#reignsxreader

Requested by: @wwefoever70

Song Inspiration: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIaH35-MLsk

You groan as you slam your car door shut and approach your front door; you can’t wait to slip out of your scrubs and forget the double shift you had just completed. As you ascend the steps, you spot the envelope and canary roses on the doormat.

There is no doubt in your mind who they are from or what the note will say; you ignore them completely as you unlock your door. Rather than pick them up and throw them in the trash, you step over them completely, shutting your door.

You had both said some cruel shit when you decided to call things off; it was an argument that started off small then grew to epic proportions. But you can’t think about him right now, you are exhausted. Peeling yourself out of your scrubs, you step into a steaming shower. You do a quick wash before simply standing under the shower’s rainfall.

Unfortunately, as you shut your eyes, you think of the last time you were in the shower with him. When you two took care of each other, the job dismissed at the door so the two of you could enjoy each other. You switch the water off and slip on a nightgown, white lace over the top and loose from just above your waist on down. It was the most comfortable thing you owned.

You almost climb into bed but stop to go back to your front door; undoing the locks slowly, you kneel down and gather the items that were left.

“You just finish a double?”

You heart pounds at the sound of his voice as you stand to your feet, hugging the roses and note to your chest, “How’d you know?”

“Your eyes get a little puffy, where you can’t hold them open all the way ‘cause you’re so tired.”

You tuck your wet hair behind your ears, “What are you doing, Roman?”

“I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you.” Roman hops the few steps, standing nervously before you, “I missed a flight to catch five minutes of your time.”

“Shouldn’t have done that.” You don’t want to look at him; when you do, you tend to lose your reason, “I plan to sleep for the next twenty-four hours with minimal talking. 

“That’s fine. I already let them know I was stuck in town for a couple of days, can’t leave.” He presses an open hand against the door as he leans on the doorframe, “We don’t have to talk right now…just don’t send me away.”

You feel beyond stupid as you step aside and allow him to cross the threshold. Locking up behind him, you don’t know what you expect him to do but you know you are going to collapse. Heading back to your room, both items still in hand, you climb into bed and feel weightless the second your head hits the pillow. 

The next day, you blink open your eyes to see that’s it three in the afternoon. You’ve slept no less than fourteen hours; your body thanks you though its still sore from the craziness of the ER. The roses have made it halfway across the floor, but the envelope is still tight in your hand. Cussing yourself out, wondering if you had actually let Roman in or if that was a dream, you crack open the seal and pull out the tiny note. It’s beautiful and simple.

I’m sorry. I want you back. I love you.

You read the words over and over until your eyes are misty with tears; placing it on your bedside table, you roll over and listen carefully to hear the television’s on in the living room. He’s here.

Running into the bedroom, you brush your teeth and try to make sense of your wild hair. Once you feel presentable, you quietly make your way to him.

Roman passed out on the loveseat which is far too small for his large stature, his limbs hanging off every side as chin dug into his chest – still, somehow, he slept.

Releasing a long exhale, you walk over to the couch and blanket him with your body; the second he feels your weight, Roman’s eyes pop open and his arms find their way around you.

You’re relieved that he seems as lost and exhausted as you’ve been since the breakup; it makes your decision feel less problematic as you dip your lips down to his and give him a second to reacquaint himself with the softness of your touch.

When you pull away, he waits patiently for you to speak, one of his hands moving up and down to rub your back.

“I’m sorry, too.” You rest your head on his chest, confessing, “You haven’t lost me.”

“Good…” Roman kisses the top of your head, continuing to soothe you with his touch, “I love you, baby girl.” 

Requested by: @naismommy

Song Inspiration:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LCtLukA0DNE

Warning: Language

The Los Angeles sun felt like bliss when accompanied by the balmy breeze, making it impossible for you and your best friend to stay inside. You took your music outside, the two of you opting for the brick of the porch’s ledge instead of the porch swing or steps. Facing each other, legs crisscrossed, you gossip about nothing and enjoy one of the few days you have nothing better to do.

You’re in the middle of discussing your recent rekindling with your cheating boyfriend (something she was not happy about) when you hear the rumbling truck pull into the driveway next door. It’s Roman.

The beautiful man who had moved in with his family to help his father’s landscaping business; you had never seen the truck move more than when he moved in. He is a couple years older than you, and busier in his junior year of college than you are as a college freshman. You wonder how different your life would be, your heart would feel, if you were with a man like that.

“You better watch out, girl.” Your friend gestures towards Roman, smiling your way as he makes his way into his house, “Your man sees that, and he’s gonna take him out.”

You brush some hair behind your ear, trying not to pay too much attention to her words but undeniably watching his smile, “Roman’s been my neighbor for over a year now. If nothing’s happened in all that time, it ain’t about to happen now.”

“Mm-hmm, let your man find that out.” She waits for his screen door to shut before distracting you with the matter at hand, “You two going out tonight?”

You run a hand into your thick hair, shaking your head with a sharp breath, “I don’t know what we’re doing…but let’s just say the neighbor ain’t looking so bad right now.”

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

You cover your face with your hands, trying to keep calm despite the growing anger, “Why are we arguing right now?”

Your boyfriend tries to touch you, only to have you slap his hands away, “Because I told you what I’d rather be doing, but you want to keep punishing me for some old shit.”

“Okay, I know how to solve this.” You unbuckle your seatbelt, grabbing your purse from the floor, “Let’s call it a night.”

“No, babe, stop…” He tries to get you to stay, his arms around you despite you struggling, “I miss you so much. You can’t keep pushing me away.”

“Get off me.” You try to pry yourself from his arms, “Get off me!” You get louder, knowing that parked in front of your house, you have at least once family member inside who will hear you through the open window and handle the issue for you, “GET OFF!”

You are suddenly free, hearing a weird grunt escaping your man’s lips, and look to see he is gone from the driver’s seat as his door is wide open. Terrified, you hop out of the car to see Roman has slammed your boyfriend against the car, pinning him with fistfuls of his shirt.

“Guess you didn’t hear her the first time?” Roman growls, glaring at your boyfriend with fire in his ebony eyes, “I’m going to put you back in your car then, if I were you, I’d drive the fuck off.”

You are careful to keep track of details as he throws him back into the car, and your man leaves without so much as a good-bye, cussing Roman out his open window. Standing on the sidewalk, you try to process what has just happened when Roman comes up to you. He doesn’t seek permission, gathering your face into his hands and asking, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You shrink a little within his touch, now very aware of how intimidating he could be. When he releases you, staring in the direction that your boyfriend drove off in, you somewhat hug yourself, “…thank you.”

His eyes still haven’t returned to yours,  “Don’t mention it.”

“I don’t know what got into him.” Your words get Roman’s eyes to return to you, his hand pushing a few stray hairs back to his ponytail, “He’s not usually like that. We just—we haven’t been good lately.”

“Doesn’t give him a right to touch you like that.” He notes your arms locked around yourself, sighing heavily, “You cold?”

“No.” You immediately respond, somewhat bothered by how easily he flusters you – especially as a smile emerges on his lips in reaction to your nerves, “I don’t really know what to say here. We don’t talk, and you just assaulted my – possibly ex – boyfriend. Do I say thank you or…?”

“We could talk.” Roman’s statement catches you completely off guard, his hands in his baggy jean pockets as his muscles are flexed against his black tank top, “I’ve been hoping we’d find a reason to. You just—you’ve had other distractions.”

“That what we calling him?” You bow your head, laughing to yourself and hoping to hide your giddiness at his invitation, “Okay, let’s talk.”

He says nothing else, signaling for you to follow him to the family truck. Opening the squeaky passenger door, he extends a hand and helps you inward. Once secured, he shuts the door, runs to the other side, and glances at you, “You know where you wanna go?”

Requested by: @jadedtinks

When Roman came into your hotel room, you didn’t ask question; you took a vow of silence to prevent yourself from saying anything stupid and moved into action mode. You helped him get undressed, running your lips tenderly along any wounds you saw, then took him to the shower, massaging his tense muscles and washing the night from his golden skin.

He must have appreciated your actions, saying nothing but obliging every movement you made; when you finally sat him on the edge of the bed, sitting on your knees which you pinned to either side of him, you saw his eyes close at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. You worked out any knots yet continued to play with the strands until your hands slipped to his shoulders, kneading once more until you believe he’s become one loose lump of clay; you cement your work with a few last pecks to his neck and surround him in your embrace.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this fic! I was extremely nervous about reception, and I’ve received the sweetest messages in response. I hope you enjoy this last chapter as I will not be able to get some of the images out of my mind for some time. Enjoy!

Tags: @wwefoever70 @ladymoxley @rocker-girl90  @ashleyh28  @wweoneshotsbycharlie @wwedivadeluxex @sausagefest1996

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Baby making blunders

x Part Ten x

Roman continues to play with your son as the two of them eat dinner; your husband relieved he has returned home to find you worrying less and relaxing more.

You can’t help it; you’re exhausted – far more exhausted than you were with the first pregnancy. It’s not surprising as the daunting task of carrying and having twins is consistently gnawing at the back of your brain. You pat Roman’s hand, signaling him that you’re going to get up, only to have him drop his fork immediately, dark eyes set upon you, “What are you doing?”

“Dishes. The kitchen’s a mess.”

“No, you sit. I got it.” Roman does this, makes commands that you are just supposed to follow without protest; he can tell your irritated but only laughs, “You didn’t listen to me about cooking. You can at least let your man do the damn dishes.”

Rolling your eyes, you release a deep breath and lean back in your chair, “Fine. I will just sit here.” You rub your belly, blinking your heavy eyes and letting out a low moan, “I’m not arguing at this point.”

Roman checks your son before returning his eyes to you, reaching a large hand over to your stomach, “How they doing in there?”

“God, that doesn’t sound a little weird to you?” You chuckle, slapping his hand away and self-consciously pulling your shirt out to hide the twelve week protruding bump, “I asked you for one, not duplicates.”

“Sorry, baby girl,” Roman gathers plates, kissing the top of your head, “I can’t control what my troops do once they get on the battlefield.”

“Could we not call my womb a battlefield? That’d be great.” You narrow your eyes playfully at him while he put everything in the sink; you stand to your feet, smiling brightly at your boy, “Let’s get you clean, papa.”

“Wait. Wait.” Roman stops his work in the kitchen, running around to stop you once again, “I’ll get him cleaned up. You go sit.”

“Babe, I appreciate all the fussing, but I gotta get used to this. You aren’t going to be here all the time.” You try not shrink a little out of his touch, his hands on your stomach and hips, “I need to be doing everything normal, as though      I’m—”

“Two things.” He pulls you to him, like that’s not going to make you feel weird – seeing as your stomach puts a bit of distance between you, “One, I’m here. When I’m here, I am allowed to do everything while you kick back. Two…I wanted to talk to you about the always being alone thing.”

“Wha—why?” You can see it in his expression, immediately growing somewhat irritated, and park your son on your hip, despite Roman’s stern stare, “No, you will not have your family in here checking on me like I’m some kind of invalid.”

“You heard what the doctor said,” Roman stands in your way, making it clear he won’t budge, “stress is supposed to be at a zero. You have to take better care of yourself than ever before, and you need to get in the habit now. That way you don’t make it harder on yourself during the last trimester.”

You hand over your son, not looking Roman in the eye – even as he gives your cheek a kiss and takes your son away to be cleaned. It was a double edged sword to have a man so willing to care for you, especially for someone as independent as you are. Ignoring the urge to go into the kitchen, you go upstairs to grab a pair of comfy shorts and try three baggy shirts until you find one you’re comfortable in. The bump wasn’t huge, though you imagine it is and will be by the nine months is over – if you can avoid premature labor as Roman’s suggested. But you don’t remember being this big, this early, with (Y/B/N) which was to be expected. Still, you were quickly losing your sexy in spite of your man’s consistent urge to have his hands on you.

You pull your hair up into loose, messy ponytail and go back downstairs to sit in front of the television like a good little wifey. By this time, Roman comes back and returns your son to you. You smile, stretching your feet out as Roman props another pillow behind you, and accept your son into your open arms. Your son immediately curls up against you and begins to settle, your hand stroking his hair as you slightly sway with your eyes on the television. While you do so, Roman does as he promised and cleans the mess in the kitchen as well as others he finds around the house.

“He’s out.” Roman whispers, gathering your son again, and smiling down at you, “Nice work, Mama.”

“Thanks, I try.” You extend your limbs further, enjoy the little releases of tension, and do not fight him as he goes to put your son to bed. One commercial later, you hightail it to the kitchen and grab a small container of vanilla ice cream; you grab chocolate syrup, sure you’re just going to put a few swirls on top, but you shrug as you use the doctor’s orders to your advantage; you’re just listening to your babies. Grabbing the bottle, you head back to the living room with a spoon hanging out of your mouth and the ice cream in the other hand. When Roman finally returns to the living room, you curl your legs under yourself, announcing, “The doctor said to listen to cravings. This has been one of them.”

“Yeah?” He falls into a seat beside you, his legs half hanging off the couch as he eyes the container, “Give me some.” 

“You’d really take from your babies?” You tease, swirling some of the ice cream around your tongue when he pouts; shaking your head, you get a spoonful and slip into your husband’s awaiting mouth, “Selfish.”

“Mmm, that’s good.”

You proclaim, taking another big spoonful into your mouth as he lays his head on your knee, “Mm-hmm…the rest is for us.”

“Fine, don’t share.” Roman kisses your knee, his hand beginning to move up and down your leg, “I got a craving for something else anyway.”

While part of your body responds immediately to his heated tone and wandering hand, the larger part of you (much larger part) is extremely self-conscious at the thought of it. You clear your throat, uncurling your legs and putting the bottle as well as the ice cream with spoon on the table, “I’m exhausted. Would you hate me if we just went to bed?”

“Nope, come on.” Roman shuts things down in the living room, leaving you slightly suspicious, until he grabs all the items you set down; trying to kill your suspicions, he insists, “Just in case you have a midnight craving.”

“Right, because who doesn’t want ice cream soup.” You roll your eyes, leading the way to your bedroom after getting one last look at your son’s nursery. Roman sets the things on your bedside table, watching you closely as you peel the covers down and climb into bed.

Once you lay on your side, facing him, he crawls into bed with you and scoots close so you can feel his warm breath. When he places a hand against your ribcage, his thumb brushing just beneath your breast, you move a little away and try to get cozier with your pillow.

A frown immediately clouds his features as he pauses his touch, “Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Every time I touch you, you act like it disgusts you.” Roman takes the same hand that had been touching you and runs it into his wild hair, “I’m trying not to be offended, but—it’s hard not to notice when my wife doesn’t want me touching her.”

“It’s not you…it’s—” You shut your eyes tight, sighing heavily, “I just—I get so tired.”

“Really? So tired that you can’t stand the idea of me helping you to relax?”

“Roman, stop.”

“No, look at me,” He waits for your eyes to flutter open and meet his, whispering desperately, “Please, just be honest with me.”

“This! This is what’s going on with me, babe!” You roll onto your back and gesture towards your stomach, “I’m not feeling super desirable right now! There, total honesty.”

You expect him to tell you that you’re crazy; you are never more beautiful than when you’re pregnant and all that other crap. Instead, you hear him release a huff and move, ordering you, “Sit up.”

“Roman…”

“Just, do as I ask, all right?”

You do, trying to avoid his eyes as he moves; you allow him to easily part your legs so he can sit on his knees between them. Continuing to submit, you watch as he reaches over for the ice cream carton. He pops a spoonful into your mouth, leaving you confused until his tongue is swirling with yours, giving you the wonderful taste of vanilla and Roman. The flavor is enough to leave you in a daze, and you simply give in when he removes your shirt – just wanting another spoonful. Obliging your silent request, Roman reveals a cocky grin at your grabby hands in his hair upon the second vanilla kiss.

You somewhat bite your lip, attempting to hide it by bringing the back of your hand to your mouth, until he yanks on your shorts so hard that you slide down on the bed, bursting into laughter. The message he is giving you is clear, you are beautiful and – more importantly – he’s desperate to have you.

Roman grabs the chocolate syrup, dripping some along your collarbone and licking it off in slow, purposeful strokes with his tongue. When he is sure you will no longer deny him, he squirts the chocolate liberally along your inner thighs; before he has fun removing it all, he puts a dab on his tongue and leans down for you to taste him again.

Once you are done sucking the tip of his tongue, you moan in disappointment as he pulls away, “No, I’m awake now. Come back.”

A/N: The next chapter will be our last. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far and thank you for your support!  💋 💋 💋

Tags: @wwefoever70 @ladymoxley  @rocker-girl90  @ashleyh28 @wweoneshotsbycharlie @wwedivadeluxex @sausagefest1996

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Baby making blunders

  x Part Nine x

“You’re falling asleep on me.”

“What do you expect?” You lie completely relaxed, your muscles dead weight after your lovemaking; your body was face to face with his, one of his arms holding you tight against him as the opposite hand stroked the length of your hair – his fingertips brushing your spine, “My babies are okay, my fiancé is amazing, and I couldn’t move a muscle if I wanted to.”

“Not even thinking about tomorrow?”

Oh, yeah, that. Roman had arranged for a small ceremony tomorrow, used your best friend to arrange the entire affair. You blink your eyes open, smiling faintly, “I’ll be happy to be your wife, Roman. I don’t care how it gets done. I just care that you know that our family is forever.”

He grins, kissing you tenderly and pressing his forehead to yours, “Thank you for everything you’ve given me. Thank you for my family.”

“I’m in love with you. Nothing in the world could take me away.” You slide your hand up his arm and begin to trace his tribal tattoo with your fingernail.

“Maybe a ring on your finger will make me feel better too.”

“Is that, right? What do you have to be nervous about? You’re the one that gets to be part of a million female fantasies.”

“Are we really going down this road, again?”

“Mm-hmm.” You push him a little to slither on top of him, crossing your arms over his broad chest and resting your chin on them, “Tell me again how no one woman could possibly want you when you flash that beautiful smile or share that tongue that should be exclusive to me.”

Roman playfully sticks his tongue out at you, only to have you lightly bite it. Before you know it, his fingers tangle in your hair again as both of you are alert and intoxicated once more.

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

The ceremony is beautiful, but all you remember is staring into his eyes as he guided you through every step. Now, as you dance with Roman – one arm holding your sleepy son and the other tight around you, you rest your head against his shoulder.

While family and friends surround you, everything feels perfectly in place. It feels like a dream. You wonder if there is any way you could possibly be happier.

You reach up to smooth your son’s hair, making him fall into a deep sleep as his head falls to Roman’s opposite shoulder, “We gotta get him to bed.”

“Yeah,” Roman makes a subtle signal with his head, releasing you with a kiss, “I’m going to get him settled into our suite, all right?”

“Okay.” You turn to find Dean approaching, “Oh, are you taking over?”

“Guess so.”

“Watch your hands, Uncle Dean.” Roman warns, elbowing him lightly and exiting the reception.

Dean carefully places his hands on your hips, swaying with you and smirking, “I feel like this is where I say I told you so.”

“Thanks so much.” You chuckle, loosely wrapping your arms around his neck, “…and I know.”

“Good. Just making sure.” That smug ass grin, dimples emphasizing his confidence.

You continue to move with him, glancing around the room at everyone’s shared happiness. It was the blessing of everyone wishing you and Roman luck, wanting nothing but ‘ever after’ for you. This moves you so much, you feel the urge to clamp your hands on Dean’s shoulders a little tighter. However, it slowly occurs to you that you are holding him for an entirely different reason. The room is starting to spin out of control, and you feel the strength fading from your limbs – like you’ve been left helpless in your own body.

Your eyes meet Roman’s as he reenters the room, the smile fading from his lips as he notes the panic in your eyes; you drop in Dean’s arms and hear Roman calling your name as he rushes to you – the room goes black.

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

You can’t look at your new husband, even as he begs you to. All you can think about is that you’ve barely made it to your tenth week, and you are weak. You are too weak to keep this baby and too weak to be his wife; you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your entire life.

“(Y/N)…we don’t know anything. The doctor is going to be back any minute and…”

His reassurance does little for you as you imagine the very worst; who was to say you hadn’t lost the baby you wanted already? Who was to say you’d ever give Roman the life he deserved? You focus your eyes on your heart monitor while Roman sits on the opposite side of you; it’s not fair to him. But you are too damn hurt and selfish in that moment to care.

Roman takes your hand which is closest to him and clasps it between his, “(Y/N), please look at me. Please don’t shut me out.”

“I—I can’t.”

“Why? I’m here. I’m with you. You are not alone.”

“Because I can’t…” You roll your head to the other side, lip quivering, “I can’t let you down again.” His expression immediately falls as he stands to his feet, staring down at you, wounded, “If this—”

“Hear me, right now.” Roman leans down to you, eye to eye with more certainty than you’ve ever seen, “I made you a promise. I meant it. You,” His hands rests against your tummy, “both are going to be okay.”

You want to question him, but you are prevented as the curtain is pulled back; a doctor appears with a small smile towards both of you, “Mrs. Reigns, are you feeling a little better?”

“Not really, I have no clue what’s going on.” You try to sit up only for the doctor and Roman to signal you to sit back, “What is happening with my baby?”

Roman squeezes your shoulder with reassurance, stepping in, “Has her blood pressure come down, doctor?”

“Yes, and I have a feeling your wedding – the excitement – may have made her body work a little over time.” The doctor nods as a nurse appears with equipment, “We’re just going to do an ultrasound, real quick, and make sure everything is fine with your child.”

“I was supposed to have the ultrasound on Wednesday.” You try to adjust only to have them both signal you to remain calm, “Well, could I have prevented this? Should I have gotten this done sooner?”

The doctor shakes his head, pulling up a stool and signaling Roman he can help, “It is normal to have the first ultrasound at ten weeks; your baby is just anxious to make an appearance.” Roman has carefully lifted your hospital gown and situated your blanket beneath your bloated belly, “We’re just going to make sure that we have no surprises.”

You and Roman share a smile as the doctor readies your stomach then begins; you begin to feel relief, again that temporary relief that your baby is okay for now.

“Oh.” The doctor rips the silence with a single sound; you and Roman’s stare shifts to the doctor waiting for an explanation, only to find him staring closer at the screen, “Well…”

“What?” Roman speaks for you, “What is it?”

Tags: @wwefoever70 @ladymoxley  @rocker-girl90  @ashleyh28 @wweoneshotsbycharlie @wwedivadeluxex @sausagefest1996

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warning: Language and Lovin’

Summary: Baby making blunders

  x Part Eight x

Your doctor’s appointment was tomorrow; as you expected, Roman negotiated his way to be home for it. He was not going to let you learn anything else about the baby without him.

God, life was beautiful and simple when he was around. Especially moments like this where he held your son against him with one hand, the boy settling almost immediately, while you lied on the couch, his opposite hand playing soothing with your hair as your head rested in his lap. Whatever was on television didn’t matter much; it only matter that your family was together – safe.

You were also comfortable, gray shorts and a matching shirt that was branded with his logo. Roman donned sweatpants and nothing else, complaining that the temperature in the house was already getting weird due to your pregnancy. For this reason, you also left your baby boy in only a pair of pajama shorts. Your eyes start to feel heavy, so secure and warm that you’re sure you could sleep for months.

“(Y/N)?” Roman calls quiet, causing you to lift your head, and gestures towards your son, “I’m going to get him tucked in.”

You nod, sitting up and run your hands through your hair as he stands up with your boy. When he pauses to stare at you, you laugh, “What?”

“You just—don’t do that. You’re getting me thinking about things I shouldn’t. Not until we’ve seen the doctor. Stop.”

You’re flabbergasted, “Stop what?”

He is already out of the room, heading to your son’s room, “Being sexy! You tryin’ to kill me.”

You stretch out on the couch, exposing your tummy and shut your eyes. Once Roman had assured you everything would be okay, your exhaustion has fully consumed you. You welcome the sensation, needing to know the stress is gone.

His lips come in contact with your tummy just as you are so sure that sleep has overtaken you; you smile, reaching down to stroke his thick hair as he rests his head gently atop your lower abdomen. When you finally blink your sleepy eyes open, elevating your head by curving your free arm underneath, you stare down at him, “It can’t hear you yet, you know?”

“No, but you can.” Roman sits up on his knees, leaning slightly over you and staring down into your eyes, “This baby will be healthy, (Y/N). I know it. The doctor’s going to tell you the same thing tomorrow.”

You fight tears, taking one of his hands and kissing his palm before placing it at your heart, “You promise?”

“I swear it. With everything I am.”

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

You flip through six pamphlets, trying not to listen in on Roman’s conversation as he talks to Dean – who is watching your son, “No, he can’t eat that! What the hell? No, no, just stick to the list I gave you, man. I’m not going to be that long. Don’t make me—yes, you are his uncle. Very capable…got it. Don’t make me kill you.”

It is impossible to wait for the doctor who has already examined you. He claimed he needed to check his results against the ones taken a week or so ago, then he would discuss everything with you. You sat in his office of happy baby expressions and tons of  ‘your baby at…’ handouts. You pace until Roman gets off the phone, calling out to you, “(Y/N).”

You comply when he signals for you to sit next to him, “What’s taking so long?”

“Two things. One, it’s only been about ten minutes. Two, I’m pretty sure they can charge as much as they want when the appointments last longer.”

“Roman, it’s not a mechanic. They can’t charge you for labor when that’s the woman’s job.”  You share his laugh, scooting your chair closer to his and hugging his arm, “I just need to know the baby’s okay. That—you won’t have to calm me down every night because I don’t know.”

“I know…” Roman whispers against your hair before kissing the same spot, “Any minute now.”

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” You feel Roman tense at the call, rolling your eyes. We’re not married yet! You straighten in your seat, “Is everything okay, doctor?”

“Yes, everything looks good.” The doctor sits behind his desk, comparing all the results, “I estimate you are about four weeks along.”

You look over at Roman, blushing as you both recognize that is around the time you got engaged. Once you’ve shook it off, you take a deep breath, “But the doctor was worried about my elevated HCG levels. What does that mean?”

“Nothing of concern yet, it could mean anything. Some women run slightly elevated the entire time, and the most important thing is just to make sure you go easy with your stress levels. Do anything you can possibly do to relax and give in a little to anything your body wants to eat. Women usually have some weird cravings, but it’s in response to something their baby may need.” He glances at your history, smiling up at you, “I might be telling you a lot of what you know, huh? You have a small son?”

“Yes, but—that pregnancy went off perfectly. This time…we were trying…I got pregnant when I felt like I stopped trying…then the ER doctor talked like I should be worried about losing the baby.” Roman’s bicep tenses within your hold; he had already requested you take him to the hospital and point the guy out so they could have a man to man talk. You refused. Lightly squeezing his muscle, you put pressure on the doctor, “Is this a high risk pregnancy? Am I supposed to do bed rest or anything? Because we want this child, and I will do anything to—”

“Ms. (Y/L/N), I can assure you that you are fine. However, if you worry like this, you may bring on undue stress. I’m asking you to trust your doctor,” Holding a hand to his chest, his smiles beams calm, “if I have any concerns arise, I will let you and your child’s father—”

“Her fiancé and the father.” Roman corrects him unnecessarily, getting the doctor’s attention, “you’re saying (Y/N) and the baby are fine right now. Healthy, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Should she avoid any—physical activity?”

You could die of embarrassment; sure no one has missed his meaning, and sink a little into your seat, “Roman…”

A/N: Song inspiration can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yzTuBuRdAyA

Warning: Language and suggestions (?)

Pairing: Roman x Reader

I need to see you.

The message was a stark contrast to the arguments you had been having lately; the two of you were supposed to be in a casual relationship – on the verge of something – but you had made mutual mistakes. You had a terrible habit of going out, getting attention, when you didn’t get enough from him; he hated to commit to anything when he was so committed to work and wanted by so many.

You two were somewhat toxic to each other; but, when he sends a message like that, you don’t have the heart to deny him. You wait in a pretty silent apartment, rotating which lip you pinch between your teeth in anticipation of him, and try not to seem too anxious when his heavy knock appears on your door.

Pulling the door open, you feel breathless at the sight of him; it isn’t because he’s wearing dark denim and white t-shirt or because his long hair is hanging freely around him and he’s piercing you with the darkness of his gaze. It’s because you see the black eye, the tension in his large body, and the tightness of his jaw. Hesitant about what to ask, you step aside and allow him entry before locking up your home again.

The second you turn around, he pounces. Your back is against the door, your arms pinned above your head, and his kiss stealing the last little bit of air you had. The motion is desperate, not tender like he usually started off, and it causes you to freeze up a little – still wondering what your response should be to be considered appropriate.

You have to react on instinct when his hands began to undo the buttons of your shorts; circling your hands around his wrists, you wait for his eyes to jump up to meet yours then ask, quiet and sincere, “What happened, Roman?”

Staring at you, dangerous in a way that causes you to shiver, Roman takes a step back and ceases contact, “Isn’t this what we do?”

Ouch. Though he is sexier than any man you’ve ever met, the comment cuts you deeper than your desire for him. You cross your arms, pushing past him, “Fuck you, asshole.”

“Wait…” Roman catches your bicep, preventing you from putting too much distance between the two of you. It takes him a moment to face you again, “Things aren’t going real ‘right’ at the moment…at work…with other things…I—” His expression softens just slightly as his hand drops away from you, “The only fix I saw was you. I thought—being with you—would make me feel…” He stops, slightly hanging his head, “I don’t know.”

A/N: Song inspiration here – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNg7FM6uGjA

Pairing: Roman x Reader

Warning: Language

It was about that time of night; the last thing you did before going to sleep. Signaling for your golden retriever to follow you outside, you bring a blanket to accompany your baggy clothes, and move outside to your porch. Immediately, your dog races away from you, tail wagging out of control, while you freeze.

“There’s my buddy.” Roman is sitting in jeans and a zipped jacket; hair pulled back, he pets your dog until the retriever has a smile and pants in response to his presence, “Figured it was about that time.”

You hug the blanket tighter around you as he scoots over on the porch swing. Sitting beside him, your curl your legs towards your chest, “What are you doing here?”

Staring at the dog, he refuses to look at you, “Had a show in the next town. Figured I’d drive for forty-five minutes and see if it brought me home.”

The use of the word ‘home’ nearly sends you racing into the house. Your knuckles are white under the blanket, clinging to it like the last available oxygen mask, “This isn’t your home anymore, remember?”

Neither of you could forget. The argument had happened nearly two months ago, and communication between you had ceased. Roman wasn’t ready to commit to another woman, and you weren’t willing to wait. The decision was made.

“Guess I was hoping the bed hadn’t gotten too cold…”

“I’m not your convenience fuck, Roman.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” His eyes finally find yours, the intensity within his gaze working hard to lessen your resolve, “I’m not the same without you.”

“…I don’t know what you want or expect from me. I’m not going to play games. I’m a grown ass woman with too many things to do outside of chasing a grown ass man who runs from me.”

After a moment of silence, Roman still says nothing, hooking an arm around your calves and resting his head upon your knees.

It is evident he is exhausted; he is in pain – what kind you cannot decipher. Out of instinct, a hand escapes the confine of your blanket and begins to massage his scalp. When he moans at your touch, you feel your chest tighten.