a/n: i said on twitter that bray holding up the photo of roman's daughter would be the next fanfic trope, but i wanted to switch it up a bit. i haven't written him and paige in a long time, but i felt that rush of inspiration, so here we are.

~*~snapping her soul in half~*~

i know we are not gods

and i know we must perish

but fuck it.

if we're going to die,

if we have to leave this forsaken earth

at least

let me be next to you at the end of it all

the lover's prayer -

via tumblr

"Hey," So smooth and warm, like a good whiskey, against the skin of her cheek, and she wants to push him away – her recruiting didn't go the way she expected and the two on one handicap match against The Bellas went worse, if that was even possible – but instead she sinks into his hulking frame, melting, practically.

There's a soft kiss and a pleasantly familiar rub of rough stubble, and if she turns just right, she'll capture those perfectly lush lips. Turning because – even though she won't say so out loud – she needs those lips after getting her arse handed to her, she rises to the tips of her toes, arms wrapping around his neck so he bends at the right angle and yes.

Surprisingly softer than normal, is this kiss, because normally as soon as their lips touch, they're trying to devour each other; neither one to hold back. The hand that isn't cradling her head, spans her waist, grounding her against him; their hips in perfect alignment as her mouth falls open for him, offering no resistance to his tongue.

"Roman," Far too breathless and whiny for her taste and he isn't surprised, after pulling back, that she's scowling. Though, he's very fond of her breathless whines and whimpers, he knows she sees them as signs of weakness, as being like every other woman who fawns and swoons over him.

Dipping his head again – he can't resist how she looks, eyes glazing over with lust, lips so plump and sinful – he traces a specific spot along her lower lip, the spot where her lip ring used to be, and he groans, "Whoever told you to get rid of your lip ring, is gonna get their ass whooped."

She laughs, throaty and warm, shiver curling at the base of his spine. "I can always," Eyes gleaming devilishly. "Put it back, you know. It's not, like, it's gone forever."

"Put it back," A growl and then a nip of her lip. "After I bash Wyatt's face in."

"Or what?" Defiant as she crosses her arms over her chest and fuck, he knows she's more than tits and arse, as she likes to say, but he is – despite rumors to the contrary – only human, so his eyes drift; taking in the wonderful sight of her breasts – round and full – pushed upwards, sitting perfectly, just waiting for his mouth, teeth and tongue.

"Don't think I won't bend you over my knee back at the hotel," Low and menacing in her ear as he licks his lips, imagining, those perfect cheeks of her ass red from his palms. "English."

"Yeah," She grips the front of his tank, tight, yanking him down so they're eye to eye. "And who says that's not what I want?"

"Fucking hell, Paige," Desperate and panting, eyes shut tight, and teeth grit while his jaw grinds.

Lips – hot and insistent – against his own, her tongue sweeping across his lush bottom lip, then diving into his all-too-willing mouth. One hand is tangled in his hair, gripping tight, and the other slides down his chest – stopping, briefly, to flick at both of his nipples – before cupping him through the thick material of his cargos. A slow torturous pump of his impressive length, then another and another and then the kiss breaks, her lips moving along the side of his chiseled jaw before reaching his ear.

"I'll be waiting for you when you're done with Wyatt." Lust coating every syllable that uniquely smoky voice of hers, making his entire body harden. "Go get 'em, big boy." Another pump of his length, and instantly, in a whirl of ebony tresses streaked with blue, she's gone; skipping away and giving him a great view of her perfectly round ass as it bounces in perfect time with her skips.

Fucking minx. He'd show her. Later. Right now he had Wyatt's ass to kick for that bullshit stunt he pulled last night. And he'd make sure he didn't get beat too bad. He had a tease to put in her place.

"I say we don't wait those five weeks until Battleground. I say Bray Wyatt, bring your ass out here, right now!"

On cue the jumbo tron fizzled and then there was the haunting yell as creepy black and white image after creepy black and white image appeared until Bray himself was finally revealed.

And as usual he was talking in riddles, telling tales of opposites, and lost paradise; none of which made sense to Roman. He stood, stoically, in the middle of the ring, watching intently, jaw subtly ticking and his right hand flexing, itching to get his hands on this Bayou Boogie Man, wanting retribution for last night.

"I will tempt you, I will lie to you, I will haunt you and ultimately, I will destroy you! But not tonight..." Humming the bars to a familiar tune. "No, not tonight. I wouldn't want to tear her image of you to pieces so quickly, not after she suffered so greatly tonight, failing, in her endeavor to gather soldiers in her fight against an empire of plastic. No, she deserves to believe – for just one more night – that you are the Superman she believes in so strongly..."

The screen crackles, briefly, and cuts to an instagram video that Paige posted a few weeks before. Hair brushes, in hand, they were dancing around their hotel room and dramatically singing along to "wonderwall." The screen cuts from him and it's only her, her beautiful face filling the entire screen, as she head bangs and thrashes, arms flailing wildly before she falls to her knees, looking up at him with those big, dark eyes – so open and honest – and his whole body tenses, eyes going wide, his throat suddenly dry.

He struggles to swallow as the screen goes black and then cuts back to Bray.

There he is pacing, a rose in his hand, finger circling the thorns and running along the stem. "A beautiful English rose, petals so soft, even with a stem strong and sturdy while covered in thorns. But, Roman, every rose's petals will wither and fall. Even..." The rose is gone, replaced by a photo of Paige, in his hand. "Hers."

After the final shot fades to black and the arena's lights come back on, at Roman's feet, are more than a few dozen dried rose petals.

"Don't you dare give me some speech about staying away! Don't treat me like some weak little thing that needs to be protected!" Growling as she's on her tip toes, right in his face, nose mere centimeters from his own and lips snarling, her eyes raging. "I'm a big girl, Reigns, I can take care of myself! Don't forget that just because Bray is trying to get into your head. Don't forget that I'm capable and strong," Shaking hands cupping his face, eyes growing soft at the edges, staring deeply into his own. "Don't push me away."

It's soft and small, pleading, as she sucks in her bottom lip, chewing nervously; eyes flickering over every inch of his face, and even though, she's right there – her smell of musky vanilla engulfing him, the silkiness of her hands on him – all he sees are those dried rose petals, once vibrant and beautiful, now dull and brown; the sound of them crunching under his feet playing over and over.

He tries to pry her hands away, but she only grips tighter. "Paige..." A warning growl, but she stands her ground.

"You know you can't," A hiccup as tears fill those pretty dark eyes. "Get rid of me," A choked sob, one hand swiping across her eyes. "That easy. No matter what you do or what you say, I'll keep coming back. Besides," A small smile. "What will you tell JoJo? If you try to make up some bullshit, she'll see right through you. And God knows, you'll never actually learn how to make a proper French braid or tie the perfect bow or be able to put the tiny shoes on the Barbies..."

"Why you gotta play dirty, Paige?" A heavy sigh as his forehead comes to rest against hers.

"It's the only way I know how to play. Mum and Daddy taught me well." The teasing is only fleeting as she pushes her fingers through his glorious raven tresses, palm coming to cup the chiseled angle of his jaw. "Wyatt doesn't scare me. If he wants some, he can..." She paused before backing away and holding up an imaginary title belt and then screamed, dropping her voice as if she was Cena, "COME GET SOME!"

"Paige..." Teeth grit as eyes turn hard as steel.

"What?" Innocent as long lashes bat furtively and eyes grow wide as saucers. "I'm not saying I'm going looking for him in a dark alley, I'm just saying I'm not running."

"Don't go lookin' for trouble. I gotta have eyes in the back of my head now that he's thrown down the gauntlet. I can't do that if I'm lookin' over my shoulder for you, English."

"I told you, I won't be looking for Bray, but if he comes to me, all bets are off. Knights don't run with their tails tucked between their legs. They put up their dukes and fight. Besides..." Voice going throaty and warm, as if honey is being poured from those plump lips. "I thought," A black lacquered fingernail tracing the large curve of his biceps then moving along the prominent vein. "You liked me feisty? Thought," Her body – like an ardent cat – sliding along his. "It got you all," A breath of air against his neck. "Hot under the collar?"

Pulling back there she goes; eyes wide and innocent as she rocks back and forth on her heels, head cocked to the side, "Was I wrong, Roman?"

They end up a tangle of sweaty arms and legs on the locker room floor, the only sound surrounding them, the heaviness of their breathing as they struggle to draw air back into their lungs. Only the contrast of skin – deep caramel against smooth mother of pearl – shows where the other ends and one begins. A shapely leg slung over a strong thigh, as the ebony-haired Brit, pulls herself – somehow – into a straddling position across the wonderfully toned hips of the Florida native.

A large hand cups her cheek, tenderly, grey eyes going soft at the edges and reminding her of silver. Her heart stutters in her chest and she hates [loves] it. Her stomach fills with the cliché of proverbial butterflies and she swears, with the way he's looking at her, she's going to go knock-kneed any moment. And thank fuck she's not actually standing, otherwise she's sure she'd faint.

"I figured I'd tell you this, I dunno," She almost squeals, there's a hint of pink on those god-like sculpted cheekbones. "Somewhere that's not..." A rich chuckle from those criminally plush lips, heat pooling at the apex of her thighs, once again. "My locker room. I didn't think we'd be sweaty and naked either. But fuck it. I gotta let you know..." Her breath catches, he's never looked at her quite like this before, as if he can see through her; she's exposed, literally and figuratively, a shiver rolling through her. "I love you."

"Roman..."

"Don't think I'm saying it cause of what happened out there. Please don't. I wouldn't do that to you. I'm saying it cause I had to let you know. Cause you deserve to know. And believe me, tellin' you like this, even though I didn't want to necessarily be sweaty and naked, is way better than how JoJo thought I should tell you."

"Oh, yeah? How did she think you should tell me?"

"She wanted me to sing the Flynn Rider part of I See The Light from Tangled and hoped you would get the hint and sing the Rapunzel part, then when the song was over, I was supposed to kiss you and tell you."

Paige couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh. Her hands drummed on the strong muscles of his ripped pectorals. Her eyes shone like glittering onyx as she peered through dark lashes, once she had calmed, and bent forward, her forehead pressed against his.

"Don't tell JoJo but I like your way better."

"Yeah?"

"A lot better. And..." Teeth chewing at that damn bottom lip and there's a surge of heat going straight to his groin. "Um..." A burst of that throaty laughter and, of course, her breasts bounce with it; only making the picture she creates, straddling him, more beautiful which causes his length to come alive against the smooth pearl of her toned thigh. "It was so much easier in my head," A pretty flush warming pretty cheeks. "I didn't think I would, y'know, feel like this again or whatever. Didn't think anyone could make me. I..." Whispered against his lips, so soft, if they weren't still plastered together, he wouldn't be able to hear. "Love you."

Roman should've known, even though, he told Paige – explicitly – to stay put in the Diva's locker room for Smackdown, that she wouldn't listen. Just like he should've known telling Emma and Summer to keep watch over her was a waste of time. The two blondes wouldn't have been able to stop her from sneaking away if they had been as big as Ryback and Big Show put together.

When Paige wanted to do something, it was a miracle, if she didn't get her way.

So he wasn't surprised to see her strutting down the ramp, signature leather jacket, over his Hit Hard, Hit Often t-shirt that was cut to reveal the smoothness of her tummy, but instead of the shorts that went with her gear, she was in black skinny jeans, which highlighted those shapely legs perfectly and he could only imagine what they did for that ass of hers.

Fuck.

But as soon as the musky scent of vanilla hit his nose, he felt like pushing her away, getting in her face, stoking the temper that was easy to set fire, so she would stomp away. He knew better, though, she'd see through the game he was trying to play a mile away and it would only make her take a firmer stance.

"I told you," Loud enough for only them to hear. "I wasn't running. Just like I told you, I wasn't going to let you push me away. I'm right here, and right here is where I'm staying. Let Wyatt come for me. He won't get far, I can promise that."

"Paige..." He swallowed thickly, hearing the crunch of the roses, once again.

"Bray Wyatt..." She turned from him, addressing the full arena before them. "Wants to talk of roses and how every rose's petals will wither and fall, well, I am English – that much of what he said during his little speech on RAW this past Monday, is true – but I'm no rose. If he thinks, I'm going to wither and die, he needs to think again. I am standing right here in this ring beside my man, and I'm not going anywhere. He best believe that."

As the mic falls from her hand, dropping with a hollow thud, everything goes black. When the lights come back, there's Bray with Paige in his arms, squeezing her much smaller frame against his larger bulk. One hand, wrapped tight around her throat as she struggles, squirming and kicking her feet, dark eyes locked on Roman's grey.

He breathes against the slope of her neck, his nose sliding up and down, as her face contorts in disgust or pain, it's hard to tell which. "Don't you smell lovely darlin'." A dark chuckle against her skin. "This – vanilla -" Another deep breath. "Is what I smelled on your Superman when I pushed him off the ladder. Too bad..."

"Let. Her. Go." A cold shiver races over Paige's body at the sound of Roman's voice. Deadly and menacing. There's a twinge of fear in her belly. His shadow looming over both her and Bray. Her eyes flash to his arms, tensed and flexing, and for the first time it's as if she's fully aware of the power inside them. And not just them but the power in his body.

"What is this?" Bray's ice blue eyes gleam manically as she takes yet another deep breath, nose still sliding against Paige's neck. "Not vanilla... No, something else... Something I would recognize anywhere." A wild bark of laughter. "Is that fear I smell, darlin'?"

"I'm not afraid of you." Wrenched from her throat as she continues to struggle.

"I never said you were..." Ice blue eyes flashing at steel grey. "But you are afraid. The fear," All the while staring straight at Roman. "Is coming off you in waves."

Paige feels Bray's hold loosen as Roman backs away. He drops her onto the mat, unceremoniously, maniacal laughter in the distance as everything, once again, goes black. He's disappeared leaving her and Roman in the ring. Crawling toward him, she scrambles to her feet, as he turns to step through the ropes. Grabbing at his wrist, he pushes at her hand, but she only digs her nails into his kin.

"Roman..." A desperate whimper.

"Don't." Like she's never heard him before and with a final tug, he steps through the ropes, leaving her standing at the apron of the ring, blinking back tears, clouding her eyes.

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

A heavy sigh as Roman struggles to ignore the incessant pounding against the door of his hotel room. He can't open the door, not after what happened in the ring tonight. He knows she thinks it's because of what Bray implied, but it's more than that. He saw the shiver roll through her body. He saw her eyes staring into his, just a fraction wider than normal, a shock around her irises after he demanded Bray let her go. He saw the goosebumps rise on that flawless mother of pearl skin.

It wasn't Bray she was afraid of.

His stomach churned violently as those very images played across his vision.

He swallowed thickly, bile, coating his throat and stinging bitter on his tongue. His heart beat heavy in his chest just as the door began to unlock while as muttering came through, "I didn't want to have to do this, but you've left me no choice."

"Paige!" He all but roars. "What the fuck?! Did you just pick the lock?! If someone catches you... Wait," He shakes his head, baffled, because since when does she know how to pick locks. "Since when do you know how to pick locks?"

"Since Dean showed me a couple hours ago." Without a hint of shame, if anything she's prideful, as she shows off the bobby pin in two of her slender fingers. "Don't get mad at him. I begged him to show me and also, to be honest, me learning how to pick locks is really your fault. If you hadn't ignored me and taken the rental car keys and the room key, I would've never learned in the first place."

"You were scared. Out there, in the ring, you were scared. Of me."

"I wasn't..."

"I saw it in your eyes! I saw the goosebumps, I saw you shiver! You were scared!"

The next thing Roman knows, she's right in front of him, gripping his chin tight, as she makes him stare right at her. "I had never seen you like that before. It was shocking, okay? I won't deny that. We've never lied to each other, so why start now? But this is what Bray wants. He wants to expose you, to reveal the monster inside that he claims is there, but I know you. There's no monster to be revealed. He wants to tear you down, to strip you until you're bare bones and nothing else, but what's really there, isn't what he thinks will be."

Roman sighs heavily, his eyes closing tight, but there's Paige is voice, "Look at me," making him open them.

"I know what's underneath all of this," Her palm, open, and pressed to his left pectoral, feeling the familiar steady rhythm of his beating heart. "And there's no darkness. There's the heart of a fighter, of someone who will always get back up no matter how bruised and battered they are. There's a heart that is so big, it's a wonder it fits inside your chest. There's your loyalty to those you deem worthy of being close to you; Dean, Emma, Jimmy and Jey, Tamina, Naomi. There's your love for JoJo, something so powerful, I dunno how it's even real..."

"Don't forget you." His strong fingers wrap around her wrist. "You and JoJo, you two, are why it beats steady like it does."

"So how could I possibly, ever, be afraid?" Husked from plump lips that hover over his. "I meant what I said in the ring, if Bray thinks I'm going to wither and die, he better think again. Just like if he thinks, he can tear us apart, play those little mind games and act like some demented puppet master, he's got another thing coming. I don't run, I stand my ground and I know you do the same."

"The way you..."

"I know you'll never lay hands on me. You would rather be choked slam to hell by Kane, RKO'd by Randy, pedigree'd by Hunter and taken to Suplex City all at one time before you would ever lay hands on me."

"That look in your eyes..."

"Maybe you've always looked like that inside the ring, maybe that's your game face and I never paid attention. It's not like I'm looking at your face, okay?"

"Not lookin' at my face, huh?" Paige groans at the look on his disgustingly handsome face, that smile she – internally calls the panty dropper – appearing across lush lips. "Then what are you lookin' at?"

"I'm not telling. Your ego might suffocate us both." Her tone is dry as she rolls her eyes.

"If you won't tell me, I bet Emma will. It's not that late, I'm sure she and Dean are still up. Point Break finally got on Netflix, so they're probably watching it. But if they're busy, I bet Summer will tell me. Or maybe one of your Amigas Fox and Rosa will."

"Don't you fucking take another step, Reigns. I am not afraid to use force to keep you in this room."

"Are you gonna tell me what you're lookin' at if you're not lookin' at my face?"

Paige sighed as she threw her arms up in exasperation. "YOUR ARMS!" She practically screamed. "There, I said it, are you happy now? I'm just like every slag that messages you on twitter and instagram. I'm no better than the twats who drool every time the sleeves of your shirts ride up just a little on tumblr. And sometimes – okay, more than sometimes – your arse, too."

The embarrassed flush of her cheeks made Roman laugh, which got him a hard slap across his chest for his trouble. Wincing, briefly, he reached out for her, laughing harder, when she purposefully turned away, nose in the air. He got her wrist and pulled her against him, dropping a kiss on her forehead, as he wrapped one arm around her trim waist while the other pushed her hair over to one shoulder so her neck was bare.

Kissing the bared flesh, he murmured, "If it makes you feel better, I don't look at your face when you're in the ring either?"

"Oh, really?" She all but purred.

"It's a damn good thing you don't wear tops cut as low as Nikki. If you did," The hand around her waist inches further up, finally, cupping her right breast with his large hand. His thumb swipes across her nipple and he feels her melt, smirking against her neck. "I'd never be able to watch any of your matches. Especially if all of them were on before mine. Those little shorts don't do me any favors either."

"I can always talk to Sandra..."

"I got enough problems not going to out the ring with a hard-on when it comes to you, English. You don't gotta make it worse on purpose. And if you try anything, I'll pull a Rollins and take off my shirt and vest before every match."

"Is that supposed to deter me?"

"Such a naughty little thing."

All talk of fear and Bray Wyatt disappears with a heady kiss. And all that's heard is screams of want, moans of need and the panting of breathless passion as they come together, her name – warm and heavy, "Paige," - from his lush lips as her velvet walls squeeze him tightly, milking him for everything while his – needy and wanting - "Roman" spills from her thoroughly kissed lips.

Lips and teeth tracing the intricacy of his tribal tattoo that goes all the way around his right pectoral. A lap of a tongue against his nipple, a brief bite, and then dark eyes peering from behind lashes. "I love you."

Strong fingers pushing through sweaty raven tresses. A sweet kiss against the curve of her left breast. A pluck and swipe of her right nipple. "Love you too."

Wrapped tightly around each other, not bothering to cover their naked bodies with the duvet, they slip into an easy sleep; their breathing slow and steady, one of his large hands resting comfortably on the right cheek of her ass while his other is behind his head. The crown of her head is tucked underneath his chin and the arm whose hand isn't gripping his strong thigh, is splayed outward, laying haphazardly against the sheets, like she's reaching for something.

And that's how they stay until the morning; both ready to stand together in the deadly game Bray Wyatt is determined to play.