#his Light -Letha Godfrey | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stevesharrlngtons · 3 years

Text

amore mio aiutami.

roman godfrey x reader

word count: 5.5k

summary: once more, he took your hand and gave you the permission to mend him.

a/n: long time so see! at least in the realm of one shots. this came out of aboutle nowhere and is probably super similar to my other stories but guess what? idc ¯\_ (ツ)_/¯ so, i hope you enjoy (:

“Darling, tell me what you need?”

“(Y/N).”

So, as much as Olivia detested you, she did as her weeping son asked and found you.

You hadn’t seen Roman since the scene at the hospital. After he disappeared after Pryce and Peter had fled the waiting room in a hysteric flurry, you were left alone. You felt as sterile as your surroundings. You felt utterly still and useless. While both boys had crumbled into a fit of emotions, you had remained motionless when the news of Letha’s death had been so crassly and unceremoniously announced over the intercom system. It was like your brain had begun to malfunction, and instead of grief-stricken screams and body quaking sobs, it chose to retain its energy and stay dormant. The news was so blind siding, so heartbreaking, so earth shattering, that it was impossible for you to comprehend. Impossible for you to react correctly.

So, you had sat for what seemed like hours, all alone, staring into space. Because Letha and her baby were dead. And there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. There was no going back. This morning you had held her hand as hospital staff had wheeled her back into the OR, matching smiles on your faces as she called you ‘auntie’ and you called her ‘mama’. You should have been holding a small little human right now. You should have been looking up at your best friend, palling from excursion but looking upon you with love as you held her bundle of joy.

Instead, you had been abandoned and left stagnant in The White Tower, unable to function. You could still taste the smoke on your tongue from when Roman had cheerfully pressed his cigar to your lips and told you to inhale. You could still taste copper on your tongue from where you had unknowingly gnawed a gash into your cheek with your teeth.

A page came over the intercom once more, and for some reason, it was enough to snap you out of your stupor. One minute your eyes were fogged and glassy, and the next, you had been thrust back into reality. The reality of being alone in the waiting room, your nails creasing into your palms uncomfortably, and pending a current decision.

After a moment of blinking away the dryness in your eyes and swallowing any sick remnant from your chewing incident, you slowly looked down the small hallway to the door Roman had disappeared through. You knew it was best to find him, for both of you, to find him immediately. His gut wrenching sobs still rung in your ears.

With timid strides, you made your way toward the door and pushed it open. It was likely placebo, but you swore the stench of death hit you like a wall of heat when you passed the threshold. Your eyes began to water from the weight of the smell, but you trekked on. You needed to find Roman. You needed to know he was ok. You needed him to be ok.

You aimlessly wandered the vacant halls, the sound of your own footsteps echoing menacingly around you. You debated calling out his name, but you already knew your voice was out of order for the evening. Possibly forever.

You rounded a corner, and something in your stomach knew. The cosmic tether that still bound you to your best friend whispered in your ear and twinged in your belly, and told you that she had been there.

Turn to your right and see what’s left.

And that’s where you found the room Letha had been in. A collection of monitors haloed a hospital bed, that lay behind a puddle of blood. Thick, dark, crimson blood dripped from the stark white hospital sheets and pittered into the puddle below, filling itself out so it could inch toward your feet.

You knew from that moment on, that that puddle of blood would haunt you forever. Whenever you would start to feel good, or whenever you would see someone with a cut or whenever you would hear her name, this puddle is what would come to mind. This sentient puddle that seemed to be growing larger by the second, and the smell of her freshly dead corpse somewhere in the building.

You didn’t find Roman. But Norman found you.

“(Y/N),” his voice called, “You can’t, don’t, look at it…”

“I should have done something,” your voice croaked, “I should have insisted on coming back here. I should have been here.”

You should have held her hand while she pushed. You should have wiped the sweat from her brow. You should have cheered her on while she pushed. You should have been there to fucking cut the cord. You should have been there to watch her die.

“You can’t start. You can’t start that,” you distantly felt him place a hand on your shoulder, “you can’t play a game of what if’s and should have been’s.”

You managed to tear your gaze away from the growing puddle to look at Norman. Norman, whose face was splotchy and streaked with tears. Norman, whose lip was trembling as he blinked away another onset of sobs. Norman, who still jumped to action to help you when bile flooded your throat and suddenly burst from your mouth.

Norman, who did his best to console you as you heaved up swilly vomit and choked back tears.

When you opened your eyes all you could think of was the puddles mixing. Your insides mixing with Letha’s.

You began to shake uncontrollably then, sobs finally erupting from your chest. Norman wrapped you in his arms, you were sure to console you, but also himself. Maybe he was pretending you were Letha as he held you.

It was then that Roman finally found you both.

“I’m leaving,” he said flatly, any emotion he had previously had had been stripped away.

“You can’t drive like this, Roman. Not after everything,” Norman said from over his shoulder, while he still held you tight.

“And like you can?” he bit out.

“Then we’ll all take a cab.”

And so Roman called a cab for the three of you without another word.

You tried to look at him. You tried to touch him, talk to him, but it seemed Roman had an aversion to all things in that moment, especially you. You had reached out a weak hand to grab a hold of his jacket as Normal held you to his chest, in a desperate search for his comfort, in a desperate search to comfort him. But, at the feeling of your stretching fingers, he quickly shrugged off your touch and turned his back to you.

So, you stayed in the arms of your best friend’s father. You tried to ignore the hurt you felt when you all piled into the cab and Roman lifelessly rattled off your address first, making it clear that you were to go home alone, without him. He chose to sit in the front seat, while you and Norman sat in the back. Roman looked out the window the entire way, he didn’t even acknowledge you as you got out of the car and turned to face the yellow vehicle, waiting for a reaction. But you got nothing, just the vision of Roman framed by the widow, lips pursed and eyes cast down.

The cab soon drove away and you stood in the middle of your front lawn, watching it’s taillights disappear. The street lights were on and you could hear the distant sound of your neighbors sprinkler. You fell to your knees, then to your side, curling up on the grass in the hopes that nature could heal you. Maybe grow around you and help you blossom new in the spring, happy and void of this pain in your chest.

But your mother found you before then, hours later and brought your inside. Your fists full of blades of grass.

You slept for twenty one hours after, without a call or text from your boyfriend. You sent him a few stray messages but never heard anything back. You thought it best to give him space, but you were yearning for him so completely.

And then Olivia showed up.

You had just sat down for dinner when the doorbell rang. Your father, while long dead, had always had a rule about never answering the door or phone calls while sitting down for a meal. Even though he was gone and it was just your mother and yourself, the rule had stuck, even though neither of you cared that much about if it was disrespectful, like he had.

You had both looked up from your pot roast when the bell rang, but exchanged a look that you always did in times like this. We’ll deal with it later. But the bell continued, quite consistently and obnoxiously.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a smile in a search to soothe your mother (who took it as an offense when someone wronged a rule from her deceased husband).

With sock feet, you went to the front door with every intention of politely asking them to leave or come back later, when you were met with Olivia. To say you were surprised was an understatement.

“Olivia?” you blurted out, because you simply couldn't help it. Her appearance was so unexpected, her name just dropped from your lips.

“Good evening, I hope I haven't disturbed something,” her elegant voice said as she clasped her hands in front of her.

“We just sat down to dinner,” you responded, voice sounding as skeptical as you felt.

“Oh, well, I am sorry to interrupt your supper,” she said with a deep sigh as a period, “but I’m afraid I require your immediate assistance.”

Which made sense, she had never been this polite to you in the past.

“With?”

“My son, I’m afraid.”

You didn’t need to hear anything else she had to say. You rounded up a pair of shoes and jacket and kissed your mother’s cheek, then fled your home for Olivia’s truck without a second thought.

She didn’t wait for you to buckle in before she started to drive. She smoked with all the windows up except for a small crack in the driver’s side. The radio hummed an old country ballad and your leg bounced restlessly against the floor mats.

“How have you been faring?” she asked as you were stopped at a light.

You didn’t feel like bearing your bleeding heart to her or engaging in any small talk, but you answered anyway.

“Dreadfully.”

Olivia hummed as the light turned green.

“I’m sorry, truly. If it is half as bad as how my son is grieving, I know you are going through something so hideous... going through feelings that humans are not equipped for.”

You nodded at her lukewarm attempt to console you and watched the world pass through the window.

“I know what you think of me, your distaste for me. You are less than subtle about it. But then, I suppose so am I.”

This drew your attention back to her.

“Just because I don’t, well, enjoy your presence, that doesn’t mean I don’t see what you do for my son’s happiness. It doesn’t mean I don’t see how well you treat him, even when he bloody well doesn’t deserve it. You’re good to him, for him. I see it all,” she continued, eyes briefly leaving the road to look at you, “As his mother, I have always wanted to protect him, to be the only woman he loves with such feriousty. And I know that is a reason why I hold such a contempt and resentment toward you. Misplaced, possibly, but I can’t help it. He is my only son and I would do anything for him. Which entails me… weeding out the riff raff. But here you still stay, ready and willing to take me on to love my son. Not an easy feet, but an admirable one.”

As she was finishing, you came up to the Godfrey mansion.

“I do accept you, you know? I do, in my own way. And I hope through the thunder and the rain you will accept him too,” she turned off the engine but made no move to exit the car, “it is such a pity that things couldn’t have been different. That you couldn’t have been the one to bear the weight of all of this, isn’t it?”

Olivia then reached out and ran the back of her hand gently over the apple of your cheek, examining you in the way you would a prized pig at auction.

“But, I know that you will play a part in this before it is all over.”

She carefully took a single stand of your hair between her finger tips and slowly ran them down to the end. Her beauty had always been intimidating, but in this moment with the lowlight of the moon, her face was frightening. Like someone had pulled back her mask to reveal her ghastly, maleficent exterior. The hair stood up on the back of your neck as she surveyed you, and you had never felt like you had ever been in more immediate danger as you were in that moment. While you couldn’t see your expression, you could feel it was confused and slightly horrified. But Olivia could, and so she sighed.

“You better get in there now. The attic. He’s expecting you.”

She returned to her cigarette and looked out the windshield like she had been alone the entire time. Like she hadn’t been looking at you like the last gulp of water in the desert. You didn’t need any more prompting to flee the vehicle.

You found him in Shelley’s room, that was now bare of any signs of life. If you hadn’t been in this room just last week, you would have never known that it had been someone’s residence. You would have likely ruminated on the gross action on Olivia’s part for gutting her missing daughter’s room if it hadn’t been for Roman. Your sweet, broken Roman.

He sat with his knees to his chest and his arms wrapped around his middle. He wore an old flannel shirt and the most pitiful look on his face. His lower lip quivered and his doe eyes widened with grief and need.

“(Y/N)...” he choked out your name, half question half relief.

“Oh, my love,” you simpered before you ran to him and fell to his feet.

Once your knees hit the hardwood, Roman burst into tears, his long arms reaching for you. You went to him easily, effortlessly; you wormed your way between his legs and shuffled forward until you met his chest. Roman wound himself around you like a snake devouring its prey: with no way of you getting out of his hold. He clutched onto you like a lifeline as he sobbed into the crook of your neck, spouting apologies on an endless loop.

I should have called. I’m sorry. I missed you. I needed you. I wanted you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, please, please.

What? Please, what?

Make this pain go away.

And you wanted to tell him that if you knew how, you would have remedied yourself days ago. But that wasn’t helpful, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear or what you wanted to say. So, all you said was:

“Ok.”

You sat with him on the floor until his tears ran dry. Your back throbbed in discomfort and your knees ached from your position on the hardwood, but you didn’t move a muscle. What was going to help you get through this, was to help Roman get through this. You would save the one Godfrey you could.

You had luck with suggesting you move to his bedroom after his body stilled from it’s cries. Roman nodded against you, and when you pulled away he left gritty tear tracks and dried snot smears on your skin. He wiped his eyes childlike, with the back of his hand, before he seemed well enough to let you stand from his hold. He let his tired hand skirt its way down your back as you stood and then promptly took a hold of your hand.You stuck your other out for him to take, which he did gratefully and you pulled him to his feet.

On the way to the elevator, you bore most of Roman’s weight. His arm was around your shoulders and both of yours were around his waist, keeping him upright. He momentarily wrapped his other arm around you as the elevator lurched down to his floor, before returning it to his side once the doors opened again.

You led him to his bedroom and felt a pang in your chest when you saw the state he had been living in. Discarded clothing and food wrappers covered the floor, empty cups and beer bottles held purchase over every surface they could, ashtrays overflowing with cigarette butts and whatever he was smoking were scattered about.

“Let’s sit, baby,” you said, moving Roman to his unmade bed and placing him on the corner, “do you wanna change into something?”

He shook his head swiftly and reached his hands out to tug on the hem of your t-shirt, “Just take it off.”

And you understood.

You helped him strip first, down to nothing at all, then did your own clothing. Adding both sets to the sea of laundry on the floor.

You stood in front of Roman in a position that would usually lead to a night of passion, but now was going to lead to a night of reassuring intimacy. Roman skated his fingers along your skin, cataloging every part of you with his fingertips and green gaze. Like he was proving to himself that you existed. He ran his thumbs under the flesh of your breast and moved in clean vertical lines to touch your nipples. He kept his thumbs in place as palms and remaining fingers came to cup you delicately. Roman met your eyes for a brief moment before he bowed his head against your sternum and deflated with a sigh.

Tears stung your eyes as your hands, that had been laying listlessly at your sides as he examined you, came to weave into his disheveled hair. Tugging periodically at his roots in a reminder of your everlasting presence.

You felt his chapped lips place soft, barely there kisses against your chest intermediate with his strained breathing. He nuzzled his face against your skin like he was trying to tunnel his way inside you for safe keeping, and when his efforts failed, he had to settle for the small kisses to taste you after your short separation.

“I need you. I needed you. Stay,” he whimpered to your body, gripping your breasts tighter as you did the same to his locks.

“Ok, yes. I’m here. I’m here now.”

He nodded, before you gently pulled him away so you could look at his beautiful face. That was still as stunning as the day you met him, even with the profound sadness in his expression.

“Let’s get some sleep, alright? I think that would do you some good,” you didn’t know for a fact, but the circles under his eyes told the story of his insomnia.

He sniffled, but nodded once more. He let you go to scoot back on his bed and rummage around for the corners of his blankets so you both could slip underneath. He collected the haphazard covers the best he could, then draped them open. Roman looked to you with a soft, frighteningly innocent expression for your boyfriend, and patted the spot next to him.

You crawled over to the spot and laid down. When Roman covered you both up and under his bedding, you could smell the wafting smell of smoke, body odor and beer coming from the sheets. Roman settled next to you and wrapped you back into his arms, he pulled you so suddenly to his chest you couldn’t help the tiny gasp from your lips upon the impact. He mumbled an apology as he got comfortable around you. His arm around your waist, his nose buried into the crown of your head, his leg thrown over your own. Roman created you a human cocoon, one that left you no option for escaping from.

Though, you really had no interest in leaving. You had missed this man with your entire being and to be near him again, made your heart swell with love and drain a fraction of the sadness in your chest. Roman’s embrace could cure a lot, but unfortunately not this agony. But, it was a start, and he was a salve you would never turn down. Roman always made everything better for you (even if in the moment, it felt like he was making it worse).

You pressed your lips to his knuckles and let out an encompassing sigh and let your eyes shut. You ran the tip of your tongue over the cracks in his skin and he hummed sweetly behind you, like a cat’s purr. You hoped that when you woke, you would feel better and Roman would be healed, even if you knew that was impossible. It was impossible, but you were allowed to dream as much as you wanted.

Forty five minutes later, you woke with a thin sheen of sweat heavy on your skin. Following your marathon sleep session after your mother found you on the lawn, you hadn’t slept more than two hours at a time. You had hoped Roman’s presence would help, but it seemed it was something in your body that would just have to run its course. You thought about seeing a shrink as you ran your nose along Roman’s radial bone. It could help you… but maybe Letha’s death was still too fresh to be searching for help. You’d give it a month, maybe six. Maybe then it would be easier to talk about.

Your whole life seemed to be composed of maybe’s lately.

Maybe things would get better. Maybe Letha would still be alive if you were in the room with her. Maybe Roman will call. Maybe he would hold you together when you broke apart. Maybe taking care of him would fix you both.

You just had to hope you figured it all out soon, because you didn’t know how much uncertainty you could take.

The longer you laid in Roman’s arms, no matter how much you had missed his embrace, you became restless. The room seemed to be closing in on you, the clutter unavoidable and ignorable. The mess was so awful that you couldn’t shake it from your mind. Some of the beer bottles had gained mold and there was a fly buzzing around an old fast food bag in the corner, not to mention the hills of dirty clothes that barricaded you from his en suite. The maternal, coddling feeling you felt in the attic to protect and fix Roman flared in your stomach and seeped into your blood stream until all you could think about was cleaning up the grieving mess he’d made.

So you did.

You gingerly extracted yourself from Roman’s hold, which had thankfully loosened from the depths of his slumber. You tiptoed over to where you had discarded his flannel from earlier and buttoned it up on your body. The last thing you wanted was to be caught going in and out of Roman’s room stark naked by one of the staff or God forbid Olivia. At that chilling thought, you slipped on your panties as well.

You left Roman’s room, leaving the door cracked so you didn’t have a chance to wake him. Then, you scurried down to the kitchen and gathered a box of trash bags and a pair of rubber gloves from the side of the sink. On your way back upstairs, you found Annalisa and told her there would be a few trash bags to collect from outside Roman’s room. You whispered, even though you were separated from Roman by two floors.

Back in Roman’s room, you crept around on light feet as you stuffed pizza boxes, rotting receptacles and overflowing ashtray contents into each white bag until they were full. You tried to pad the beer bottles with layers of other trash so they wouldn’t make as much noise, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t look over at the bed with baited breath each time they clinked together. You managed to fill four garbage bags without waking him, and set them outside his room for Annalisa to retrieve. When the trash was handled and the shapes of his living space were appearing again, you moved onto the laundry. You had planned on taking arm fulls down the hallway to the laundry shoot, then take the elevator to the basement to do as many loads as you could before Roman woke. Unfortunately on your third trip down the hall, you heard Roman’s throat crackling wail of your name.

You raced to Roman’s room and burst through the ajar door to find Roman, blankets pooling at his waist and tears in his eyes.

“Where did you go? You were gone!” he shrieked at you in anger as he battled off his cries.

“I was just trying to clean up a bit, Ro,” you replied, rushing to his side and sitting side-saddle on the bed.

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I was just down the hall, honey. I never left.”

“You can’t leave me, you can’t leave my side. You can’t leave too,” he voice wavered at the end of his sentence.

Roman’s face soured and a scream erupted through his teeth and his face fell into his hands. He was furious he still felt so broken.

“Roman, baby, no. No, I’m not gonna leave. I’m here, I’m here, always. Always, always, always…” you said as you rested your chin on his shoulder and wrapped your arms around him, “I have you, Roman. I’m not leaving.”

You rocked him gently and cooed to him sweetly. You ran your hands over his skin and kissed the curve of his jaw until his breathing slowed once more and excess tension seemed to dissipate from his body.

“Do you wanna go back to sleep?” you asked, placing your cheek where your chin had been, so you could look at him, “I won’t get up this time.”

Roman shook his head, almost petulantly.

“Do you wanna shower? No offense Ro, but you smell kinda ripe,” you played.

“I haven’t had the energy,” he snapped.

He tried weakly to pull away from you, but your arms held strong.

“What about a bath? It’s low energy? I could take it with you if you want?” you proposed, not letting his bitter response deter you.

“You probably wouldn’t want to...because I smell like shit and all,” he pouted indignantly.

“Ro, I would bathe with you even if you actually smelled like shit. I’d do absolutely anything to take a nice bath with you, baby.”

You looked up at his profile and laid a series of pillowy kisses to his shoulder and trap muscle, before Roman sighed.

“Ok, we can take a bath.”

You smiled, “I’ll go get it started.”

You stood and walked to the bathroom (that you had made accessible) and started the water for the tub, and ran your fingers under the tap until it was Roman’s desired temperature. When you turned back to Roman, he had craned his neck to watch all your movements, his face full of worry. He didn’t trust the universe enough to take his eyes off you, again.

As you went toward him and Roman’s gaze never left yours. Not as you approached the bed, not as you walked across its surface on your knees, and not as you took his face in your hands.

“My beautiful boy,” you hummed quietly as you studied his face.

His creamy silk skin, his cherry stained lips, his fluttering eyelashes that framed perfect emerald eyes. You ran your thumbs over the expanse of his cheek bones, around the hollow of his eyes and followed the bridge of his nose to trace the arch of his eyebrows.

“My sweet boy,” you moved closer to his lips and Roman let out a distinctive mewl and you reveled in the pleasure of knowing you were making him happy.

You placed a soft kiss to his plump mouth and poured as much love and affection into it as possible. You nudge your nose against his and Roman sighed peacefully at the feeling.

The kisses shared were simple, chaste, but earnest. Your hands stayed clasp on his cheeks and Roman’s lay lax on his lap. You hadn’t kissed so soft or so innocently since you had first started seeing each other. While it was a change of pace for the two of you, it was well appreciated and savored.

When you pulled away from Roman’s mouth, he followed yours until you held his head study.

“I think the bath should be about ready by now.”

You got off his bed and held your hand out from him like you had in the attic, your way of asking him to let you usher him into comfort. Once more, he took your hand and gave you the permission to mend him.

You walked together to the en suite and you turned off the tap and shed yourself of Roman’s flannel and your underwear. You carefully stepped over the lip of the clawfoot tub and tried not to hiss at the obscene temperature he preferred and delicately lowered yourself into the steaming water, as Roman watched. Once you were submerged you looked up at him in question.

“Get in, honey,” you encouraged, shrinking back against the porcelain to give him room.

“I always hold you in the bath. That’s how this works.”

“Not this time. Now, get in.”

Roman looked on at you with a scowl.

“The water is getting cold, Ro. You either waste this lovely bath or you get in and just let me hold you.”

He looked over his shoulder, like a stranger may burst in and revoke his masculinity card if he let you be the big spoon. You wanted to poke fun at the action, but kept your mouth shut. He was unbelievably fragile at this moment, and all he needed was your kindness and protection.

“I’m supposed to take care of you,” he carped, “I’m supposed to protect you, y'know? Not the other way around.”

“I’m not allowed to take care of you?”

“No, it’s just,” Roman frowned, “I’m supposed to be the one who fixes. I’m supposed to take care of you.”

“And you do. But right now, I am taking care of you. And I always will, whenever I can and whenever you need it. It’s just a part of the deal.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice suddenly null of all angry testosterone, and full of vulnerability.

“Because I love you, Roman. I am hopelessly and utterly in love with you,” you shrugged lightly, “and that just means that I will always take care of you.”

You said this to him so frankly and so decisively that it left so room for him to argue or pout. You had told him a resounding fact and it was clear you wouldn’t hear otherwise.

After an uncomfortable thirty seconds of shifting his weight between his heels as he stood on the cold tile, Roman stepped into the water and settled against your chest.

You rounded your arms into the water and to hold him around his middle and hooked your feet over his shins.

Roman’s height, even now, dwarfed your own. He could easily and comfortably recline his head over your shoulder and against the tub. You hummed with peaceful satisfaction and slowly felt Roman relax against you. His tight muscles unraveled from their persistent tension, and he let his body be molded by the soothing water into his usually relaxed stature.

For a while, you both sat in content silence. The only sound in the room was the gentle slosh of the water and your matching even breaths. You stroked the skin of his stomach with nimble fingers, rounding his belly button and going through the hair above his groin. You ran your thumbs over the hollow of his ribs and over his protruding hip bones.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

Roman twisted against you to be able to look you in the eye, “I love you, too.”

“I know, honey,” you placed a kiss to his nose and he smiled softly.

Though, his lips slowly flattened again and he looked at you earnestly, “I don’t want you to worry about protecting me. It really is my job.”

You weren’t going to argue gender roles and Roman’s twisted ideas of honor and rights then, so you just nodded.

“Ok, baby. You can protect me again tomorrow.”

And that seemed to satiate whatever macho part of his was blazing in his chest to turn back around and snuggle into you.

Surrounded by tempted water and all things Roman, your pain was briefly smothered by love, which really, was the best you could do. And that was more than ok for now.

is it strikingly similar to my other one shots? ya. do i care? meh, not really. do i still hope you liked it? yes!!!

feedback is greatly appreciated, so if you did enjoy this, lemme know (:

@girlinthecorner

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey x you #roman godfrey fluff #roman godfrey angst #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years

Note

Pls can ya do a Roman Godfrey smut where they r just chilling in his room just play fighting and then it turns sexual and they dry hump .

Of course! Thanks for the request, sweet Anon. I really hope you enjoy!😊

Warning: NSFW

~~~~~~~~~~

Every day after school, you’d always hang out at Roman’s place. You both were basically attached at the hip after dating for a few months.

In terms of privacy, Roman had a lot more freedom when it came to having girls over. Whereas if Roman were to come over, your parents would force you to keep your bedroom door open. It wasn’t ever ideal for a new passionate relationship, especially when it came to Roman’s sexual appetite.

You loved Roman’s mansion compared to your much smaller house. You loved hanging out with Shelley, and Letha if she came over. But spending lazy days with Roman is what you loved the most.

Roman was currently sitting at the floor of his bed, his eyes trained on some video game. You were laying beside him on your stomach, legs swaying behind you and your hands holding up your chin.

You were a bit bored, Roman usually had his attention on you whenever you came over and you were starting to feel needy.

You sighed heavily when Roman made a pretty clean headshot in the game, the boredom starting to hit you like a tank. “Roman...” You whined.

“What?” He asked, keeping his focus on the television screen.

“I’m tired of watching you play this game, maybe we could do something more...fun?” You asked seductively.

“Eh, maybe after this round.” Roman said absentmindedly, making you huff in frustration.

You rolled over on your back, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the gunshots and explosions in the background.

Then, you got an idea. You could almost see the imaginary light bulb going off above your head.

You sat up, scooting closer to Roman. As he was about to kill another enemy, you playfully shoved his controller, making him miss.

Roman grunted in anger when he realized he missed, looking over to you with a glare only to see your innocent face. “Y/N...” He said lowly.

“What?” You asked happily.

“Think long and hard before you something like that again, got it?” Roman said and went back to playing the game.

You didn’t know what it was, but seeing Roman mad just did things to you. You wanted more.

You shoved the controller again with a force that actually knocked it out of Roman’s hands, landing on the floor with a thud. Your stomach dropped, you really didn’t mean to knock it out of his hands. Oops...

For a moment, Roman just stared at his empty hands, his jaw clenching. You slowly got up from his bed and put your hands up in surrender, trying to hide a smile. “Roman, I swear, I didn’t mean to do that.” You tried not to giggle.

You let out a shriek when Roman suddenly got up and tried to grab you, but you dodged and tried to run to his bathroom. But you weren’t fast enough.

You let out another yelp as Roman wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you on his bed. He quickly pounced on top of you, lifting your arms above your head and pinning them there.

“Didn’t I say, think before you act?” Roman glared.

“Maybe.” You sang and giggled.

You winced slightly when Roman tightened his grip on your wrists. “What am I gonna do with you?” He hummed, wearing a soft smirk.

You smiled, leaning up and planted a light kiss on Roman’s plump lips. He let go of your wrists, bringing one of his hands to gently grip your jaw and the other grabbing underneath your knee.

Roman slowly guided your legs apart, laying himself in between them. He leaned down and kissed you, placing his hand behind your head and gripping your hair slightly.

You moaned softly when you started to feel Roman thrust against you, his hard on creating a pleasant friction on your core. “This is what you wanted all this time, huh?” Roman whispered.

You only moaned in response when he thrusted harshly. “Yes, Roman.” You whispered, then kissing him passionately. “I need you.”

“Your wish is my command, princess.”

Roman didn’t waste any time, roughly taking off your shirt before taking off his, revealing his lean figure. He got off the bed for a moment to pull off your jeans and walking to his dresser to get a condom.

You sat up, hastily removing his belt and undoing the button and zipper on his pants. The large bulge in his briefs making your mouth water in anticipation.

Roman quickly kicked off his pants, getting back on top of you to kiss and grind against you. You lifted yourself up slightly to allow Roman better access to remove your bra, him immediately kneading the soft, tender flesh.

You sighed in pleasure when Roman started trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, stopping to suck your hardened nipples one by one. Then continuing to kiss down your torso until he reached the waistband of your underwear.

Roman kept eye contact with you as he carefully pulled your underwear down, tossing it to the side.

Roman brought his head down, licking in between your wet folds, making you feel lightheaded. He situated himself comfortably between your legs, starting to lick and lightly suck on your clit and placing his middle finger at your entrance, slowing pushing in.

“Roman...” You moaned, trying not to close your legs due to the intense pleasure.

Roman kept at your most sensitive spot for a few minutes, already feeling close. Roman had a very talented tongue that you appreciated greatly.

Your moans started to escape your mouth more consistently, feeling your core heat up deliciously. But then Roman pulled away, his chin and nose slightly glistening with your slickness. “Don’t want you to cum just yet, babe.”

Roman pulled his briefs down, his cock finally springing free. You watched as he put a condom on, keeping the intense eye contact with him as he got back on top of you.

You bit your lip and moaned as he inserted his cock inside you, slight pain mixing with pleasure as he stretched you.

Moans from both you and Roman echoing around the room as he thrusted into you, heavy breaths mixing with each other’s. The soft moans from Roman making you closer with every thrust.

“Fuck, Y/N...” Roman groaned, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, signaling that he was close too.

Roman placed his hand on your throat, squeezing gently, making the buildup to your orgasm even more intense.

Roman’s other hand that was brought down to vigorously rub sloppy circles on your sensitive nub is what pulled you over the edge, crying out as the heated waves washed over your entire body.

Roman kept his hand around your throat and placed the other beside your shoulder, trying to keep himself steady as he thrusted faster to chase him own release.

After a few more harsh thrusts, Roman groaned loudly as he stilled, his seed spilling into the rubber. He pulled himself out of you and collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily.

“Sex is much more fun than some video game, right?” You teased.

“Fuck, yeah...”

~~~~~~~~~~

#hemlock grove #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey #roman godfrey smut

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mystic-shadows42 · 4 years

Text

Only You {Part 2}

Warnings: Language and sexual references

After sleeping over at Roman’s house, everything seemed better. Roman didn’t exactly apologize for his behavior, but he was trying to make it up to you.

As soon as you two hit school ground and he dropped you off at your first class, he dispersed. He was doing what he usually does. Making the most of his high school days being a horny teen.

Once classes were over, Beatrice approached you.

“Hey, do you know where Roman’s at?” She inquired while glancing around the halls.

“No, why?”

“Can you give him this?” She handed you a piece of paper.

“Sure.” It was strange that she wanted you to give this little paper to Roman. She never asked about Roman before or cared unless he was present.

“Thanks,” she smiled then left.

You looked at the piece of paper and unraveled it. It’s not as if she didn’t want you to look at it. You felt entitled to, you were Roman’s best friend.

A piece of paper isn’t exactly discrete. It had her number on it and said, ‘Thanks for a good time.’

You couldn’t help but feel angry at Roman. He always did this. He always screwed the girls that were becoming your friends.

Did he have no sense of self-control? He always made things weird once he sleeps with your friends.

It was never about friendship anymore, it was more questions.

How’s Roman doing? Did you talk to him about me? What’s he like when he’s not having sex? Have you slept with him? Why does he only associate with you?

The list goes on.

Then you had to stop hanging out with them because all they would talk about was Roman. They’d only associate themselves with you for him.

They wouldn’t be much of a friend after that.

This was why Roman, Letha, Peter, and Shelley were your only friends.

You took out your phone and called Roman right away.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Why’d you screw Beatrice?” You asked getting straight to the point.

“I was just having fun.”

Well, he certainly didn’t hesitate to deny it.

“You having fun is costing me, friends. God! Why do you always do this?” You yelled into the phone then hung up on him not wanting to hear the smartass remarks that he’d say.

You decided to hitch a ride with Letha and her dad. She saw how upset you were and questioned what was wrong.

“It’s nothing. Just Roman being a self-indulgent prick.”

“What’d he do now?”

You sighed and explained to her what had transpired between Beatrice and Roman. Even sweet Letha muttered a few words about her cousin.

“Roman means well you know that. He has a hard time expressing how he feels when people find others to spend time with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think he’s only been sleeping with the girls you hang out with because he doesn’t want you to form friendships with them.”

“Why? He can make better use of his time doing something else.”

You didn’t quite understand. Was Roman somehow trying to sabotage you?

“Roman gets jealous easily. You’re the only friend he has besides Peter now.”

“Letha, Roman’s here!” Norman yelled from downstairs.

“Great,” you said exasperatedly.

“You have to face him at some point.”

“I didn’t want to face him today. At least not now.”

“Quit being a child. He won’t know what’s on your mind if you don’t tell him. Remember communication is important.”

She held your shoulders giving you an encouraging smile. Letha left her room and closed it behind her, allowing you to have time to yourself before confronting Roman.

You composed yourself taking deep breaths then finally headed out to see him. Of course, when you saw him he was all smiles talking to Letha.

Outside he was picture-perfect but you knew all too well that Roman harvested some demons.

Letha turned the conversation to you.

“It’s apparent that you two need to talk.”

Roman looked at you shrugging his shoulders still smiling.

“So you seemed a little upset on the phone. Then you hung up on me. That was rude.” He cracked a smile trying to make light of the situation.“What’s the big deal?” He questioned.

“I want to have other friends besides you Roman and every time I try to form relationships, you go and bang them,”

“I’m giving them a good time.”

“That can’t always be your excuse. I don’t like talking to you when you put up your persona.”

He pulled you back in a grip that you knew you couldn’t escape from.

“Hey, I know I can be an ass. I’m sorry for taking advantage of your friends, but if they were truly your friends they wouldn’t make this about me, they’d make it about you.”

“I just wish you could take responsibility without defending yourself with a but in a sentence.”

“I like having sex but,” he emphasized, “I like having you as a friend more.”

He looked into your eyes letting you see that he truly meant what he said.

“I’m still irritated with you.”

He moved your hair back from your face pouting his lips.

“I know you are. That’s why I’m going to make it up to you. I’ll make you feel better.”

He gave you a soft smile and offered his hand out to you. You didn’t know what it was about Roman Godfrey but he could always make a bad day good. You just couldn’t stay mad at him, no matter how hard you tried.

#Roman Godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fanfiction #hemlock grove

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years

Text

Vargulf |Roman Godfrey

Summary: There have been another set of murders in Hemlock Grove and all the evidence is pointing to it being another vargulf. Your brother Peter, your boyfriend Roman and yourself are all on the hunt for it so that the deaths come to a stop.

You listened quietly, sat on the sofa in your little old caravan as Peter and Roman spoke. There had been deaths, a dozen or so. They were murders, of boys and men. None of them seemed to have a strong link that connected them. Death wasn’t unusual in Hemlock Grove, but most of this evidence wasn’t adding up.

“It’s a fucking vargulf, I'm telling you man." Roman was clearly stressed about the situation, they had already dealt with one sick werewolf. And now another was ripping male anatomy off, letting them bleed to death. It couldn’t have been more inhumane.

"Shee-it, I think you're right." Peter raked his hands through his hair. Christina had became a werewolf because of him, and now someone else decided to proceed with the transformation. It was always a risk for a newcomer into wolf territory, they had already been sick enough to turn themselves into a monster.

You frowned. Christina had been a nice girl, and it made you think that this new Vargulf could be disguised as anyone. "How are we supposed to find it?" You hated the thought of having to search for a blood thirsty monster, but it would be the only way to stop it.

“Bait.” Roman answered, coming to sit down beside you. Peter only shook his head in thought.

“We can’t do that, at least not yet. We don’t know why it’s targeting these guys.” Roman only smirked, and then commented.

“Then we’ll just have to find a way to piss it off.” That would be difficult, seeing as none of you knew who it was, but Roman did a pretty good job naturally at annoying people. His rich boy attitude got to everyone.

“Great idea, and then you’ll get killed.” You said, rolling your eyes at his stupidity. “Maybe it’s after revenge of some sort, it might know the victims.”

“Well there’s a wide gap between all of them, so we can’t be certain.”

…..

Destiny stiffened from where she stood leaning over the table that held a newspaper. The paper detailed all of the recent deaths, the ones the assumed vargulf had committed. She looked at Roman in particular.

"Can you clear your mind Godfrey, your thoughts are distracting." This only built confusion in Peter's mind. How could ones thoughts be that loud. "

“What's he thinking about?" Your brother asked, opening his blue eyes to look at Destiny. It was bugging her enough to implement her magic.

“You don’t want to know.” As she said that she looked in between of you and Roman. His imagination was very vivid, too much for her liking. It was creating a barrier in the room so that she couldn't access the things that the pair of boys had missed in their freaky dreams.

"Is it relevant?" Peter held out hope. They couldn't miss a trick, even if it was of the mind. There could be a clue, a detail of aid, something that could point them in the right direction to search.

"No." Destiny cringed, not being able to help seeing Roman's desire to have his hands all over your body. You were her cousin, she didn't want to see the intimacy that was strung between you and your boyfriend. That was for you too alone, but it was Godfrey's fault for keeping it replaying in his mind.

She knew she'd regret it, but she searched as Peter had wanted her to. And then she saw it, on your naked body. Roman clearly hadn't noticed it, his mind was too preoccupied with the thought of fucking you. But there was a scratch, running down your side. It looked as though it was given by another wolf, a viscous one that had turned on its own kind.

“Maybe.” Then your cousin turned, looking at you. “Lift your shirt.” When you hesitated, she did it for you, seeing the mark against your skin.

As she looked, so did you and the others. It was a wound, thinly dug into the skin but still there.

"What happened?" Roman asked quietly. He really hadn't even noticed it when he had been thinking about the nudeness of your body bit now his eyes were trained on it.

"I don't remember." You frowned.

Peter came closer, inspecting gashes in your skin. They weren't just cuts, they were claw marks.

The vargulf did this. It had to be it.

…..

It was a dead end. It all was. The pattern was broken for there was another body, and it was a girl. The first girl to have fallen victim to the vargulf.

Peter throws the newspaper onto the coffee table, Roman staring at it with beady eyes.

It held no answers, it only threw you all further off track. Perhaps there were no answers. Maybe it just wanted to drain the blood from the humans by clawing at their necks.

"This doesn't make any sense!" Your boyfriend exclaimed, reaching into his coat pocket for a cigarette and a lighter.

He lit it, taking a deep drag to calm himself. You wished it was that easy for you, but it really wasn't.

"When does anything make sense in this town?" You asked rhetorically.

Although you werent seeking a counter response, you received one from your brother anyway.

"Go on." He gestured with both his voice and hand, taking a cigarette from Roman.

"Maybe it isn't supposed to make sense." You suggested, snagging a cigarette. You refrained from lighting it until your point got a cross. "I mean Christina killed because of different emotions. She was sick, and angry at her so called friends, and jealous of Letha. Perhaps this is the same."

The mention of Letha Godfrey dulled the room, but opened a chance for some optimism in the case.

For all any of you knew, you were right. There was a murderer, but it's intentions were not clear yet.

…..

Shelley aimlessly wandered her family's grounds, admiring the beauty in nature. The roses were just beginning to bloom from the bushes, their frames hardened by the sight of protective thorns.

Out here, away from the world, it was quiet. Peaceful. There was no one to make judgements about her, or a reason to feel insecure. Like the roses, Shelley's appearance was toughened by thorns. No one liked the spiteful pricks but they tolerated them for the flower.

The girl continued to walk, but stopped once she had a twig snap. The sound was not the doing of either of her large feet.

Looking up, she saw a beast she had ran from before. A white wolf, watching her with its yellow eyes.

It was truly beautiful, but danger poisoned its aura. The animal tilted its furred head, licking its black lips before trotting through the hedges, presumably returning to its den in the woods.

Once it was gone, she went inside of her imprisoning home, rushing to the kitchen, the private one where her mother was smoking a cigarette.

"There was a wolf in the garden." She typed out, allowing the machine to talk for her.

Olivia hummed in reply, flicking the ash from the tip of the fag.

"It is a wild animal dear." Her voice was clear. "Let it do what it must to survive, even if it means crossing out land in the meanwhile."

This confused Shelley. Any other time, her mother would have called in a hunter to shoot the pest dead.

But not this time.

…..

A man rapped his fingers against the door of Godfrey manor, well aware of the badge that was tucked in his pocket. In response to his knocking a woman came to the door,slinking her slim and long frame upon the case of the doorway.

Olivia Godfrey. He had heard of this woman. Fierce. Beautiful. Enticing. Extremely wealthy. Dangerous.

There had been whispers in the woodwork of the town of her being the cause of missing persons. It seemed absurd to suspect a widow of such horrors, but she was not just a mourning wife.

She was a mother, not only to her children but to an extraordinarily large company. It was known as the white tower, but it held no purity in its blank walls. Only secrets in hidden rooms and a whole team serving away at her whim of command.

The front door opened, revealing a middle aged woman, glorified in a lacy black dress, unashamed of how she appeared to the stranger. Olivia could see his badge that was attached to his belt. It was clear that she had glanced at it, but she brushed her hair away from down the front of her shoulder and focused back on his face.

“What can I do you for officer?” She was suspicious of his presence, she leant against the door, making sure he was unable to peak inside of her home. But at the same time, she could not be seen as the villain. She had done nothing wrong anyway, or had Olivia had some involvement?

“As I’m sure, you have heard of the recent deaths.” Olivia’s cheeks hollowed and her arm trailed down her body and pulled the skirt of her dress down.

“Such a shame.” She admitted she had, shaking her head in pity. The investigator nodded his head in agreement, having felt the loss of the young lives when going over each piece of evidence of the victims.

“There has been word of people seeing a white wolf - again. You haven’t happened to see it prowling your grounds by chance, have you?”

Olivia furrowed her brow, thinking tentatively. “I can’t say that I have.” She answered, watching as hope fell from the stranger’s face.

“Would you call the station if you hear anything? As soon as we get a sighting, we’re going to put a bullet through the beast.” It almost sounded like a threat in Olivia’s eyes, but she knew it wasn’t. This man was scared of the dangers that hunted in nature, and was now creeping into the town and murdering humans.

“Of course I will.” She smiled at him, Once he turned and began walking away from her house, she shut the door, peaking through a window before returning to her guest, “Where were we?”

She discarded of her robe, as Norman sat on the couch, with a glass of scotch in his condemning hands.

Shelley lightly stepped back up the stairs, confused by her mother’s truth. Only mere hours prior she had told her mother of what she had seen in their large garden. A wolf had been looking at her, and then ran back off into whence it came. The woods.

Olivia had lied. But why?

….

A young man lay on the metal table, with ambient lights reflecting down onto his fatal wounds. Price took note of the individual teeth marks that were visible in his skin. He had heard of werewolves, via Olivia, who had told him of the pest that Peter was.

He was fine, examining the body in complete silence, other than his recorded points, but he shouldn’t have expected it to last. At least not in the Godfrey Tower.

The door to the private space was slammed open, by none other than the heir of the company himself. Roman. He had no regard for manners, Price thought. He did as he pleased, although he wasn't inherently to blame for that, he was raised under a roof where he was taught that was acceptable.

“Is that the last victim?” Roman had to ask, he could never be sure with Price’s experiments.

“You shouldn’t be here Roman.” His voice was monotone, unsurprised from the boy’s intrusion. It definitely wasn’t the first time that he had just waltzed into his workspace, that was for sure. Price sighed, looking at the teenager who was peering at the large bitemarks in the corpse. “Why are you here, did your mother send you?”

“No, I need answers.” He only earnt a shake of the head from the scientist.

“This matter is confidential Roman, I can’t tell you anything.” It was a part of the code that he had taken. This was business elevated in the roles of silence, and he wasn’t supposed to share the details that he had found or would find.

“Please.” It was a foreign word for him. “If that thing is out there, and it is a vargulf, the cops aren’t going to know how to stop it. But me and Peter can, so if you discover anything that could remotely help, you have my number.”

A knock came on the door. “Sir, there’s an officer here to see you.”

Price turned to Roman, looking at him with nervous eyes. “It’d be best if you left Roman, we don’t want you getting yourself into any further trouble.”

Huffing, Roman took one more glance at the body, sporting a disgusted expression as he did so. He was eager to find this mutated, sick werewolf and end it, not only for his family’s safety, but for the creature’s own mercy.

…..

Roman walked through his door way into his bedroom, throwing his black coat to the floor. But when he looked up his bed wasn’t empty, you were seated on it, sporting one of his shirts and a worried expression.

“Where were you?” You stood, slowly gliding over to him, reaching up to cup his face. He was visibly tense, it was easy to see that his back wasn’t completely straight and his cheeks were puffed out from his vigorous breathing.

“Went to see Price, who is fucking useless like usual.” He went and sat on his bed, which you joined him on, stroking his tense shoulders. “He’s not even paying mind that it's a vargulf, how fucking dumb can one person be?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want you involved, because if you go headfirst into this mess, there’s a chance that Shelley will be pulled into it eventually as well. He cares about her, and in his own, silent way, about you too.”

Roman let the corners of his plump lips turn up at your words. “You really do know how to cheer a guy up, don’t you?”

At that you smirked, leaning closer to his porcelain ear, whispering into the suggestive canal. “Honey, there’s plenty of ways that I can cheer you up.” You tugged his earlobe between your teeth, prompting a growl to spark from his mouth.

“Get to it then Romaneck.” You shoved his shoulders from the front so that you had room to straddle the tall boy.

“Gladly.”

…..

When you awoke, Roman was still asleep, softly snoring into the pillow whilst his nude body was covered by the white duvet. It brought a smile to your face to see him so relaxed, with the vargulf on the loose, he was stressing again. He thought he had to find it, that it was his responsibility to keep the whole town safe from any mythical threats.

But it wasn’t. He deserved to be a teenager, have no worries about the fact that you lived in a mobile home in the middle of the woods, or the fact that one day someone would try to hurt you or use you for what you were.

Groggily, you got up, making sure that Roman was still covered so that the cold wouldn’t wake him up. You went to the bathroom attached to his bedroom to brush your teeth, but you paused that thought as you looked into the mirror to see a part of you had somewhat aged.

A streak of white was in front of your face, it was a large section of your hair. This needn’t have worried Roman, and so you manoeuvred yourself out of his room quietly as to not wake him, and hurried down to the kitchen where you were met with the woman of the household sat, stirring her tea.

“Sweetie.” She gasped dramatically at seeing the strands. She stood walking towards you and taking the hair between her fingers. “We can fix this before anyone sees.” She reassures you, guiding you to the bathroom, grabbing a gold box from under the sink.

“Were you anticipating this?” You asked warily, watching as she emptied the (Y/H/C) dye into a small bowl.

“Of course I was, we have to delay this. You know what, after we sort this mess, I will arrange an appointment with Norman for you. He’ll help.”

She got a dye brush, and began combing the colour through your blank piece of hair.

To the both of your dismays, neither of you had heard Shelley coming down the stairs and into the kitchen. It was untimely, and unknown to the pair of you.

…..

The scientist gripped his tweezers, plucking the ounce of evidence from the body. From initial sight, he could tell that the lost hair that he had discovered was human, and the complete opposite colour from the dead boy’s. His actions were glorified through speech as he recorded his process, ending with a full stop to complete his sentence.

He would have to get it analysed, so that the owner could be uncovered, and the monster behind the murders revealed. Once he removed his gloves, he took a hold of his cell phone, and called someone that he felt indebted to.

“Roman, it’s Price.” That was his opener, quite simple for the information that he was about to reveal. “I found a human hair on the body, belonging to another that is not the victim. I’m getting it tested, I will let you know the result later, once it has been processed.”

As he put the phone down, the door to the room was opened, by none other than the wolf that walked upon the sheep. “Yohan.” She greeted him broadly, and so he replied just as dryly.

“Olivia.” His voice drawled out her name, unimpressed with her timing. A Godfrey always managed to show themselves at the worst times, perhaps it was on purpose. It was in the majority's nature to be filled with the thrill of darkness and deceit.

“A little birdy told me that you found something on the body...” She didn’t clarify whom said snitch was, but she dragged her manicured hand along the counter, until she came to the see through bag that contained the single (Y/H/C) hair.

“Olivia, I cannot let you take that, it’s evidence.” He tried to reason with the woman, but he should have realised that that would have little to no affect.

Instead, she rose thin eyebrows at the man, and put her foot down with her ample excuse. “Is this not my company Price?” She used the power spell of control, and before he could divulge that her ownership only came through marriage, and that Norman and Roman were the true heirs, she was gone.

The evidence went with her.

…..

The site of the caravan was an alienated space to Olivia, yet she still walked through the dead leaves and mud in her heels, until she reached the hammock, which you so happened to be seated in.

“It is done (Y/N), and now you can continue working for me, and earn yourself a little money.” She sat beside you on it, making it sway. “This was never my intention, to get you sick, I told you that you could stop anytime little one.”

She stroked your hair, resting her head upon it stoically. It was a strange exchange of contact for her, but she found herself not minding it. “We can try and get treatment for you though, to either delay or erase the aftermath of your forced transformations.”

At that you finally spoke up. “I don’t trust Price.” Yet somehow you trusted Olivia herself... “And that would be unnatural. Running off into the woods as a completely wild animal doesn’t sound so bad anyways, it would be like starting a new life and leaving this one behind.”

Your confession saddened her just a little. “If that is what you want, but I will tell you this now. I liked you the second that my son brought you in that door, you were better than any of those other girls that he dragged in for pleasure. He was enamoured with just the sight of you, sitting there at the kitchen table, thanking the butler and laughing with his sister.”

That would be one thing that you knew that you would miss. Roman. And then also your brother, Peter. But they could survive without you, they were both strong. They had moved on from Letha, so they could do the same with you.

…..

Roman frowned when his phone call with Price ended. “It’s gone, our lead is no more.”

At his statement, Peter spoke up from where he was seated at Roman’s bedroom desk. “Surely it couldn’t just disappear.”

“It didn’t.” Was all Roman said before he stormed out of his room and began rushing down the stairs, to see his mother just walking in the front door. “You.” He accused her.

“Me?” She acted offended, placing a hand above her heart.

“You took the evidence of the vargulf.” Price had told him as much. The man had seen it with his own eyes, she couldn’t lie her way out of this one. Nothing said that she couldn’t dodge it though.

“It’s been pleasant to chat boys, but I have an appointment with your uncle.” And with that, she had retreated back through the front door.

Roman turned as he heard Shelley walking down the stairs, closest to Peter.

“Go back to your room Shells.” He sighed, annoyed with the fact that they had hit a dead end. But Shelley made no attempt to move, instead she took the tablet out in front of her.

“I’ve heard mother speak, I know who the vargulf is.” Both of their eyes went wide. Maybe they didn’t need to interrogate Olivia after all.

…..

The man in uniform, that had started his career on a peculiar case rapped his knuckles against the gypsy’s door. This far out into the woods, someone would have been bound to see something.

The line was still faded to whether it was a person or an animal. But he was determined to find the truth, because no matter what was at fault, people were still dying.

The door opened, revealing a teenager with stark white hair. “Can I help?” Your legs bounced as you leant against the door frame. Your body was itching to transform again.

“Are your parents in?” At that you shook your head, thinking about the fact that your father was no longer in the picture. That made Peter the man of the house, the dominant one. You’d show him...

“No, but is there anything I can do to help?”

The inspector got out his notepad, preparing to scribble on it with any information that he could extract from you. “Do you know anything about the deaths? Like, have you seen a wild animal lurking around or such?”

With that, you stepped away from the door, allowing him space to enter, to which he did. “I’ll tell you everything that I know.” You smiled.

Or maybe you could show him.

…..

Peter ran to his home after getting out of Roman’s car, seeing the inspector’s body mauled in the doorway, blood falling down the steps. But the body wasn’t alone, the wolf - you, were growling from inside the caravan, your newly white fur smeared with marks of red.

“(Y/N)?” Peter cautiously spoke. They had wanted to find the vargulf, but not like this. It was supposed to be someone else, not his sister.

You had no response to the name, but your head perked up at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice.

“Baby, it’s me. Roman.” He took a couple of strides forward, even though Peter had tried to pull him back. You tilted your furry head, slowly leaving the caravan and walking towards Roman. “Hey, it’s okay.” He told you, and you sniffed his hand, nudging it with your wet nose. “We can get you help, fix you.”

Roman pretended that he wasn’t crying, and went to kneel down in front of you, but Peter stopped him, triggering backlash from you. He had grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him up, and in a quick motion, you bit Peter’s hand.

Blood was drawn, and you were spooked, and so you did the only thing your wild mind though to do. Run, deep into the forest, away from the pests that thought that they could treat you like a domesticated animal.

#roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman x reader #Roman Godfrey #roman #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove #bill skarsgård imagine #bill x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård gif #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard oneshot

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sanguinesinners · 2 years

Text

Liked starter for @sorcierchaton

----

The roll of Roman's eyes were evident that he had grew tired of this festive shit - Though he didn't have much experience or joy with it when he was younger, seeing as his mother hadn't gotten involved with anything that wasn't for her own gain.

But Oksana had brought back some familiar joy and light to the occasion the more Godfrey had spent time around her, bringing back certain vibes that his cousin used to do - Letha.

However, despite his irritation, he offered to pick Oksana up and take her out for a hot chocolate in one of the cafes in Hemlock Grove, funnily enough, he used to take his sister in here ages ago, when all things seemed happier. Finally bringing the drinks over, Roman sat in front of the blonde and offered a small smile, one that seemed nervous.

"So...What are your plans for Christmas then? No doubt you have so much shit to do now you're settling in town, huh?"

#sorcierchaton #Liked starter ;#Festive starter ;#Sanguine Sinner #{shut up and kiss me 💋}

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jj-lynn21 · 3 years

Note

can you write something where hemlock grove goes on full lockdown cause someone came to school armed and is threatening people and Roman is freaking out cause he can’t find his girlfriend. he sneaks out the classroom and has to be super quiet and finds his girlfriend in there meeting spot downstairs in a basement type room they found together.

I am changing this up a little because I don’t right teenager Roman. I think of Roman and his girl as eternally 25 and 27. Let’s say you and Letha are teachers at the school. When Roman finds out what is going on, him and Peter want to save the day which is more difficult with the actual authorities camping out in front of Godfrey Academy.

Warnings: armed gunman in school, school lockdown, I know these things could trigger some readers. Angsty,

Hero Complex

“Have a great day, Babe.” Roman said as he dropped you at school. He kissed your cheek before you got out of the jag. “Love you.”

“Love you.” You returned as you waved. A smile lighting up your face.

You had been a kindergarten teacher two semesters at Godfrey elementary Academy. You loved all your students and spent extra time after hours with those that had a hard time with anything. And the parents loved you for that. Roman admired you for it.

Letha waved to you from the school door. She was a first-grade teacher there. You ran up the five stairs to go inside to get ready for the children to arrive. You wrote some letters and numbers on the chalk board and pull the Jack and the Beanstalk book off the shelf to read during rest period.

The kids stream in as usual. You great them happily as usual. All are eager to lean as usual. As they all get their floor carpets out for story time an alarm goes off. It is the alarm that signifies a shooter is in the building. There is no test of the system do today. The children looked to you in a panic. Some of them started to cry.

“It is okay children.” you tell them quietly and calmly. “We have planned for this. Everything will be okay. Go to the closet until me or a police officer tells you to come out.” You put them in the closet. Then you went to push the desk against the door before you would join them.

Roman and Peter received an alert from the school that the school was on lockdown. Roman was in a meeting. He cut the person off who was giving a report. “We will continue this at a later date.” He had no other explanation. The room of investors were stunned. He stopped by the secretary’s desk. “Reschedule all my appointment for today. There is something going on at the school.” He called Peter on his way out the door. “Meet me at the horse stable near the elementary school. The school is on lockdown. I don’t trust those keystone cops to get our women and the children out of there alive.”

“I was already on my way to the school.” Peter was in the van speeding down the road. “I figured you were on your way also.”

They hung-up on each other making their way to the barn. Peter did not know why Roman wanted to meet so far away until he got closer. The Hemlock Grove Police had a roadblock keeping parents and everyone else back from the school. When he saw he went off road to get to the barn. Roman was just getting out of his jag making a call when Peter pulled up beside him.

“She isn’t answering her cellphone.” Roman’s annoyance showed in the way his shoulders sloped. “Have you called Letha?”

“I tried while driving but got no answer.” Peter got his phone from his pocket.

“Fuck, Fuck, Fuck,” Roman through a tantrum.

Peter finally got a hold of Letha. “Are you alright?” He put his phone on speaker so Roman could hear.

“I’m in the cafeteria.” She whispered. “I heard gunshots in the hallway but kept the kids quiet.”

“Is my girl in there with you Letha?” Roman asked panicked.

“No, I think she is in her classroom.” Letha informed them. “The kindergarten classrooms have a closet shelter for the kids and teacher. You two don’t do anything stupid. I’m sure the police have it under control. I heard sirens.”

Roman huffed as Peter assured her, they would not do anything dangerous. She knew by the huff Roman made and tone of Peter’s voice it was to late to tell them what to do.

Roman tried to call you again and you picked up. “I can’t talk Roman. I was trying to push the desk in front of the door. I hear the shooter. I can’t push it...” The phone went dead.

Roman started running towards the back of the school. Peter ran after him until they got close enough to see the police at the entrance. There were only two so Roman knew he could easily manipulate them. “Stay here until I wave you inside. Then stay behind me. It might hurt like Hell, but I will survive a gun shot or two, maybe more if I need to get to her.“

Peter sniffed the air. “I can smell the gun smoldering after each shot.”

Roman nods. He strolled over to the two officers. “Roman you can’t be here.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I own this school. My women works here. You,” He looked directly at one of the officers. “You are going to let Peter and I inside. Then you are going to start leading the kids outside to safety.”

The other cop smirked. “Listen Roman you can’t...”

“You,” Roman’s nose was starting to bleed. “Are going to follow my orders and your partners lead to get the children and teachers out as quickly as possible.”

The cops opened the door and Roman waved Peter inside. As the officers went into the office to get some kids and staff out Roman and Peter followed a scream. Your scream. Him and Peter Rush to the sound. The shooter is holding a gun to your temple. “Stop right there Roman fuckling Godfrey. She was mine before she was yours and I’m taken this Bitch back even if I have to kill us both”

Your eyes were large as you panicked. You tried to pull his hand from your throat. His other handheld the riffle pointed right at Roman and Peter. “Go get Letha, Peter. I got this.”

“Are you sure?” Peter looked at the gunman and back at Roman.

“I’m positive.” Roman grinned wide. “Me and Ricky Bobby have a score to settle.”

“The score is you zero Roman.” Ricky Bobby was smirking under his face mask. “I got my girl back.”

He had to loosen his grip on your throat to concentrate on the shot he was lining up for Roman. “Get the fuck off. We went on one date.” You elbowed him in the balls. He got off a shot before doubling over. The bullet hit Roman’s shoulder. He let out a pained growl. You tried to run to him. Ricky Bobby grabbed you back.

“Roman!” You screamed.

“He is not taking you from me this time.” Ricky Bobby tried to pull you away.

“She was never yours.” Roman got in his face grabbing the gun and breaking it in half. “She will never be yours. You are repentant for scaring the children. You will let her go. Go outside with your hands held high. Turn yourself in to the sheriff.” He ripped a piece of the man’s dirty white t-shirt off to use on his bloody nose. His head was throbbing. “Let’s go get your children outside Babe. I’ll make sure they forget anything scary they saw.”

“But Roman your hurt.” You looked at the blood stain from the gun shot getting larger on his shoulder. “And you can’t erase ten children when you just did that.”

“Just take me to the White tower if I pass out.” Roman walked into the classroom with you.

You gathered the children to tell them everything was alright now. They would see their parents outside. Roman smiled as he looked at the children. They trusted him because you did. He calmed their fears. Told them they saw nothing scary. Their teacher kept them safe like they all knew she would. He wobbled as blood gushed from his nose. He held the already bloody cloth to his nose as you helped him outside with the children holding hands in tow.

“It is all okay children.” You smiled back at them. Roman got heavier as he drifted out of consciousness. “Peter!” You yelled when you saw him outside with Letha and her group of children.

He ran over to help you before you dropped Roman. “What the fuck happened?”

He was shot and convinced Ricky Bobby to turn himself in. Then he helped the kids forget their trauma. He said to take him to the white tower.”

Peter swooped Roman up. “They are busy with the shooter. We can get him out of here in the van. You and Letha follow me in the jag if you think you can drive?”

“I’m too shook to drive.” You and Letha both said. She had a blanket around her. You were just shaking from the experience.

“We can get the jag later.” Peter started walking and you and Letha followed. He put Roman on the back seat. You sat on the floor to hold clean rag over his nose and pressed his gun wound that was already starting to heal.

You were right by Roman’s side when he woke the next day pale but feeling much better. You had dozed off with your head on his not shot shoulder. Pryce told you he took out the bullet. Roman might be sore for another day before being healed. The blood loss was a bigger problem. Roman had to drink as soon as he woke before his thirst led him to hurt someone.You should have taken that as a warning.

You woke to Roman’s hand stroking your hair. His eyes looked far away when you looked at him. “Roman?” You blinked.

He blinked in time with you. He pulled you up to him. He looked like he didn’t recognize you, but he smiled. More like grinned. His mouth opened revealing his real intentions.

Pryce ran in with several orderlies pulling you back and strapping Roman down. “We will feed you. Then you will realize she is not your meal. Go get some coffee and lunch young lady. I assure you he will be apologizing when you return.”

You did as Roman’s personal physician told you. The incident scared you but Roman had told you about his affliction and things he used to do before he could control it all. He told you if he ever attacked you you were to decapitate him. It would be the only way. You were glad this was not the day you had to do that to your true love.

Sure enough, when you returned Roman’s color was better. He started to cry when you were reluctant to get close to him. “I’m so sorry Babe.” Tears rolled out of his beautiful green eyes. “It wasn’t me. I would never hurt you. Please, believe me.”

You slowly approached. This is the same guy that saved a school full of children the day before. As soon as you were close enough, he pulled you into a strong loving embrace. You hugged him back. He still felt the tension in your body.

Roman caught your gaze. “You woke to me feeling better. You just want to take me home when Dr. Pryce gives the Okay.”

The tension left your body. You smiled at your boyfriend who saved you and children hurting himself in the process. You held him tight kissing his lips. “Oh Roman. I was so worried. I’m glad you are better. You get a hero's welcome when we get home.”

“Thanks Baby.” He smiled as he was wipe a small bit of blood off his top lip.. “I’d like that.”

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Note

I’m SO obsessed with how you write Roman. I just keep re reading everything you’ve written about him🥺 can I request some soft daddy Roman? Maybe consoling his person after they have a minor freak out because somebody called them a gold digger or something... which is silly because they are high school sweethearts and their dynamic is hella established. Thankyou🥺🖤 your writing is literally perfect

(A/N): Hey sweetie!

I wanted first of all to say that THIS FUCKING MESSAGE NEVER FAILS TO BRIGHTEN MY DAY! SHIT SHIT SHIT YOU GAVE ME CAVITIES WITH YOUR SWEETNESS, I FOR EVER LOVE YOU!

(Also if I might ask: what is so special about my Roman? Like I am just curious, because I always feel like I write him a bit OOC, but...).

I also wanted to apologize for how much it took me to answer this ask; I started it and then moved it onto my iPad, knowing I would be working on it when I was back on at uni (and I haven’t been at uni in three weeks, BECAUSE SHIT KEEPS HAPPENING), so I costantly pushed it back.

But this week I felt like I was taking too much time and finally finished and I hope that you’ll forgive me, sweetie!

Have a nice reading!

WARNINGS: Mention of Sex, Daddy Kink, Mention of Past, Mention of Rejection and Self-Esteem Issues, Accusing of Being a Gold-Digger and Everything Related.

The weight of the ring on your finger was strange but not unwelcome, even more as it brought out the memory of the previous night, when Roman had asked you to marry him.

You still remembered having had dinner with him and Nadia, the child now attending kindergarten and being extremely happy about explaining to you and Roman all the fun activities she had done there, that went from coloring to playing ‘dress up’ with her friends.

You had listened attentively and smiled whenever she would get so lost in the story and forget what she wanted to say, almost even forgetting to eat.

Exactly as Roman, who had kept pushing around food and listened half-heartedly to his child, simply muttering a few ‘oh that is alright, sweetie’ and ‘I am glad you have fun’.

You had blamed it on an hard day at work, and as you two had been alone, you had gently positioned against his back as he had sat onto your shared bed, moving to massage his back, something which always relaxed him, as you softly kissed his neck.

‘Was it a hard day at work?’ you had asked, and he had simply nodded.

You had hugged him tight, wondering how you had come this far from high school when you and Roman wanted to do nothing more than rip apart your necks.

But then he had saved you from Christina and you had slowly started to forgive him for being nothing more than a spoiled boy and when Peter had run away and he had been left with Nadia you had started helping him, although he was extremely against help, till you made him accept it.

And slowly you had grown to love each other, in a way that was familiar and quiet but was much needed from both of you.

And now you were there with him in your arms, and Nadia in her own room, sleeping peacefully, like any normal happy child.

‘I have been nervous, mostly’ he commented and you lightly turned around to him, seeing one of his hands hiding behind his back but not giving it too much thought as you adjusted yourself on his lap, circling again his neck with your arms.

‘Can I help you with it?’ you asked softly, as you messed up his hair, to make him smile, but he kept on being ridiculously still and you couldn’t help but grow slightly worried.

And then Roman moved forward the hand he was hiding behind, revealing a small box of velvet in it, and although some part of your brain had its ideas, you couldn’t process properly the entire thing till Roman muttered.

‘Yes, you can actually’ he swallowed a huge intake of breath, before spluttering the rest of the words as if they were venomous ‘… you can say yes, to my question’.

And like this a beautiful ring was revealed to you, a small but shiny ruby in the center of the thing band of gold, surrounded by smaller diamonds, bringing an halo of light to your hand that you had been almost too taken aback from it to speak.

‘I…’ you had been the one speechless back then, and Roman had been almost startled by your silence-

‘… I want to make this official… I know that you… I am not the type of guy who settles down, I never thought I could… but I know you want it… and I…”.

You had been a bit taken aback by Roman’s discourse and had immediately told him that this wasn’t simply about you: you were happy with him, even without a wedding or anything making it official.

‘… for me a ceremony doesn’t make less or more the love I feel for you and Nadia’.

‘I know, but…’ he had looked away from your face and you had smirked at him, grabbing one of his hands ‘... but I fucking suck with words!’.

You had laughed a bit at his outburst, gently enveloping him in your arms as he had proceeded to whisper the rest of his vows to you.

‘… the fact is that… I never thought I would find somebody who makes me feel like you do’ the words had, this time, surprised you, even more appreciated than the beautiful ring as you had felt your eyes tearing up lightly ‘… I personally don’t believe that piece of paper will change us, but I know that you always wished to get married, so why the fuck not? I mean… you are the only one I want to spend my life with’.

You had cried in his shirt after all those sweet words, assuring that for you it was the same, till Roman had grumpily but sweetly proposed he ‘fucking put that pretty ring to use’, even going down on his knee and proposing properly.

As you had accepted, he had quickly smirked and muttered about ‘how fucking happy would your parents have been that he had finally made you an honest woman’.

And then the sex had been amazing: Roman had worshipped you softly, but once he had prolonged the teasing even for him, he had taken you roughly making you moan softly, as you stifled your groans against the pillows.

And now that the morning light was washing over you, the ruby shined even brighter, but not as Roman’s smirk as he saw you staring at it.

“Enjoying the view, Mrs. Godfrey?” he smirked softly as you adjusted yourself in his arms “… because you are stuck here”.

“Enjoying it very much, Mr. Godfrey!” you shot back, kissing his chest softly “… you should be the one worried about being stuck with me”.

“Are you a blood hungry upir?” he replied, as he lightly distanced himself from you: talks like this always made him nervous, but you respected his space and gently proceeded to also get away from the bed, eyeing the hour and knowing that Nadia’s alarm would soon be off.

“I am an annoying human with a pendant for art, I am pretty sure that I am not as interesting as a upir”.

He laughed sarcastically, but still leaned in to kiss your forehead as you found your nightgown and he his boxers, both putting on some clothes, meanwhile you felt the discreet squeak of Nadia’s alarm, which meant that you needed to be in the kitchen the fastest possible to have breakfast ready for the little hungry upir.

“… don’t talk nonsense when you are the only person I tolerate in the world” he muttered onto your forehead deadly serious, with that tone that made you feel like he would have gladly ‘disposed’ of anybody who hurt you “… and I think that we should celebrate about it tonight, so that we can tell it to Nadia”.

You were a bit scared of Nadia’s answer to you getting married with her dad, but nodded, as Roman suggested your favorite restaurant and the hour you got off the job.

“I can take you with the Jaguar” he muttered, meanwhile you both moved down the stairs, with him peppering gently your neck with kisses “… like old times”.

“That would be nice” you replied, although you were already focus on searching that little gremlin that Nadia was, moving around the kitchen, onto a stool as she tried to grab a box of cereals and Roman promptly grabbed her to get off the stool, lecturing her about ‘fucking waiting for them and not to fucking jump onto stools’.

You certainly knew who you would blame if Nadia was worse with her words than a sailor.

“But you are always sooooooooo sloooooow” she shot back, annoyed, and tightening her arms in front of her chest, as Roman did when he was annoyed, something which made you smirk, meanwhile you got the coffee ready for Roman, boiling your tea and heating Nadia’s milk “You always lose time to kiss (Y/N)”.

Although Nadia had once called you ‘mom’, you preferred when she called by her name.

You had never ever wanted to take Letha’s place, although you acted with her as a mom.

And you couldn’t help but, sometimes think that she might love you as such.

“… that’s because (Y/N) is in need of many kisses” he mumbled as he moved to you, to grab his coffee and kiss your shoulder, making you blush, as he then moved onto his daughter, tackling her to give her a few kisses as she tried to move away, giggling “… and so do you”.

You had a quiet breakfast, as Roman let Nadia know that they would go out that night and the child immediately asked you if she could wear her newest dress.

‘The white one that is like yours!’ she asked, as she almost pulled onto your hair to get your attention, as you nodded, meanwhile Roman simply mumbled under his breath about ‘how fast children grow’.

He eventually went to work, accompanying Nadia on the way.

Before he left, he kissed you goodbye and even laid a small kiss onto your ring, making sure that Nadia hadn’t seen him.

“See you tonight” he muttered as he left, and Nadia waved at you and you shot back.

“See you tonight, handsome!”.

You had then set down to work a bit on your computer.

Working in an art gallery was a tough work, but during these first years you had taken a part-time job, mostly to help with Nadia, but you were slowly going back to the usual rhythm, mostly working on the computer at home during the morning.

You, immediately, thought about bringing it to him, since you could already hear Roman screaming against some poor underpaid intern.

You had finished work early and didn’t mind a small trip.

Your good mood was honestly extremely strong, and you drove happily to the White Tower, jamming to your favorite songs, the awful pop ones that Roman hated a bit too much, enough to sing them in the shower.

You smiled at anyone in the White Tower, although many didn’t reply, but you were basically jumping around happily around the place, stopping as you came face to face with Sarah, Roman’s lovely secretary, talking as usual with her girlfriend, on the phone.

But she closed the call as she saw you coming, immediately reaching out for your hand, only stopping as she came face to face with the beautiful ring.

“… ahhh it looks even prettier than in the pictures on internet!” she commented, playing with your hand “… I am not going to lie but I chose it for you”.

You opened lightly your mouth to the surprise, but then she shook her head, smirking lightly.

“I was joking! But I was the one who ordered it for you…” she then turned to face you “… Gosh, I can’t believe that we’ll have to call you, Mrs. Godfrey!”.

“… or maybe you should start calling Roman (Y/L/N)” you joked lightly, and Sarah’s laugh intensified.

“If you do that, I’ll for ever respect you” she retorted, before taking in the computer bag in your hands “… need me to ring up the boss?”.

“If he isn’t busy…” you whispered, as she already moved to get the office phone to phone him in, meanwhile you clacked lightly your shoes onto the polished floor.

“He is in a reunion, but I can leave him a message in the secretary” she explained, as she let ‘Mr. Assholefrey know that his future wife had come to bring his moronic ass his computer’ “… I hope you don’t have much to do… and if you do, you can leave the laptop to me, I don’t mind it”.

“Oh no don’t worry! I have nothing to do till after the lunch” you explained to her, and then moved away to observe a few things onto the White Tower’s walls, as Sarah had to take another call.

You were trying to calmly relax yourself, as one light shoulder tap was delivered to your shoulder and you turned around expecting it to be Sarah proposing a coffee as you waited, but you were faced with a man smiling at you with recognition in his eyes.

You were taken aback and for a few minutes, not recognizing the man, a bit older than you and with all the signs of the typical economical parasite on him, hidden with an elegant suite and an expensive watch.

You tried to search your mind if he was one of the people Roman made business with, somebody you recognized from a gala or such, but your mind was blank till he called out your name.

“(Y/N)!” he shouted, attracting everyone’s attention when he went further and then hugged you, immediately soliciting a quirked eyebrow for you, asking whether she should have called security or not “… don’t you remember me? Christian from high school!”.

And immediately you realized who he was.

And you would have almost been happier with one of Roman’s partners.

Christian was and old high school friends of your life before Roman and Peter, he acted as if he was the best playboy the world had ever seen, but in reality he was a misogynistic piece of idiot, who thought that his big brain gave him the right to treat other people like shit.

“Oh, yeah... I am... I didn’t recognize you” you honestly had hoped never to see him again.

“We all grow up in the end, don’t we?” he replied and let his eyes go down your body with a rather explicit look that annoyed you “... you look freaking stunning”.

You blushed, and although the compliment wasn’t welcome, you were glad to have a ‘revenge body’.

You had been one of the few he hadn’t hit on back in the high school days, and although you knew it was because he was well aware you wouldn’t fall for his charm, you had sometimes questioned if maybe you had done something wrong to displease him or if there was something wrong in you.

Then you had met Roman, who would have gladly taken you on every possible surface when you were wearing nothing more than a dirty hoodie and awful Halloween socks, even when it was Christmas.

It certainly helped you with your self-esteem.

“We do grow up in the end”.

Christian had grown up far away from the ‘attractive’ person he was back then (if you found attractive, egotistic people), in a way that showed even further his own moral ambiguity, making you again feel at unease.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, not getting the hint that you didn’t want to talk with him anymore “.... I thought you worked in an art gallery...”.

“I do” and to prove even further your point you spit out “...I am actually the boss of the art gallery’s communications sector, but I am here to give something to my boyfriend, he forgot the laptop home”.

You immediately saw his eyes hazing with rage, as if you had rejected him.

“... oh, you have a boyfriend?” he questioned you and Sarah came to your rescue.

“A husband, actually” she giggled, making you blush lightly “... the owner of this place”.

Christian seemed to be lightly taken aback, before something evil twinkled in his eyes.

“... I didn’t peg you as that type of girl” you sent him a confused look “... oh c’mon! You aren’t dating Roman Godfrey for his niceness, are you?”.

“I actually do” you retorted, shooting him a finishing glance, wanting to get as far away to him as you could, honestly insulted with the way he had talked to you.

But even more horrified at the thought that somebody could actually think that you and Roman were together because of his money and not true love.

“… of course” mumbled Christian, simply raising his hand as a gesture of surrender, although his eyes were everything but convinced, shooting you a quick look of insult before he moved away.

You just didn’t feel like being there anymore, asking Sarah to bring the laptop to Roman, as you excused yourself, feeling deeply ashamed in yourself, almost as if everybody was staring at you as you moved till you reached the gallery.

Even there you were uneasy, thinking about whether Roman felt like you were with him solely for his money, the entire thought making your heart ache not only for shame, but for the pain and insecurity you might procure to the poor man.

You spent all afternoon in anguish and thought that you couldn’t just attend a dinner with that moment, asking Roman to cancel your bookings, hoping that Nadia would forgive you both.

The man didn’t ask too much, but right when you went off your turn off, on the way back home, he called you, as you were just adjusting your seatbelt.

“Hey, wifey” the petname made you uneasy, but you smirked as if he could actually see you through the car speakers “… is anything wrong? Because I have no problem deleting the bookings, but… you love that place!”.

“I know, I know, and I would love nothing more than trying to get Nadia to finish her plate, after she ordered too much food… but I am just tired, it has been an exhaauuusting day at work” you tried to sound convincing, throwing it onto the laughter in order for it to result more natural and hide your uneasiness.

But Roman hadn’t survived so far simply because he was pretty.

“Oh babe, I know perfectly your kinks…” he joked but he didn’t stop there, his tone dropping an octave “… and I know when you are lying to me”.

You saw no escape to this and just muttered.

“Can we talk at home of this?”.

“Of course, sweetie” now his voice was saccharine sweet, making you smile lightly at its ridiculousness “… I feel like you might need a hug”.

“Gosh you are beginning to sound too sappy”.

“But you are stuck with me, little shit”.

The mood definitely brightened up as you drove back home, but the embarrassment that came from Christian’s accusations hurt you in a way that made it all too difficult for you to think about having a talk with Roman, but the man was waiting for you in your sitting room.

‘I managed to get Nadia not to be mad with us with a small trip at Peter’s, he says that if we have any intention to conceive a child, we should consider naming him Peter’.

“That shit is creepy”.

“Tell me all about it” he shifted lightly on the sofa to allow you to sit next to him and have enough space not to feel overwhelmed “… but now you can tell me all about that sour mood in your eyes”.

You couldn’t help but be reduced to silence by the embarrassment.

“… any regrets about … the marriage thing?” although he tried to fake himself to be distracted by it all, you could hear the insecurity in his tone, making your heart ache and turn immediately to him.

“No, of course not, Roman” he didn’t seem reassured, but tried to open his mouth in a reassuring smile “… what about you? Any regrets?”.

“Why would I have regrets?” he shot back, letting anger show itself in his combative tone “… if it’s because you are feeling insecure, I can totally convince you with my silver ton…”.

“… because…” you honestly felt so embarrassed by the entire question that you blurted it out completely “…have you ever thought I was a gold digger?”.

Roman seemed surprised by your rambling, slowly linking all the words together till he found the proper meaning of your words, and went all up in your face, grabbing it so that you could stare him in his eyes.

“… babe you are the farthest thing away from a gold digger” and before you could reply he shushed you with that imperious voice of his that got your insides all tingly “… babe, I have package, I am not that usual ‘party-spoiled-trust fund child’…”.

“You do have to admit you are spoiled”.

“Let daddy talk”.

Now you were flushed all the way from your chest up to your cheeks.

“… and when you came in my life, believe me I was more bothersome than I was an advantage and a proper sugar daddy” he made you smirk lightly, gently softening his hold onto your cheeks, as he caressed it “I never felt like you were here for my money. My dick? Maybe… more like probably… but you are not a gold digger…”.

It was damnably reassuring to hear this, with his soft but rough voice, as he looked at you with those piercing green eyes.

“… and I’ll fucking drain whoever told you this shit” now his grip tightened as his hands drifted to your neck, gently gripping it as he moved to come closer to you, another hand moving between your legs, making you thankful for having worn a skirt “… Sarah told me of that dick that tried to get with you, well fuckface I got a ring on her finger first”.

“Believe me, Roman, I don’t want anybody but you” you spoke softly, feeling yourself melting completely against him, as his hand raised up your thigh, pushing itself to pinch your soft skin “… you are the only one who makes me feel good, daddy”.

“Then I do think that I’ll prove to you that I am worth more than simply my money”.

An amazing night of sex later, you woke up again against Roman’s soft chest, his fingers playing with your hair, as he had woken you up by his ‘work voice’ mumbling things at his phone.

You gently rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand as you adjusted yourself in an upright position to be able to snuggle further in your boyfriend’s chest, who you could feel growing restless, as he looked out for your hand, the left one, the one with the ring, making it shine as it caught the light of the morning sun.

“… am I talking with Chirstian fucking Idiotscreen?” well you could totally guess what was going on and stifled the laughter on Roman’s chest, as he moved his hand onto your hair “… hi, nice to meet you, fucktard, I just wanted to let you know that I won’t fund your shitty project. When I looked at it yesterday it seemed like a shitfest but I was feeling generous because… I do think that you know… I am getting fucking married!”.

You could completely hear Christian’s heavy breathing on the other line.

“… well then you pissed off the wrong person, so fucking disappear from my White Tower and next time you want to call somebody ‘gold digger’ make sure they aren’t your boss’ wife. Goodbye”.

And then he turned to you, cradling your head in his hands and pushing you close to him, letting your lips meet.

“Good morning, gold-digger” you giggled softly in his mouth, as he adjusted himself to kiss you more properly “… now I can already smell your arousal and we have at least one hour to fuck, before Nadia comes back”.

“… then I do think that you better start, soon-to-be-husband”.

#Roman Godfrey #Roman Godfrey Reader #Roman Godfrey x Reader #Roman Godfrey Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fic #Roman Godfrey Ask #Roman Godfrey Drabble #roman godfrey blurb #Roman Godfrey Oneshot #Roman Godfrey One Shot #Hemlock Grove #HG #Hemlock Grove Imagine #Roman Godfrey Fluff #Fluff #Roman Godfrey Smut #Smut

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breazy18 · 5 years

Text

Frailty VIII

Story Overview: Roman Godfrey is owner of The Godfrey Institute (The White Tower) is forced by his mother Olivia Godfrey, to be with a woman, to not only make upir, but create offspring with.

The next morning, I rolled over into Romans back, which startled me at first because we had never done this before. I sighed and rolled over and gently stepped out of bed and tiptoed to the door.

“Y/N.” Roman spoke softly. I turned around giving a small sigh. “Sorry to wake you.” His back was still facing me. “Where are you going?” He turned over to his back. “Well, I was going to go get Nadia up and ready and feed her breakfast.” Roman stared at me for a moment, ran his fingers through his wild hair and got out of the bed. I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and sure enough, Roman was two strides behind me. We stood at the double sinks brushing our teeth together, though I was nervous to make eye contact. Roman finished up and I finished my morning routine all while he watched. “You know, I am so happy that bathroom sink is finally getting used.” He chuckled. I looked at him for a moment before he walked closer to me, smirking as he stood over me. “So small compared to me.” He chuckled. I rolled my eyes and turned away. “Hey Y/N?” His voice questioning. I turned towards him and he gently took my face in his hands and planted the softest most delicate kisses on my lips. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding and I felt like headed. When Roman finally pulled away, I quickly grabbed his hands in effort to hold myself up. “Oh.” He wrapped his arms around me swiftly. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened.” I mumbled. “Oh Y/N, your thoughts and feelings are so loud, I can feel them and hear them.” He held me for a moment running his fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry, I am okay now.” I moved away and went out to get Nadia from her bedroom.

Nadia was up and ready for breakfast so I carried her down the steps and into the kitchen where I set up her high chair and got out the baby food. Roman had followed me and was now sitting at the counter watching every move I make. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked while pulling out a spoon. “Um, no thank you, but I do think I am going to make myself some coffee.”

The days went by slowly, the week had started so Roman was off at work and I was home with Nadia. I was beyond moody recently, so when Roman came home, I would make him dinner and we would play with Nadia and go to bed not too long after that.

The nights ended with Romans hands wrapped around me and sometimes tracing my back, and our mornings would start with Romans alarm going off once at 5:00 in the morning and him rolling over and cuddling me until his alarm at 5:15 went off, then I would see him get up and start his day and dress in his nice suits or slacks and button downs depending on the day, and before he left he would always come over to my side of the bed and give me a kiss and tells me he will see me later that night.

The next day things were normal, Roman kissing me goodbye and telling me when he would be back home. Roman randomly came home around noon, said he took a half day off of work and that he wanted to spend some time just with me and Nadia. Roman and I made lunch together and we went in the living room and we sat in the rocking chairs and Roman rocked Nadia for her mid-afternoon nap. “She’s precious.” I smiled watching her face rest on his shoulder. “She is.” He agreed sighing. “What’s wrong?” I noticed a small change in his tone. “Well, when she is older, I don’t want her to know about the situation about Letha, it’s so messed up, would you be okay if we just said you were her real mother?” He looked up at me. “Yes of course, if it’s what you want.” I gave a gentle smile.

Roman and I made dinner together that night and while Nadia slept, we watched a movie until it was time for bed. Tonight, it was raining and the wind was whipping around the house and thunder was crackling across the sky, lighting flashing into our bedroom. Roman had made a fire since it was chilly and we put Nadia’s sleeper that we sometimes use in the living room in our bedroom on my side of the bed in case she started to cry or was scared.

Roman laid on his back with his arm wrapped around me and I was curled up in his right side, listening to the sound of the thunder rolling and then I noticed it again, the silver wedding band on his finger. I don’t know why it surprised me, we did agree to be a married couple and do all of this together. I moved my hand and traced the wedding band with my finger. “What?” Roman muttered, when I looked up at him his eyes were closed. “Nothing, I just, I’m happy you are wearing your ring.” I blushed a bit at myself. “Well, we are married, so my ring is on all of the time, and you wear your ring.” He moved a bit exposing my left hand with the rings on them. “Your two beautiful rings, mean a lot you know?” He held my hand up towards him. “I may not have picked them, and I know in the beginning I didn’t care for you, you made me feel uncomfortable, and I hated my mother so much for making us marry each other, but every day I realize I can’t be mad, because you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and even though this whole marriage situation is forced and wasn’t our choice, we should be using this time for dating, but here we are married and functioning as a married couple raising a baby together, and you know Y/N, you are so amazing, and I love you so much.” He sighed finally finished. Did I hear him correctly? “Wait, what?” “Yes, you heard me correctly.” He chuckled. “I love you Y/N.” “Roman, I love you too.”

Newest Chapter

Frailty Part 9

Frailty Part 1

Frailty Part 2

Frailty Part 3

Frailty Part 4

Frailty Part 5

Frailty Part 6

Frailty Part 7

#bill skasgård #roman godfrey #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey hemlock grove #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgård x reader

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anastasiaskarsgard · 5 years

Text

Meeting Roman Godfrey

Chapter 1

Warning - cursing.

I never thought I’d miss traffic and noise. I always took it all for granted, hated it even. But now itd be a welcome old friend. Instead here i was, in a town with a handful of stop lights and not even one mall. You had to go on a road trip, to experience civilization, but I loved my uncle and he needed me... even if he wouldn’t admit it.

I spotted a Barnes and Noble and actually squealed in excitement. i pulled up in my big body Benz and looked a little bit out of place, but i didnt care. My car was understated low profile over the top. With its clear panoramic sunroof, so much technology, and ambiance lighting, id always kid with my uncle that i needed it for my mental health. Really I was terribly spoiled and I knew it, yet I appreciated it and never tried to rub it anyone’s face and NEVER bragged.

inside there was a shockingly big lego display and i remembered how much i used to love assembling complicated structures, while most girls played wth dolls. People never interested me, like how machines and structures did. While most little girl wanted to play with dollies and imagine scenarios about their weddings and husbands, I was trying to improve my laptop (catching a few on fire in my early years).

I walked over and spotted a gigantic Death Star set and clapped in delight, when i heard a chuckle behind me. I turned around to find the best looking man I’d ever seen, dressed in a very nice suit for New York, let alone this shit hole town. He didnt waver or look away when i looked at him and almost looked as though he were daring me to look away. My god he was shockingly gorgeous but looks never have intimidated me, not much of anything does.

“What’s funny?” I asked looking him dead in the eye.

“You.” He smirked.

“Your face is funny.” i huffed and rolled my eyes. Who did he think he was? Green eyed, puffy lipped bastard.

To my surprise he laughed and looked me up and down. Assessed me like i was livestock. sizing me up and trying to decide if he could break me.

“I’m Roman.”

“I’m American.” I replied.

“No my name is Roman.” He laughed heartily. An amused twinkle in his eye.

He really had the best smile, and I really have a thing for noses, if you think about it, its the most imprtant facial feature. A nose can make or break a face, and his cute little slightly upturned nose with its perfect symmetry was for sure making it. combine that with gorgeous green eyes, long lashes, defined bone structure and standing at least 6′3″ he must be one of the biggest pains in the ass, this side of the Mississippi!

If i was the type to give a shit, I might feel self conscious in my velvet Juicy track suit with my hair in a sloppy pony tail and not even a stitch of make up but luckily i was not. Why pretty boy wanted to trade names, probably had nothing to do with me, and much more to do with what he could get out of me. I usually didn’t pay much attention to anyone of the opposite sex, I just didn’t have the patience or interest, but something about this one...

“Generally when I tell someone my name, they oblige me with their own.” He said staring into my eyes with such an intensity that I reacted almost involuntarily.

I have a defect. If someone tries to tell me what to do or control me, I am not fucking having it. Authority has always been an issue, and this was no different. I bet he isnt used to being ignored, and i do enjoy helping people expand their horizons so i turned around and acted like I hadnt heard him.

He walked in front of me, blocking my view of the legos and ducked down a bit to get eye contact. He’s either crazy or incredibly confident. I raised my eyebrows as if to say “can i help you” and I know my face was absolutely sassy.

His face hardened “tell me. Your. Name.” He said slowly and deliberately.

Now it was my turn to laugh. I looked at him to see the smile or just kiddding , but it never came... WOW. So I leaned my face a couple inches from his face and I said “ha. Ha. Ha.”

The look on his face was absolutely priceless and just as I was about to walk away victorious, his nose began to bleed. Probably a coke head, i thought but I was pretty bored in this town so I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and help him out.

“Oh shit, your nose is bleeding.” i said lookinbg around for any type of tissue, when i noticed we were right next to the restrooms.

“What? Seriously? Can you get it?” he implored looking all frightened, dare I say fragile.

Without any hesitation, I wiped the blood from his face. “Come with me, we need tissue, bathroom is right here. Look up and hold your nose.” I grabbed his hand and recieved a shock. static electricity stayed with me a lot and often scared people but he didnt even flinch. He laced his fingers in mine as if it were the most natural thing in the world and i led him to the bathroom.

Once inside, I grabbed some tissues and directed him to stand over the sink. I wet some paper towels and wiped away the blood and then took took the dry tissues and pushed his head back and crammed little tissue torpedos in his perfect little nose.

“Gotta admit, this is new.” He quipped, admiring my handy work in the mirror and laughing in spite of himself.

“What? Bloody nose or a girl not being putty in your manicured hands?”

“Um.... all of it. You don’t listen, you’re kind of rude, but then when theres an issue, you dont hesitate to help and then you’re taking better care of my nose bleed than anyone. no one really takes charge with me.... and now I’m in a bathroom with a woman and we aren’t fucking.” He laughed again.

“Fucking. Classy. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were the Godfrey asshole everyone keeps telling me about.” Ever since I’d arrived at Hemlock grove, I’d heard Godfrey this and Godfrey that. Their name was on everything and I’d heard the son was like a 21 year old gorgeous ladies man that was as kind as he was humble.

His face fell into a frown.

“I see that’s the general consensus about that guy. Cheer up Charlie, your nose stopped bleeding most likely, let me just pull these out. i gently pulled the tissues from his nose and waited for blood but none came. “Boom mothafucka its on!” i laughed at my own ridiculousness before turning and washing my hands.

“You are ridiculous” he stated matter of factly.

Roman stood there quietly thinking. I could almost feel the wheels turning in his head. His mood had completely changed at the mention of the Godfrey kid.Maybe his family had lost everything because of them too or the guy stole this guys girl, i felt a little guilty so i relented a tiny bit.

“Hey listen, Roman was it?” He nodded and bit his lip. oh he knows what hes doing. boy he was trouble “I’m sorry if the Godfrey’s are a sore subject. I don’t know anything about anybody here. I’m just helping out my crazy uncle that fell down his basement stairs and broke his hands and neck. I’m from the west coast and this dreary fucking place isn’t exactly my cup of tea. I don’t know why I’m rude before I’m polite but it’s involuntary. My name is Letha, it’s like Lisa with a lisp and now I’ve officially over shared.” I could feel my face turning red. Why was He making me such an awkward mess? My God this WAS new.

suddenly he grabbed me by my shoulders and pulled me in stopping just an inch away from my face. “Who put you up to this?” He asked with such venom in his voice it made me flinch. “WHO!?!?!” He screamed in my face.

I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t budge. My mind raced and I began to panic. No one has ever screamed in my face like this and I didn’t like it and yet, the way his eyes searched mine and the tenseness in his body and just sheer panic made me do something I hardly ever did. Especially to a crazy stranger in the bathroom, but I had the overwhelming NEED to hug him. I fought past his hands trying to hold my shoulders in kind of a silly slap fight and grabbed him around the waist and buried my head in his shoulder. He smelled so good.This was outright crazy behavior for me, and i was confusing myself but if i tried to not think, it almost felt nice. A tense minute passed with me holding him as he calmed his breathing with his arms raised. If anyone walked in, it’d be pretty weird.

“Nobody sent me you nut job! Hug me back, you need a hug. And I am NOT a hugger.” i squeezed even harder, nuzzling my face into his collar, his chin gently resting on my head.

His arms hesitantly closed around my back and then he crushed me into a deep embrace. He really did need a hug. “You ok now crazy?” I asked trying to pull back to look at his face but he held me fast. He started to shudder a bit and it was then I felt the moisture hitting my forehead.

Was this crazy ass dude crying? Oh no he was really crazy. Shit shit shit. Good job Letha, you’re gonna get murdered in a bookstore bathroom in shit hole Pennsylvania on a Friday afternoon. Why did you hug this fucking guy? Are you crazy?

Roman loosened his grip and looked deep in my eyes searching for something. What? Im unsure, but he must of found it, because he laughed and looked almost sweet, except tears were running down his face and a moment earlier he screamed at me. Boy I can pick em.

“Well Ms Letha, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d love nothing more than to take you out this evening wherever you want to go. Before you refuse, I assure you I’m not crazy, it’s just I had a cousin named Letha, which I’m sure you’re aware is an unusual name, that I loved very much and she passed and I’m sorry. It caught me off guard.”

I had heard about that Letha. Everyone that found out my name, told me about Letha Godfrey, the Godfrey girl that was as kind as she was beautiful, but tragically got knocked up and lost her mind talking about angels being the father, and dating some weirdo outcast. when she went to give birth in the familys intimidating skyscraper medical facility, she mysteriously died and so did her baby.

“You’re the Godfrey kid.” I practically whispered staring at him with wide eyes as I tried to recall what I’d said about him TO him.

“Hardly a kid anymore I think.” He smiled. He was so handsome, it was freaking me out. “What’s your phone number? I have to run to the white tower, and then I’m all yours.”

I knew better. He was too good looking and too rich and too everything but something told me he needed me. I know it sounds crazy but I believed in my heart and soul, this perfect beautiful fucking legend of a man needed me. I can’t explain why. I told him my number and turned to walk out of the bathroom, but he grabbed my hand.

“Please answer.” He pleaded pressing a kiss to my hand. He wasn’t trying to make me do anything now. He was giving the power over to me and i was honestly taken aback a bit by the almost desperate look in his eyes. I knew in my heart, he genuinely needed me, but for what?

I can’t explain the feeling I felt in that bathroom with this man, but when I say I felt a deeper connection to him than I’d ever felt in my 22 years on this earth, I mean it. It was thrilling, and scary, and strange. I smiled at him and nodded my head.I tried to lie to myself and act like i wasnt going to answer but dammit I so was.

Maybe it would work in my best interests favor that my uncles’ home was 50 miles outside of town in a very isolated area so I doubted once I told him where hed have to pick me up, he’d actually follow through.

He didn’t follow me out of the bathroom and I just made a bee line for my car. I had to go. I couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. The cashier smirked at me with what I suspect a knowing glance. Boy oh boy did I know better than to get involved with this guy, but what was the worst that could happen?

#roman godfrey #hemlock grove #bill skarsgard #bill istvan günther skarsgård #bad boy #bad idea #letha #letha godfrey #fanfic #relationshit #meetingroman100 #my writing

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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years

Text

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT.

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable.

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain.

“(Y/N)?”

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments.

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight.

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance.

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it.

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart.

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion.

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past.

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully.

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches.

“Yeah? And who told you that?”

“Destiny.”

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.”

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.”

You roll your eyes at the compliment.

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued.

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name.

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy.

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.”

“Enlighten me anyway.”

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.”

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman.

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm.

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile.

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture.

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again.

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point.

“That is usually the deal, yes.”

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.”

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown.

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug.

“Still, he was your dad.”

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.”

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated.

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register.

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.”

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier.

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up.

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill.

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes.

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love.

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat.

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke.

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.”

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering.

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary.

Peter belows a raspberry in response.

You looked over to glare at him, “What?”

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap.

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.”

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more.

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff.

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.”

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin.

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained.

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.”

“Then what happened?”

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security.

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…”

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette.

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today.

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight.

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was.

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to.

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile.

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you.

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip.

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side.

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit.

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing.

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt.

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued.

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase.

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling.

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested.

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word.

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met.

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves?

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want.

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.”

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up.

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing.

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare.

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him.

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste.

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.”

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly.

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last.

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue.

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present.

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered.

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly.

“Excuse me?” Roman spat.

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.”

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!”

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him.

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia.

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-”

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman.

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods.

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn.

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same.

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends.

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her.

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you.

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward.

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered.

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips.

“What?” He asked.

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out.

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway.

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house.

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed.

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders.

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer.

“Since when?”

“Since now.”

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside.

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar.

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him.

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years.

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat.

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit.

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked.

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?”

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back.

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you.

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles.

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears.

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated.

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?”

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.”

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears.

“With you. Yes.”

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home.

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick.

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod.

“So, that was it?”

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.”

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare.

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface.

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,”

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.”

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.”

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.”

“New York that good, then?”

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.”

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak.

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest.

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.”

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter.

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it.

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it.

“Never again.”

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens.

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door.

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again.

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school.

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.”

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house.

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic.

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question.

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear.

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately.

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath.

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it.

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option.

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry.

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock.

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up.

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him.

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you.

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head.

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.”

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems.

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door.

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar.

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible.

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door.

And Roman continued to keep it open.

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked.

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them.

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone.

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood.

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay.

“You already have.”

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door.

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.”

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage.

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over.

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?”

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.”

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good.

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you.

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life.

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed.

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars.

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.”

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.”

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink.

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven.

Anything Roman did to you was heaven.

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did.

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented.

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.”

“You know if he’s any good?”

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled.

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him.

He was already looking at you.

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand.

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t.

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts.

“Good. I really like it.”

“Enjoying your studies?”

“Very much.”

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?”

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.”

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room.

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon.

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise.

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?”

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers.

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap.

“Not really.”

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate.

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself.

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence.

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him.

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?”

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.”

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs.

“Not really your business.” You counter.

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice.

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.”

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you.

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips.

“Ask you what?”

“If I’m seeing anyone.”

“I don’t care, Roman.”

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer.

“How would you define it?”

“Different from you.”

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.”

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired.

Roman doesn’t answer.

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.”

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…”

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else.

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder.

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten.

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts.

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow.

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells.

“So it is option C.” You replied.

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?”

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers.

“I already concluded that.”

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms.

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back.

“Then why?”

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.”

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth.

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection.

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.”

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.”

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly.

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you.

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that.

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut.

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips.

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart.

“Tell me why you hurt me first.”

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment.

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose.

“I’ve got time.”

“It’s not pretty.”

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him.

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust.

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin.

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.”

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod.

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?”

“Stop making jokes.” He growled.

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him.

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.”

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?”

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-”

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks.

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.”

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked.

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

“Stop, Roman...”

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes.

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.”

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul.

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly.

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable.

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months.

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.

“What time is the funeral?” He asked.

“10 AM.” You replied.

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him.

“I’ll be there.”

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.”

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.”

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche.

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway.

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now.

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night.

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong.

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it.

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become.

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back.

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips.

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you.

It was over.

Then why were you so sad?

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him.

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come.

Because he cared.

Because he loved you.

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest.

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.”

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you.

“I needed you and you knew and you came.”

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.”

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you.

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you.

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company.

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone.

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug.

“It’s OK. You have time.”

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown.

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm.

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.”

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek.

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch.

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?”

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?”

“Wherever you are.”

You smile, “Then take me there.”

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you.

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…”

“You hate it.”

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly.

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.”

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a victorian novel.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.”

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him.

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?”

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia.

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject.

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room.

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back.

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.”

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.”

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out.

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one.

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.”

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.”

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world.

“Me too.”

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions.

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?”

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night.

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night.

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself.

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled.

“That was a really good night.” You said.

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.”

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his.

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of.

“No, it really isn’t.”

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished.

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you.

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you.

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes.

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down.

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible.

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you.

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.”

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them.

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath.

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.”

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin.

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.”

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty.

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son.

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb.

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart.

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat.

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time.

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.”

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend.

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke.

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth.

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman.

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?”

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room.

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent.

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks.

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father.

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he?

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb.

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities.

“What?”

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.”

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you.

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back.

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.”

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully.

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips.

It was the first time you realized you loved him.

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road.

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him.

“I forgive you.” You really did.

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest.

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.”

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before.

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one.

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours.

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper.

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had.

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door.

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin.

“My baby,” He said to your skin.

“My girl,” He groaned.

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Mine, mine, mine,”

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive.

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop.

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss.

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.”

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with.

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.”

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you.

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.”

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you.

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront.

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.”

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow.

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies.

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily.

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued.

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.”

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger.

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak.

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!”

“Roman,” You sigh.

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.”

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you.

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear.

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him.

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well.

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers.

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.”

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off.

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,”

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.”

“Baby,” You choke out.

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return.

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states.

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly.

“Roman, just-”

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?”

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t.

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact.

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.”

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze.

“I love the city…”

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal.

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands.

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.”

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears.

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again.

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements.

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said:

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

#i still have other one shots in the works so hopefully those are better than this!#also prompts will be opening soon (:#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey imagines #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey x you #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove imagines #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgard x reader #stevesharrlngtonswrites

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