I am hoping in ACOWAR Tamlin finds his mate. I know we all hate the tool, but I want him to find his mate and then realize what he did this whole time. I want him to see how painful it is to not have your mate and to have them taken from you. I want him to have that moment of empathy for Feyre and Rhys. I want him to feel like the tool his is for bringing this war for a person who IS NOT his mate. But also high key I want him to have a match that isn’t a good match because y'all still know I’m petty. 🐸☕️
Paring: Roman Reigns X reader
Rating: Teen? (There’s kissing, and implied pants-off stuff)
Length: 2.2k, long
Type: Request from @m-a-t-91 from forever ago (I’ll get better at request, I promise)
Warnings: Major fluffiness, comments about weight/fat, body image issues, poor self-esteem
Summary: Roman flirts with a new person, (y/n) backstage.
A/N: I tried very hard to make the reader gender neutral. It won’t always be possible, but I’ll make sure to have a gender neutral fic here and there. As always, thank you for reading! I genuinely appreciate your comments and feed back!
Working backstage during a WWE live show was an absolute circus. You were in one place when three different people would request your presence in five other places and that was just when you arrived.
Looking through different check lists, making phone call after phone call, and trying to tune your headset to the right frequency were manageable when you didn’t have to do them all at once. But this was your job now, and you kind of just had to /do it/.
After the show started, things settled down. Not so much at one time, but still hectic. Get Charlotte here. Seth needs something there. Don’t forget the props for New Day’s entrance. That kind of stuff was your purview as a talent liaison. You were a go-fer for the superstars.
As you caught your breath in a corner near the end of the night, you realized you were standing right next to Roman Reigns. He was a friendly guy. You two chatted it up in the halls quite a bit, but he intimidated you. He was talented, handsome as hell, and huge. Well, huge compared to you.
“Hey, baby, slow down. I see they got you runnin’ again tonight.” He smiled at you. Your heart jumped a bit.
“Yeah, I’m worried they think I’m getting fat or something, making me sprint like this… kinda seems like it,” you joked, hoping you didn’t sound lame.
“I think you look just right,” he shrugged, looking you over. ‘Oh, shit. Can he not do that?’ You thought, having to hold your knees a little tighter so you didn’t just melt.
“Thanks,” you smiled, trying to think of an excuse to leave, but the show was wrapping up and after that there wasn’t much to do.
“Have you eaten?” He asked. You frowned in thought. You hadn’t had anything since lunch.
“There’s a great twenty-four hour joint right on the edge of town. Dean-o and I used to hit it up after shows here. Seeing as he’s on the blue brand now, I don’t have anyone to go with. Wanna come with me?”
“I’ve got stuff-”
“Hey, if you don’t want to go, I guess I can go alone.” He said, making his best puppy dog face at you, and damn if it wasn’t working.
“I, um,” you said, trying to think straight.
“Come on, y/n,” he pleaded. You were utterly shocked he knew your name, but a small part of you was doing your happy dance. “I won a hard fought match tonight and I just want to eat some good food across from a beautiful person.”
“I can try and find Tyler Breeze for you, but I think he already left.” You joked, defecting the compliment. Roman laughed out loud, and it made your soul sing.
“Not Tyler, you baby. What do you say?”
“Okay, that was some of the best diner food I’ve ever had,” you admitted as you and Roman walked back to his rental. You never rode with Talent, with a capital T. This was the first time, and it was just as fun as riding with the other liaisons. Actually more so. There wasn’t really any “shop talk” between you two. Other than making fun of Vince’s head set tirades. Roman confessed that sometimes when he was on commentary and Vince was going off he had to cover his smile with a hand.
“I told you it was a good place,” he said, sliding in the driver’s seat with predatory grace. “You staying at the same hotel as us?” He asked, starting the car.
“No, no,” you said, checking your email for your room confirmation. There wasn’t one. You scrolled through your emails again, and then checked all the deleted ones. “Turns out I might not have a room.”
“You didn’t book one?” He asked, turning back onto the road that led to the highway.
“I don’t know. Do you mind if I make a call? I know it’s rude in a car, but-” you were starting to freak out. It was a holiday weekend in a coastal city. If you hadn’t booked in advance you were screwed.
“I don’t mind.” He said, glancing your way with concern.
“Okay, nope, shit, fuck,” you said after hanging up with the last hotel in your destination city. “I don’t have a room. I guess I’m staying on someone’s floor.”
“Not after the day you had,” he scoffed. “Stay with me.”
You felt your whole body get hot. You could barely be in a car with this man, you couldn’t share a room with him. You would explode into hot pink flames just thinking about it too much.
“That’s very nice, Roman, but-” you tried, but he cut you off.
“No buts.” He said firmly. His voice making you shiver.
“Why?” You asked, feeling a little braver around him than usual. He invited you to dinner. Offered his room to you. You figured you were allowed to be curious at this point. You waited on baited breath for his answer.
“Because I’ve decided to be a very good friend of yours,” he said all smiley. You smiled back, feeling more comfortable and therefore impish.
“As long as it’s a one way street, Reigns, I’m fine with that.” You said, making him laugh again. You loved making people laugh, but making Roman laugh was kind of the best.
“Oh, but it’s not,” he said in mock seriousness.
“What?! I have to be a very good friend of yours back!? Ew!” You strained your voice to make it sound like a terrible request. A horrific burden. He chuckled knowingly. A smile jumped to the corners of your mouth at hearing his mirth and seeing the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“Yes. A very good friend of mine. Emphasis on very,” he turned to you just a bit so you could see him wink.
“Roman!” You cried, laughing and swatting his arm. Every inch of you felt warm with embarrassment.
“Hey! I’m driving here!” He laughed, pushing your hand away.
“And I’m just trying to live!” You giggled back, resisting his push a little. The two of you almost holding hands.
Suddenly, you realized those touches were the first time you’d touched each other. Then you realized just how flirtatious those touches had been. Was it your imagination, or had all of this been flirting? Certainly it was flirting on your part. He was so goddam handsome. But was it possible he was flirting with you? For weeks you brushed it off as wishful thinking, but now…
“So…? Music?” He asked, reaching for the media cord.
“Hit me with the jams, Reigns,” you said, thanking God that he was turning on music. That would give you time to think.
“I can’t believe you knew every word. Like, every fucking word!” Roman said, as he went to the trunk of the rental to grab your bags. You followed, smiling ear to ear. “If I hadn’t been driving, some of that would be on SnapChat right now.”
The two of you had just listened to the music for a while before it became carpool karaoke. And super fun, no judgment, no holds barred carpool karaoke, at that. Forgotten lyrics, cracked voices and all. He was so much more chill than you had originally guessed. You could just be you around him and he could just be him.
Right in that half hour space between the first sing along and arrival at the hotel, all pretense and unease left the two of you. It was nice. Easy. Relaxing. Wonderful.
“Which side of the bed do you usually sleep on?” He asked as you laid your stuff by the couch.
“The middle side, Reigns. I’m single,” you laughed.
“I’m serious,” he smiled. “I don’t have a preferred side. You can pick which one you want.”
“Wait,” you said as your mind came to a full stop. “Are we sharing the bed?”
“Do you see another bed?” He asked, quirking his eyebrow.
“There’s a couch right here,” you gestured to said couch. 'Couch.’ 'I will have couch.’ 'I will sleep couch.’ 'Couch.’ Your Brain was being really goddam helpful in this terrifying, yet thrilling, moment of confusion and realization.
“There’s a bed right here,” Roman gestured to said bed. You felt your knees go weak again. This man had some sort of power of you, and you knew what it was before, but now it was different.
Before it was muscles, and hair, and voice, and smile, and eyes. Now it was Roman. All of him, all at once.
“You want to sleep next to me? In the bed?” You asked, as he stepped over to you.
His hands gently found purchase on your shoulders, and you sighed at the touch. His broad palms and strong fingers felt right on you.
“I want to do more than that,” he spoke quietly. “In the bed.” You felt heat radiate from your whole body, but your analytical mind needed more than your body did.
“Are you flirting with me?” You asked, looking up at him.
“You can stop with the jokes now, y/n,” he chuckled. You simply shook your head. His soulful brown eyes changed in an instant. “It’s not a joke?”
“I- No? It’s not a joke. I’m not used to- People like you and people like me- We don’t…” you tried to explain yourself.
“People like me?” He said, looking a bit lost. Kind of sad actually. You had to make this better, and quick. So you just started blurting things.
“You’re very attractive. You’re like super-duper handsome, and I’m just me. I know you like me. Like who I am inside, and stuff.” Way to be articulate, you scolded yourself sarcastically. “But I’m not top notch, super-duper, crazy attractive like you. So, I guess, I just thought I was attracted to you and it wasn’t mutual. What I mean is- When I said 'people like you’ I didn’t mean vain or shallow or superficial, I mean very very very VERY pretty people. And people like that aren’t usually attracted to people like me. That’s all I meant.” You stood in silence for a moment aghast that all of that had just spilled out of you.
“Holy shit,” Roman said, putting his hands on your upper arms in mock support. “Breathe.”
“You got it,” you nodded quickly.
“To answer your question from before, yes. I have been flirting with you tonight. Basically since you started working for the company, I’ve been flirting with you,” he explained. “At first it was because of how you look, but then it was because of who you are. I like you. A lot.”
“Score,” you said blankly, making him laugh again.
“It’s stuff like that. These little things you do that just fucking tickle me. You’re a goofball. You’re light hearted. You like to make people laugh. You’re genuine and humble and smart.” The compliments didn’t stop and you did your best to just take all of it in. You knew it would be rude to interrupt him. “There are lots of very, very pretty people in this world. You included.” You blushed and look away at that, biting your lip to keep protests at bay. He continued.
“But do you know how many times I’ve met a pretty person who was bright and funny and sweet?” He asked you, and you looked at him again. He was very serious right now. Your instinct was to make a joke, but you knew what he wanted you to say, so you said it.
“Just once,” he said, brushing your hair off your forehead. “Just you.”
You didn’t know what to say. What did someone say after hearing something like that? You supposed… thank you.
You inched closer to him.
'Thank you for seeing me.’ You thought.
He leaned down to you.
'Thank you for getting to know me.’ Your heart sang.
You closed your eyes.
“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered just as your lips met. The kiss was soft, but strong. Emotions flooded your whole body as his arms wrapped around it. As your lips parted, you opened your eyes and saw he was staring at you.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, resting his forehead on yours as you embraced.
“But, Roman,” you said as your brain became capable of thought again. “You know two people like that. There’s another person you know that’s gorgeous and smart and silly and kind,” you said, wrapping your fingers around a lock of his hair. “It’s you.” You kissed his cheek. “It’s you too, babe.”
He leaned back and smiled at you, shaking his head. “It’s just like you to say something like that.”
“Just say thank you and take the compliment,” you smiled, taking his lips again in a quick, sweet kiss. “Can’t be humble all the time, Reigns.”
“You’re right,” he smiled at you deviously. “Now let me brag about what I can do to you, so I can back it up later.”
You laughed, but quieted quickly so you could listen. Reigns was flirting with you and you didn’t want to miss a second.
...harry finds a rough draft of eggsy's wedding vows? his reaction is totally up to you!
*hyperventilating* THIS IS SUCH A CUTE PROMPT
Harry is cleaning the house because he is bored.
He’s no longer an active agent, though he still trains, keeping sharp and strong. He still lives at his Kingsman-provided house. Only now his house has three more residents, four counting the dog–Eggsy, Michelle, and the baby.
He smiles fondly as he picks up another chew toy and examines the teeth marks to decide if this is the dog’s or the baby’s. He can never remember whose is whose–another mark of the bullet through his brain, along with his blind eye. But he knows teeth, and he knows that this is the dog’s, so he tosses it in the wicker basket half-hidden beside the sofa.
After the sitting room, he goes upstairs, to the office that is now Eggsy’s. Harry had taken down his own headlines, and is putting up all of Eggsy’s, despite the younger man’s protests. At least Eggsy doesn’t rip them down again. Harry straightens the desk (Eggsy likes to complain about Harry’s “meddling” but he never actually does anything about it), and as he does so, he accidentally knocks the hidden button that pops open the secret compartment. He shuts it, because Eggsy doesn’t know about it–
He opens it again. There are papers in there. Regular ruled three-punch paper. He frowns, then shrugs. It’s none of his business.
Until he catches his name in the writing.
Eggsy doesn’t want to talk to mum about his day. Doesn’t want to hug or play with his sister or JB. Doesn’t want to drink with Harry. All he wants is to scream into his pillow and maybe cry.
The kid had only been four…
He stomps up the stairs, and is just passing the office when he hears someone clear their throat. He whirls, hand going for his gun, but it’s just Harry, staring at him with his one good eye. In his hands is a sheaf of papers. Eggsy frowns. He does not want to deal with more paperwork.
“So when were you planning to propose to me?” Harry asks, carefully offhand.
All the blood drains from Eggsy’s face as he realizes what those papers must be.
“Um–um–um–” he says.
“Because I take issue with the line “even if you name the new dog Mr. Pickle”.”
Eggsy blinks. Is… is Harry actually nervous? “I… I was…” he tries to explain weakly, but he can’t find the words.
“I assume you wrote that after I had that argument with your mum about proper names for pets,” Harry plowed on, “Which is very sweet, but you could phrase it better. I also don’t like the description of the cake, it sounds far too complicated. But back to the original question; when were you going to propose?”
“Um… when I found the right ring.”
“Well.” Harry set the papers very carefully in the compartment and closed it. “It’s early yet. Let’s go look at what the jewelers have to offer.”
Eggsy gaped at him. “You mean… y-you accept?”
“Of course I do,” Harry replied, beginning to frown as he walked over to where Eggsy was still frozen in the doorway. “I’ve known for quite a while that we were a good match, I just didn’t want to say anything.”
“You love me.”
“Isn’t that what I just said?”
Eggsy grabbed his collar and yanked him down for a kiss instead of answering.