere gift. She’s a weapon, a message, a game piece placed on the board. The real question is, who’s playing, and who’s being played?”

Caracalla frowned, his brow furrowing as he considered Macrinus’s words. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, my dear Caracalla,” Macrinus replied, his tone sharpening just enough to slice through the younger man’s confusion, “that gifts like this are rarely free. She’s been trained, molded, and sent here for a reason. The East doesn’t part with its treasures lightly.”

“She’s a woman, not a chessboard,” Caracalla retorted, his irritation flaring. “You speak as if she’s nothing but a pawn.”

“A pawn can become a queen, if moved correctly,” Macrinus countered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And courtesans, my Caesars, are far more dangerous than pawns. Never forget that.”

Geta smirked, raising his goblet in a mocking toast. “Ah, the wisdom of Macrinus, ever the voice of doom and intrigue. Tell me, does everything come with a conspiracy in your world, or do you occasionally allow for simple pleasures?”

Macrinus tilted his head, his smile growing bolder. “Pleasures are never simple when you rule an empire, Geta. And if you think otherwise, perhaps it’s best that your younger brother is the one who takes the lead.”

The air in the room shifted, a sudden tension sparking between the three men. Caracalla, ever the hothead, stepped forward, his voice rising. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing you’re ready to hear,” Macrinus replied smoothly, his tone just shy of condescending. “But enough of this. You’ll both meet her tomorrow, and the truth will reveal itself soon enough. The question is, are either of you clever enough to see it?”

Geta chuckled darkly, leaning back in his chair. “Cleverness isn’t the issue. It’s whether she’s worth the effort of playing along. If she’s just another pretty face with a knack for flattery, well…” He shrugged. “We’ve seen a thousand like her before.”

Caracalla’s fists clenched, but he stayed silent, his thoughts clearly racing. Macrinus watched him with quiet satisfaction, his words having planted seeds of doubt and ambition in equal measure.

“Sleep on it, young Caesars,” Macrinus said, turning toward the door. “Tomorrow will come soon enough, and with it, your answers. Or your undoing.” He left the room with a faint bow, the sound of his footsteps fading into the hall. Geta and Caracalla were left in a silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Geta sighed, lifting his goblet in another lazy toast.

“To tomorrow,” he murmured, his tone tinged with resignation and irony. “May the goddess of the East live up to her legend.” Caracalla didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the doorway through which Macrinus had disappeared. The young emperor’s mind churned, torn between the innocence of his youthful excitement and the darker, more dangerous currents stirred by his companions’ words.

Outside, the night deepened, and the harbor winds carried whispers of what was to come.

The Roman harbor gleamed under the moon’s pale light, a mirage of flickering lanterns and distant voices blending into the gentle lap of waves against the ship. In the cabin, the faint scent of sandalwood mingled with the salt air, the golden glow of a single lamp casting its light over silken cushions and the polished brass mirror. Tillotama sat in its reflection, her golden-blue eyes shadowed by thoughts too deep for words.

The adornments she wore—a cascade of glittering stars around her neck, earrings that swayed like bells with every movement—felt heavier than usual. The sari, its folds perfect and intricate, hugged her like a second skin, a layer she couldn’t shed. She tilted her head slightly, catching her own gaze in the mirror. How many others had gazed upon her this way, searching for a glimpse of something divine in her human frame? They all called her the Nagarvadhu, the goddess of arts, but tonight she felt far removed from anything celestial.

A soft knock came at the door. Tillotama’s lips curved into the barest semblance of a smile—she already knew who it was.

“Come in, Ammi,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

Amrapali entered, her movements graceful, the muted colors of her sari a stark contrast to her daughter’s radiance. She closed the door with a quiet click and approached Tillotama, her eyes taking in every detail of her daughter’s posture, the subtle tightness of her shoulders, the way her hands rested just a touch too stiffly on her lap.

“You’ve been staring at yourself for too long,” Amrapali said gently, sitting beside her. “You’ll find no answers in the mirror tonight.”

Tillotama let out a small, weary laugh, leaning back against the cushions. “Maybe not answers. But at least the mirror doesn’t talk back.”

Amrapali chuckled softly, reaching out to adjust the pallu of Tillotama’s sari. Her touch was gentle, familiar, the kind that soothed wounds deeper than the skin. “No, but it also doesn’t know you the way I do. What’s troubling you, Tillo?”

Tillotama hesitated, her gaze dropping to the intricate embroidery on her lap. “Do you ever wonder, Ammi, what it might have been like if… if things had been different? If I hadn’t been… chosen?”

Amrapali’s hand paused, but only for a moment. “You were not chosen, Tillo. You were born to this.” She brushed a strand of hair from her daughter’s face, her fingers lingering. “You became the Nagarvadhu because no one else could have been. You’ve carried it all so beautifully, even when you were a child.”

Tillotama’s lips tightened, and she looked away. “A child,” she murmured. “I was thirteen when they first called me that. Do you remember? The day they said I was to represent the arts, the soul of our kingdom, the pride of our people. They put me on a pedestal so high I could barely breathe.” She met her mother’s gaze again, her voice softening. “Did I ever have a choice, Ammi? Or was I always meant to be a symbol instead of myself?”

Amrapali’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she didn’t look away. “It was never fair,” she said quietly. “But you took what could have crushed you and turned it into something unbreakable. That is your strength, Tillo. Not the title. Not the admiration. You.”

Tillotama swallowed, her chest tightening. “Strength,” she echoed. “Sometimes it feels more like endurance. Like survival.”

“And what is survival if not the foundation of strength?” Amrapali countered gently. “You have given so much of yourself, I know. But you are not just what they see. You are my daughter, my Tillo. And no matter how heavy the world feels, you are never alone in carrying it.”

Tillotama exhaled shakily, her hand finding her mother’s and squeezing it tightly. For a moment, the silence between them was warm, comforting, and the storm inside her began to quiet.

Then came a sharp, deliberate knock on the door, breaking the stillness like a snapped thread. Tillotama tensed, her fingers slipping from her mother’s as she straightened her back.

“Enter,” she said, her voice cool and composed once more.

The door opened to reveal Korravai, her figure framed in the lamplight like an imposing sentinel. Her presence filled the room, the air thickening as she strode inside, her dark eyes sharp and assessing.

“Amrapali,” Korravai said curtly, nodding to her sister. “Leave us.”

Amrapali rose slowly, smoothing her sari with calm deliberation. She glanced at Tillotama, her gaze lingering with unspoken reassurance. “Do not let her harden you, Tillo,” she murmured before walking past Korravai, her steps unhurried despite the tension.

Once the door closed behind her, Korravai turned to Tillotama, her eyes narrowing as she approached. “You’re restless,” she said bluntly. “Good. You should be.”

Tillotama met her aunt’s gaze with quiet defiance. “And why is that, Korravai? Because the Romans expect to see perfection? Or because you do?”

“Both,” Korravai replied without hesitation. “You bear the weight of your title, Tillotama. The Romans will look at you and see not a woman, but a symbol. They will test you. Probe for weakness. And if they find even the slightest crack, they will exploit it.”

Tillotama stood, her movements slow and deliberate, her golden-blue eyes blazing as she stepped closer to her aunt. “I know what they expect. I’ve lived my entire life under the gaze of expectations. Do you think I’ve forgotten what it means to stand in the light of scrutiny?”

Korravai’s expression softened, though her voice remained firm. “No. But the stakes are higher now. This is not your court, where admiration comes easily. These are the Romans—calculating, ruthless. You must not simply meet their expectations. You must exceed them.”

Tillotama’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “And if I do? If I surpass even their understanding, what then?”

“Then,” Korravai said, a rare hint of a smile touching her lips, “you will become something they cannot conquer. Something they cannot forget.”

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and Tillotama felt the weight of them settle over her like a mantle. Her gaze didn’t waver, her voice steady as she replied, “I will not falter. Not before them. Not before anyone.” Korravai inclined her head, satisfaction flickering in her dark eyes.

“Good. Because you are not just a courtesan. You are our weapon. And the world will kneel before you, whether it knows it or not.”

With that, she turned and left, the sound of her footsteps fading into the night. Tillotama stood in the silence, her reflection catching her eye in the brass mirror once more. But now, her gaze was sharper, her resolve unshakable.

“I am not their weapon,” she whispered to herself, her voice firm. “I am my own.”

The morning sun painted the horizon in hues of amber and rose as Tillotama’s fleet came to rest at the shores of Rome. The grand city, with its towering structures and sprawling streets, lay just beyond the calm waters. But within the stillness of her cabin, Tillotama knelt in quiet prayer before a small idol of Krishna. The figure, carved from sandalwood and adorned with delicate golden accents, radiated a sense of serenity that mirrored her own.

Her hands were clasped together, her slender fingers adorned with rings that caught the flickering light of a nearby oil lamp. Words of devotion spilled silently from her lips as she sought strength for the challenges that awaited her. The creak of the ship’s timbers and the rhythmic lapping of waves were the only sounds accompanying her—until a sudden knock broke the peace.

Before she could respond, the door swung open, and Chanchal entered with her usual exuberance. Her long braid swung over her shoulder as she hurried toward Tillotama, her youthful energy filling the room. “Oh, Tillo!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her mistress in a warm embrace. “It feels as if we haven’t seen you in years.”

Without opening her eyes, Tillotama chuckled softly, still focused on her prayer. “It has only been three days, Chanchal,” she replied, her tone teasing. “Besides, you all knew she wouldn’t let you attend to me so close to Rome. Didn’t she say I must focus only on my ‘perfection’?”

Chanchal huffed, pulling back but staying close. “That she of hers thinks far too highly of herself.”

Kinjal entered next, moving with a quiet elegance that contrasted Chanchal’s lively demeanor. She took a seat on the edge of a wooden bench, crossing her legs with practiced ease. “Perfection? Please,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She’s not so perfect herself. Just yesterday, I caught her spilling wine on her robe and blaming the wind. The wind!”

Tillotama smiled softly, finishing her prayer with one last whispered phrase. Rising gracefully, she turned to her companions, her crimson sari cascading like liquid fire around her. “Someone has to be perfect,” she said, the faintest hint of mischief in her voice.

Mataangi leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her sharp features betraying her disdain. “If she wants perfection so badly, maybe she should train herself and leave you be. Horrendous woman,” she muttered, earning a stifled laugh from Chanchal.

“Enough,” Tillotama said gently, though the authority in her voice was unmistakable. She approached Mataangi, resting a hand on her shoulder. “She means well, in her own way.”

“Does she?” Kinjal muttered, drawing a sidelong glance from Chanchal, who nudged her sharply.

Bulbul, the quietest of the group, had been watching Tillotama with a tender expression. She stepped forward, her dark eyes soft with concern. “Are you ready, love?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Tillotama hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting to the small window. The grandeur of Rome lay just beyond, a world of power, expectation, and danger. Was she ready? The question lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken fears. Finally, she turned back to Bulbul, her golden-blue eyes resolute. “I am,” she said firmly. “We all must be.”

Chanchal reached for her hand again, squeezing it tightly. “Do you have to be?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “Why must it always be you, Tillo?”

“I’m not alone,” Tillotama replied softly, her gaze moving across the faces of her four companions. “I have you. And that is more than most can say.”

Kinjal frowned, folding her arms. “Then let us do more. Let us speak for you, fight for you. You’re not some goddess meant to carry the world on your shoulders.”

“And yet here I am,” Tillotama said with a wry smile. “Because the world doesn’t care who carries it, only that it is carried.”

Mataangi muttered something inaudible but allowed a faint smirk to cross her face. Chanchal, ever the optimist, leaned closer. “We just want you to know that we’re here,” she said, her voice brimming with sincerity. “Not for Rome, or for anyone else. For you.”

Tillotama’s expression softened, the weight of her role momentarily lifting. She reached up to brush a lock of Chanchal’s hair back into place. “And that,” she said quietly, “is why I can face whatever comes next.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door, followed by the voice of an attendant. “My lady, the Roman officials have gathered at the docks. They await your arrival.”

Tillotama drew a steadying breath, her composure returning. “Very well,” she replied, her voice calm yet commanding. She turned to her ladies-in-waiting with a faint smile. “Shall we?”

Mataangi stepped forward to adjust the drape of Tillotama’s sari, her movements precise but deliberate. “Let them wait a little longer. It’ll remind them who’s in charge.”

Bulbul chuckled softly. “Careful, Mataangi. Tillo’s already dangerous enough without you feeding her ideas.”

Tillotama laughed, the sound light and melodic. Gathering her resolve, she moved toward the door, her companions falling in step behind her. “Rome may think it has me,” she said, her voice carrying a quiet strength. “But today, the Eternal City will learn that I arrive on my own terms.”

With that, she stepped out, the air electric with anticipation, as the shores of Rome prepared to witness her arrival.

With that, she turned toward the door, her four companions falling in step behind her. The air hummed with anticipation as they made their way to the deck. There, the Roman officials awaited, their gazes trained upon the ship, eager for the arrival of the living goddess from the East.

As Tillotama stepped onto the ship’s deck, her image hidden behind the silk paravan held by Kinjal and Chanchal, the crowd’s murmurs grew louder, the tension palpable. The Romans, who had eagerly awaited her arrival, now strained their eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the legendary beauty they had been promised.

Waarangan, the Indian ambassador, stepped forward to announce her presence, his voice booming with pride. “My lords,” he said, his tone rich with reverence, “I present to you Tillotama Vyjayanthimala Saraswati Devi, the Queen of Arts, and a loyal gift from India.”

The officials exchanged intrigued glances, but one voice rose above the rest, skeptical and laced with challenge. “How are we to know she is as eternal in beauty as the stories claim?” the official asked, unable to see beyond the silk.

Waarangan’s smile was almost imperceptible as he met the Roman official’s gaze. “My lord,” he said with a slight bow, “A beauty as holy as hers cannot be perceived by mere mortals in such surroundings. She is a vision meant for higher eyes—eyes that can see beyond the earthly veil.”

The crowd fell into a hush, the tension thick with anticipation.

The procession of Tillotama’s palanquins advanced toward the grand imperial palace, the rhythmic sway of the bearers accompanied by the soft jingle of golden ornaments adorning the palanquin’s exterior. Inside the largest of the palanquins, Tillotama sat in serene composure, her hands resting lightly on her lap. Beside her, Kinjal and Chanchal peered out through the intricately carved latticework windows, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and unease as they observed the streets of Rome bustling with life.

Kinjal wrinkled her nose slightly and muttered, “The air here feels strange. Almost... not human.”

Chanchal glanced at her, brow arched. “Not human? You think the Romans breathe something else? Perhaps ambition and arrogance.”

Tillotama chuckled softly, her voice like a faint melody amidst the steady rhythm of the palanquin. “It is not the air, Kinjal,” she said, a playful lilt in her tone. “It is the weight of a city that has spent centuries convincing itself it is the center of the world.”

“Then let us show them another kind of center,” Chanchal quipped, earning a faint smirk from Kinjal. The palanquins slowed as they arrived at the vast marble steps of the imperial palace. The imposing structure loomed ahead, its grandeur a testament to Roman authority and ambition. The crowd that had gathered along the streets fell silent, anticipation thick in the air. At the top of the palace steps stood Macrinus, the imperial foe of Geta and Caracalla, his imposing figure draped in an embroidered toga. His dark eyes scanned the procession with a calculating gaze, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Waarangan, stepped forward from the head of the procession, his own robes flowing elegantly as he bowed low. His movements were deliberate, each one a reflection of the respect and poise Tillotama’s court carried with them.

Macrinus’s smirk deepened, his tone a mixture of civility and thinly veiled dominance. “We welcome you to Rome,” he said, his voice carrying over the silent crowd.

Waarangan straightened, his expression calm but with a glint of knowing in his eyes. “We thank you for your gracious welcome, Lord Macrinus,” he replied in Latin, his words measured and precise. “I present to you the pride of India.”

As he turned toward the largest palanquin, his voice softened with reverence. “Tillotama,” he called, and with that single name, the crowd’s murmurs grew to an eager hum.

The bearers set the palanquin gently on the ground. Kinjal and Chanchal moved to either side of Tillotama as she prepared to step out. With practiced grace, Tillotama emerged, her figure draped in exquisite silks that shimmered in the sunlight. A translucent veil covered her face, adding an air of mystery to her ethereal presence. Her movements were fluid, her bearing regal, as though the earth itself shifted to accommodate her steps.

Macrinus descended a few steps, his gaze fixed on her. His eyes roved over her form, taking in every detail—the way her sari flowed like water, the delicate gold chains adorning her wrists, the serene poise in her posture. She was more than he had anticipated, and yet he could not discern her entirely through the veil.

He paused, his smirk returning as he addressed Waarangan. “A veil hides much, Ambassador. Perhaps too much.”

Waarangan’s response was quick, his tone smooth. “A veil hides what is sacred, my lord. And some things are only meant to be unveiled when the moment is right.”

Macrinus chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Indeed, Ambassador. Rome will wait for such a moment, though it is not accustomed to waiting.”

Tillotama’s gaze remained steady behind the veil, though her silence spoke volumes. She did not need to respond; her presence alone commanded the attention of all around her. Kinjal and Chanchal flanked her like loyal sentinels, their expressions unreadable but their movements perfectly in sync with their mistress.

Macrinus stepped closer, his tone shifting to one of calculated charm. “Lady Tillotama,” he said, his words slow and deliberate, “Rome has heard much of your beauty, your grace, and your artistry. Now, it seems, we are to witness it firsthand.”

Waarangan translated, his voice carrying the same measured cadence. Tillotama inclined her head slightly, a gesture that conveyed acknowledgment without submission. Her silence, coupled with her poised demeanor, seemed to unsettle Macrinus, though he quickly masked it with a fake smile. “The emperors await within,” Macrinus said, motioning toward the palace doors. “Rome is eager to welcome its honored guest.”

As the procession began to ascend the steps, Kinjal leaned slightly toward Chanchal, her voice barely audible. “Do you think they know how much they tremble beneath their own grandeur?”

Chanchal suppressed a smirk. “Let them tremble. It’s the least they can do.”

Behind them, Tillotama moved with an unhurried grace, each step a testament to the power of stillness amidst a sea of chaos. Though she spoke no words, her very presence seemed to reshape the narrative of her arrival. As they passed through the palace gates, the air grew heavier with expectation, the halls of Rome awaiting to witness the woman who had already begun to rewrite their story.

[kyleoreillylover]

The Bloodline!Reader x Rhea Ripley x Dominick Mysterio

Tw: Manipulation, gaslighting, Roman Reigns being Roman Reigns.

At the beginning of your secret relationship, they promised you they would keep away from The Bloodline until the time comes so they could keep your relationship and work life separate.

When that time came its because they wanted the Uso’s gold, and partly because Rhea and Dom were concerned for you.

Roman was becoming more eratic and angry, and that only worsened with Kevin Owens butting his head with Sami Zayn.

He took his anger out on you, since you were the youngest and kept forgiving him since he is family.

Rhea and Dom kept trying to convince you to leave the Bloodline and join them, but you refused. You were blinded by the love you had for your family.

Dom sympathized with you, as he had been there before. He told Rhea that you would only leave when you were ready, and that they couldn’t force you to until you saw Roman for who he really was.

Roman could tell that something was up with you and the Judgement Day. He might have a big ego but he is not dumb. He saw the looks Dom and Rhea were giving you, the way you stepped behind Jey and Jimmy when they came into the ring, the way Rhea directed her insults to everyone in his family but you.

He ordered you to attack Rhea when she kept getting involved to test you and you refused, your excuse being there was no need to if she did not attack you first.

That’s when he became even more paranoid, belittling you at every turn, then gaslighting you into thinking it was your own fault and that he just wanted what was best for you.

Jimmy and Jey tried to get him to chill but he wouldn’t listen.

Even Solo tried to get him to chill out, which just made him even more mad.

The night when Sami betrayed Roman was the scariest you had ever seen Roman, and he took out all his pent up anger of being betrayed onto you, the one person who never thought to betray him.

Once you couldn’t take it anymore, you went to the Judgement Day’s locker room, where you collapsed onto Dom and Rhea and cried into their arms.

“Why does he hate me? What did I do?" You sobbed, your heartache echoing through your tear-stained cheeks. Dom gently wiped away your tears, his eyes filled with empathy as he held you tightly in his lap as Rhea ran her fingers through your hair, her jaw clenched with anger.

Rhea wanted to kill Roman that night, but Dom managed to calm her down.

They promised you that they would keep you safe no matter what, even from your own family.

[fafnir19]

Historical Values

Frank carefully folded his clothes and placed them inside his brown leather sack. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he prepared for the new archaeology project. "I can't believe we're actually going back in time!" he exclaimed to Professor Tendris, who was organizing his own belongings. "It's quite incredible, Frank," the professor responded with a smile. "The university's invention of the time machine is a breakthrough in our field. Now, we have the opportunity to experience history firsthand." "I'm ready for anything!" Frank zipped up his suitcase and hoisted it off the bed. "Living as Alemanni farmers in 507 AD is going to be an adventure." The time machine, no larger than a cell phone, hummed softly as they activated it. In an instant, they were surrounded by a blinding light, and then they found themselves in the year 507 AD, amidst a small Alemanni village.

Frank's heart raced as he took in the sights and sounds of the ancient village. The buildings were made of wood and straw, and the air was filled with the smell of livestock and earth. "This is incredible," Frank whispered, awe-struck. "Indeed," Professor Tendris murmured. "Now, let's blend in and experience life as the Alemanni did." As days passed, Frank and the professor worked the fields, tended to livestock, and engaged with the Alemanni people, immersing themselves in their daily activities. Two and a half weeks in, a thunderous clamor echoed through the village. Frank and Professor Tendris peered out to see Roman legions descending upon the settlement. "We have to go back!" Frank exclaimed, panic rising in his chest. "Quick, into the hut!" Professor Tendris urged, and they hurried to the tiny shelter where they had hidden the time machine. As they reached the hut, legionnaires blocked Frank's path, but Professor Tendris managed to activate the time machine and vanish, leaving Frank stranded. The terror gripped Frank as the Roman soldiers encircled him. He expected the worst, but instead, they took him captive. "What's your name, boy?" a gruff voice demanded as they dragged him through the village. "I-I'm Frank," he stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. "Not anymore, you're not," the soldier spat. "From now on, you're Flavius, slave of Rome." In Rome, Flavius was handed over to a slave trader, who sold him to a gladiator school.

His once blonde hair was now shorn, and he was renamed to fit his new identity. "Here's your new recruit," the trader announced, pushing Flavius forward. Flavius surveyed his surroundings, the harsh voice of the overseer drilling instructions into the other gladiators. The air was thick with the clinking of weapons and the grunts of the fighters. "Welcome to your new home, Flavius," a fellow gladiator muttered as he passed by. "Better get used to the dirt and blood." Flavius was put through rigorous training, his muscles bulging from the intense workouts. His determination drove him to perfect his fighting techniques, but he remained lean compared to the other gladiators. Because he was the weakest, he had to take on tasks that all other gladiators refused, such as feeding the lion. The clink of chains echoed in the dimly lit room as Flavius grabbed the metal pail and hurried to where Leon's enclosure was situated. He poured the chunks of meat into the pail and added a sprinkle of herbs for flavor. The only sound was the rhythmic clinking of chains as Flavius moved through the stone corridors, the weight of slavery heavy on his shoulders. "Such a majestic creature," he whispered, gazing into Leon's golden eyes. The lion paced rhythmically, the thump of his footfalls resonating through the enclosure. With tender, steady hands, Flavius extended the pail through the bars, the metal clinking with the rustle of chains. "Easy, boy," Flavius cooed, ensuring Leon's sustenance. The ritual of feeding Leon was a moment of trust and companionship, a symbol of their shared captivity and the only comfort in their constrained existence. Flavius ​​hoped every day that Tendris would find him and bring him home to the future. But his hope grew smaller day by day.

As the date of his first fight approached, Flavius felt a surge of fear. The overseer's voice boomed across the arena, announcing a battle to the death between 25 gladiators and a lion, with only the top four survivors. "You're going to be lion food, Flavius," the overseer jeered, a cruel smile on his lips. In the arena, the sound of cheering and roaring filled the air as the battle commenced. Flavius fought valiantly, his every move accompanied by the clash of weapons and the gasps of the audience. The lion lunged at him, and Flavius found himself pinned to the ground, the weight of the beast bearing down on him. "Agh!" he cried out, struggling beneath the lion's ferocious grip. Flavius regretted feeding the lion in the past! Just when he thought it was the end, the unexpected happened. For a moment, the arena fell silent as the lion hesitated, its low growl reverberating through the space. The lion let Flavius free. "What's going on?!" Flavius gasped in disbelief. The unexpected turn stunned the spectators, and Flavius seized the opportunity, mounting the lion and riding into battle.

The crowd erupted in a combination of gasps and cheers as Flavius and the lion fought as a team, vanquishing their opponents. From then on, Flavius had a cell to himself, which he shared with the lion  named Leon. The growls and purrs of the majestic creature became a soothing lullaby in the quiet of the night. "Leon, my friend," Flavius hummed, leaning against the bars of the cell as Leon purred in response.

As he earned victories in the arena, Flavius caught the attention of Senator Sixtus, who admired his bravery and skill. "I've purchased you," Senator Sixtus informed Flavius, a glint in his eyes. "You and your lion, Leon. You shall come to my villa and serve as entertainment for my guests."

At Sixtus' villa, Flavius and Leon were tasked with serving as extravagant entertainment for Sixtus' opulent parties, serving to the guests' frivolous pleasures. "Meet my newest acquisition," Senator Sixtus announced, a proud smile gracing his features as Flavius and Leon entered the grand hall. Flavius hesitated, unsure of the etiquette and he was morally hesitant about the frivol encounters between the guests an him.   After a while he enjoyed the opportunities and pleasured man an women alike.

"You fight like a hero, Flavius. Are you a hero in bed as well?" a lady asked, her laughter chiming in the air “I don’t need a bed to be your hero. Let’s enjoy the hero right here,” Flavius replied, a smirk forming on his lips. He became the epitome of lust and pleasure.

Senator Sixtus observed Flavius with a mixture of pride and amusement, intrigued by the newfound confidence and charm that Flavius exuded. "You are the epitome of vigor and pleasure," Senator Sixtus complimented, eyes twinkling. "Perhaps I shall find other roles for you in my household." With time, Flavius found himself adapting to his new life, embracing the indulgences and extravagance of Senator Sixtus' villa. "You've become quite the sensation, Flavius," Senator Sixtus remarked, his hand resting on Flavius' shoulder. "But I sense a restlessness in you." "I desire to engage my mind," Flavius said, surprising the senator with his words. "There must be more to life than mere entertainment." Senator Sixtus nodded thoughtfully and arranged for a private tutor to educate Flavius, recognizing his potential for growth.

The bond between Flavius and Sixtus deepened, and Flavius began to wield a certain dominance over the other slaves, echoing the authority of Senator Sixtus. "You surpass expectations, my dear Flavius," Senator Sixtus acknowledged, a sense of paternal pride in his voice. "Thank you, Senator," Flavius replied, a title of endearment that had gradually slipped into his vocabulary. As months passed, Senator Sixtus approached Flavius with a proposition. "You have proven yourself as more than a slave. I shall adopt you as my son, and you shall carry my name." Flavius was speechless, the weight of the honor settling upon him. He had seamlessly integrated into the Roman way of life, the values and customs now intrinsic to his being. "I am honored, Father," Flavius uttered, a sense of belonging and acceptance blossoming within him.

In the midst of revelry and frivolity, a house slave interrupted, announcing the arrival of a visitor named Tendris, stirring a flicker of recognition in Flavius' mind. "I shall receive him at once," Flavius declared, excitement lacing his words. "Tendris shall witness the life of a true Roman senator's son." At the grand dining hall, Flavius welcomed Tendris, exuding the confidence and refinement of a nobleman. "Tendris, you must partake in the splendid feast with us," Flavius insisted, gesturing towards the lavish spread before them.

Tendris took a seat, regarding Flavius with a mix of disappointment and concern as they dined. "I find your behavior troubling, Flavius. This is not the life you should lead," Tendris remarked, his tone solemn. At the end of the evening, Tendris took Flavius aside and reprimanded him for his frivolous behavior and condescending treatment of the slaves. "You don't understand, Tendris. This is the way of life in this era," Flavius argued, growing offended. "These modern moral concepts like human rights and wokenes hold no significance here, Tendris," Flavius declared, his resolve hardening. "I am a Roman senator's son, and this is my life."

The following day, Tendris returned, determination etched on his features as he stood before Flavius. "It's time to leave this era behind, Flavius." "No," Flavius spat, the weight of his decision palpable in the air. "You shall return to your woke future without me. I am here to stay." Tendris hesitated, his gaze meeting Flavius' defiant stare. "You must reconsider, Flavius. This is not where you belong." "I belong wherever I choose to," Flavius asserted, his voice unwavering. "If you remain here in ten minutes, I shall have you thrown to the lions in the arena!" Tendris's eyes narrowed in resignation, and with a heavy heart, he activated the time machine, leaving Flavius to his chosen path.

Flavius relinquished the vestiges of his past and embraced the decadence and extravagance of his new life, reveling in every indulgence and luxury that came his way. The sounds of revelry, laughter, and pleasure filled the grand halls of Senator Sixtus' villa, echoing the reassuring rhythm of a life firmly embraced. And as the days melded into nights, Flavius, the former  archaeology student, became indistinguishable from the Roman nobility, his laughter and gaiety resounding through the lavish estate, a testament to his complete surrender to the decadence of ancient Rome.   

[vclvetfleur]

Obedient Chapter 5

roman roy x fem! reader

Summary: You and Roman decide to celebrate his small achievement at his apartment over 2 bottles of wine.

Warnings: hints at ED, crude jokes

Word Count : 3.8K

Notes: Alright I needed to be kind to you after the last chapter of the series. Also I can't believe I posted 5 chapters already.

Chapter 5: Parking Lot drop off

After Roman spent a good long while gloating in Kendall’s face, you decided it was enough. You were going to celebrate. Just like you promised him earlier. You both were going to celebrate together. Just you and him and possibly a drink. He needed this.

You both ended at his apartment. This was your first time ever seeing him apartment actually. The location was incredible though. He lived in one the skyscrapers that made up New York City's skyline in Lincoln Square. It was just a 5 minute walk away from Central Park.  But something told you that Roman didn’t ever take walks around the city. Why would he? He didn’t need to.

You walked in, expecting the most from it, and were still blown away by his apartment. You walked through the front door and were visited by a long hallway with the entire right wall being a window out to the city. This hallway pretty made up your studio apartment, credit your apartment was small, only having 2 rooms, your living room/kitchen and your bathroom. But your living area was pretty large enough to fit all your stuff in it. But you weren’t ready for the rest of the apartment.

You were completely amazed by how someone could live in something like this. Someone came in and slept here every night. “I get why you never come to the office now.” You were only halfway joking.

Now the living room. That was something else to see. The couch was practically as big as a king sized bed. The walls were either some kind of fancy wood or just a window. And there was a bookshelf full of book, you doubted Roman even read before. You tried not to gawk at it too much. You couldn’t even believe he had a staircase either. There was another fucking floor.

Roman barely paid you any mind though. He just needed to get out of this suit. He pulled his suit jacket off, laying it on top of his couch, undoing his tie and throwing it right onto of his jacket. He undid his shirt a bit so he could breathe better. He was finally relaxed. Not entirely, he never was fully relaxed, but relaxed enough and comfortable enough with you here.

“Okay you can finish scanning for blind spots to rob me at night.” He scolded you, grabbing a bottle from a small cabinet he had with wines in it. He had two glasses in his hand while he settled on the couch. You joined him, kicking your shoes off, pulling your legs up as you practically curled up onto the couch. It was insanely comfortable. You grabbed a glass from him as he twisted the cork open. He poured you a glass before himself.

“Well fortunately for you, I couldn’t find any blind spots.” You took a sip of your wine, resting your head on your arm. You wouldn’t stop looking over at the view. He had such an amazing view of the city. You could practically see the top of most buildings in New York from here. “Well offer is still on the table if you wanted to live with me.” He hinted again. He wasn’t super amused by his apartment. It was just another thing to show off to people. He mainly only did it to seem better than Kendall. Once Kendall and Rava split up, Roman got this apartment because Kendall got his new apartment. He just wanted to one up him in some way. Kendall’s was 29 million, so Roman needed to get something more expensive and higher. Something with a better view. So, he settled for a 38 million dollar apartment. Right across the park from him. Kendall was on the east side while Roman was on the west side of Manhattan.

“Roman.” You exhaled. Your head fell, looking up before looking at him with your answer. It wasn’t going to happen. Ever.

“Jeez alright fuck you. I don’t wanna live with you anyways, probably would give me Gonorrhea or whatever the fuck.” His only defense was a joke.

He always tried to make jokes to cover up whenever he was serious about something. He just wanted to keep people guessing. No one took him serious anyways. Why would they?

“I’m pretty sure between the two of us, you’ve actually gotten or have Gonorrhea.” You striked back before pouring yourself another glass. You weren’t a wine person, but it wasn’t too bad. You were celebrating anyways.

“Oh ya, that must be why I’ve been bleeding out of my dick for a week. I just thought I finally hit womanhood.” He snickered behind his glass. You stared over at him, just enjoying his company.

It was nice. Calm. Nothing to stress the other one out. This was just a moment of contentment that you both shared together in this room. No pressure from work or professionalism.

“You’re a fucking idiot Rome.” You shook your head. That must’ve been the first time you ever called him that. Everyone close to him did. And by close, you meant his siblings or certain people who worked for his dad like Gerri. It caught him off guard for a bit, but he was happy to hear you call him that. It made him feel just a bit closer to you.

“Yeah… I know.” His lips allowed themselves to grow into a soft smile. His eyes were glued to you.

He didn’t care about what or who you were before he met you. Which he usually did. He never really talked to anyone he thought was below him. He had deep rooted classism heavily taught to him, and he never unlearned it, he wasn’t planning to either. But you made him kind of finally see there was no real difference.

But that’s not why he was staring. Not cause he was even thinking about the difference of class between you two. But because he thought you were one of the most gorgeous people he has ever met in his life. The way your hair fell, to the shape of your lips, to how you moved your hands when you talked quick enough. Or even just the way you talked to him. Like an equal. Someone with worth. You were harsh, but behind it, you had such a soft and caring tone to you. Everything about you made him just feel an almost, kind of obsession. You were never something he looked for, he never was really looking for anything or anyone. But here you were. In front of him. Laughing and giggling at all of his jokes and making fun of him back. Celebrating his dumb achievements with him. He wanted you. Bad. But he had so much fear of messing it up that it held him back.

“Aren’t you gonna call me a terrible assistant?” You tried to break the silence that fell onto both of you.

You didn’t mind the silence though. It wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. You didn’t need to speak to each other to fill the emptiness in the room. Despite all of the amazing artwork and other things Roman had in his apartment, they barely existed in the scheme of things. When there was just you and him either talking or not, he was the only thing even grabbing your attention. You tried to move your eyes to look at other things, but that calming effect the city and the light usually had on you was now replaced with Roman. The same calming comfort.

“No... I don’t need to. Cause you did it for me.” His laugh was so weird but so infectious. It wasn’t really like a normal laugh. Logan even once compared it to a hyena. But whenever you heard it, it made you wanna laugh along with. It was usually stifled or muffled. Or broken in between his words. Like he was so excited to tell the next joke. Or say the next thing that popped into his head.

You flipped him off, his hand smacking your hand down. His hand never left yours though once he dragged it down. You stared at him for a bit before pulling your hand away from his. It was too weird. It was too intimate for you.

You used to not be a very affectionate person, swearing off all kinds of touch from whoever. But as you had gotten older and into more relationships, you seemed to relax. Now you did enjoy affection. But sometimes that old habit came back. And right now, with the comfort, and with Roman, and the light, and the wine, it felt too intimate. Too much. You didn’t want to ruin it with Roman either. Even if you didn’t want to admit to yourself it was more about your crush on him than anything else. How could you not at this point?

The way you looked at him and the way you saw him, like actually saw him, was all it took for you to even realize it. But you were in denial about it. Like most of your crushes. You never wanted to admit that vulnerability to yourself.

And first off, you weren’t even allowed to have a crush on him. He was your boss. On every level, you were beneath him. And you didn’t want that kind of attention. So, you need to suppress these feelings as much as possible.

And second off, look at him. He wasn’t really the most conventionally attractive person you’ve met. He was odd looking, he was short, he was weird and disgusting and he wasn’t the most respectful person ever . He was rude and arrogant and selfish. He was the worst person you’ve ever met. Second. Logan had to be the first. But you saw a lot of good qualities in him. Even in his appearance. Every part of his face made sense together. It would look odd on others, but they made sense on his face. Especially when he laughed. You couldn’t explain your attraction to him. Maybe cause you didn’t think you were too different. He was good company. He made you laugh. He made you smile. And he did go out of his way to do certain things. Like getting you the dresses for the party. He knew you wouldn’t have a clue on what to wear. You didn’t even own anything expensive enough to wear at the party. But he had it covered. He was gonna make sure you were comfortable enough. It backfired though when he humiliated you. He had his moments.

“Uh- so how are you settling in now?” He asked. He wanted to know; genuinely. See. He had his moments.

“I’ve been settling in fine. I think it was difficult a bit at first with you not showing up a lot, but everyone’s been super nice. I even met your cousin the other day in the break room.” You mentioned. Roman shifted a bit. He tried to think on what cousin that worked there before he finally remembered the tall dufus who got hired merely on the bases of coming out of the vagina of his dad’s brothers nutsack. Not that he was any better. He just came from the CEO’s nutsack. Granted Logans brother use to be CEO, before Logan fucked him over and practically stole it from Ewan. “He was such a sweetheart.” You praised. A hint of jealousy kind of took over Roman once he heard the compliment leave your lips.

“Yea except for the fact he’s fucking useless. You know I think him and my sister’s husband are fucking. I see them together more than him and Shiv.” Roman began to start a rumor out of pure jealousy and envy. He knew they weren’t actually fucking. Tom was Shiv’s little lap dog. If she said sit, he would do 5 other tricks just to impress her and then sit. He was at her feet all the time. “I wouldn’t be shocked, they’re in an open marriage. I actually dated this blonde Tom fucked at his bachelor party.” He tried to brag. Your face scrunched up in disgust at the thought of dating or fucking someone else that your brother or sister in law also fucked.

“Jesus Roman.” You murmur.

“No come on. It was afterwards. It was some sex party. It’s fine” He tried to blur the lines of how fucking odd that was. He didn’t know how to back peddle his way into making this any less weird than it was. “They didn’t even technically fuck. He just came in her mouth.” He tried to reason. Somehow it was way worse.

“In that case, I don’t want to share a glass with you.” You teased.

“Oh yea?” He asked, his eyebrows raised. He grabbed your glass before licking the entire rim of it. You let out a squeal, screaming his name before he handed it back to you. “You’re so fucking gross.” You whined, getting up to get a new glass from his cabinet.

“Oh, come on, it was so long ago. I should be more worried than you. You can’t act like you haven’t had cum in your mouth before. I bet you let someone cum on your face last month.” He sipped the last bit of his drink before getting up with you to get a new bottle as well.

“Why are you so obsessed with the idea of people cumming on my face?” You jokingly asked. It was mentioned maybe once after you accused him of the same. But it was fun putting Roman on the spot like that. The thing about Roman is, whatever he said, no matter how insane it was, no one knew if he was lying or telling the truth. Only cause what he said all the time was so outrageous. Even the night of the party. Jess calling up Kendall’s dealer. He said it as if it was a joke, but Jess and him knew it was true. It was kind of an open secret. But you hadn’t been working there long enough to know that yet.

“Cause I wanna see what it looks like with cum on your face.” He answered, grabbing another bottle of wine. He helped you find another glass, nonchalantly.

“Roman, you are one of the nastiest people I’ve ever had the misfortune of meeting.” You grabbed the glass from him. You rarely ever took him seriously. No one did. Roman always said shocking things to get a reaction. “Let’s not pretend like you don’t want to fuck me too.” He fired back at you. You rolled your eyes at him, assuming that’d shut him up. Reality was, you did. “Follow me. I wanna show off how rich I am.” He led you towards his balcony. You were looked around, getting an entire view of the city. You could see most of it from where you stood. The balcony went around most of his apartment.

Roman sat down on some chairs he had outside, and you followed. Your eyes watched the skylines and then down to the floor. You could barely see people, but you could hear how noisy everything was, all the yelling and the honking and street noises and laughter. It brought a sense of happiness to you. You never imagined being somewhere like this to even see this kind of view of the city.

“You’re not gonna jump, are you?” Roman asked, breaking your gaze from the city to him. You shook your head no.

You both decided to just spend the night together, laughing and drinking. It had gotten too cold outside, and you both went back inside the house where you continued your night. Before you knew it, it was 3 am and you both had fallen asleep. Your head laid onto his shoulder as he was slumped on the couch, his head leaning on yours. Your legs scrunched up and near him. You both kept each other at a distance yet were close to one another.

You woke up to Roman still asleep on the couch next to you. You shot up from the couch, still careful not to wake him. You searched the apartment for your phone before finally finding it. It was dead. Fuck. You found Romans to look up the time. 7:43 am. Fuck. You both have to be in the office in just over an hour. Roman could make it on time. You weren’t sure you could. Your apartment had to be at least 30 minutes away from Romans apartment and then the time it took you to get ready and then go back to the office would take an extra 50 minutes. You grabbed your shoes before hearing a sneaky comment being made right behind you.

“Oh no, did we have a one night stand that we can’t take back?” Roman voice coarse and not as energetic as it usually was. Your line tightened in a thin line before looking over at him.

“I need to get home so I can get ready for work.” You tried to explain. You hadn’t even looked at your makeup yet. it had to look awful after sleeping in it.

“Just get ready here.” Roman shrugged, getting up from the couch finally. He stretched before finally settling. “You know I can’t Rome.” You tried to reason with him. “Yea yea you don’t want people thinking you’re a whore who’s fucking her boss even though that’s exactly what you are.” He headed to his kitchen to make himself a coffee. “Look, i'll send my driver. You won’t be late. Just have coffee with me in the meantime.” He was ready to beg. He sent a quick text to his driver before grabbing you another mug.

“Fine. Uh- Can I just charge my phone?” You asked. Roman nodded and you panicked to find one. You found one and plugged your phone, waiting for it to turn on. “Hey, can you get the fuck up and make your coffee?” He called out to you. You pulled away from the phone and went to Roman. You searched his fridge for milk, not finding a plant based milk. Not shocking to you. In all honesty you couldn’t find much in his fridge. He had just milk for his coffee, water bottles, alcohol and some fruit. Not much. It reminded you of your own fridge.

“Do I not have any milk? Oh god you’re not one of those environmental fucking hippies that only drink dirt and eat grass.” He scoffed. You didn’t have the heart to tell him. You shook your head and sipped on your coffee.

You decided to sit with Roman for a while before the driver got here. You put your cup into the washer for him before leaving the penthouse. And off you went home. Despite the harsh morning yesterday, you do think you found it in your heart to forgive Roman for the party. You just couldn’t tell him.

You removed your makeup and charged your work iPad while getting ready once again to see Roman. And off you were to work. This was so much easier than taking the subway. And way faster than the train from your neighborhood to FiDi. You even had time to get yourself a coffee you’d actually enjoy drinking. You ordered for one for Roman too. He thankfully was on his way from work since you woke him up early. You sat in his office and reviewed your notes. You had been texting Jess all morning. You were planning on finding a new wardrobe for yourself since you were finally getting paid today. Actually, you didn’t even check your paycheck yet. You didn’t want to. You were scared.

Roman burst into the room, grabbing the latte you left for him, taking a sip. “Wait let me see yours.” He insisted, grabbing yours to see the sticker on it saying oat. “God you’re even more pretentious than me. I can’t believe you lied to me.” Romans laugh stifled before setting it back down. He wouldn’t stop mocking as he even went into a bit on you ordering the coffee for yourself, feminizing himself in a terrible offensive way. “Rome. Quit it.” You tried to stop him, but you were too busy laughing at him, which only encouraged him more. He actually seemed excited to work with you. He was still incredibly lazy, but less lazy now that he had someone pushing him to actually do stuff for him. No wonder his dad and brother had assistants. That must be why they got so much work done. Or Roman was just trying to impress you.

You just spent most of your time sitting back after Roman went to meeting after meeting, but he just went you texts the entire time. You and Jess sat back during a meeting together while Roman and Kendall worked on their meeting together. “What are you laughing at?” Jess smiled, looking over at your phone. She was glad to see you so happy after the party. Though she wasn’t too happy about the whole Kendall Roman thing yesterday, it wasn’t on you. It was purely between them. Beside Jess adored you and you adored her. She couldn’t ever take that on you, even if Kendall made her do more work and went off on some emotional roller coaster. All she could think was; at least it wasn’t Roman.

“Nothing. Just a text.” You reassured her before putting your phone away. But Jess saw another text from Roman pop up. She didn’t have the nerve to bring it up. But she saw your face light up and your smile return as you answered it. Oh god. Not you. She was in complete horror. Not you and Roman. The thought disgusted her. As it would with anyone.

“Alright, so where are we going after work?” She wondered. “Do you want to get dinner too?” She offered. She knew about your past issues; she knew how you were still. You ate, just you really took it out on yourself whenever you did not eat as good as you wanted. It was a vicious cycle you went through. But you were doing good enough to get dinner tonight with Jess. You nodded and began to go over your plans of where you wanted to go shopping.

She was excited for you. You seemed happier. You were lighter on your feet. You were laughing more. You were kind of miserable when you first started, but you got the hang of it fairly quick with Roman. And now you actually had a job rather than stressing yourself out about your qualities and skills and not understanding why you couldn’t find anything. You were not in panic mode anymore.

Your heads turned, hearing Kendall and Roman leave together. “Fucking twat.” Roman said loud enough for Kendall but low enough for the board and investors.

“Sorry Jess, I’ll see you again after the parking lot drop off.” You joked before Jess followed Kendall and you followed Roman.

“What the fuck is a parking lot drop off?” Roman asked.

Chapter 6

[galaxygirl-katie27]

Alito Redesign

(Click for better quality)

More notes under the cut!

-I actually really like Alito‘s human design, so I didn’t change too much about it. I kept his white greyish pants and his red top, but left some buttons open. I also wrapped up his sleeves, so it looks like he’s always ready to fist fight someone.

-I gave him some more gold accessories and an expensive watch, which was a birthday gift from Merag, since the Kamishiro‘s are still mad rich and she knows he likes to feel fancy.

-He also does boxing as a hobby, because he still has his massive fighting spirit. He trains together with Girag, sometimes Nasch and Mizael too

-His hair covers up his right eye because it‘s partly blind and he can’t really see through it. It‘s also way lighter than his left eye, so people who see it may confuse it with heterochromia at first.

-The story about hs eye goes a bit back. As we know Alito had been a roman gladiator. He was very young when first fighting in the colosseum, about 14-16. He and his mother had been living as slaves, when their owner offered them a deal. Alito wins a match in the colosseum and they’re free. What he didn’t know is that he’d be fighting against a live lion. No one expected him to succeed, but against everyone’s belief, he beat the lion with his bare fights, but in no way coming out unharmed. He got several scratches from the lion, and also lost his right eye. The reigning emperor had been so impressed by him, that he immediately offered him and his mother a big place to stay near the palace. Under the condition that he would continue to fight as a gladiator, as the emperor enjoyed his fighting spirit.

-Over the years Alito had become one of, if not the most known gladiator in all of the Roman Empire, as the lion-fist. He never used any weapons, he fought and won each and every one of of his matches. Except of course his battles with the emperor himself, which always ended in ties.

-And I know what some of you are thinking. Yes, I think he had romantic feelings for the emperor, maybe even was in a romantic relationship with him. Which made his betrayal even harder for Alito, as he couldn’t understand how his beloved could ever do something like this to him.

-He was also the oldest amongst the barians to die. In other words, he lived the longest, up to 32 years.

-I made his hair shorter, so it would be more practical to fight and he grew a beard over the years

-His armour was also a custom made order from the emperor, as a gift to Alito and sort of as a sign, that he was the emperor‘s favourite gladiator.

-Alito gave all the prize money, that he won in the tournaments to his mother, so she could live an easy life. After Alito’s execution and after the emperor came back to his senses he made sure to treat Alito‘s mother to best life he could possibly give a as some kind of compensation for his grave mistake. But he felt guilty for the rest of his life. (He probably also threw the guys that framed Alito into the lion den or some shit, they definitely paid for what they did)

[thesamoanqueen]

Blackwater XI

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: smut, threats to an innocent special counsel, someone snapped again, Roman is Roman and I could go on.

A/N: quoting a poor samoan twin “its a mess”

For some strange reason she still hadn't figured out, her she-wolf had stopped talking over a month ago, but as soon as the trial story came out Y/N had started hearing her again and neither the morning's run nor suppressors had shushed her.

We need him. He's our mate.

- It's clear, shut up now - she sighed exasperated, as if that were enough.

The trial had caught her unprepared and she hated it, because nine times out of ten nothing good happened if she wasn't in control. She thought she found security, stability and everything had shaken in just half a day. She hadn't liked finding out that Roman was hiding something, much less getting involved in matters she knew nothing about. She had always looked after herself in those years, always ten steps ahead of anyone, she had always known what to do to avoid ending up with her back in a corner and on that occasion Roman had done it for her. He'd been wrong to cut her off, but he'd also protected what they had and she couldn't be mad about that.

The mere idea that something similar could happen again had put her on defensive, Y/N however was tired of trying and mostly, what she had said to him also applied to herself. There were questions she wanted to ask, answers she wanted to know. They had to keep the bond together though and if he shielded her, she might as well turn a blind eye to the rest, trust him when he said not to worry. And she honestly wanted to do it, now more than ever so as not to lose what she seemed to get back after a lifetime of running away and avoiding everything.

Mate! Mate!

Without even realizing it, she had ended up in the home office and just seeing him made her shoulders sag with a sigh. A month and a half ago she would have wanted nothing more than to run to the other side of the world to stay as far away from him as possible and now instead she was looking for him for comfort. It took only a few seconds and Y/N saw him turn, his gaze softening, as she approached.

- How was your run? – he asked, leaving a folder on his desk and Y/N softly clicked her tongue.

She loved running, it made her feel complete, relaxed and since their bond had taken a good turn, Y/N took advantage of every inch of his reserve to let off her energy. That morning though, running hadn't helped either, as had everything else, but there was no need to talk about it with him after the way he'd refused to say anything the night before.

- I went all the way to the warehouse, I thought you'd showed up at some point

- I had some business to take care of before work– he confessed and Y/N found herself staring confused at the folder he was handing her.

She had said she wanted to help him, that she was ready to do anything, but she didn't expect much after that scene. And she certainly wasn't expecting what was inside the folder, when she finally brought herself to open it and look. There were heading pages with the Bloodline and state logo, dozens of names she didn't know, articles she'd have to look up to figure out exactly what they were legally referring to, Roman's signature under every single page.

-It's a property deed – she finally acknowledged, while Roman pulled her onto his lap, stroking her back and legs with full palms and a serious look.

- An impromptu businessman wanted to build a wellness center there, I think, after winning the property during an auction. He sold it to me anyway - he said, and Y/N stopped short, looking in disbelief from the plan on one of the pages to Roman.

Mate takes care of us. Our mate.

She knew that floor plan. It had been years, but she had spent so much time inside it in her memories, that she couldn't believe it was physically in her hands. It couldn't be true, he had…

- I don't want you to go there, you heard me? Your place now its here, this is your home and you’ll stay here with me. But… maybe one day, if you want, we could renovate it and go see the house together.

Speechless, she traced the walls perimeter with her eyes, remembering exactly every window and door, the crooked steps that led to the garden, the back hillside that went down to the strip drawn on the paper where she used to play. Roman had really done it. He had found and bought her old house. She didn't know how or when, but Roman had done it for her and Y/N physically clung to him with every fiber of her body.

Mine. Mate-

Her wolf's voice disappeared when his hands pulled her better on top of him, holding her hips, squeezing her ass, while she crashed her mouth on him trying to take as much as she could, abandoning the folder who knows where in what didn't even begin as a chaste kiss. She heard him growl hoarsely, as he had every morning for over a month and she rocked on top of him, rubbing against his firm chest without holding back, warmth building rapidly like their awakenings. She moaned into his mouth, sucking Roman’s taste, tracing his bottom lip with her tongue, nails scratching the back of his neck guiding him toward her even though there was no need to.

- I own you one… thank you - she murmured softly, noses touching and watched his smile bend into a dangerous grin, eyes darkest than before.

- I've a perfect reward in mind - he laughed low, hands running down her thighs, to lift her and place her on the desk, moving away without the slightest care whatever was on top.

- Take it, its yours…

The grin on his face seemed to widen again, dangerous and so did her legs as Roman plunged his head into her neck, biting and marking her sensitive skin, his huge body wedged into hers. She had never wanted to hold, claim, fuck and feel anyone so badly before him and it was an emotion that amazed and frightened her every time, but it was just a shiver from the past, a thought in her mind for how hard life had been with her that faded as Y/N hands felt his body against her skin, the tension in his muscles, the raw growl of his voice in her ears. She moved her hips, following the thrusts of his pelvis, encouraging that almost unnatural sound that arose from Roman chest as he heard her gasp and threw her head back. One of his big hands pushed her down, while the other fumbled with his pants and Y/N admired him with watery eyes, chest that seemed about to burst, her belly contracted as she saw his free manhood. She curled her legs behind his perfect ass, but Roman pulled them up over his shoulders, pinning her down and with her breath already ragged before they started, Y/N gripped his arm, kissing along Roman’s jaw, beard, until she found his mouth again.

- F-Fuck ahn! – she breathed already broken, feeling him force his way into her and Roman resting his forehead letting out a moan even more menacing, when she kissed his face with not a single regret.

***

Standing in back parking of the shop he made a face seeing his brother throw the door open, looking furious, fists clenched around nothing. He would have recognized that face anywhere, because it was hard to really piss Jimmy off, but this one, he putted that on only for one person since they were four and none of them had been four in a while but the face was there.

- He called you too? - he asked even if there was no need and in his eyes, his own dark eyes, Jey saw a shadow that made him bite his tongue.

The right arm is not the left.

It had become a habit in the family to distinguish them for the wrong reasons.

- He sent a message. “Please don't fail again” Fail again? I'm tired of this story Uce, we lost for a mess that he started and now he treats us like this?!

- We got screwed. We have to do it and fix it - he reminded them both and Jimmy said no almost to the point of wringing his neck.

- Hell no! He put us in this story, he has it inside his freakin head and every time we have to go ahead for everyone. We haven't even unpacked our bags and he makes the wiseman look for us like two hoes? We are not at his disposal, we are a family! It must be mutual! And here the only ones to sacrifice everything are us instead! He's been avoiding us for months! - he spat out, not even bothering to lower his voice and Jey crashed his hand against the door, trying to do what he could even knowing they were among friends there.

How they got to that point he didn't know. A few months before everything was fine, everything was normal, in that normality they had established for years and the second after something in their mechanism broke. And more days went by, worse the situation got for everyone, bringing to light bad moods and old fights that at any other time they would have put aside. He wasn't good with these stuff, he wasn't good at looking for answers, but he cared about his family more than anything else. And now his family was a mess.

- And what else you wanna do? What we should do?! - he said, hands pressed to his head, physically trying to stop the pain he felt growing.

- I want answers, he has to say it to ma face. That's how families work!

Jimmy was right. A family had to be a safe place with people who accept you and support you, who don't slam the door in your face if you make a mistake or fail. People willing to push you when you can't do it alone, willing to do anything for you. A pack supporting each other to survive together. They had raised all of them like this, like brothers, and that was how Jey wanted to go-on, but to do so they had to remind it to Uce and that was easier said than done now that things were going wrong.

- Are you coming with me there or not? - Jimmy called him back and only at that moment Jey realized that he still had his hand on the door and was blocking him.

- It's not a good idea to go there – he replied immediately, mind running at full speed.

- We have no beef with her, brother. She’s family, ain’t like him.

They would have put her in the way as soon as they stepped out of the car, meeting her or not. He would have taken it badly, he would have seen it as a threat, like that morning they went to look for him after the trial. Jey knew what was going through his head, he knew him.

- If you don't come, I'll go by myself - he heard Jimmy suddenly announce and his shoulders sagged instantly, while his hand slipped away from the door.

***

All his life he had tried only to have his worth proved, to make his family proud and to show everyone who had called him a dog wrong they were. He wasn't proud of the choices he'd made a few times, but they'd gotten him where he was now, guaranteed that role and secured it. They had been sacrifices that he had had to make and that he had chosen to do, sacrifices that few others would have guts to bear. It had taken years to get something back, but now he had everything and was ready to do the impossible to keep it.

He had screwed up when he could. He had learned from those mistakes and when the time came, he had stopped making mistakes. The hard work had paid off, allowed him to be ten steps ahead of everyone, take his pack with him to the top, secure everything for his family. And a hitch, transformed into an error and then into incapacity, was enough to put everything at risk.

The notification reached him as always, louder than it should have been inside the suv he'd been in and out of for most of his day, but Roman ignored it as he had done for months now.

For every attempt, he had given an opportunity back, and with every opportunity they had failed. Anyone else in their place would have ended up badly, but they were his family despite everything and he had been generous. So generous that he didn't act even after the trial, his trial, even after he found out they were talking to the elders, when he should have been the only one doing it. They had questioned his authority, had weakened his position within and outside the family, and now he had to bear even the disrespects of packs of idiots who believed they could wrest control out of his hands as they had with his cousins.

In another moment he would have found it almost funny, but not in this one. Not when he had other, more important things in his mind, when he had kept Y/N from going down the wrong path almost for miracle. The thought of her prompted him to take his phone, leaving a message to warn her of tonight's plans, and dial another number.

Roman had managed to convince her not to think about that story, but he knew that it would not last long with that little head she had and he had no intention of seeing the trust gained burn again as it had almost happened the day before. He needed her to understand how things really were, he needed her to know she was on the right side. With Y/N and his status, he had too much to lose now.

He heard the line drop and let out an impatient growl. When he shifted his attention from the phone to the driving mirror, Solo was staring at him, his face impassive as always, body motionless in the front seat of the big suv.

- Call the wiseman, we have to pass by a place before going back home.

He could have cut the air with a knife and he didn’t like it.

***

She had risked spending the whole day with that plan in her hands, looking and relooking all those pages and that old house miles away from her as the best Christmas present for a little girl, but she had calmed down at a certain point. She'd spent the rest of the time with the album that Roman had placed on the desk where they'd had sex and that she'd carried around instead of the plan until he wrote he was coming back and Y/N had to get ready for another date.

Those dates had become as habitual as their sex before breakfast — often even during and after it — and honestly, Y/N loved those moments because no matter what they were doing, they had a value to her. Like a special routine she'd never had before with no one else.

The noise of some voices outside distracted her enough to interrupt the flow of her thoughts while waiting for Roman to finish getting ready, but when it was joined by the crash of something banging her senses fully snapped, sending her across the living-room without waiting any longer. She had learned over the years in unpleasant ways, when it was appropriate to take an opposite direction and when not, but Roman kept saying that this was her home now and Y/N more, recognized those voices. When she stepped out into the garden, they were both already getting back into the car, but Y/N would have recognized that mullet anywhere by now. Watching the suv almost uproot a bush and leave a visible mark on the lawn, she approached Paul, who stood there with a more tense expression than usual.

- Why didn't the twins come in? - she asked, sensing a trail of their bad mood that vanished before she could even finish speaking, along with their car.

She hadn't seen or spoken to them in over a month. She had overheard a few hurried messages saying they wanted a call back, but Roman had never done so in front of her and even though Paul was always holding the damn red phone in his hand, she hadn't been able to hear them even from there. Seeing them, even if in a rush, brought back something else Naomi had said days before and maybe she still remembered what had happened, but that run didn’t smell well for her.

- They were busy. The Bloodline territory must be monitored continuously to maintain the position that our Tribal Chief has conquered with his sacrifices. It takes perseverance and a continuous effort to stay on top – Paul explained, after a second too long by his standards, absently running his hand over the suit as if he wanted to fix it.

Y/N's gaze followed his fingers straightening the pocket handkerchief, phone clutched in one palm with the screen off, the lines between his eyebrows more evident than usual, his mouth forming that condescending expression he addressed to who he was forced to have to explain something.

Paul was an extraordinarily good puppet master. He was able to convince and manipulate anyone, adapting and making the best of every situation, it was part of his nature as a beta and a unique talent, which Y/N acknowledge in him. But she didn't like that he hadn’t stopped a single day trying to play that game with her as well, to put her in a plan that Y/N didn't want to take a part too.

- They're not two guard dogs - she replied stiffly, watching him feign concern as if her insinuation was too much even for him to listen since he was part of the family.

- I would never dare! I've seen them grow up, no one is like them. Never seen such talents, they are two direct descendants of the wild samoan wolves and its a priority for them to prove the value of the blood that ru-

- They've been away for a whole month, there’s nothing to prove. They should be with their families – she shushed him again, leaving him with his hands hanging in the air and his face twisted.

Wild samoans wolves, legacy, position, blood, Y/N knew by now that traditions were fundamental to them and that they had made them what they were now, but that kind of approach didn’t work if value and rights of her family members were in questions.

Yes, it was her family that was being talked about now.

And she wouldn't have been standing there listening, especially if those turns of phrase came from someone who had been helping Roman for years to eradicate from people's minds the idea that they were savages just because they shifted as easily as they dressed, negotiating for him, traveling with them and sitting at the same table.

- Certainly, without a doubt. But I'm sure you'll understand that supporting the Tribal Chief in this mission is an honor and a great responsibility... no one should know it more than you. We all have different roles, me, you, Solo, the twins, but the goal is to always support him for the sake of the plan of relevancy he has for everyone and without that plan things could get, unpleasant. - he tried again, in what perhaps to many would have seemed a more polite approach, but she was not many and maybe it was the right time to show him how things were.

- Paul, do you know how to shift? – she asked calmly, staring at him and for a second Heyman looked at her in disbelief, the suspicion that she didn't understand clearly written on his pale plump face.

And Y/N was sure he wanted nothing more in the world right now than to verbally demolish her like he would have done with anyone else, but his extraordinary toxic tongue was out of the picture with her, they both knew it. There was only one other way left to clear things between them and omega or not, she had no problem choosing it.

He fluttered her eyelashes theatrically, waiting for his answer like one of those beautiful women he wa able to have by his side in all parts of the country, seeing him physically swallow whatever he wanted to say, his expression exasperated.

- No, but the human approach was still more suited to my abilities, even if I personally find that certain methods are sometimes more effective than others in the right situations - oh, they had something in common in the end, they agreed on that.

- Then I'll make it effective. Try playing me stupid again and your gorgeous ties will be a memory for your neck – she warned him in a low growl, taking a step towards and wedging him against one of the palm trees along the driveway side.

His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, eyes staring at her and than to the hand Y/N had put over him, a strangled sound, panic making his face even whiter as her nails stretched out the expensive fabric of his suit. She clearly felt the fear emanating, sweat rising, heart racing, yet up to a minute ago he'd been standing there talking about wild wolves, legacy, bloodlines.

Mate.

She didn't even remember how many supposed men in her life had tried to manipulate, screw and fuck her, she had lost count. But she knew exactly how many had succeeded: zero. And if he really was the brilliant mind that he seemed, he had better choose well what to do and who to play if she was around or that job as special counsel would be the last of his career.

- Y/N! – she suddenly heard Roman calling from home, loudly, probably not finding her and she moved away from Paul.

- Im here.

She looked him over in silence one last time, before turning to see Roman walking out, his eyes searching her relentlessly as always before locating both, her and Paul. When she reached him his hand slid fast on her hip, pulling her against him, possessively sinking her fingers into her clothes and Y/N softened against him, slowly scratching his arm with her nails in that gesture she had learned for a while to reassure him.

- You’re okay? – he asked softly, leaving a kiss on her temple and Y/N nodded.

- Yes, its okay.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @angelreigns444 @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41 @blkbutterfly816 @spritelucozade

[10yrsy]

Have you ever lost someone before? How did you deal with that?

Faith is.. rocky. I'm rediscovering it after a loss but it's a trust fall I just can't complete fully. How do I know there's an afterlife when I have no signs? How do you just trust?

i’ve dealt with lost, though not to the extent that some people have. but i know how crushing it is. Jesus is the only one that i can turn to for support with loss, and i say this with all seriousness. deep mourning is something that can’t be touched by the physical, and only He can bring comfort spiritually where there’s no comfort.

it’s not blind faith though. why do i believe in Heaven? because i believe what Jesus said and did.

He preached He was the Son of God and the only way to Heaven, He performed miracles, and He raised the dead. ancient historians confirmed He made these claims and miracles. He died on the cross for our sins, and the Romans confirmed His literal death. He was buried and on the third day His grave was empty, confirmed by his enemies the Pharisees. and He rose to life again and appeared to over 500 witnesses, including His apostles, who were brutally murdered for their accounts of this. you don’t die for a lie if you know it’s a lie, especially if you have nothing to gain.

He fulfilled over 300 prophecies of the Old Testament, that were written thousands of years before He was born (which is statistically should be impossible.) billions of people have testified to being radically and completely changed by faith in Him over the last 2000 years. and that’s barely scratching the surface of all the evidence God has left for us.

so when Jesus said, “There are many rooms in My Father’s house. If it were not so, would I have told you I am going to prepare a place for you? When everything is ready, I will come and get you, so you will always be with me where I am” (John 14:2-3), i believe Him. the only way to combat mourning is hope, and the Blessed Hope of eternal life with the Lord is a solid foundation to rest on.

“The Lord is close to the broken hearted; He rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” (Psalm 34:18). “God blesses those who mourn for they will be comforted.” (Matthew 5:4) ✝️💙

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[moonmaiden1996]

Summoned Part Three

Discretion Advised 18 ++

Warning smut of minor characters.

In total, eight golden apples had been given, including your own. None of your fellow beings hung around, either insulted by their lack of an apple or not wanting to outstay their welcome. Lord Morpheus had not always been known as the most hospitable of Gods. For most it was the first time that they had be graced with a visit to the dreaming. 

Without the crowds, the palace was empty, isolated. In the distance, the vivid prairies of the Dreaming seemed almost magical, like the time before the first war and every so often, the winds would carry to sounds of the visitors, the pureness of humanity as it had once been. Yet it gave you no comfort. You were trapped out on the edge of billions of dreams, trapped by wolves, vipers and vultures, ready to attack in one swift movement.  

After all, that is what you would do. You had been a Goddess long enough to know how it worked. The King wanted that; of course, he did; how better to discover his new consort than in a thinly veil battle between his chosen candidates. Why you, though? You prided yourself on your skill and knowledge but were humble enough to know you could not compare to the others. So why was it that you received one?  

The apple still tasted sweet in your mouth; even after a few bites, the taste lingered, swelling magic within you. Yet, trapped here, the apple seemed so insignificant. What use of magic against an Endless being? Before you might have used your cauldron to poison the whole court or to bring about the humiliation of some of the snobby upper-ranked Gods or Goddesses but being stuck here with the icons of war and nature was concerning. You had always prided yourself on surviving; it is why you were still here after all. For how much longer, though, was not certain.   

For the most part, you could cling to the outside of the group. It was not too difficult, the others had a way of demanding attention, and when the King graced the assembly with his presence, it was partially easy. Though he never spoke without good need, he seemed content to simply listen to the gushing's of the other deities. And they sort constant attention from the King.  

Tired eyes scanned the current assembly, all dressed in finery.  

Kratos was a figure you had only known by name before this; he was seven feet of God, his face a stoney canvas of cruelty, which certainly lived up to the rumours. Tonight, his outfit covered very little, it was a low toga, which left little to the imagination, but it dominated the room with his bulging muscles. Much to Indra’s chagrin. The King of Davas, Indra, whose dark skin glistened with the rain that followed him; his physical was not as impressive; yet his power made the skies shiver as he sent lightning bolt after lightning bolt into the air. Much to the dismay of the God of Sparta. 

Aphrodite was Aphrodite; even in her previous demised state, she still retained that air of beauty that allowed her a degree of trespass that no ordinary creature might take the liberty of. Olive skin shinning out against the baby pink of her gown, wrapped in a gold lifted crown, but now she had consumed the apple, she gave off a blinding shine, as was the shell she had been draped over. Which was dangerously close to the throne. You did have to give it to her, though; she had to position her just so that it gave her a rather wonderful outline.  

Next to Aphrodite’s shell Bastet, sat tall, will all the regal bearing which one would expect from a cat, slender and aloof, just as you would expect from a God of the Old Kingdom. Unlike their Greek and Roman counterpart. Bastet exuded royalty, much like the Spring Goddess Ostara.   

Ostara was the most well-known to you; after all, she had many guises, like most deities. She had been known as Eostre and often sorted the knowledge of the cauldron from you or your mother. That was after she had been Persephone, of course. She had finally become sick of Hades and his many nymph lovers, Leice, Minthe and, of course, Theophile, the stupid girl who claimed that Hades loved her better than Persephone, which was the finally straw before she completely abandoning the underworld for life as her own goddess, as the Spring Equinox.   

To see all five of the supreme gods together made the remaining choice all the more questionable. They at least had carved a mark on humanity; they had prestige, power and a pedigree. The rest of you did not.  

Spriggan was the strangest choice, stranger than you; they had spent their entire life in the remote lands of the British Isles. It preferred to peak out from one of the pews, and closets to the King, never talking, just watching.  A tree spirit that was neither man nor woman or at least gave the impression of it. Moss covered its skin, making it impossible to tell its age; wizened like an old man or woman, but what skin you could see was smooth like a child.  

Like you, Puck lingered at the side, or as many knew him, Robin Goodfellow. His dark, mischievous eyes darted from side to side as he strummed lazily at his lute, occasionally stopping to tune the strings.  You had been travelling through the pit of desire that had become London when you stumbled upon the sprite teasing Shakespeare. You had been friends; you even helped him make his name with a simple one of your potions. After all, how better to immortalise yourself by putting yourself in a play by the bard himself and becoming the epitome of fairy kind. That had been before he betrayed you. 

You really wished Puck had kept his mouth shut. Perhaps he wished to deliver you some favour with the King, or perhaps he saw this as an opportunity to direct the other god's attention away from himself and onto you so he could make his move. Either way, it would bring you no end of trouble. You did not like how the burning eyes of Lord Morpheus fell on you so intently they seemed to pierce right into you, more so the way the others glared at you.  

"... it's true...little witchy, tell them it's true," Puck giggled as he twirled around, the material of his ridiculous costume fluttering in the air around him.  

You bristled at the nickname. Narrowing your eyes at this little fiend as he twirled around you.  

"...did the fae really trick this John Dee to allow another man to bed his wife and father her children?" Bastet's voice purred, whiskers twitching in the air.  

"He was only meant to pretend to let the pompous old fool believe he was talking to the angels... but like always, Puck took it too far." You hissed as the fairy pirouetted away.  

"And the meany witch put a stop to it...but I got you back! Did I! I got you back good." You hated the child like glee that filled his voice.  

"If having me hanged as a witch class at that." you snapped.  

"Hung by humans...how quaint." Bastet perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, amused.  

"That's not the best bit, Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble..." he cackled "I made her and her silly cauldron the centre of Shakespeare's best plays."  

"And in doing so spread the propaganda that condemns many.' You snapped.  

'So, a few little humans died. They breed like rabbits, kill one, and seven more take their place."  

‘’A few....’’ You growled. 50,000 people, men, women and children burned, drowned or hung. 50,103 to be exact. 

‘’This is boring,’’ Aphrodite pouted, ‘’can't we have music? I adore dancing; Fae plays something! I wish to dance for My King."   

The eyes shifted and you were forgot once again as the music filled the air and Aphrodite began to sway. Enticed b the way her hips shimmed. All eyes except Ostara’s, who abandoned her seat to stand next to you. 

"Nicely played, but don’t think this aloof fair maid act will get you somewhere. But it will not work. Watch yourself; those here will not hesitate to get rid of a little thing like you. Watch your back, little one."   

Xx   

The gathering had long since broken up. Ostara's warning, or threat twirled over in your mind. Puck has put you in a stupid position. A dangerous one. One that made walking the halls alone a night dangerous. If they are though you a threat, one that could be easiest gotten rid off, your life would be in peril. But you had grown tired of staring at the four walls of your rooms. You did not want the companionship of the others, not that there was any to take, especially with Ostara and Puck seemingly disserting you. Puck, you could understand, but not Ostara; she had been once your surrogate mother.   

"Good evening, My Lady." the familiar pleasant tone cut through the silence.   

The dark skin elf from the gather stood at the side of the hallway dressed in the same immaculate dress suit. Buttons polished to a soft gleam. The flower still pinned in their buttonhole. 

"What are you still doing here? Will not the King be annoyed that you have not departed with the others?"   

You were aware that some of the Gods had disappeared into the Dreaming to revel in the pleasure of the place a bit longer, but if the King found an unwanted being still lingering in the castle, there might not be a pleasant outcome.  

"I fear he will be even more annoyed if I leave, My Lady; I am Lucienne, the chief librarian and guardian of the Dream realm. Forgive me; I should have introduced myself earlier but did not wish to trespass on the gathering." She smiled.  

Now that was something unexpected. Many creations graced the place, attending to the gods that currently had taken up residence. But not one that was trusted enough to be a Guardian. Now that might be useful information.   

You returned the smile. "You still wear my flower. Has it bloomed yet?"  

"Yes, my lady, it is rather beautiful, and I cannot bear to take it off."  

Pride blossomed within you; you had made it yourself nurtured, tended it, till it was just right before picking it. It was appreciated.   

'Well, with such praise, I hope it inspired you."   

"Indeed, My Lady...it inspired me to start my own account of the King."  

Information that was defiantly intriguing and could be helpful. Any information on the King could make the difference between making it back home or being scavenged for a bit from the vultures that circled above.  

"I am glad; perhaps you can tell me about it again. I do so enjoy seeing the fruit of my inspiration." Even more, if they get me out of here.  

"While you're here, My Lady, could I tempt you to a book? The library is just down the hall, and it has been years since I have had a visitor."  

"I would be honoured."  

xxxxxx  

When you returned to your room sometime later with a book. The missing Shakespeare plays seemed worthy of your reading and apt.   

The leather creaked as you opened the page, your eyes finding the formed ink before a moan halted you. It was not the haunting noise of the wind. Instead, it was gruntal, deep and masculine. Waiting, you heard it again, this time longer, louder, tilting you heard as you listened intently, other noises now filling the air. You knew those sounds, the deep moaning, the rhythmic thud of skin, the groan of furniture bending to the force of thrust.  

Staring out of the balcony, it was dark, as it often was at the palace; even with the shining white stone it was made of, it was hard to decipher where one body ended, and the others started. Your view from your room was obscured by the thicket of ivy clinging to the balcony column, but you could see enough, the giant frame of the Greek god, face twisted in pain and pleasure as he was being pounded from behind. The dark locks of the King Morpheus were just visible in the light. There was another, maybe, it was so hard to tell, thin arms of women, maybe even a sprite, dipping between the two male bodies, roaming and squeezing, and from the shuddering roars that filled the space, they seemed to know what they were doing. As in jerked the God of Strength back and wrapped slender fingers around the thick cock that swayed in the air, jolting with every thrust of the slender but powerful hips of the Dream Lord himself. 

You knew something like this was going to happen. This was very bad. Very. Very. Bad. Gods were jealous beings and power hungry. If the others found out, there would be bloodshed, or God forbid Kratos, and this other being saw you. It didn't even bare thinking about.  

The slick sound of flesh slapping against flesh jolted you directly into the eyes of the Dream King himself; how long the King had his eyes set on you didn't know; his eyes had this strange ability to not be on you but see right through you. His eyes stared across the balcony to where you stood behind the pillar. They were bright but different.... paler somehow than usual.  

His thin lips curved up at the side as his moonlight fingers curled around the thick hips of the Greek God, jolting his back against him, allowing the King to push him down, shoving the war-beat face down and renewing his thrusts with an almost punishing vigour. The muffled cries of the Kratos were all you could hear, and the simpering sighs of the other who wrapped tight around the King’s shoulder as it sucked on his neck.   

You gasped at the sight. Gulping as the eyes shone across at you, you waited for a second for something to happen. You are to be smitted or thrown into the waking world for trespassing on something so intimate. Yet, nothing happened. Instead, the smirk grew to near wolfish proportions.  

Cowering back, you fled down the hall and did not stop till you were safely away from your rooms, but not from those glowing eyes that followed you. 

So what do you think? Got to love dark Morpheus playing games :P I know not everyone is into MxM but I only wanted to use it in this one chapter so to showcase the ambiguous nature of the Gods. Hopeful it was okay. More smut next chapter to come for the reader... maybe ;)

As always please let me know, your comments make my day.

Also- Claiming his Queen fans keep your eyes peels for an epilogue update....

@crispyduckpirate @musemaniac42 @aralezinspace @boofy1998 @cipher-needs-2-sleep @avatar4eva (couldn't tag) @sassenach-the-pie-maker @ella33 @suszanne @ladyredstar1991 @alexander-arcturus-black @maripositanoctruna @xushisuxi @imaginovator @dotieeee @honeybeezgobzzzzz @cryban6 @lonelyladyghost @isitstilldarkout

[wwestrang-fan]

Something different pt 1

jey uso x oc/reader

Summary :After Jey's divorce, he found himself overwhelmed by the support of family and friends who were determined to help him move on. They became a relentless support squad, arranging blind dates and social outings, believing that a little push would lift his spirits. However, Jey craved solitude to process his emotions. One night, despite his reluctance, his friends insisted he join them at a new restaurant, where he unexpectedly encountered someone who wasn't his usual type completely different from the partners he typically sought

warning : a little bit of angst insecurity bit of a age gap scars past surgery

author's note : this is my first time writing so let me know what you guys think

Jey was waiting for his friend sami zayn by the exit of the arena ready to go back to the hotel

"Hey Jay, you good to go?" Sami called out as he walked up to me. "I've been ready," Jay said, making his way to the parking lot. "Yo, me and the guys are going out tonight. You coming?" Sami asked as he jumped into the driver’s seat. "Nah, I think I’ll just chill at the hotel and call it a night," Jay answered as I hopped in the car. "Come on, dude. You haven't hung out with us since the divorce. You’re always working! You should hang out with us more," Sami said. "I just wanna be by myself right now, man," Jay replied. Sam just sighed and started driving.

Jay and Sami arrived at the hotel, Jay headed to the front desk to grab my room key. "Here’s your room key, sir," the receptionist said, handing it over. "Thanks," Jay replied, making his way to the elevator. "You really don’t want to come out with us?" Sami asked. "Yeah, I’m sure," Jay told him. "Come on, man, your brothers want to see you. They're worried," Sami insisted. Jay sighed and stepped out of the elevator, walking toward our room. "I told you, I just want to be alone," Jay said. With another sigh, they continued down the hallway to our room.

As soon as Jey walked into the room, he lay down on the bed, sinking into the comfortable mattress as the exhaustion of the day washed over him. Just then, a knock echoed on the door, prompting Sami to walk over and open it. Standing there was jimmy

"What's up, uso?" Jimmy said, walking in with an easy smile.

What up man you good Sami asked

"I'm good. Y'all coming out tonight?" Jimmy asked, his enthusiasm palpable.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Sami replied, a grin spreading across his face. "You coming, Jey?"

"Come on, uso," Jimmy urged, his tone persuasive.

"Yeah, come on! Don't make us beg," Sami added playfully.

Jay let out a sigh, finally giving in. “Alright, alright, I’ll come.”

“Great!” Sami replied, grinning. “Everyone’s down in the lobby waiting for us.”

“Okay, let me change real quick; I’ll be there in a minute,” Jey called after them.

“Okay!” Sami and Jimmy echoed in unison, their voices trailing off as they walked out of the room, their footsteps echoing down the hallway.

As the door clicked shut, Jey swung his legs out of bed and planted his feet on the cool floor. He pushed himself up and shuffled toward the bathroom, determined to get ready quickly.

Jey walked out of the elevator and into the bustling lobby. He spotted Sami, Jimmy, Naomi, Cody, Seth, Roman, and Solo all gathered together, animatedly chatting and laughing.

“There he is!” Cody called out, his wide grin.

“Hey, man,” Jey replied, stepping forward to give Cody a fist bump.

“How you been, man?” Seth asked.

“I’m good, thanks,” Jey replied.

“Glad you guys decided to come with us.”Naomi teased.

Jey rolled his eyes playfully and responded, “Yeah, yeah, I know." Where are we going.

“We’re going to Korean BBQ! Damian and Rhea found this amazing place,” it’s supposed to be the best in town. Roman said.

Jey felt his stomach rumble at the thought of sizzling meat and savory flavors. “Sounds great! Let’s go, then!”

With a renewed sense of anticipation, the group made their way towards the exit, laughter and chatter filling the air as they headed out for an evening of good food and great company.

Everyone arrived at the restaurant and spotted Damian and Rhea in a booth. They walked over to join them.

“Hey, glad you guys made it!” Damian said, scooting down to make room.

“Yeah, especially you, Jey,” Rhea added teasing him. “Me and Jimmy almost had to beg him to come,” Sami said, causing everyone to chuckle.

Jey playfully rolled his eyes. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he said.

“Hello! I’ll be your server today. Do you guys want to start off with drinks?” the waiter asked.

“Yeah, um, I’ll have sweet tea,” Damian said.

“I’ll have sweet tea too, but with a lemon,” Solo added.

“I’ll take a Sprite,” Rhea said.

“I’ll have lemonade,” Jimmy chimed in.

“Me too,” Jey agreed.

“I’ll just have water,” Sami said.

“I’ll have the same,” Naomi replied.

“I’ll also take a Coca-Cola,” Seth said.

“I'll have one as well,” Roman added.

“Okay, I’ll be back with your drinks,” the waiter said, tucking his pad into his pocket and walie away.

Sami looked at the menu and asked, “What’s everyone in the mood for?” Damian chimed in, “How about we go for chicken, beef, some rice, and ramen?” Naomi nodded, “That sounds great!” Everyone agreed. Just then, the waiter brought over their drinks and asked, “Here are your drinks. Are you guys ready to order?” Damian replied, “Yep, we’ll take chicken, beef, rice, ramen, and veggies.” The waiter nodded writing down on the pad and headed back.

While everyone was chatting to kill time, Jey zoned out and started looking around the restaurant. His gaze landed on someone who really caught his eye— a stunning person with snow-white skin and Native American roots. They seemed a bit mixed, and Jey couldn't figure out if they were a guy or a girl, but one thing was for sure they were absolutely gorgeous.

"Hey, Jey, you okay?" Sami asked, noticing his distant expression.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” Jey replied, snapping back to reality.

“What are you looking at?” Jimmy questioned, scanning the room to figure out where Jey's gaze had landed.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” Jey said. Just then, the waiter returned, saying, “Here’s your guys food,” as he placed the dishes in front of them and turned on the grill.

“Thanks you” everyone said in unison, and they all started to dig into their meals.

Jey still couldn’t keep his eyes off the person in the restaurant. He noticed they were wearing a baggy anime T-shirt paired with loose cargo pants adorned with chains. For some reason, their calm demeanor captivated him, drawing him in even further.

“Jey!” Rhea called, breaking his trance.

“Huh?” Jey responded, blinking as he snapped back to reality.

“You’re going to burn the food,” Sami remarked, glancing at the grill, which was starting to sizzle dangerously.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jimmy added, studying Jey’s distracted expression with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jey assured them, taking the food off the grill, though his mind still lingered on the intriguing figure across the room. He glanced back just in time to see the person getting up from their table and walking out of the restaurant.

A sudden wave of urgency washed over him as he wanted to move, but his body felt frozen. By the time he registered what was happening, the person was gone.

“Hey Jey, there’s a friend of Jade’s that I think you’d like,” Naomi said, breaking the silence.

Jey sighed, “I told you not to set me up on dates. I don’t want to go.”

“Come on, Jey! You can’t just keep moping around,” Jimmy urged, leaning forward.

“They're right,” Roman chimed in.

“If you go on this one, I promise not to set you up again.”. Naomi said

“Fine,” Jey relented, returning to his food but still lost in thought about that captivating person. As he picked at his dinner, he couldn’t shake the image of them from his mind, wondering if he’d ever see them again. The laughter and warmth of his friends faded into the background as he replayed that brief moment over and over.

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 3: My Brother's Best Friend

Prev - My Brother's Best Friend - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3028 - Rated: This chapter, G-ish - CW: vaguely suggestive

Patton, Remus, Roman, and Logan at breakfast the next morning

By the time Remus cracked open his eyes the next morning, Patton was already up, hair damp and bouncy from a shower, fully dressed with his bed made. “Damn, Patton,” he groaned, pushing back his weighted blanket and stretching. “It’s college, not boot camp.”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed, high pitched and brittle, and looked down at his feet with a little shrug. 

Fuck. Remus dragged a hand through his hair. You’re trying to not freak him out, remember?

“Guess I just got in the habit, y’know?” Patton continued, filling the silence. “Be a good role model for my campers. Oh!” He looked up, eyes wide, feet shuffling back. “I—I didn’t wake you, did I? I can—”

“Nah, man,” Remus yawned and swung his legs over to one side of the bed. “You’re good, really. Honestly, I’m impressed.”

Patton eyed him like he was waiting for a punchline so Remus just smiled and draped the blanket over his own bed, ‘making’ it. More than he would usually bother, at least. “Hey, you hungry? Dining hall’s probably open.” He looked down at his own bare chest and laughed. “I should probably throw something on first but, then we can go together?”

He scratched his shoulder, waiting for the surprise splashed over Patton’s face to morph into some kind of answer. He’d meant for the invitation to sound confident and casual but it came out… not.

“You really want—” His jaw snapped shut and he stood as tall as his cute little 5’7” frame would let him. “Sure.” He smiled after a moment, nodding. “Yeah, um, take your time and we’ll go whenever you’re ready.”

Remus was already headed to the closet and grabbing the first tank top his hand closed on. He tugged it down over his head, pulled on his jeans from yesterday then swung around, buckling the belt. “Tada!”

It earned him an almost-laugh. Patton’s eyes sparkled, and his lips twitched into a bright pink smile. “You really meant ‘throw something on.’” 

“Yep.” He let his ‘p’ pop as he stuffed his morning meds and his ID in his jeans pocket, then shoved his feet into his boots. “After you?” he asked and opened the door.

~

The dining hall was quiet and nearly empty when they arrived, the silence marred only by a faint murmured conversation in the far corner and the clangs and beeping timers coming from the kitchen. He shuddered, the racket reminding him of his old job at McDonald’s.

Including the two of them, there were only five students in the entire dining hall. Apparently most of the campus had not arrived fresh from summer camp with an ingrained habit of early rising. Go figure.

“I’m gonna hit the—” The word ‘lavatory’ came to mind and he shook his head. He’d definitely spent way too much time around Logan. “The can,” he finally said, jerking his thumb toward the restroom doors. “Wanna grab us a table before they’re all gone?”

“Um…” Patton scanned the mostly empty room before nodding. “Sure.”

“I’ll be right back,” he promised, turning and walking backwards toward the restrooms. “I’ll bring you a coffee!”

Patton’s mouth opened but then snapped shut again before he nodded again, scanned his ID and picked up a tray.

As soon as he was out of sight, Remus backed open the swinging door and slid into the bathroom. After using the toilet he washed up and ran wet hands through his hair, wrangling his curls into something of a style. Finally, hand cupped with water from the tap, he took three tiny yellow pills, then splashed cold water over his face. Stubble pricked his palms and he frowned. He needed a shave. Patton’s face already looked baby smooth again. 

Remus chuckled. Patton really did have his whole morning thing down to a science. His stomach clenched, hunger or his meds. Or maybe just remembering Patton’s face last night. Fuck, Ro could be so blind. Had been since before high school. How he couldn’t see what was right in front of him all those years. Fucking dumba—

The restroom door swung open and a guy Remus vaguely recognized from move-in day sauntered in and gave him that weird head nod greeting. Apparently forgetting Remus could see him in the mirror, the guy’s gaze lingered on his ass as he passed. Remus grinned. That’s okay, Ro. Patton’ll find somebody who’ll appreciate him here. Plenty of pickings.

After smoothing down his mustache one more time and shoving two pieces of cinnamon gum in his mouth, Remus nodded at his own reflection. Plenty of pickings. He maybe even had some closer than he knew.

~

Once Remus had left, Patton collected his food quickly and sat at a large table far from the noise of the kitchen and alongside the windows facing the path from Ro—and Logan’s— dorm. He told himself he hoped to catch them before they sat somewhere else, or to save them from having to take one of the tables closer to the hisses and alarms in the kitchen as the dining hall slowly filled.

In a moment of honesty, though, Patton admitted to himself he was a little afraid Ro and Logan might accidentally-on-purpose not notice him when they did finally arrive. Ro was a devoted friend and he would likely be an even more devoted boyfriend. The Logan Patton remembered from school had been confident, even a little arrogant. This Logan was crushed and Ro’s tender heart felt responsible. Patton couldn't blame him if Logan pulled his attention away from anything—anyone—else.

Patton’s phone was heavy in his pocket. The only thing stopping him from double—okay, triple-texting Ro—and telling him he’d saved a seat for them at his table was last night’s Really Obviously Muscular And Nice 👑 has turned off notifications message and Patton's unread good morning text.

He took his time sprinkling pepper and salt on his eggs before taking tiny, slow bites. After a few long minutes, he spotted them in the distance, hands locked together and walking close. Patton couldn’t help but smile at Ro’s familiar stride, his excited movements, waving his arm about as he talked. Patton watched as Ro curled his other arm around Logan’s waist and pointed out the late summer blooms still clinging to the pine trees, then the bulletin board outside the dining hall, already plastered with student club announcements.

He waited for them to get closer, then rose from his chair, waving both arms when Logan seemed to notice him through the glass. Warmth filled his chest when Ro followed Logan’s gaze and waved back.

This was going to be okay. It was all going to be okay.

~

”Good morning, you two!” Patton grinned when Ro set down his tray and gave him a little half hug before taking the empty seat next to Logan.

“Have you been here long?” Ro asked, frowning as he looked around the still mostly-empty dining hall. “Alone?” he added before pursing his lips like he had more to say.

Patton shrugged. “Not alone, Remus is here, just…” 

“Couldn’t get away?” Roman frowned again and cut into his omelet. “You know, if you need me to have another talk with him about boundaries, I will.” 

Logan was quiet, watching them talk.

“I—I don’t…” Patton shook his head and smiled. “Thank you, Ro, but I don’t think it will be necessary.” 

“Pat, you don’t have to try to protect him.” Ro leaned closer, searching his eyes. “He’s my brother. Trust me, I know what he can be like.” 

Patton poked at his breakfast. Remus hadn’t been that bad. He’d even… Patton bit back a smile, remembering when Remus had tried to help Patton with his personal items, eyes closed and fumbling with the dresser and a stack of boxer shorts. Was he wrong to think it’d been kinda funny? “He’s been okay,” he said at last, nodding. “Really.” 

Ro opened his mouth but before he could continue his argument, Logan nudged his plate closer to him. “What do you think of your omelet?” he said pointedly, holding his gaze. “You should try it while it’s still warm.”

”Okay, okay,” Ro said, laughing. “I can take a hint.”

“Purportedly,” Logan said not-quite under his breath and Patton tried to hide his laugh behind a napkin.

Logan met Roman's pretend glare with his own before sipping his coffee. ”I must admit I was wrong to believe the stories of college dorm food. The offerings here appear fresh and reasonably healthy-” He cringed at the loud and protracted swooshing sound of canned whipped cream. “With some exceptions, of course.”

Roman laughed, “You should see what ten year olds do when get to put whatever they want on their pancakes. Remember my tenth birthday party?” he grinned at Patton across the table.

”That was one time!” Patton laughed. “And, for the record, ice cream on pancakes isn’t bad until it starts to melt.”

“That’s when it looks like a horror show,” Roman said, mostly to Logan.

Contemplating his own eggs, Logan hummed and took a bite. “There is an element of body horror in many of the foods we consume each morning.”

“Now you’re sounding like my brother,” Ro laughed.

Eyebrow raised, Logan turned to Ro. He nearly smiled. “Indeed.”

Ro laughed again and kissed his cheek before he looked at Patton. “Okay, since Lo brought up the body horror," he flashed Logan a smile when he sighed and made a 'go ahead' motion with his other hand. "I still don't understand how you ended up rooming with Remus.” He reached across the table and gave his hand a little squeeze. “Pat, you can tell us for real… how is it going? It’s not too late to get another room change, you know. Your parents could call the Housing Office if the RAs won’t listen to you.”

Ro's hand was warm but he let go entirely too quickly. “I…" Patton shook his head. "I… I don’t need to… An—and—and besides, Remus is fine. He’s been…” Aside from increasingly inappropriate—and ridiculous—guesses about what he’d brought in his little blue bag, Remus didn’t once try to find out what was actually inside while he’d helped him unpack. He hadn’t even touched it.

“He’s been great, actually.” Patton tried not to sound so surprised. “You know, he’s really—”

“Hey, these guys bothering you?” Remus suddenly said from behind him, setting down a tray heavy with two mugs, a pile of fruit, oatmeal and yogurt. A plate of toasted bagels and jellies teetered on top and Remus set that in the middle of their table before sitting next to him. “Don’t want Ro getting hangry on us, do we?” he winked at his brother who scowled back.

“Your company is a pleasure, as always, Re,” Ro murmured, his raised eyebrow and pursed lips saying just how much he meant it. “When we found dear Patton here dining alone we assumed you’d abandoned him for some tryst in the hallway.”

Remus threw his head back, laughing. “Nah, you woulda heard me. ‘I’m quite the screamer.’”

Logan looked up from his coffee, eyes narrowed. “Doctor Who reference?“ Remus nodded at him, his smile two shades brighter. “Fantastic,” he murmured and took another sip.

“Don’t encourage him,” Ro whispered.

“I told you he said he’d come back,” Patton said but Ro just rolled his eyes and shifted his chair a little closer to Logan.

“I sure did.” Remus took one of the steaming mugs and set it next to Patton's plate along with a little handful of creamers and sugar packets. “You like it light and sweet, right?”

“I do, but when did…” He wracked his brain, trying to remember when he might’ve told Remus how he took his coffee. He’d only started drinking it senior year and only at— “Oh, the sleepover!” he grinned up at Ro. “We stayed up all night after Homecoming.”

“That is most unhealthy,” Logan said, frowning lightly at Ro.

“Do not worry, mi amor,” Ro soothed, wrapping an arm around Logan’s shoulders before jerking his chin up at Patton. “I didn’t stay up all night, he did.”

Patton shrugged and he hoped no-one else noticed the heat crawling up his face. “I’d never had coffee before. That first cup was…” The memory of the bitter coat on his tongue made his nose scrunch and he shook his head. “It was not good.”

“It’s better with a little something in it,” Remus laughed, plunking two creamers into his own cup.

“It was,” Patton said, nodding with a little laugh. “So much better I had three cups. Don’t worry—” he said when Logan’s eyes widened. “I drink a lot less now.”

“Hm.” Logan’s grunt seemed to end the subject but he eyed the three of them like he half-expected one of them to guzzle an entire pot. Roman leaned close and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said seemed to mollify him and when a flush grew over Ro's face at Logan's too-quiet-to-hear response, Patton returned his attention to his own coffee.

Remus coughed, loudly, and the couple stopped whispering. Logan cleared his throat and took another bite of his breakfast while Ro snagged one of the bagels Remus had brought. “Your tattoo appears to be healing adequately,” Logan remarked, eyebrows raised over the top of his glasses. “Perhaps your experience with your first tattoo impressed upon you the importance of proper aftercare?”

“Oh, you know I never skimp on aftercare.” Remus chuckled, some inside joke pulling a half-laugh from Logan. Ro got the joke but didn’t like it, glaring at his brother for a long moment before spearing a bit of omelet. Still grinning, Remus turned to Patton. “Yeah, it hurt like a bitch. I didn’t use the lotion they gave me and… whew,” he whistled. “That was too much even for me.” He craned his neck to and looked at the edge of his shoulder. The rainbow-hued jellyfish peeking out from around his tank top already a lot less red than it had been yesterday afternoon. “It's looking better already and hurts a fuckton less.”

“Remus…" Guilt fluttered in Patton’s belly and he looked more closely at the sore skin around Remus' new tattoo. He hadn’t thought the redness meant it hurt, just— "Is that why you slept with your shirt off?”

“Re!” Leaning across the table and glaring at his brother, Ro sounded outraged. “You paraded around in the nude in front of my friend? You promised me you’d—” 

“Excuse you, I paraded around my roommate!” Remus shot Patton a quizzical look before his glare returned and he stared down his brother. “And no, I wasn’t nude.”

The image of Remus hurrying to get dressed that morning, squid-decorated boxers dancing with his movement, came unbidden to Patton’s mind and he dumped another sugar into his coffee and stirred.

“Fine,” Ro snapped, pointing to his own eyes and then at Remus before sitting back, arms crossed over his chest. Logan stroked his arm until he relaxed, smiling back at him with a soft blush. 

“Anywhoo…” Remus bumped Patton’s shoulder and grinned when he looked up. His smile was wild as usual, practically vibrating with energy. Remus’ eyes, though, were serious and met his for a long moment, searching for something. He seemed to find whatever he was looking for because his smile softened and he nodded before giving him a little wink and addressing the table. “I’ve been thinking about the design for my next tattoo. Maybe a little something in a more… personal place?” He waggled his eyebrows, watching Ro and Logan’s expressions, clearly waiting for one of them to take the bait.

Patton bit back an inappropriate laugh and tried to hide his smile behind his coffee. Remus wasn’t suggesting what it sounded like, was he?

“You know…” He shimmied his shoulders. “Something a little glans-dular?”

Logan’s fork dropped to his plate and he sighed. “Roman, please share with your brother the inadvisability of tattooing one’s genitals.”

“Aw, come on…” Remus whined like he was pleading for a puppy from strict parents. “You don’t think I should get a little happy face tattooed on my happy place?”  

“No!” Ro and Logan said in unison. Turning to look at him, Remus waggled his eyebrows and winked.

Patton lowered his eyes, face hot. He caught sight of the sausage links on his plate and the charred bit at one end suddenly made his stomach turn. “Um, Remus, you can have these if you want.”

“Mmm, while I’d never say no to a bite of your—” he started to laugh then stopped when the table shuddered. Patton caught movement underneath and spied Ro’s heel pressed into his brother’s boot.

He flashed Ro a grateful smile.

“Remus does not consume meat,” Logan said. He ignored the brothers’ partially hidden wrestling and instead spread raspberry jam on one of the bagels Remus had brought.

“You’re a vegetarian?” Patton blurted out before he could stop himself, mouth agape as he stared at Remus.

“Well, yeah,” Remus said, shrugging. Was he… blushing? 

He took a closer look at the food Remus had brought to the table. The bagels… An apple and an orange, a big bowl of yogurt sprinkled with nuts and little black chia seeds, coffee—well, coffees , he’d made good on his promise to bring him a coffee, too.

Patton frowned. How had he never noticed before? Remus had come along a few times when he and Ro had gone for pizza or chinese or whatever but Patton couldn’t remember noticing whether or not he ate what they did. He couldn’t actually remember noticing much of what Remus did, aside from his dirty jokes or his loud music. Or his bullying of the bullies. 

“Guess I read Charlotte’s Web a few too many times as a kid, huh?”

Patton looked up and Remus was watching him with unexpectedly soft expression, an almost shy smile replacing his earlier smirk. He’d twisted a napkin around his finger, wrapping and unwrapping it as he waited for Patton to say something.

“I dunno…” Patton’s frown shifted into a matching smile and this time he shrugged. “Maybe you read it just the right number of times.”