violetmuses - Tumblr blog

violetmuses · 6 hours ago

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matters of the heart

authors note: hi, friends! this one here is courtesy of the lovely @romanreignsbae who approached me with this concept a couple of weeks ago. we worked out a lot of the kinks, but i've made some....changes and additions to switch things up a bit. 😅

warnings: smut (oral, penetrative, different positions, etc), age gap (10 years), toxic (?) dynamics, and slight, blink and you'll miss it, angst.

words: 7k

“Shit!”

Her palms grip the cool metal of the railing, freshly filled acrylics lightly scraping and pressing into the banister that’s the only thing keeping this moment of pleasure from a scene of horror. That and the relentless grip he has on the meat of her hips, big hands digging into her supple skin the same way his tongue invades the most sacred part of her.

Forehead against that same cool metal, Solana closes her eyes and bites down to keep from screaming. To keep the entire posh neighborhood that is her view from this angle knowing just what’s taking place. Not that he��d care. No, she wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what he wanted. A spectacle, an X rated scene to be made. For the entire city, his city, to see, to hear, to know.

A low groan sits in the back of her throat, begging and dying to be released when he drags his tongue up the entire length of her soaking cunt. His hand moves to her ass cheeks, spreading them apart, granting him unobstructed access.

“Fuck,” she curses, that grip on the railing tightening with each lethal lick of that dangerous tongue of his. The sounds of the bustling city before him, tall buildings lit up, filled with workers doing overtime, streets that are barren sans the few bodies walking and praying to make it home safely. It’s a beautiful view but one she’s gotten so used to seeing that the initial razzle dazzle of it all faded a long time ago. Plus, it’s hard to focus on the sight before her with the man behind her, on his knees, eating her out like his life depends on it.

She should have known, should have known the minute she stepped on his massive balcony to get some air that he’d have her this way, bent over, face buried in her pussy. The same way she knows when he’s finally had his fill—whenever that is—he’ll have that dick buried inside her next.

Her cunt flutters at the thought.

Something that doesn't miss him. Unsurprising. Not much does.

Hence why his deep voice vibrates, chuckling before another insertion, that of his thick finger, dragging out that groan and moan from Solana. Followed by another finger. Prep. He’s preparing her to take him, the way he usually does, because despite months of fucking, it seems like every time Solana goes to tackle that part, there’s a bit of an adjustment. His dick is so unforgiving, always needing to stretch her out like it’s the first time every time.

And, they are well past the first time.

The sounds of him slurping and sucking on her as if the space between her legs holds to key to all of life’s mysteries does little to help the seldom self-control she has regarding her volume. Again, though, it feels like that’s what he wants.

He wants her to come undone. Wants her to lose control. It’s like he gets off on it.

Because he does.

“Roman, please…” She begs, the moan stretching the same way his thick fingers stretched and fuck her tight hole. “Dios…” More words of Spanish tumble out of her mouth at the same time he groans under her, pulling her closer, like the space between her cunt and his face isn’t already nonexistent. He’s insatiable.

He keeps her that way for God knows how long, bent over the railing of his balcony, on his knees, eating her out until she feels her knees only have one more buckle in them before giving out entirely.

But, the minute he moves from off his knees to his feet, her forehead laying on her forearm, she tries to steady herself from the orgasm—or two—that he just gave her. That's when she hears it. The familiar sound of the foil wrapper being ripped open, latex slid on that length that has to be dripping cum on the porcelain tiles.

Her hand grips the railing for the thousandth time as he begins to slide himself inside of her slippery, dripping walls.

“Fuck,” his deep voice groans behind her, hands on her hips helping steer and guide him. “Feels fucking amazing every time…”

Shared sentiments.

As uncomfortable as the stretch can be, it’s always outweighed by the pleasure that fills her, at the way he fills her. Overwhelming and all consuming. The best sort of reprieve from even the most stressful of days, and it’s been a stressful day.

Hence why when her phone lit up with a text from him, she wasted not a second nor a minute before responding with an immediate, obvious answer. The way she was barely inside his penthouse when he had her slammed up against the closest wall, mouth on her, clothes already being ripped off.

That was hours ago.

She’s not sure what time it is now. Just that it’s late as fuck, and she’s most likely spending the night.

Again, wouldn’t be the first time.

Roman rocks into her, behind her, thrusting into her with a need, dick digging deep into her. It’s his turn to say something in a language he can’t understand but something that is universally understood. Pleasure. He feels pleasure in this moment. Same as her.

His hand fisted in her hair as he slams his hips into hers, repeatedly, again and again, knocking into her g-spot, eliciting delicious, carnal moans. Silence and volume be damned. It’s nearly impossible to stay quiet with him fucking her like he is.

And, that silence is clearly not what he’s wanting anyway.

“Stop trying to suppress it,” he groans, mouth near her ear, biting down gently on the lobe. “I want to hear you. Tell me how good it feels.”

Fuck. She’s not sure there’s enough words in the English language to describe how good it is, how amazing it feels. All of it.

Roman fucks her into yet another orgasm, one that once again has her knees buckling, and her body operating off of fumes from the reserves.

Yet, that doesn’t stop him.

Of course not.

He carries her over to the bed, dropping her down on her stomach, the jiggle and motion of her ass earning yet another slap and jiggle courtesy of that big hand of his. Solana fists the sheets at the same time the bed dips under the weight of him joining her. Pushing her frizzed, fucked out hair out of her face, she catches just in time the dangerous sight of him sitting up against the headboard, stroking that still erect, long, thick dick of his that’s coated in her cream.

His eyes lock onto hers, tone even, gesturing to his lap. “Ride me.”

Damn.

She doesn’t need to be told twice. Fatigue be damn, the desire to have him inside of her outweighs logic, as it does most times and in most scenarios involving him.

Solana quickly moves up to her knees, climbing onto his laps and lowering herself down onto his length, both of them moaning almost in tandem as she uses his strong, solid chest to steady her as she moves atop him.

Head thrown back, mouth parted, she works herself, back and forth, sliding along his dick, his hands moving up her stomach, fisting her heavy breast.

“Fuck,” he curses, thumb ghosting over her hardened nipples. “Just like that.”

His praise does more to her than what makes sense, not that any of it does. Hence why Solana continues to do as she’s done for the past few months.

Enjoy the ride.

—-------

The next morning, Solana wakes up to an empty bed and the curtains shut, bathing the room in darkness sans the light that peeps through underneath the dark drapery. Rubbing her blinking eyes, she rolls onto her back and aimlessly reaches for her phone on the nightstand.

7:15am blinks back, reminding her that she needs to get her ass up and now, because while she doesn’t have to be at the hospital today until late afternoon, she does work in two hours, and getting home, getting settled, and everything else, will take some time.

So, the sooner she’s out of here, the better.

Climbing out of bed, she yawns, stretching her sore limbs while walking across the room to grab her bag. She refuses to call it what it is. Her sneaky link bag. That…that’s just too much. It also doesn’t feel like what this is. Whatever this is, anyway.

At one point, she questioned it. She questioned it a lot, because what would make the self-proclaimed king of Gotham pick her, of all people, that night.

It was a simple thing. A night of clubbing and dancing away all her problems with Hannah, her best friend since moving to Gotham a few years back for school. More importantly, the celebration of a long overdue breakup.

Solana just wanted to have fun. Live a little. She was open to a one night stand. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was the man with whom she ended up leaving with that night.

Roman Reigns.

The Tribal Chief. The Capo. The Head of the Table. God himself, to some people.

One of the first things she learned when arriving in the grand—not so grand—city of Gotham, that everything the light both touched and didn’t touch belonged to him. The leader of two of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, he ran the city with an iron fist. Nothing happened without his knowing or his approval. An open sort of deal where he didn’t need to hide his hands, the Bloodline and Cosa Nostra influence and presence far too long and deep for that. They were everywhere, and they all connected to him.

Roman was the exact type of danger Solana’s family back home in Mexico warned her about. The kind of “darkness” her mother and abuela feared would consume her when she announced she’d decided to attend Gotham university, located in the city of Gotham. A choice that made all the sense at the time as, despite being the home base for open crime, GU boasts one of the best pre-med and medical schools in the country.

Solana promised she’d be careful, determined to fulfill a lifelong dream of becoming a doctor, of being more than what she grew up seeing. A lot of love, so much love, but also a lot of struggle and poverty. She wasn’t going to let that be her story as well.

Which is why when Roman sent one of his men to bring her to where he sat, perched up nicely and kingly in the VIP section, clearly intent on finding a woman to bring home, that should have been all she needed.

She should have said no. Politely declined. Grabbed Hannah’s hand and led them the hell out of the lion’s den. But, that wasn’t what happened. She didn’t reject the offer. She simply double checked that she was still sharing her location with Hannah and followed the flustered redhead up to his section.

Stood in front of him as he took in her, the same way she took him in. That perfectly chiseled face, neatly trimmed beard, pink, full lips set in a straight line, warm brown eyes that bounced back and forth from her breast to her face. A man, in every sense of the word.

“This isn’t your scene.” His deep voice broke through the silent stare-off of sorts, the way they both seemed only focused on one another despite his entourage.

And, with a boldness, to this day, she hasn’t the slightest clue where it came from, she responded, voice soft, eyes never leaving his. “So why am I here?”

He smiled, and it still remains one of the best sights one could ever be worthy of viewing. His eyes remained locked onto hers, but his command was directed to everyone else. “Get out.”

And like Moses parting the sea, the bodies emptied out until only two remain. Herself and the Tribal Chief.

A small part of her still struggles to understand just how in less than twenty minutes following his clearing of the space, she ended up where she did. Bent over the arm of one of the sofas, skimpy blue dress raised up to her waist, thong discarded who knows where, his massive dick pumping into her.

And especially what happened after that.

Solana clutched onto the back of his head, her face buried into the crook of his neck. Her body was on fire, the feeling of him still buried deep inside of her doing little to help her cope with the aftermath of her orgasm. Especially with every subtle movement he made, including the way his fingers stroked her spine.

But, it was when he traveled that hand upwards, forcing her gaze onto his, lust meeting lust. His thumb moved over her bottom lip, parting her lips, teasing an entrance. “Leave with me.”

Staring at him, nothing but the thought and feel of him hardening once more, consumed her judgment. The answer rolled out before she even realized what she’d agreed to.

“Okay.”

Up until that point, it was the craziest thing she’d ever been told. Not done, because letting a man ten years her senior, a dangerous man at that, fuck her in the VIP section of the city’s hottest club, Harley’s, snagged that spot in the ‘done’ category.

It shall always be one of life’s greatest mysteries.

Solana made sure she kept her location on and shared with Hannah but certainly still left with him that night and got fucked thoroughly and properly for the first time in her life. All throughout the night. 12/10 in any and all areas. It was erotic, sensual, and everything she never knew she needed.

It was also one and done. Or, at least, that’s what she’d thought.

Because almost five months later, she stands under the shower in his penthouse after yet another night of explosive sex. It was his suggestion that started it all. She was fully prepared to do her walk of shame afterwards, leaving with the benefit of knowing she’d at least fulfilled her initial goal of having a good time.

A very good time.

But, he’d been the one to stop her, to ask for her number, to say he wanted to “see” her again.

Fuck.

He wanted to fuck her again.

And truthfully….she felt the same.

Sex was always just an okay thing with her prior boyfriends. Never anything to run, scream, and leap for joy about. That wasn’t the case with Roman. She wasn’t sure if it was the age difference and his obvious copious amount of experience compared to herself, but it was vastly different in all the best ways. A wonderful sort of distraction for the third year med school student.

So, not a hard sell. Not a hard sell, at all.

Thus, the arrangement. Random hook ups that typically took place at his place, sometimes the back of his SUV, sometimes his bathroom. Eventually bleeding over into her place from time to time. Not her preference, however. Her shitty apartment seemed almost disrespectful for the billionaire mafia kingpin, even if it was solely used as a place to fuck.

Granted, she tries not to think too hard about the little things that have improved since he first came over that one day. Like, how the fucked up AC unit she’d been complaining to her landlord about since the 99 and 2000’s was suddenly replaced with something top of the line. Or, how the random rent increases she's dealt with since moving in disappeared, her rent dropping even lower than what it was when she first signed her lease.

Nope. She refuses to think of any of that, especially the way that random drop-in sexcapades have included her often spending the night, having a change of clothes and emergency bag kept tucked away in his closet and the drawer in his dresser he’d made just for her.

Or, the casual conversations they had sometimes, as they laid in bed together.

None of that mattered, cause it was just sex. They gave each other an….out, something each desperately needed from time to time.

And, she refused to see or acknowledge anything more than that.

About half an hour later, Solana is dressed and in the kitchen, fixing a quick breakfast and cup of coffee before she leaves. She also does not acknowledge the few times she’s cooked for him….for them.

Irrelevant.

She's just brewed her eight ounces of french roast coffee and looks over to where the options for creamer sit, waiting for her to pick which one will be the flavor of the day. Solana can’t recall if that stack was always sitting there the first time she came over, or rather, the first time he welcomed/allowed her into his kitchen.

Also, irrelevant.

“I need to talk with you about something.”

The deciding between which creamer to use—Hazelnut or Vanilla Almond—is suddenly replaced with the confusion and semblance of dread that fills her at that infamous statement.

Rarely has she seen anything good come out of such an opening. Foolery is usually what follows. Something undesirable and uncomfortable.

And turning around, mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand, meeting his dark gaze, the tick in his jaw he does when irritated, Solana just knows she’s in for some shit.

Fuck.

He’s standing before her, shirtless, dark gray sweats hanging low on his hips. Distracting, but not enough for the weight of that statement.

“Okay.” The perfect facade for a calm demeanor when she feels anything but. “What—” She clears her throat. “What’s going on?”

Solana leans back against the counter of his expensive granite, opposite of where he leans against the granite of the expensive ass island. The ten second bout of silence between her question and his answer is torture.

“I have…a proposition for you.”

Her nonchalant expression shifts just a bit. A proposition? She moves her weight from one foot to the other, using the only thing she has to pull from, the nature of their dynamic, to muster up a guess.

“I told you, I don’t….” Just saying it feels off. Has her struggling to maintain eye contact. “I—I don’t do threesomes.”

Then again, before him, she didn’t do friends with benefits either. Yet, here she is. Still, Roman is hard from a friend. Not even an acquaintance.. He’s just….a person.

A person she has amazing sex with from time to time.

Maybe more than just time to time.

His gaze darkens. “And, I told you I don’t share.” She looks back up, realizing not only was her assumption loud and wrong, but it’d also clearly irritated him as well. Great. “I have a dilemma.”

He has a lot of things, it seems, except the actual reason for this whole random ass, intimidating ass conversation.

“Okay…”

When he looks away, suddenly interested in the double door stainless steel refrigerator, it’s hard for her to not focus on his side profile. Roman is easily one of the most attractive men she’s ever encountered. Sculpted and cut from the Gods. If only the beauty didn't stop with his appearance.

Because as great as the sex is, outside of those few occasions where he's less….him, he can be an asshole. Another reminder that this arrangement is simply physically based. Roman may be attractive on the outside, but that inside…it leads a lot to be desired.

A lot.

“I need an heir.”

Silence.

For the eighteenth time in the span of less than five minutes, she has no idea what to say or how to respond to that. Hence, her repeating of the same word. “Umm, o–okay.” Because, again, what does one say to that? Congratulations? Her next question, however, is the one sitting at the top of mountain confusion, hence needing to be asked. “What does that—”

“I want you to be my surrogate.”

Her eyes widen, the mug in her hand almost slipping and shattering into a thousand pieces. “You—what?”

Solana blinks once, twice, and then slaps her temple lightly, for good measure, because there’s no way he said what she thinks he just said.

No way in hell.

But, instead of him offering a different answer, he looks over at her, doubling down with both big ass feet of his. “I need you to give me a child.”

It’s that statement that has her placing the mug of now lukewarm coffee on the counter as she brings her hands to her head. “Oh my God.” She can only focus on the design of the marble flooring and not the lunacy that just left his mouth. “Hannah was right. You are secretly crazy.”

To be fair, Hannah had also joked—not really—that she, too, was crazy for ever even leaving with him that night, for fucking him not once, but many times at this point.

And, right about now, Solana is thinking her best friend was right.

About the both of them.

“Shut up.” His irritation returns with his curt dismissal of her sudden realization. Months of fucking this man, and this is how it comes out that he really is crazy. Of course. “Let me explain.”

Her eyes are as wide as saucers, any and all appetite completely depleted. “What’s there to explain about that?”

He rolls his eyes, Solana realizing it’s probably not wise to take her focus off this beautiful, dangerous, potentially psychotic man. “I’m dealing with pressure from the Elders—”

“Who are they?”

Irritation flashes. “A group of older men in the Bloodline who serve as a council of sorts.” Something tells her they’re not his favorite group of people. Makes sense. Roman seems like the type of man who doesn’t do well with answering to….well, anyone.

“They want me to produce an heir. I’m not getting any younger, and they think it's irresponsible for me to not have one at this point in my life.”

Makes sense. Solana can acknowledge that. Even with her limited knowledge as to how all this works, Roman being closer to 40 than anything and not having an heir to inherit his empire when he dies really does seem irresponsible.

Of course, they’re putting pressure on him. It’s just her…place(?) in all this that doesn’t make sense. Why he’s asking her.

Why is he asking her?

Regardless, she has another question teetering at the top of her list. “What do you think?”

He just looks at her before completely avoiding the question. “I would just need you to carry and birth the child. You won’t need to be involved in his or her life after that.”

But, as he provides what he considers clarification, Solana sinks further into the realization that he’s not crazy.

He’s serious.

That doesn’t change the fact that the situation, proposal, whatever is still insane. And, she voices as such.

“This is….”

She trails off, now pacing before him, hugging herself, unable to wrap her head around just what she’s hearing.

“I’ll cover all of your medical expenses along with paying off the rest of your schooling and anything else you owe.” At that, she stops, turning to look at him, eyes widening once more. His intense gaze is locked on hers. “You'll graduate medical school and finish residency with zero debt.”

What the fuck?

Solana falls back against the counter, scoffing in disbelief. Is he….is he for real?

“All because....you....you want me….to have your baby?” The more she says it, even thinks it, the crazier it sounds, but he’s continued to look just as serious as he was the minute he walked into the kitchen.

“It’s less about you and more the convenience of you.” There’s something about his response, the almost offensive nature of his tone that makes her shift her weight once more. Makes her feel something close to…hurt? She’s not entirely sure, just knows that the impolite expression on his handsome face and audible in his deep voice aren’t exactly helping the situation. “You’re in prime childbearing years, and your medical records don’t indicate any fertility issues—”

“Wait.” Pause. “How…how did you get my medical records?”

And, just like that, an already….weird situation just got infinitely weirder. Because, once more, what the hell?

However, he remains seemingly unbothered. “I’m Roman Reigns.” Something about his tone makes her stomach flip, makes her nails tap against the counter she continues to grip. “If I want something, I get it.”

She doesn’t deny that. She can’t. Clearly. HIPAA be damned.

Still, that cloud of shock remains sitting prompt and directly over her head. “I don’t…” She rubs her temples. “This…this is a lot.” To say the least. “How would…” A distracted thought that’s sidetracked from another important question that pops into her head. “Wait…I thought heirs were only recognized through marriages. How….” And, it’s when she looks over at him, sees the slight shift in his eyes, that she realizes what he either hasn’t gotten to yet or was hoping to maybe avoid altogether. “You’re kidding.” Alas, he’s not. He’s not at all.

Her mouth drops open, stammering a reflection of the hits that keep on coming. “You…you want me to marry you, too?”

“I don’t want any of this.” More harshness. Another wince on her end. If anything, he’s honest. Brutally. “It’s simply a business arrangement. The marriage would be in name only, and the minute the child is born, we file for divorce.”

Pacing back and forth, Solana does her best to not allow herself to fall into information overload, even though she’s damn near already there.

Roman wants her to give him a child. Have his baby. Marry him. And then….pretend like nothing happened?

She should have just stayed in bed.

“Roman, I—”

“You don’t have to give me an answer right now.” Solana isn’t sure she could, even if he did need one right now. “Think about it. I’ll have everything laid out in a contract. Read it over, and let me know before the end of the week.”

Partial relief, as it only being Monday gives her a couple, but not a lot, of days to really sit on this all. Not even the….proposal but just….everything that’s happened since she first met Roman Reigns that fateful night in the club months prior.

She nods, voice quiet once more. "Okay."

No. Not okay. Far from okay.

—------

“So let me get this straight.” Solana stabs the spoon into the shared carton of moose tracks ice cream being passed and forth between the two friends. She scoops an unnecessarily large amount and stuffs it into her mouth, intentionally downing it slowly to help prolong the answer she’s far from eager to give. “He asked you to marry him.”

Solana swallows. “Not…not necessarily.”

“So, there was no mention of marriage?”

“Well, yes—”

Hannah’s eyes widen. “Then. he essentially asked you to marry him.” Solana groans, leaning deeper into the dark sofa that’s always been more uncomfortable than not but the best that she could afford at the time. Still, really. “And he wants you to be his surrogate.”

Solana winces. Just hearing it makes it sound even more insane. “Technically, we have to be married in order for the child to be recognized as his—”

“His little mafia prince or princess?”

“Hannah.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, snatching the carton back, explaining almost panicked, “this is all way too much for me.”

Solana scoffs. “You?” She shakes her head, acknowledging the most uncomfortable part of it all. “I’m the one who has to give him an answer.”

An answer that’s not as easy as it should be, or maybe as she’d like it to be.

Hannah quiets down, the only sound in Solana’s small apartment coming from the TV playing a show neither women have watched since sitting down to discuss the proposal. A waste of electricity, if Solana was thinking clearly, but she’s not, because she’s too caught up in her head over what could end up being the most important decision she’ll ever make.

“So, tell me again, what exactly it’ll include,” Hannah asks, offering the carton to be shared once more. Solana takes another scoop, relaying everything Roman said, the premise of his offer. It would probably be easier to just share the contract Roman had his assistant, Paul, email her. But, she doesn’t. Probably cause that makes it all just way too official. “Wow….do you know how rare it is for someone to graduate college and medical school and everything else with zero debt?”

It’s not rare.

It’s unheard of.

Because, it doesn’t happen.

But, Roman is prepared to do just that.

“I know,” Solana murmurs, her interest in ice cream waning by the second, prompting her to place her spoon down on the napkin laid out on her old coffee table. “It…it feels too good to be true.”

“But, that’s why he said you’d guys sign a contract, right?”

Solana nods. “Yeah.” Leaning back into the sofa, she begins to play with the bottom of her oversized shirt, a random purchase from Walmart’s graphic t-shirt rack. At one point, it had a portrait of Prince from Purple Rain. Now, it’s just distorted, tarnished, and nothing but a comfy thing to sleep in. “But, like…a baby, Hannah?”

Hannah frowns, her full lips more pronounced. “I know, but….it’s not like you’d keep it?”

True. However, that doesn’t negate her counter. “But, I’d still have to carry it for the better part of the year.”

Hannah shrugs one shoulder, her top falling just a bit to exposed, smooth, flawless, brown skin. “Well, yes, that’s how pregnancies work.”

Solana closes her eyes and moans. “Hannah.”

“I’m sorry,” the other woman apologizes, messing with her box braids. A sign of nervousness. “I’m just….I don’t know what to say.”

Fair, because Solana, too, doesn’t know what to say.

Or do.

On one hand, Roman’s proposal sounds like the craziest thing ever. The rest of her collegiate expenses paid off in exchange for marrying him, giving him a baby, leaving the baby to be raised by him, and his family, with a divorce to top it all off as she continues to live her debt free life?

But, also, like Hannah smartly pointed out, to be able to enter her dream career, making more money than she could have ever imagined, saving lives and doing what she loves without the cloud of student loans over her head?

That could change so much for her. She could maybe buy a house, help her parents pay off their mortgage and their debts. She’d be in such a good financial position for when the time came for her to actually settle down and start a family.

And, then there's that whole side of it. Family. How the hell is she supposed to tell her family about this? How could she ever help them understand why she's agreed to be the surrogate for a literal killer in exchange for financial freedom? How does one go about explaining that to their family without being put on an involuntarily psych hold for temporary insanity?

She'll wait.

Solana groans, appetite completely gone. This shit sucks. It should be an easy decision, but it's not, and as much as she would like to say her answer is no, and that's that....she can't.

She can't bring herself to do that, because the appeal of living an essentially carefree life when it comes to finances feels almost too good an opportunity to turn down.

A dream come true, depending on how one looks at it.

It’s just the getting there that has her so torn.

Because the idea of conceiving and carrying a child right now doesn’t feel or seem all that appealing. And, it’s not that she doesn’t want kids. She does.

Just not now.

She wants to finish up school and be a bit established in her career before going down that road.

But.

It’s not….it’s not as if this will be her child. Yes, biologically, he or she will be hers, but she’ll have no place in their life. Roman will be the father, and what story he tells them about their maternal parentage is for him to figure out. Plus, he has a big family. The child will be loved.

She’s just the conduit, of sorts.

And, as far as the marriage part, plenty of people get divorced. She’ll just be a part of that fifty percent club. Not to mention, it won’t even be worth mentioning to any future partners. Neither will the surrogacy, really. It’ll just be….a chapter in her life.

One not worth revisiting when the last page turns.

—-------

Roman fucking hates waiting.

He understands why in this situation, but it doesn’t make him any less annoyed.

Another heavy, irritated sigh at having checked his phone once more only to see a lock screen full of notifications, none of them from the person he’s wanting to see on his phone.

Needing, in some instances.

Jaw ticking, that just spikes his irritation all over again. He hates that shit, too. Needing something. Anything. From anyone.

Hence why his hatred for the Elders has only been exacerbated by this whole fuck ass situation they’ve put him in.

It’s fucking aggravating, and the urge to tell them all to fuck off is something he struggles with on the daily.

But, deep down, beyond the layers of stubbornness, he knows they’re right. At 36, approaching 37, he needs an heir.

It’s long overdue.

Hence his approach to Solana.

Not ideal. Not ideal at all.

But, of his options, of his roster of women, she makes the most sense. She’s easy. No drama. No theatrics. For months, they’ve had their arrangement, and she’s never once tried to make it more than what it is. She just gets it.

He just hopes she can get this as well.

Roman understands her apprehension as well as her shock, but in laying out the facts and details, he's optimistic she can understand that it's nothing more than a business arrangement. Just as he told her.

Stepping into the shower, Roman allows the water to wash away the stress of the day and lingering thoughts of his official-unofficial non-friend with great benefits, scrubbing and washing his body clean.

The entire night routine, of sorts, ends with him walking into his bedroom and climbing into his bed, despite his mind still racing. The last glance he gives to his phone, still without the notification he’s been waiting for, is the last thing he sees before drifting off to sleep.

—------

The sounds of nature, the ray of sunlight bleeding into the room through the open doors that lead to the balcony. Roman’s frown is deep as he blinks his eyes open and inhales deeply, the scent clean and subtle, a combination of her perfume that lingers on the sheets, her side presenting an absent space.

Roman sits up and rolls his shoulders, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, sliding his feet into the Nike slides. Making his way out the room, the framed photos on the wall of the hall that lead him to the staircase tell a story.

Their story.

That Valentine’s Day card she made for him when they were in the second grade, the edges torn, that stain in the corner that smeared her artwork the result of some shitty classmate that “accidentally” spilled apple juice on it.

The same way Roman “accidentally” punched him right in his stupid face immediately after.

The collage of polaroids she’d made for him on his 13th birthday, a gift of labor and love, photos of mostly him, but them as well, along with a few including the twins.

The photo of them at prom, an event he was 100% okay with skipping, never really caring much for shit like that, but she wanted to go, so they went. Back against him, her dainty hands placed atop his as she smiled so bright, her eyes creased slightly, her happiness from that night seeping through the photo that documented what she’d once called the “best night” of her life.

Her partially agrees, and not for any reason related to the actual prom. No, that shit was a disaster. The music sucked, someone spiked the punch, Jey and Nicki were kicked out of the hotel for their usual bullshit, Jimmy and Naomi almost broke up, Bayley landed a suspension for beating the shit out of Samantha in the girls bathroom. It was....a lot. But, what made it memorable for him was afterwards, was where instead of attending the after-party, she asked to go back to his place, and they became one with each for the first time.

The first time he ever told her he loved her.

Then there's another collage, of course, created by her, reflecting the week they spent together, just the two of them, in the Maldives to celebrate their high school graduation.

That...that will always be one of his fondest memories. For one week, it was just him and her, no pressure, no outside distractions. Just the two of them.

Happy.

Roman swallows, realizing revisiting only makes things worse. He opts to keep his focus on the cherrywood steps that lead him to the first floor and the backdoor that, similar to the doors in the bedroom, remain open and inviting.

That’s where he finds her, out on the patio, standing in front of the easel, paint brush in one hand, working efficiently and dutifully. The sleeveless, long white dress grants him a view of the inked “Roman” written across the back of her upper arm. And, even with her curls and coils down, the wind pushing her hair up and to the side teases the small R tattooed on the back of her neck.

The same way he has two tattoos for her located discreetly on his body, embedded and hidden within tribal ink. Etched on his soul.

A small smile on his face that grows with each step he takes towards her, only to deepen and his eyes to shut when he’s able to wrap his arms around her.

She smiles, lowering the paint brush, looking over her shoulder. “Can I help you?”

He says nothing, kissing the side of her neck. She giggles, and it’s the best thing one could ever hear. He looks over at the unfinished piece, not enough completed for him to make a guess at what she has in mind, hence him asking, “what is it?”

Her smile shifts into a smirk, her voice teasing, “guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” Groaning, she giggles once more, placing the brush and palette down as she turns around and beams up at him. “How was your day today?”

“Long.” Too long. They’re always too long.

She presses her lips together, fingers dancing up his chest. “That great?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” he dismisses. Unsurprising, or it shouldn’t be. Roman lifts his hand to cup the back of her neck, thumb brushing over that single letter, his expression softening. “I just wanna enjoy you.”

The wind brushing against them makes her curls flap around wildly just as the smile on her stunning face grows. She moves to take his hand in hers, leading them back into the house. Roman says nothing, hand firm in hers as she guides them upstairs and into the bedroom.

His eyes never leave hers, like he’s scared that doing so will make her go away, make her leave.

He had that happen once before.

Never again.

She lays down on her side, prompting him to do the same, captivated by her eyes, a warm rich brown, just a few shades deeper than her complexion, glowing and illuminated from the sun of the open windows adjacent to their bed.

She smiles, deeply, dimples on full display. “So, you asked her.”

And, just like that, the softening expression of his shifts into something else. Hardened. Irritated. “I don’t want to talk about that, either.”

She says nothing, reaching and stroking his beard. “Not talking about it won’t make it suddenly go away or disappear….” She swallows, full lips dipping into a bit of a frown. “I like her.” Her gaze lifts to him. “And, so do you.”

It’s an easy, quick dismissal. “She’s a means to an end.”

A knowing smile. One he’s seen a million times over. “You were never able to lie to me.”

“I’m not,” he defends, reaching to push back some of her coils. “She means nothing to me. It’d be a business arrangement.”

Her frown deepens once more. “She’d be giving you a child, Roman.”

“Also, a business arrangement.” A staunch defense followed by a hushed, vulnerable admission, “it shouldn’t even be her.”

She swallows. “Roman…”

“It should be you.” His voice is thick and even, jaw clenched from building emotion. “It should be us.”

She just looks at him, stares at him, finally asking in the quietest voice, “how long are you going to keep blaming yourself, my heart?”

A powerful question for which, after all these years, he still has no answer for.

He’s not sure he ever will.

Roman shoots up in bed, chest heaving, the lightest sheen of sweat across his forehead. The bedroom bathed in light colors, the sunlight from the beautiful day, and the wrinkled space beside him no longer present.

She’s no longer beside him.

It’s none of that. None of her.

Just him.

Alone.

He swallows, jaw clenched as he tries to settle himself. All these years later, and he still struggles with this portion. The coming to. The most painful reminder he could ever have/experience. The return to reality. A reality he’d give anything to not be his reality.

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the view of his phone lit up on the nightstand. A phone he hasn’t touched since getting in bed, thus there being no activation on his end to cause it to light up.

That means he has a new notification.

Blowing out a deep breath, he runs his hand through his partially dry hair, grabbing the iPhone.

And, for the first time in days, a message from the name that hasn’t appeared since their last conversation.

Solana.

It’s not missed upon him how he takes a second before unlocking the phone and navigating to the messages app, her thread at the very top, reading an unambiguous response.

Solana: I’ll do it.

--------

authors note: and, here we are, folks. if you've been around here long enough, you know i don't typically ask questions of ya'll at the end of the chapters, but this particular au is, i think, pretty different from the others. or, maybe i'm just delusional.

because, in case you missed it, the 'she' roman was dreaming about is not solana. thus, i'm curious. lmao. specifically, what do ya'll make of roman and solana's whole....fwb, of sorts, arrangement? seems like they both view it the same but also...maybe not.

#roman reigns fanfiction #smut warning #reblog reblog reblog #roman reigns #🖤🖤🖤#omg!!!#👀#fanfiction #❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹#wow!!!#uh oh #wwe fanfiction #wwe #roman reigns x oc

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