Checkmate in Bloodline
Requested by Anonymous
Pairing: Roman Reigns x reader
Genre: Angst, Fluff
Characters: Roman, Y/N, Seth
Description: Seth uses Y/N as bait to get to Roman, to make him lose his match.
The arena was too loud. Too bright. Too full of people who didn't understand what it meant when everything went quiet inside your chest.
You stood backstage, arms wrapped around yourself, trying to ignore the way your heartbeat thudded unevenly. Roman's match was minutes away. You should've been at gorilla with him - like always - close enough to feel the steady grounding presence he carried like armour.
Instead, you were alone.
"Well, this is convenient."
The voice slithered in behind you.
You didn't turn immediately. You didn't have to. You already knew.
Seth.
"You shouldn't be here," you said quietly, keeping your tone even despite the tension coiling in your spine.
He circled into your line of sight, a crooked grin stretching across his face. "Funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you."
You took a step back. He stepped forward.
"You know," Seth continued, almost conversationally. "Roman's always had a weakness."
Your stomach dropped.
"And it's not his ego," he added, tilting his head. "It's you."
"I'm not part of this," you snapped, sharper now. "Whatever you're trying to do-"
"Oh, but you are," he interrupted smoothly. "You've always been part of this. You just didn't realise it."
Before you could react, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist - not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to trap.
"Let go," you hissed, trying to pull back.
"Relax," he murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you."
That somehow made it worse.
--------------------------
Roman was pacing.
Something felt wrong.
He couldn't explain it - not logically. The match was routine. He'd been in bigger fights, higher stakes. But there was a tightness in his chest that wouldn't ease, a sharp edge of instinct he'd learned not to ignore.
"Where are they?" he muttered under his breath. You were supposed to be here.
Always here.
The moment his music hit, he stopped pacing - but he didn't move toward the curtain.
Because then he saw it.
On the screen.
You.
And Seth.
Your wrist in his grip. Your expression tight, eyes flicking around like you were calculating escape routes that didn't exist.
Roman's entire body went still.
And then-
It snapped.
------------------------------
"You should see your face right now," Seth said lightly, glancing at the camera nearby. "Oh wait - he can see it."
Your breath hitched.
"Don't-" you started, but he leaned closer.
"Go on," he coaxed softly. "Say something. I'm sure he's listening."
You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "Roman - don't -"
That was as far as you got before Seth's grip tightened just enough to make you wince.
"Careful," he murmured, almost gently. "Wouldn't want you to say the wrong thing."
Your heart was racing now, panic clawing up your throat.
"He's not going to throw this match for you," Seth continued, voice turning colder. "He's too proud for that."
But the way he said it... it sounded like a challenge.
-----------------------------
Roman didn't remember walking out.
He didn't remember the roar of the crowd or the weight of the title or the referee trying to get his attention.
All he could see was you.
On that screen.
Not hurt - but not safe.
And that was enough.
His opponent was saying something. The bell rang. The match started.
Roman barely registered any of it.
Because every time he moved, every time he tried to focus -
Your face flashed in his mind.
The tension in your shoulders.
The way you'd said his name.
-----------------------
"You know what's interesting?" Seth mused, still holding you in place. "It's not about hurting you."
You glared at him. "Then let me go."
He smiled.
"It's about hurting him."
The screen nearby flickered to Roman in the ring - distracted, slower than usual, taking hits he normally wouldn't.
Your chest tightened painfully.
"Stop this," you whispered. "This isn't - this isn't how you win."
Seth's expression shifted - something darker, something bitter flickering beneath the surface.
"Winning?" he echoed. "Oh, I'm not trying to win."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping.
"I'm trying to make him lose."
--------------------------
Roman staggered back as another hit landed.
The crowd reacted, but it sounded distant, muffled under the roar of blood in his ears.
Focus.
He needed to focus.
But then -
The screen.
You again.
This time, your eyes met the cameras directly.
And he saw it.
Fear.
Not loud. Not panicked.
But real.
And something inside him broke.
-----------------------------------
"Roman," you said softly, knowing he could hear you now. "Don't do this."
Seth didn't stop you this time.
"Don't throw this away because of me," you continued, your voice shaking despite your effort to steady it. "I'm okay. I will be okay."
A lie.
All of it.
But you needed him to believe it.
"Please," you whispered. "Just fight."
Seth watched you carefully, then chuckled under his breath.
"Too late."
------------------------------------------
Roman moved - but not toward his opponent.
Toward the ropes.
Toward the screen.
Toward you.
And that hesitation - that one second of divided focus -
Was all it took.
The impact hit hard.
The pin came fast.
One.
Two.
Three.
------------------------------------
The bell rang.
The crowd erupted.
Roman didn't move.
Didn't react.
Didn't even seem to breathe.
Because on the screen -
Seth finally let go of you.
You stumbled back, immediately putting distance between you.
And for a brief second, your eyes met the camera again.
Met him.
--------------------------------
Backstage, the moment Seth released you, you pulled your arm free completely.
"You're sick," you said, voice low, trembling with anger now instead of fear.
He just smiled.
"Maybe," he said. "But it worked."
You didn't respond.
Because your attention was already on the screen.
Roman.
Standing in the ring.
Title gone.
Everything gone.
Because of you.
Your chest tightened painfully.
"Yeah," Seth added, following your gaze. "That's gonna stick with him."
You swallowed hard, eyes stinging.
"Good," he said, almost to himself.
----------------------------------------------
Later, when Roman finally found you, there were no cameras.
No crowd.
No noise.
Just silence.
You didn't know what to say.
"I'm sorry," you started - but he crossed the distance before you could finish.
His hands came up to your face, checking you over, eyes scanning for injuries that weren't there.
"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.
You nodded quickly. "I'm fine, Roman, I-"
"I don't care about the match."
The words hit harder than you expected.
You shook your head. "You should. I cost you-"
"No," he cut in, firm. "He did."
There was a beat of silence.
Then, quieter -
"But I let him."
That hurt more.
You reached up, resting your hand over his. "He used me. That's not on you."
Roman's jaw tightened.
"It is," he said. "Because he knew it would work."
Your chest ached at that.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Slowly, you leaned your forehead against his.
"I didn't want you to lose because of me," you whispered.
His grip on your softened - but didn't loosen.
"I'd lose a thousand matches," he murmured, "before I let anything happen to you."
And that -
That was the problem.
Because now, both of you knew -
Seth had found the one thing that could break Roman Reigns.
And he wouldn't forget it.
