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#roman godfrey reader insert
authorred · 2 years
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Hell's Gate (Hemlock Grove) (Roman Godfrey x Fem!Reader)
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Preface: We all know Olivia Godfrey only cares about herself and her legacy. Any threat to that is a threat to her. You, the person whom Roman loves, is a threat. So, she opts to get rid of you. Little does she and Roman know, you have your own secret.
Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, general angst, cursing, reader isn't a baby bottom bitch in this, Roman having a breakdown, crying, some dark gifs to appeal to the edgy readers, etc..
Part 2 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here
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You knew the moment Olivia walked into the room you were in, alone, that she was going to try something. What that 'thing' was, you didn't know. A dig at your integrity, your intelligence, your lineage; who knows. That's how it always was between you two. Underneath the superficial layer of flowery words of flattery lied malice beyond human comprehension. You could tell from the instance you met her she didn't like you. Why? You were involved with Roman. In fact, he loved you. He loved you more than he feared her. She didn't like that.
So, when you were basically cornered by the predictably unpredictable woman in the Godfrey estate, you knew some shit was going to go down. She was a beautiful woman. It was a shame she was so ugly on the inside.
"Mrs. Godfrey," you greeted with a slight incline of your head. "Is there something you need?"
"Yes, actually." She came to stand in the middle of the parlor room, heels clicking against the polished wooden flooring. "Roman is out currently, and Shelley is resting right now. I would absolutely love it if you would join me on a walk."
You slowly stood up from the comfy chair with a wary gaze. "Through the estate? Or over a bridge?"
"That depends on whether I feel up to dragging you that far away from the house." She gave a tight smile before turning. "Still, I would love to get to know the girl my son seems to be so attached to."
You nodded. "Alright. If you insist." You pulled out your phone and sent a quick text to Roman, who was out meandering with Peter due to some dreams they had about the Vargulf.
'Your mother wants to take a walk with me. I don't like the way she's holding herself. I love you.'
Your message was delivered--and Roman normally texted back moderately quickly. However, this was the one time where he wouldn't be able to see your message in time.
You pocketed your phone and smiled at Olivia, who gave you one of her own. It was pleasant--her teeth straight and white--but the feeling she gave off greatly contradicted it.
The day was beautiful. A calm, autumn day. A crisp 60 degrees with a cool breeze. The fallen leaves crunched under your feet, varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. Olivia has not spoken to you once the entire time, and you weren't quick to start a conversation either. Roman still hadn't responded to you--nor had he actually read it. That was fine. You understood what he was doing was important. You could handle yourself. Probably. Maybe. You hoped.
"How well do you think you know my son?" She suddenly spoke, hands placed delicately in her trench coat pockets.
"Hm," you hummed. "I would like to think I know him well enough. Maybe not the best, but I know him better than my other friends."
"Is that so?" She murmured. "Do you think he loves you?"
You shrugged. "I don't think I have a right to speak on his feelings. Especially regarding me. It seems egotistical."
"You know, Y/n, Roman is a brilliant boy. He is my son, my flesh and blood."
"I'm aware of how basic biology works, yes. He very much looks like your son." You nodded. You may not have been as sharp as her, but with the wit you did have, you would use it at every chance.
"And as his mother, it's my job to make sure nothing gets in the way of his bright future."
You slowed your walking. "Do you think I'm a hindrance, Mrs. Godfrey?"
She matched your slowed pace and looked over her shoulder at you. "Well, I don't believe you to be a benefit. You're a distraction. Surely, you understand where I'm coming from. I just want what's best for him."
"And you don't think I'm one of those things that are 'best' for him?"
Olivia chuckled lowly, playing around with her leather gloves. "I believe that you will lead him astray from the path I've laid for him. That's all. It's nothing personal, truly Y/n. You're a lovely girl, I'm sure. When you're away from Roman."
You nodded slowly, sucking your teeth. "It feels personal." You looked around your surroundings. You were at the back of the estate's yard--the house itself was a good distance away. "Are we finishing our walk here, Mrs. Godfrey?" You asked, tilting your head. You gazed at her eyes with calm intent.
"You're truly not scared?" She asked, slowly removing her gloves. She no longer cared whether you knew or not. You would be the only one to, at least. Aside from her, but she's very good at keeping secrets.
You smiled lightly and stared at her hands. "I've come across scarier things than a narcissistic Upir."
Her lips twitched into a frown. "Then I suppose it's good that that'll be the last thing you come across."
~ Roman fell against the wall, entire body collapsing into itself. Peter didn't catch him in time, but he did attempt to keep Roman's body from crashing to the floor. A violent sob racked through the said man's body, face screwing up in pure agony.
"Roman? Hey--it's okay, buddy. It's okay," Peter soothed, not minding his best friend clinging to him currently. "I know. It's okay."
By the time Roman had read your text, you were already dead in a ditch somewhere; disembowled and dismembered. You were found there a few days later after your walk with Olivia. According to her, you went off on a walk after an unpleasant conversation with Olivia, to which she stayed behind in the house because of Shelly. There were no witnesses and no evidence left at the crime scene enough to create a concrete suspect list.
Olivia was the one who broke the news to Roman of your 'absence'. At first, he just thought you needed space from her--which was understandable. His mother was extremely suffocating, and if you're not used to her, it can quite literally kill you. Unfortunately for you, it did.
As expected, he took it poorly, and Peter had to give all of his energy to keep Roman from lashing out and hurting himself or hurting Olivia (no matter how much they both disliked her). Of course, it pained the older woman to see her son in pain (but let's be honest, she didn't care about the reason), so all she could do was swear to him that they'd find the person responsible for your murder.
Peter couldn't be with him 24/7, and the two boys still had school to deal with as well. Anger coursed through him 24/7, a thin film that kept the grief at bay. Peter knew what was going on, and Letha as well, as Peter had told her. Anyone else who had the misfortune of crossing Roman during that time was left in the middle of a whirlwind of anger and hurt.
"Roman," Peter called softly. "We both know Y/n didn't. . . just randomly die, right?"
Roman puffed out a cloud of cigarette smoke--the fourth one he's smoked that morning alone. He nodded solemnly, expression already screwing up. "No way," he chuckled bitterly. "That woman could punch anyone's lights out." He paused for a brief moment.
"Shit," he cursed, voice breaking and stumbling over itself. "I didn't even answer her text."
Peter nodded slowly, reaching over to pat Roman on the shoulder comfortingly. "It's not your fault. Y/n would've understood. She knew how important this was. It's not your fault." When Roman looked over to his friend, Peter just gazed steadily at him. "We got this, buddy. We'll find the person. And when we do, we'll kill them."
Roman nodded in agreement, sniffing. Both of them knew this wasn't something to come back from easily. If anyone knew Roman past the fuckboy, hard-ass image, they'd know he wouldn't move on--that nothing would, or could, replace the spot you took in his life and heart.
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Dirt and mud were peeled away like a sheet of ice, uncovering the freshly dug hole in the ground. Flesh was spiked with shredded wood splinters and blood soaked through the pure white shirt. A hand came up through the ground to claw at the surrounding solid dirt. With a hefty, polyphonic grunt, you pulled yourself out of your shallow grave. With eyes blazing an angry red and a voice like a demonic choir, you uttered one single sentence,
"I'm going to fucking kill that bitch."
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alphabetbill · 2 years
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To-Do List
Things that you can expect to see coming up on my page, such as things that are current WIPs and things that will be coming in the future! This is so you can keep hounding me about getting shit done instead of lazing about, and so I don't get bored and forget about my projects ;)
____________________________
Roman Godfrey A-Z relationship list (currently in the works)
Inhumanity (chapters 2-3-4 at least) (currently in the works)
Wattpad Fanfiction Updates (such as To The Grave and Burning Castle Godfrey on bill_roman_skarsgard)
Fugitive With You (haven't done much work around it but I promise I'm trying to get back on top of things)
I'm hoping to do more Bill x Reader insert stuff
Henry Pearl A-Z relationship list
Those are the main things on my agenda! (can't promise all will be delivered but-)
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stevesharrlngtons · 3 years
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i measure time by days spent away from you.
roman godfrey x reader
summary: while you’re off on a girls weekend, roman is left missing you.
word count: 5.9k
a/n: ingredients: just sweetness. instructions: read when you are feeling sad. results: good feelings resulting in feedback 4 the writer (-:  
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“I can’t believe you’re being such a baby about this.” 
“Fuck off,” Roman grumbled in reply, moving to lay flat against the mattress with a huff. 
You just laughed and continued to fold clothes into your bag. You were very meticulous when it came to packing, wanting everything in your suitcase to be stored efficiently to maximize space. Roman always teased you about it. Although, each and every vacation taken together, he always complained that he couldn’t fit everything he wanted to bring in his suitcase. You’d counter his irritation by offering to help him pack next time, and he’d always roll his eyes stubbornly.
But, you wouldn’t have to hear his snarky comments or annoyed ramblings this trip, because you were leaving Roman behind in Pennsylvania. 
Destiny had invited you to her bachelorette party in Atlantic City for the long weekend, and you had happily accepted. You had been awaiting this girls trip for weeks and you were excited that it had finally arrived. You didn’t have many female friends anymore, having grown apart from the ones you made in high school and college, so the opportunity to have some good old fashioned girl time was overdue. While you and Destiny were close, you had never met any of her other friends. You were silently hoping to come out of the weekend with some new buddies, a few good stories, and plans for future adventures. 
“I just don’t understand why it’s three days…” he said, watching you riffle through the closet for a party dress. 
“Hardly,” you snorted, “I’ll be gone tonight, tomorrow and Sunday morning. You’ll barely even notice.”
The sound of you moving hangers around covered Roman’s pouted not likely.
Roman had been dreading your departure all week and now that it was here, he was stewing in self pity and pubescent angst. He didn’t want you to fly to New Jersey and go partying with a bunch of rowdy women, he just wanted you to himself. Which he knew was selfish and borderline unhealthy, but he didn’t really care. He liked you right by his side, slung under his arm, safe and sound. He wasn’t used to you going out with friends and especially not for so long. If you were out for an evening, you were back and in bed snuggled to his chest well before dawn. 
“I just don’t see why you can’t fly out Saturday morning, do whatever Destiny wants, then fly home in the evening,” Roman sighed, waving his hands lazily in the air. 
“What kind of loser does that? It’s like showing up for the birthday party and leaving before the sleepover,” you took a dress from the closet and walked to the mirror to pose with it infront of your body. 
“You hated sleepovers as a kid,” he argued. 
“I never wanted to sleep in a sleeping bag on the floor,” you shuttered, “but when I’m promised a nice mattress, along with tons of drinking and dancing? Count me in for the sleepover and all the party favors.” 
“So, what?” Roman pushed up to rest on his elbows, “You’re just going to get wasted and dance? You could do that here, y’know?” 
“You wanna go dancing with me, Rome?” you shifted your eyes from the dress to look at his reflection in the mirror. 
“You know I’d go with you if you asked…” 
“Then, we should totally go dancing next weekend, baby.” 
You turned to place the dress you had been modeling in your bag and Roman groused petulantly. He watched closely as you folded the slinky designer dress on top of your other clothing and toiletries, smiling when it fit perfectly. You mouthed your checklist to yourself, counting off on your fingers that you had everything you needed, before you zipped the suitcase shut. When you had finished, you shuffled around on your knees to look at him.
“What if I fly down with you and we could get our own room? Have some hotel fun?” he raised an eyebrow and you just shook your head at his pleading. 
“Ro, this is a girls weekend, meaning no boys allowed. Including you.” 
He once more threw himself back down on the mattress in theatrics. 
“You do know that Peter lives here now?” you walked over to the bed and hopped on to straddle his hips, “How can you be mad at me for leaving you to have a fun weekend with your best friend?”
“Peter has plans.” 
“I know for a fact that he doesn't,” you took Roman’s face on your hands and pivoted his chin to look at you, “so go out with him. Have some fun, get drunk, do whatever you can’t do when I’m here.”  
Roman let you handle him completely, his neck limp and suggestible. He stared up at you with sad emerald eyes. 
“What if I make some calls and get the jet? I could get it here in an hour and you could go to New Jersey and be home before dinner?”
You just smiled and leaned down to kiss him softly, “I love you.” 
“Is that a yes?” 
“It’s a no, but I still love you.”
Again, Roman slumped and sulked.  
You looked down at your moping boyfriend and kissed his jaw affectionately. You knew that Roman loved you, but you weren’t entirely sure why he was throwing such a fit about your leaving? Sure, he liked being with you, doing things with you, fucking you; but he wasn’t one of those partner’s who was lost without their other half. Roman did plenty of things alone, even went on the occasional business trip all by his lonesome and never put up this kind of fight before. 
You had mentally chalked it down as him being a possessive worry wart, which is why you already had plans to text him often to ease his mind. 
As you continued to lay soft kisses to his skin, there was a honk outside followed closely by a buzz of your phone. Your car had arrived to pick you up. Roman groaned as you sat up. 
“I gotta go, baby.” 
“Five more minutes?” 
“I don’t think I can ask the driver to do that,” you hummed as you pushed yourself off him. 
You went to the door and you looked over your shoulder to see Roman still laying down, a scowl on his face. 
“Are you gonna walk me down, at least? I’d like to say goodbye to you.”
Roman’s scowl deepened before he released a deep breath and pushed up from the mattress and walked to you. When he reached you, you made a move to grab your bags, but Roman beat you to it. He picked up your luggage without any haste and left the bedroom without a word or backward glance. You just rolled your eyes at his childishness and followed him, catching up with his long legged strides to wrap your arms around his waist. You pressed your cheek firmly to his back, and wound your fingertips in the fabric of his shirt. It made walking down the stairs a struggle, but Roman didn’t move to peel you off, which you appreciated. 
“You off?” Peter asked from the living room, lifting the remote to pause whatever he was watching on TV. 
“Sure am,” you said from behind Roman, giving him a gentle squeeze. 
“Have fun, will ya? Say hi to D for me.” 
“I will,” you grinned as Roman stayed silent. 
You could see Peter's face screw up with confusion on Roman’s stoic behavior, but kept his mouth shut on the matter, something you were thankful for. There was another honk from outside which prompted you to start to drag your oversized boyfriend to the front door. 
“Have fun!” Peter called again, his voice muted by the closing door. 
Once outside, Roman handed off your suitcase to the town car driver. The man took your luggage, then opened the backseat door swiftly for you to enter, waiting expectantly. 
“Give us a minute,” Roman said, dismissing the driver with a little too much hostility. 
The driver gave no indication of being offended by Roman’s tone, as he nodded and went to put your bag in the trunk of the car and then returned to the driver's seat. When he was out of sight, Roman looked you in the eyes. 
“You really sure you wanna go?” 
“Really sure,” you responded with a quick nod. 
“I guess I can’t talk you out of it then, now can I?” he frowned. 
“Roman, I promise you everything is going to be OK. I’ll be fine there, and you’ll be fine here.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he slumped his shoulders. 
“Then what is it?” 
Roman just shrugged. Too stubborn to admit how much he would miss you. 
You sighed, “Well, whatever it is… I’m going to miss you.” 
Roman took his hands from his pockets and placed them on your hips. 
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll miss you, too.” 
You slid your hands up his chest to meet behind his neck, pulling him close. 
“I love you very much,” you placed a chaste kiss to his lips, which Roman chased. 
“Love you, too.” he returned, giving you a much longer, more passionate kiss. 
When you pulled apart, Roman spoke again. 
“Text me when you get to the airport, when you board the plane, when you take off, when you land, when you actually get off the plane, what kind of car you're taking to the hotel, get me the driver’s info if you can --” you interrupted his rambled list. 
“I will, I will do all of that and I will tell you when we get to the hotel.” you said in a soft, placating voice. You smoothed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and felt tiny goosebumps form along the skin underneath. 
“Fine, fine, OK.” Roman’s jaw tightened. 
You leaned up and pressed your lips to the tensing muscle, “I love you and I promise to keep you posted, but I gotta go. I don’t wanna miss the flight.” 
Roman nodded stiffly, but said nothing. 
You began to wiggle away from his hold, when Roman decided to swoop down one last time to kiss you. You were sure the driver was retching by the sheer amount of times you both had done so, but you didn’t care. You loved this silly man and would drown him in smooches to his heart content before you left. 
When your final kiss ceased, you both with labored breathing and gloss swollen lips, Roman let you enter the backseat of the town car and shut the door behind you. 
As the car drove away, you unrolled the window and leaned out the opening, blowing him a dramatic kiss as you swayed your arm in the wind like a 19th century on looker to a parting ship. Roman watched you with a stilted smile until you disappeared down the road. 
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When Roman came back inside the house, Peter was waiting for him.
“So, the ol’ ball and chain is out for the weekend. What are your plans?”
Roman said nothing to him as he began to march up the stairs, hand clenching the rail. 
“I’m thinking strippers? Huh? Could be fun?” Peter walked to the staircase and watched Roman until he receded into the hallway without a reply. 
“Maybe rent the fight on pay-per-view? Get some beers?” he called louder. 
Still he only received silence. He rested his chin on the banister and waited a moment before he yelled, “Fine, be a pussy and cry that your girlfriend is gone!” 
The sound of a door being thrown open was Peter’s first response, followed by a verbal one. 
“I never said no, Jesus! So fucking fine, let’s go to the strip club, asshole.” 
Peter smirked as he heard Roman’s indiscernible grumbles before he shut himself right back into his bedroom. Roman liked to pretend he was complicated, but Peter could play him like a fiddle. 
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Roman was surrounded by body oil, neon lights and gyrating women. A few years ago, this would have been his heaven, his domain. But now, it all felt trivial and antiquated. It felt played out and pathetic. With the neck of a beer bottle cradled lazily between his fingers, he watched on as the beautiful women of the club stripped from their skimpy costumes and revealed themselves in new and arousing ways. 
Peter, who sat next to him at their small circular table, was transfixed by the women around them. Reclined in his seat with a smile on his face, his eyes followed the dancers as they spun around poles, as they groped and shook themselves. Roman knew that he should have the same appreciation for the dancers as his friend. He knew that he should be calling over the ones who eyed him up and down with lust, he knew that he should be paying for private dances until his bank account ran dry. But he didn’t want to. He didn’t feel like it, at all. 
Peter picked up on his friend's lack of enthusiasm when he found him slipping his phone from his pocket every few minutes to check for notifications. He let out a snort through his nose, one that was muffled under the booming music, but still heard by Roman. 
“What?” he asked as he tried to discreetly put his cell back in his front pocket. 
“Nothing,” Peter hummed, raising his eyebrows, “Just find it funny.” 
“Find what funny?” 
“That you’re so whipped.” 
“Fuck off,” Roman scoffed, taking a swig of his beer. 
“Sure, sure, whatever. It won’t make you any less whipped, though…” Peter smirked. 
“I am not fucking whipped.” 
“Yeah? Then why do you look like you just put your fucking dog down when you should be looking like a kid in a candy store? Huh?” 
“I’m just not feeling it, OK? These girls are ugly. If I see one more cesarean scar I might vomit,” he sneered. 
“These girls are all tens and you know it! You’re just being a pouty little whipped boy because your girlfriend’s gone.” 
Roman’s face hardened as he turned to glare at Peter, “Fine, y’know that? Fuck you, you goddamn prick. Have fun with these busted bitches. I’m out of here.” 
Roman shot from his seat and slammed his beer on the table, causing a few other patrons to look over. He was already gathering his things to leave. 
“Hey, hey, hey, cool down, bud,” Peter said, trying to pacify a Godfrey level tantrum, “I was just joking around, OK? I’m just bustin’ your balls, that’s all.”
Roman’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he loomed over the table with a glower in his wide eyes. 
“C’mon man, just sit,” Peter pleaded, “Don't be weird about it, just sit.” 
Roman eventually relented after a long pause, collapsing his long limbs back into his chair with a loud sniff, his posture rigid. Roman picked his beer back up and took a pull from the bottle. 
“Look, I really was just kidding around, alright? Don’t take it to heart or anything,” Peter said, leaning toward his friend so he wouldn’t have to talk over the music. 
“Yeah, Ok. Fine,” Roman replied, refusing to make eye contact by letting his gaze wander around the club. 
Peter sighed, “I get it, alright? I do. When you’re in love, things are different. You have blinders on to everything but that one person, and as easy as it is to make fun of, it’s not a bad thing, Roman. It’s good, and it’s a good feeling to have.” 
Roman finally looked over the table to Peter, whose gaze had wilted and saddened. He could practically see him thinking about Letha, her face forming and twisting in his irises. 
He swallowed thickly before he slapped Peter on the shoulder in a search to break the tension, “No hard feelings. I’m gonna head out for a smoke, yeah? And I promise when I get back I’ll have a better time. OK?” 
Peter pursed his lips in an attempt to ward off the bubbling curse of his fallen love's memory and nodded, quickly downing the remainder of his drink and calling a waitress over for another. 
Roman took his jacket from the back of his chair and headed for the exit. Once outside, he collected his pack of Marlboros from his pocket, then a cigarette and the lighter that fit snuggly beside each other. 
As he sucked on the filter under the club’s awning and fluorescent flood lights, he felt his phone vibrate. He scrambled to retrieve it from his jeans and read the text hurriedly. 
just got to dinner and im ordering a vodka soda and thinking of you. miss u already, ily!
Roman’s heart flipped and fluttered in a way that made his cheeks tinge with pink, while a smile fought to curl on his lips. As he quickly typed out a reply, a little voice in the back of his head told him that maybe Peter was right, maybe he was whipped. 
drink slow, baby, remember what happened in ibiza when you had to many lol
And immediately after
i love you too, keep me posted
When he pocketed his phone once more, Roman pondered. Flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette, he decided that there were worse things in life than being in love with a woman, and being devoted to her. If that made him whipped, then so be it. Though, he would never admit that to anyone but his consciousness (even a bit painfully at that).  
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The sheets were warm with body heat and Roman had lost the cool side of his pillow hours ago. He tossed and turned. He shucked off the blankets, just to retrieve them moments later. His limbs danced under the sheets in search of comfort and a portion of the bed that wasn’t sticky with his sweat and a high temperature. His hips hurt from laying on his sides and his shoulders hurt when he rolled on his back. He was crawling out of his skin with discomfort and soreness as the moon illuminated the bedroom. Around 1AM, he had tried to close the blinds, but they only ever budged for your magic touch, and Roman had only mangled them into an unrelenting slope. 
Roman had checked his phone every ten minutes since he got under the covers. He had texted you a succinct good night around eleven and had received a jumbled good night in response. He had typed out a text that had bordered on passive aggressive, asking about how your night had been going and how much you had had to drink, but deleted it before he hit send. He was doing his best to avoid playing into the overbearing, resentful boyfriend role that he felt he was in. You deserved to let loose, he just wished he was by your side as you did (and not thousands of miles away).
He had typed another text out just after midnight, then another after the blinds incident, but deleted those as well. Part of his pouting was pretending that you didn’t want to be bothered by his messages, so he would just lock his phone and return it to the night stand each time. But, that was before the irritation had set in on his bones and just the thought of trying to fall asleep made his skin waver and blister. 
But he still didn’t text you. 
Because this time he called. 
He shuffled around as he listened to the phone ring in his ear, squirming under the covers as the top sheet seemed to be holding his ankle hostage. He felt an overwhelming urge to snap and strip the bed of its clothes and throw them all out on the lawn, when he heard you begin to pick up.
“Ro?” you shouted into the receiver, the loud blare of club music accompanying your voice. 
“Hey, you’re still out?” he asked, twisting his leg around erratically until his ankle was free. 
“I can’t hear you! Hold on,” you said loudly again, followed by muffled shuffles as you moved through the crowd.   
“Wait! Hold on! Roman! Wait!” he heard your far away voice say as you exited the club. 
The music grew further away and the static shuffle ended, Roman could finally hear your voice and only it. 
“Sorry ‘bout that,” you giggled.
“Having fun?” Roman asked, trying to mask his interest. 
“Yeah,” he could hear your shrug, “dancing is lots of fun.”
“You sound like you’re having fun.” 
“Well, I can be lots of fun after a few Moscow Mules,” you chuckled at your own joke. 
“Switched from vodka sodas?”
“Yeah, the other girls were drinking them so I thought, ‘Hey! Why not?’”
Roman could hear the sound of your high heels echoing on the pavement. 
“How are you getting along with them? No bad blood?” 
There was a beat of pause on your end before you sighed, “It’s hard to make new friends, Rome.”
“Did something happen?” Roman felt a flare of anger in his chest. 
“No, no,” you replied, “they’re nice girls, I think I’m just in my head about it.” 
“Are you sure, baby?” 
“Yeah, everything's fine, really. I am having a lot of fun.” you reassured. 
“You sure?” 
“I mean, they’re nice. They are… but they’ve all been friends for years, and I’m just this new girl coming in and trying to fit in with them. That’s the only bad part; feeling like I have to prove myself or something… I don’t know. Girls are weird,” you peeled away at the skin on your lip as you spoke. 
“They’re excluding you? The fuck is wrong with those fucking women? Who the fuck do they think they are?” Roman’s heart beat began to accelerate and suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind. 
“No, of course they aren’t excluding me. Destiny wouldn’t let that happen and you know it,” you said, “it’s just… they all have inside jokes and years of history together and y’know, here I come, Destiny’s new friend whose main bond with her is weird vargulf trauma.”
“I swear to God, baby, if I hear anything about them bullying you, no one will ever find the bodies. I’ll drain those snotty bitches for you,” he swore. 
You replied with a light hearted giggle, “I highly doubt that will be necessary. But is there something very wrong with me, that you threatening homicide for me, sorta turns me on?” 
Your comment was the pin to burst the anger that had begun to balloon in his chest. 
Roman snickered, “No, at least not to me. I think that’s what makes us work together.” 
You made a noise in thoughtful agreement.
“Roman? Can I ask you something?” 
“Yeah?” 
“Why aren’t you asleep? You came home from the club hours ago.” 
Roman let a beat of silence come over the receiver as he collected his thoughts. He was slightly embarrassed by the reason, and while he had come to the conclusion there were worse things in the world than being whipped, he didn’t want you to know how whipped he was for you. 
“Jus’ hard to sleep alone,” Roman mumbled into his phone, picking at a loose thread on the duvet. 
He heard you snort a laugh and twinge of shame flared in his belly. 
“Ro, you sleep without me all the time! I’m the needy one who can never sleep without you, remember? We go over this everytime you go out of town.”
“What? So, I’m some frigid monster without feelings? I can’t miss you? I can’t possibly not be able to sleep without you because I’m such an unfeeling asshole?” Roman carped defensively. 
“Mm, baby, I love when you put words in my mouth,” you were happily drunk, so while this could have been said with malice and venom during a fight, you said it with warmth and giggles now. 
“I never said that you are unfeeling or cold or an asshole. You are sometimes, but that’s beside the point,” Roman grumbled bitterly as you continued, “You’ve just never brought up not bein’ able to sleep when you’re away, is all. You go to Tokyo quarterly and it’s never come up when you get home.”
A jumbled, muffled response came from Roman’s end as his cheeks burned red. 
“What? Ro, I can’t hear you?” 
“I said, I… Jesus, fine. I said that I always refill my sleeping pills when I leave, ok? I pop an Ambien or two and that’s how I can sleep away from you,” he confessed, “and I don’t know, I guess I forgot to refill them before you left. So, yeah, whatever.” 
You didn’t immediately reply to Roman’s admission and his stomach began to churn with hot worry. Rationally, he knew that you wouldn’t ridicule him or tease him for his attachment to you and his acknowledgement of it. But the irrational side, the side that grew up with Olivia Godfrey as his mother, who would dull out affection only as a form of manipulation, made him feel sick. 
“Oh, Rome,” you cooed, your voice tender and comforting, “I never knew that… I, that’s actually really sweet.” 
Roman’s shoulders dropped, “Yeah?” 
“Yes! I think it’s very sweet. We can’t sleep without each other. I think it’s cute. I think that means something.” 
“Something good?” 
“I’d say so.”
Intense warmth flooded under Roman’s skin and filled his body with loose relaxation. He could hear the smile in your voice, and he could see you swaying in your heels, propping yourself up on a brick wall that bordered the building, and he knew you were wishing it was him. He wished it was him, too. He had never felt such a perverse envy of brick in his life, because it got to feel your soft skin and caress your flowing hair while Roman was a million miles away, craving the taste of you. 
Roman wished he could curl up inside your voice, that he could let your syllables embrace and pet him, let your sentences of sweeter things and kind compliments rock him to sleep and help him forget how far away you truly were.
After a few silent moments of simmering in each other’s long distance affection, Roman reluctantly spoke.
“You gotta go back in soon?” 
“Probably,” you gave a heaving sigh, “I don’t want them to worry or anything.” 
“Or have them give you shit for being whipped,” Roman said with a forced chuckle. 
He knew that this showed another chink in his armour, that his vulnerability glowed from underneath his comment. Sleep deprivation and loneliness was taking a toll on his filtering ability. 
“Pft,” you blew out the sound from your lips, “they already know that I’m whipped, Rome. I’m not much of a secret keeper.” 
You disclosed this without any stuttered worry or fear. You told Roman of your love and devotion to him without having to grit your teeth or wipe your clammy hands on your pants. It helped him feel comfortable in admitting his affections for you, but it was still much harder for him than it was for you. He knew that he needed to continue to work on divulging to you often and regularly of his love, because whenever you did, it filled Roman with the most remarkable and indescribable feeling. The feeling of stability and trust and happiness and the giddy feeling of knowing that the person you love most reciprocates. And Roman wanted most in life for you to feel that same way. 
“I miss you, Rome. I love you so much, but I gotta go,” you said, breaking through his thoughts. 
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I miss you, too. I love you,” Roman hoped you could hear his sincerity through the phone and your drunken haze. 
When you hummed contently, he knew you had. 
“Bye, baby,” 
“Make sure to text me when you’re back at the hotel, ok?” Roman interjected quickly before you hung up. 
“‘Course, honey. I love you!” and with that, the line went dead. 
Roman still tossed and turned and ached for your presence in his arms, but your short conversation had helped him eventually lull himself to sleep. His dreams were filled with short vignettes of you, sparks and flickers of your face. 
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Just after mid-morning on Sunday, you gently stuck your key into the lock of your home’s door. You had texted Roman after you had boarded the plane home and when you landed in Pennsylvania, but you had yet to get a response. You were hopeful it was because your high strung boyfriend was still asleep, something you knew he needed.
After your over the phone heart to heart in the early hours of Saturday morning, Roman still only got fitful rest. Saturday night was much of the same, as he sent you a litany of text messages, ranging from attempts to sext to requests for Netflix show recommendations. You were beginning to feel slightly guilty for the sleep you were able to get on your hotel queen, but you mainly accredited your ability to fall into the grip of slumber from the copious amounts of alcohol you had consumed over the weekend. Even now, the effects of the alcohol still had you in a clutches. With sunglasses perched high on your nose and four Tylenol simmering in your stomach, all you wanted to do was finally be back in Roman’s arms and kiss him wherever your lethargic lips could reach. 
Once you had opened the door, you heaved your suitcases over the threshold and set your keys in the crystal dish that held Roman’s as well. You stretched your arms over your head with a squeaky moan, and inhaled deeply the smell of your home. There was something so comforting about coming home, no matter the extent of time away, and smelling the scent that your living space held. The smell that your senses accommodated to, the smell that you didn’t notice every day. Your and Roman’s shared home smelt like warm fabric softened linen and Roman’s favorite pine candle he had a stockpile of. It smelled like a hint of lemon from Anna’s disinfectant and a tad like cigarette smoke that lingered on Roman’s clothes. It smelled like Roman’s wafting cologne that made your knees buckle and your stomach flutter, and you swore you could smell your own in the air somewhere too. Maybe Roman had sprayed it in the air to comfort himself? You wouldn’t ask him if it was true, but it made you smile anyhow. 
You made your way deeper into the house, headed for the kitchen in search of a Gardorade and a granola bar before you went up to join Roman in your bedroom. Though as you rounded the corner to look into the living room, you were surprised to find Roman splayed out on the couch. Folded underneath his head was his pillow from upstairs, and draped over his lanky limbs was the thick duvet from the guest bedroom. The excess fabric pooled on the floor next to him, most of it having slipped off his body. 
Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked at him. His plump lips were spread and his jaw was lax. One of his arms was thrown over his head and the other over the back of the couch, while one of his legs had fallen off the cushions, causing his foot to lay flat on the floor. He must have been running on fumes for him to be so deep under while laying on the stiff designer couch so loosely. 
After a few more moments of admiring him, you decided to obtain your food before you went to wake him. Of course you had the option to leave him be, but you knew when he woke he would be angry if you came home and didn’t. That, and you wanted to be in his attention, even if it was just two and half days, you had missed him. 
With a few bites of your granola bar chased down by Gatorade, you walked over to Roman. You set your items down on the coffee table as you knelt next to his head. His nose scarcely scrunched and his eyelids twitched. You placed a gentle kiss to all three and he started to stir. 
“Roman? C’mon, wake up,” you whispered, brushing back a curled piece of his hair that had fallen on his forehead, “I’m home.” 
He let out a throaty groan as his eyes fought to flutter open. His adams apple bobbed and he pursed his lips before his beautiful emerald green eyes were revealed to you between languide blinks.
“Hey,” you grinned, finger combing his hair, “you finally get some sleep?” 
“(Y/N)? How long have you been home?” he asked, voice graveled from slumber. 
“Not even five minutes.”
“And you didn’t wake me?” 
“I’m waking you now,” you smiled, gripping his hair playfully. 
“Mmm,” he hummed, his arms that had been flung behind his head coming to grip you waist, “come here. C’mere, c’mere, c’mere.” 
You giggled as Roman grappled you with sleep soaked limbs to pull you on top of him. When he did, he brought his other arm down to snake around you, keeping you firmly to his body. You moved your hands up to cup his jaw, kissing him listlessly on his cheeks. 
“I missed you. Oh, I missed you,” you uttered and Roman’s arms tightening. 
“Fuck, God fuck, I missed you. I missed you so much,” Roman keened sleepily. 
You were sure he was being more candid because of how tired he was, but you didn’t care. 
“You’re never leaving again, ok? Never leavin’ my side again. Taking you everywhere with me from now on,” his hand skirted underneath the hem of your sweatshirt, his finger eagerly exploring your missed skin, “never letting you leave my sight.” 
“I’m ok with that,” you purred in his ear, kissing him with finality on his lips, “I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not.” 
Roman gave you a heavy lidded expression of pure bliss, “You make me happy.” 
“You make me happy, too.” 
You smiled down at him and propted yourself onto your elbows to get a better look at him, “Let’s go upstairs, baby. Our bed is better than this couch.” 
“Nah,” he groused, pushing you back down to his chest with a huff, “just here, just like this. Too tired to move.” 
“You sure?” 
“Yeah, things are better now anyway.” 
Your cheeks ached from smiling as you nuzzled your nose to the column of his neck and Roman’s chest rumbled with happiness. 
Roman’s fingertips pressed into your back with comforting pressure and his other hand moved down to slip into the back of the waistband of your pants to feel the skin of your ass. 
He felt such a flood of contentment, he wondered just how he had survived at all these past few days without his fix of your skin, your smell, your kisses and you. He buried his face into your hair and ignored the way some of it found its way into his nose as he inhaled. He ignored the kink in his neck and the pain in his shoulders and the fact that he had accidentally ripped down the blinds in the bedroom the night before. Because now, nothing else mattered except you. Roman wished he could tell you just how he felt, all about this feeling. He wished he could tell you how he loved you with the entirety of his being and that you truly made him happier than anything else in the world. He hoped he figured it out soon, but for now, he knew this was enough. 
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i hope you enjoyed! if so, i would love to hear your feedback (-:  and i know i am overloading you on fluff, but a very angsty story is in the works!
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strnqer · 3 years
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perfect
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— pairing: best friend!roman godfrey x afab!reader
— quote: “ you’re okay. i’m here, i’m right here. “
— warning(s): mental breakdown, forms of self harm, naked reader
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𝐫oman knew something was wrong with her. she wasn't answering his messages and at school she wasn't her usual little cheery self who'd brighten anyone's day with rainbows and sprinkles,
this time she was followed by a dark cloud that loomed over her like a protective mother, causing destruction to anything and anyone around her. it physically hurt roman to see his best friend in pain.
she was a sweet girl whom most of the school loved and she had become friends with roman shortly after arriving the same year as peter.
the young godfrey had been reeled in by the fact that she was all pink and glowy, god knows he needed that around.
so naturally they'd become friends, best friends, even roman would admit that he was closer to her than peter, but lately he'd been realizing how little he actually knew about her, sure they'd talk for hours, but it was usually roman who did the ranting while she gave her input and advice. it was never the other way around and suddenly realizing that confused him. he didn’t want her to feel that the friendship was one sided.
how could he call her a friend when he didn't even know her favorite color.
that's what led him to where he was now, driving to her place at the fastest speed his car could go. he had a strong feeling that something was wrong and he had learned to trust his instincts, so stopping at a red light wasn't an option. as well as for that squirrel that had crossed the street.
he continuously told himself that she would be fine, she'd have a bright smile on her face as she opened the door for him with her bright pijamas and fluffy slippers. but he knew that wasn't going to be the case as he u locked his car and sped out, practically leaving the engine on.
he banged on her door for two whole minutes, trying to convince himself that she was just taking a nap. roman walked around the house, trying to get a good look inside from her windows, but once again, nothing. he sighed through his nose as he stood outside her door. he paused for a moment rethinking his decision, was it really worth her killing him? yes. he kicked the door in quickly, running like a crazy man around the house as he tried to find her.
roman finally stopped in front of her bedroom, listening in to the loud sobs that were heard from somewhere in there. his heart broke further at the sound of pain in her voice, roman opened the door quickly and rushed towards the sounds. he paused at the door that led to her restroom, just now being able to hear the sound of the shower. he sighed placing a hand on the knob before slowly twisting it open, steam hitting him straight on the face.
the sight was what tore his heart apart. he felt like a hole was burning onto his chest, right where his heart was. she was sitting on the shower floor, hands tangled into her hair as she pulled roughly, scratching at the sides of her face and leaving burning red lines on her pale skin.
roman said her name, barely above a whisper, but she heard. she snapped her head towards the sound and immediately her cries became louder as she lifted a hand for him.
roman didn't think twice before rushing to her side, opening the glass door and moving in behind her with his clothes still on. the young godfrey wrapped the small girl in his arms, paying no mind to her nakedness. he rubbed her back and moved the hair from her face as she curled her body into his, pulling and clawing at his shirt as she sobbed. the water was burning but he refrained from moving, afraid that she’d somehow come to her senses and turn away from him again.
roman shushed her quietly, rocking their bodies from side to side to calm her. "you're okay. i'm here, i'm right here." he whispered,
it took an hour of sitting under the hot shower for her to finally calm down and let roman turn off the water. he sighed as his back finally started to cool after being hit repeatedly by the liquid fire.
"are you okay?" he asked, hand brushing back the wet hair from her face, she paused—almost as if she were thinking of her answer before finally shaking her head, "i—im really not." she whimpered, roman sighed pushing away to look into her eyes,
"what ever your going through. just know i'm here. i'll never leave your side." he whispered, hand placing itself on her chin gently, "it's, it's just the things they say about me.."
roman held back a growl and forced himself to focus on her. he said her name, “anything they tell you, you come to me. alright? i'll tear their throat and rip them to shreds, i swear."
she shook her head quickly, "roman you don't have to. i can deal with it, it's just stupid jokes they make about me." roman sighed, "baby you clearly can't," he mumbled, seeing her face drop he continued quickly, "but that's okay, because i'll be there when you get lonely and i’ll stay with you when you feel scared. you get hung up on these flaws but in my eyes you are perfect as you are. i would never try to change you and you shouldn't try to either.
you. are. perfect."
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kreepykix · 3 years
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Peachy (Chapter 2)
a/n: ok ok so i started this forever ago and i already had the whole thing written out but it was crap so i went back and fixed it and decided to post it! i really hope you like it and ill probably post the last chapter in the next few days, enjoy! <3
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Chapter 1
For a solid week you managed to avoid Roman successfully. After that day spent with him you just felt off, he’d make eye contact with you and your face would warm, he’d smile and you’d stutter or stare awkwardly. You knew that he was quickly going to realize something was up so you decided avoidance was the best way to go. And it worked, until Roman cornered you in the stairwell at school. He was standing in front of the door, arms crossed, looking pissed as all hell. You were standing at the bottom of the stairs and debated just turning around and leaving but you knew it’d only make things worse so you reluctantly walked up, leaving a few steps between you as you stopped.
“Hey!” You smiled, plastering on a happy façade.  
His expression didn’t change, “What’s up with you?” He pressed, taking a step down towards you, his height was intimidating and you swallowed thickly. It’s just the same old Roman, Y/N, no need to freak out. You thought to yourself weakly. 
“Nothing, I’ve just been busy,” You lied with a reassuring smile that he absolutely didn’t buy but the skepticism still written on his face. 
“Okay Y/N, I’ll just fuck off then.” He turned to go but you knew what he was doing. You’ve known Roman for most of your life and you knew how he reacted when he felt as though he was being pushed away or left out, you’d seen it plenty of times with Olivia. He’d turn defensive, even aggressive sometimes and shut down, creating a divide that you knew was meant to protect him but just hurt and you never wanted to be on the other side of that divide. He meant too much to you.
“Wait!” You grabbed his wrist to stop him and he whipped around to face you, anguish and desperation playing openly on his features.  “I’m sorry, it’s just that I've been feeling a little… strange lately and I took it out on you, I’m sorry, please don’t be mad at me.” You swallowed, searching deep into his eyes for a sign that you were okay. Without a word he pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, he had one arm wrapped around your waist and the other clutching the back of your neck. You wrapped your arms around him and just enjoyed the closeness between you two. No awkwardness or conflicting feelings in this still moment, just plain closeness. Eventually you pulled back and Roman looked down at you, concern racing through this gaze.
“How about I come over to yours after school and we can just hangout and talk, I don’t see enough of you as it is, I don’t want you running off on me.” He said with a reluctant smirk, butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you nodded with a thin-lipped smile. 
“Sounds good,” You agreed, parting ways till after school when he followed you home in his car. You pulled up in the driveway, Romans red Road Coaster pulling up behind you. You’d always loved his car, the warm summer nights spent with the top down and a destination nowhere in mind, just a road that seemed to trail on forever. The radio would blast your favorite songs and you’d sing them along together, that was back when you were a duo, not a trio, and while it was great for Roman to have another friend you longed for the days when it was just the two of you against everyone else. 
You hopped out of your car, the door closing with a slam. You heard Romans door follow with the same and you turned, shooting a smile to the beautiful boy in your driveway. His lips turned up, mirroring your own and you turned, heading for the front door. Roman caught up and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing a quick kiss into your scalp and something inside of you flipped with nerves. You just smiled, pushing it down and continued to walk as if you weren’t questioning every decision you’ve ever made. You pulled open the door, leading Roman in and shutting it behind you. “Hmmmm,” You heard Roman hum and you turned to see what he was up to. He took off up the stairs, running down the hall in a moment of rare immaturity. 
You followed behind, racing up the stairs as fast as you could without tripping, “Roman!” You yelled, “What are you doing?” You raced into your room to see Roman with every blanket you owned piled on and around him, just his face peering out of the mound, a strand of hair had fallen into his face and you melted a bit at the sight. You shook it off and just laughed, kicking off your shoes before you hopped in right next to him, pulling back the blankets to make room for yourself. Roman grinned at your reaction and helped pile the blankets back on. Once you were settled you turned to look at him, a comfortable smile etched on his face. 
He noticed your gaze and turned with a questioning gaze, “You ready to talk?” He asked, nudging you with his elbow.
You sighed, turning your head away, it was easier to not make eye contact. “I guess I’ve just felt… off lately, Peter showing up just changed things and while I love Peter I miss us and I just figured I’d distance myself before you could do it for me.” You sighed, part of it was true but you weren’t ready to dive into the new things you were feeling for him, you didn’t even know how you felt yet, so why bother him with the uncertainty, especially since you know he doesn’t feel the same? You grabbed his hand from under the blanket and pulled it into your lap, the size of his hand completely eclipsing your small ones. You squeezed, turning to glance at him to see his gaze already trained intensely on you. Your cheeks warmed and his thumb started to rub soothing circles on the back of your hand. “I’ve just really missed you.” You murmured softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. A lone tear slid down your cheek without warning and you moved to brush it away but Roman had already seen it. 
He frowned deeply, lines creasing his features and he wrapped his arms tightly around you. “You know I’m not going anywhere right? I’m sorry we haven’t been hanging out as much, I promise I’ll start making time for you. You’re my best friend, don’t ever forget that. I would never leave you.” He whispered the last part and you nodded, sniffling. “How about every Friday from now on will be our day?” You looked up at him with surprised eyes. 
“Really? You’d do that for me?” You asked, suspicion in your gaze. 
He looked surprised, “Of course, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.” He said and you chuckled in disbelief. 
“Whatever, I’m holding you to that every Friday thing though.” You smirked, rolling your eyes. 
“Hey! Don’t brush me off!  You thought I’d forget about you!” He chuckled, rolling his eyes as if the idea were crazy. 
-
He kept his word. Every Friday for the next six weeks was spent with Roman, he’d pick you up and you’d drive somewhere or go back to his or even just stay at yours, it didn’t matter. Your friendship felt repaired, maybe even better than before and your feelings had mostly gone, mostly. You’d still feel dizzy when he’d catch you off guard with a dazzling grin and still get fluttery when he would kiss you on the cheek. 
Another Friday rolled up on you quickly and you headed towards the front doors of the school to find Roman and ask about the plans for that night. You found him on the front steps of the school, body pressed against some girl as they attempted to swallow each other’s faces whole. 
You don’t know what made your reaction so strong but you ran back inside, swinging the door to the ladies bathroom wide open as you ran to a stall, expelling your lunch into the toilet bowl. You coughed and brought your head back up, eyes watering. Maybe your feelings hadn’t subsided after all. You frowned and grabbed some toilet paper to wipe your mouth off and went to the sink, rinsing your mouth out and splashing some water on your face, looking in the mirror as it dripped down your face. You had to tell him how you felt, it was driving you crazy and you finally felt like you were in a good enough place that he wouldn’t abandon you after you confessed, things would probably just be awkward for a while. You didn’t expect him to feel the same way, you knew he didn’t but you still wanted to out yourself so maybe he would be a little less public about his infatuation with any member of the opposite sex and allow you to get over your budding feelings for him. You were crazy about him and you couldn’t stand seeing him with anyone but you. 
You patted your face dry and headed out of the bathroom and out the front doors yet again though Roman was now on his own. “Hey,” You smiled though your gut was twisting with the thought of telling him how you felt.
He returned the smile easily, looping his arm through yours as you made your way down the stairs together. “Hey, so I was thinking a chill movie night tonight, do you just wanna drive over to mine around seven?” This was the first time he had asked you to drive over but you didn’t mind, you knew he had things he needed to do. 
You nodded, “Sure, sounds good, it’s a full moon tonight, maybe we should watch a horror movie, just to add to the vibes.” You quirked your brow and nudged him in the side playfully with your elbow and he chuckled. 
“Sounds like a plan, see you later ok?” He said and you nodded, parting ways as you went off to your respective cars. 
——
That night you swiped your keys off the kitchen table, said a quick goodbye to your mom and swept out of the house, light on your feet with the prospect of spending the night with Roman. As you neared the Godfrey residence, your nerves started to flare up again. You weren’t sure how he would react to your confession, probably kick you out, but he had to know. He did, you were just trying to reassure yourself at this point. As you passed Peter's house you noticed a familiar red Road Coaster parked in the driveway and you pulled in behind him, figuring you’d just say hi to Peter then you and Roman would take off. As you lifted your hand to knock on the front door of the trailer, you heard what sounded a bit like grunting coming from around the side of the house. Curiosity piqued, you got closer and made out some voices that sounded a suspicious amount like Roman and Lynda. You turned the corner, gasping audibly at what you saw. Peter, hunched over and shaking like a tree on a windy day, his spine cracking and snapping. You watched in shock as his hands formed paws, his skin falling to the forest floor lifelessly as it was replaced with fur. You just stood there, shock encumbering your body, unable to move as you witnessed something that by all means should be impossible. You felt your whole world shift as you finally found your feet. You took a step back, stumbling on a stick you hadn’t noticed before as it broke with a snap. All eyes snapped to you in a moment, Lynda and Romans human ones along with Peters now bright yellow, animalistic ones. You were a deer caught in the headlights, eyes like dinner plates and mouth agape. 
“I…” You trailed off, at a loss for words. Roman rushed towards you but you took a step back, shocking him enough for him to stop, you couldn’t remember a time when you had rejected him. “I don’t understand.” You murmured, eyes glued to Peter as he stared at you, you stared back till he finally turned and bounded off into the shifting night. 
Roman took another step towards you, “I can explain, okay? You just have to promise not to tell anyone.” Your eyes flicked to him, betrayal stinging your eyes in the form of tears. 
“You knew about this?” You crumbled, you didn’t understand anything anymore. “You knew about this and you didn’t think to tell me or include me? You knew I’d been feeling out of place and you still didn’t think that maybe I would like to know that one of my closest friends becomes a fucking canine on full moons?!” Anger flared up in you as Roman opened his mouth to spout off what you knew was some bullshit excuse. You held up your hand, “Don’t, I don’t want to hear it.” Without another word you turned, breaking into a run for your car. You got in as fast as humanly possible and tore out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. Tears streamed avidly down your cheeks as you hastily drove back home, the headlights close behind alerting you that you had a follower. You knew in the back of your head that were definitely in denial. Your brain couldn’t process what you had seen, your breathing grew fast and ragged as you finally pulled up to your house, Roman right behind you. You let out a sob, head leaned against the steering wheel. You weren’t sure which was causing your breakdown, the thought that Peter could turn into a wolf or the fact that your best friend had been lying to you for god knows how long, probably a mix of both. You heard a knock on your window and looked up to see a concerned, desperate Roman, eyebrows raised and panic in his gaze.  You glared as you opened your car door, steeling yourself for the fight to ensue. You brushed off the tears left on your cheeks and flipped your panic into anger. 
“Fuck off Roman.” You shot out as you walked towards your front door. You heard his steps behind you and you whipped around to face him. “Please just fucking go before I say something I can’t take back.” You pushed against his chest in an attempt to get him to go but he stayed planted in front of you. 
“I didn’t want to keep it from you, it's just—“ You cut him off. 
“What? You didn’t trust me? Thought I’d tell someone because I have so many friends?” Sarcasm dripping from your words, your glare deepening. 
“Of course not, I just didn’t want to drag you into it, it’s a whole lot of shit Y/N.” He took a step towards you but you took one back. 
“Don’t, just don’t. I won’t tell anyone but I need some time… to process things and figure out where I go from here… where we go.” You turned and headed to your front door. As you put your hand on the doorknob you turned, seeing Roman still planted in the same place. “I was an idiot to have feelings for you.” You said it softly but you knew he had heard from the way he stiffened. That was as much an answer as you needed before you swept into the house, the front door closing with a soft click. You dragged yourself up to your room, collapsing carefully onto your bed. You laid there, staring at the ceiling. You had expected this night to go so different yet it still had a similar outcome. Although, the ball is in your court now. You just needed some time to let everything sink in, then have a talk with Roman. Your world had been flipped upside down and you deserved time to come to terms with that, plus the fact that though Roman had acted like everything was peachy and perfect he had been keeping a massive secret from you willingly and while a small voice in the back of your head told you you were overreacting a bit, your feelings were hurt. 
You kicked off your shoes and pulled back your covers, crawling into bed and falling into a dreamless sleep. You didn’t bother getting up the next morning, or the morning after that, or even the morning after that. You stayed in bed for 4 days, just thinking. You feigned sickness to your parents and didn’t feel obligated to get up in the morning. You didn’t want to know what was waiting for you out there and clearly no one cared if you dipped off the face of the earth for a while. On that fifth day you finally pulled yourself out of bed, dragging your feet to the shower as you peeled off your musty clothes and steam filled the room. The warm water seemed to wash away the dust that had been clouding your mind and you thought clearly for the first time in 120 hours. You could live with the fact that Peter was a werewolf, you had come to terms with that a while ago. It was Roman you were dreading. He had lied to you and you had outed your feelings. Things weren’t exactly sunny anymore. You were going to have to have a long talk before you could even begin to repair your friendship. God know what he was thinking and how he was going to behave knowing you had feelings for him. 
You turned off the shower and wrang out your hair before stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around yourself. You picked out a sweater and jeans, pulling your hair out of your face and applying light makeup before deciding you were presentable to the public. You headed to school, knowing that today would only bring chaos. 
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine Roman convincing you and Peter to let him watch while you two have period sex. To nobody’s great surprise, the upir asks to eat you out afterwards. But neither you nor Peter were expecting Roman to want to clean off the werewolf’s d!ck, too.
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shenevertricks1831 · 4 years
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Ok, so this quarantine has me going insane, BUT I just got a laptop and I'm down to write some! Now I just need some inspiration..so feel free to send me some blurb/one shot/headcanon requests!
Some info for requests below..
I will write smut, but I will not write anything with urine, feces, or vomit. I wrote mommy kink once before, but at this time since I'm not that familiar with it I won't be writing anymore for now.
Here's who all I'll write for at this moment....Cody Fern characters (including Michael Langdon, Duncan Shepherd, Xavier Plympton, & Jim Mason) and I'm trying my hand at some Bill Skarsgard characters (including Roman Godfrey, Axel Cluney, Gordon Merkel, Mickey & Mark)
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goattales · 4 years
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What is sex like with Roman Godfrey and Peter Rumancek like respectively
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Peter is the slow and lazy type of guy, as far as he's concerned sex is meant to be fun and goofy. He likes to blow you before sex because he enjoys watching you bite your lips to stop from moaning.
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Roman is more serious about it all, more rough. He likes to bite and draw blood (of course), he likes to make it quick, and he likes to make you beg. He likes to lay around for a while afterwards, though, something Peter doesn't partake in.
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hecohansen31 · 5 years
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SEND IN REQUESTS!
 I don’t think I have ever made a proper post for requests, but I just wanted you to know that I indeed am accepting requests for both Cody Fern’s characters, Billy Hargove, Ivar and Roman Godfrey (I haven’t written about them, yet, but I am very curious to do it, so if you ant to send anything like that in... I WILL BE VERY HAPPY!).
(And if you have other characters, please send me a DMs so we can discuss on it).
I write both fluffy and smut (although I’d suggest you to read my previous smutty fics, so you can get an idea of what I write like...) and I don’t mind the subjects, unless we are talking about: incest, foot fetish, watersports (no kinkshame, just not my thing) and everything too rough, such as something that might be borderline to abuse (like... spankings I don’t mind, I might have a trouble with either knife-play or anything that might intende hitting your partner, even in a consensual relationship).
(Again: not kinkshaming you, I just don’t feel comfortable with it and I am sure that I won’t be able to write for it, as amazingly as some other good authors!).
Also yeah... I do poly-relationship...
ALSO: THIS IS IMPORTANT... MY REQUESTS WILL CLOSE ON SUNDAY!
I’ll go on a trip to Greece, next week (on the 30th) and I will be there for a week, so I sadly won’t be very active here, so I don’t think that I will be able to accept any requests from Sunday 25th to the 7th!
(if you send anything, I won’t mind it, but just know that I will be working on it much later, and it might take me a bit of time to answer it).
LOVE YOU LOVELIES... AND DON’T FORGET TO SEND IN REQUESTS...!
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littlemessyjessi · 5 years
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“The Drop”: Roman Godfrey Imagine
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Roman Godfrey Imagine  #FANGFRIDAY Roman Godfrey x Reader: PS Reader, Plus Size Reader
Imagine Roman hanging around you constantly....
Being with Roman was great.
Being with Roman was infuriating.
Being with Roman was like nothing you'd ever experienced.
Being with Roman...sometimes got on your last damn nerve.
All of these things were true.
Fact.
Roman made it clear just how much he was attracted to you.
Fact.
He was terrible at expressing his feelings.
So it was absolutely no surprise to you when the two of you got into fights over absolutely nothing. 
And it shouldn’t have surprised you when you walked away from the argument and he fucking followed you. 
He didn’t even say anything. 
He just followed you around like an annoyingly, tall little ant searching for a morsel of sugar. 
Even when you were vibrating with anger and aggressive stomped into your aerial yoga class. 
Even when you were boiling with rage at his constant presence and climbed to the very top. 
Even when you were getting ready to do the final drop and he stood...
RIGHT.
FUCKING.
THERE.
“Move, Roman.” you said. 
He took a drag from the cigarette hanging from his lips. 
“Nah, I like the view.” he said. 
“Get out of the way!” you snapped. “And put the damn cigarette out! You can’t smoke in here!”
He threw it down on the floor and crushed it beneath his boot making you nearly shake with anger. 
He couldn’t just..
“Roman.” you sighed. “If you do not get out of the way, every single pound of me is about to hit you in the face.  And it’ll likely break something.  And with the way, you’ve been STALKING me, I might enjoy it a little too much.” 
Before you had a chance to curse him any more, he fucking yanked the silk. 
In your distracted state, you’d relaxed and went tumbling down towards the floor. 
Mind you, you were several, SEVERAL feet in the air. 
You never connected with the hardwood though and instead you were cradled in his lanky arms. 
He nuzzled his nose against your’s for a moment. 
“Come one, sugar.” he said. “Let’s get to the making up part.” 
And that ladies and gentlemen, is how the whole of Tracy’s Yoga Studio nearly saw Roman Godfrey suffocated to death by his darling’s stomach. 
And but what a way to die...
Hey, smoochies! I hope you enjoyed this piece of content and if ya did please be sure to let me know in the comments! If you’d like to read more of my work check out my profile! There you can find my masterlist for my works on this blog as well as my two other blogs for my witchy content @witchyweirdness and my monster blog @monsterbaesbymamakennysaurus !  Enjoy and Happy Reading!
Love, Mama Kennysaurus
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Love, Kenny
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authorred · 2 years
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Hell's Gate (Part 2) (Hemlock Grove) (Roman Godfrey x Fem!reader)
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Preface: Coming back from the dead is no easy feat. You're left stumbling by yourself through the town to the Godfrey Estate. Peter is there, Olivia is not, and Roman's in a coma.
Warning(s): Cursing, blood, some description of bodily injuries, and death threats (and actual death, maybe)
Part 1 here Part 3 here Part 4 here Part 5 here
As per requested, @pearlstiare
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"I'm going to fucking kill her. Maim her to hell and to fucking back again. Rip her damned throat out and shove back in her mouth to choke on." Leaving a faint trail of bloody footsteps behind you, you stumbled through the outskirts of town and up the only road that led to it. Dressed in a white shirt and pants, red soaked through the cloth. You looked like a walking criminal case.
"And when she's begging me for mercy through her excised larynx, I'll rip her limb from limb and feed it to the fucking Vargulf!"
When you had exited out of your grave, it was touching down dusk. The faint warmth of the sun leaked through the bare trees and hit your face. If you were honest, that only fueled the burning anger and hatred coursing through your body. You felt warm. You felt hot. And not the good kind of hot.
From behind you came the gravelly crunch of car tires on the road. You stopped walking when you could see headlights come over the hill. You turned to see a truck travelling towards you, and without much thought, you stepped out into the middle of the road. You heard the driver yell and curse out in alarm before slamming the breaks. The car stopped a few inches from your body. You watched him wave his arms out in frustration before the driver-side door opened. You were on it immediately, coming chest to chest with the taller man.
"Give me your car," you ordered, staring up at him. The driver just blinked in indignation.
"What the fuck is wrong with you, you crazy bitch--" He didn't get to finish his sentence because you had his throat gripped tightly in your hand.
"That wasn't a fucking question." You lifted him from the ground, to which he let out a panicked, choked gasp. With a small grunt, you threw him to the side and into the ditch, where he rolled down the hill with several pained yells. You replaced him in the driver's seat and closed the door before flooring the truck down the road.
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You haphazardly pulled into the Godfrey Estate's property, not even bothering to put the truck in park. You kicked the driver's side door off the car itself, stepping barefoot on the clean and tidy ground. From what you could smell, Olivia was not home, but Roman was. Good e-fucking-nough.
You stormed up to the front door, ripping out wooden splinters from your skin, which healed immediately. You practically tore the door off its hinges. No doubt it drew the attention of whoever else was inside the house. You stepped into the lavish entry hall and sniffed around, smelling two more scents that were familiar. You eyed the spiral staircase where the scent trails led to and padded up the carpeted steps.
"Roman?" You called out loudly. "I know you're here. Where the everloving fuck is your goddamned mother?!" You paused halfway when you heard two sets of rapid footsteps coming towards your direction. Sliding into the hall, and consequently at the top of the stairs, was Peter and Letha, who had come from the attic.
For a moment, the three of you just stared at each other. Peter's and Letha's jaws were slack--eyes as wide as if they saw the ghost of their dead loved one.
You just inquisitively raised a brow. "Why are you two here? Where's Roman?"
"How--?" Peter choked out, face twitching in compensation for his brain trying to wrap around the fact he was seeing you. Alive. "We. . . we saw you. . . at the morgue. . . you were. . . and Roman was. . ."
"Yeah, you did," you agreed. "I was dead. Now I'm not. Sur-fucking-prise." You continued to walk up the stairs, and Peter backed up, taking Letha with him. You just scrunched your face up at him.
"The fuck's your deal? Do you not think I'm me, or something?"
"I--I don't know. . . there's no way that you're. . . you're dead, we saw you." Letha's voice cracked.
You just sighed irritably and rubbed your face. "You got pregnant by an angel, but somehow this is unbelievable?"
Letha's face blanched and she nervously looked at Peter, who glanced at her. "Are you really. . . I mean. . . how are you. . . alive?"
"We can go over that later," you hastily replied. "Where's Roman?"
"He's in the attic," Peter replied.
"Why's he in the attic?"
Peter hesitated for a moment before saying, "He's in a coma."
A tense moment of silence fell over the three of you. You stared at Peter as if he had said the dumbest thing a man could've uttered. In fact, you genuinely thought he did. "What? How did that idiot get in a coma? How long have I been 'dead', exactly?"
"He overdosed," Peter replied. "And it's been close to two weeks."
"Overdosed?" You repeated, crossing your arms. "On what?"
"Just. . . drugs," Peter shrugged. "They didn't specify what."
"Roman doesn't even do drugs--aside from the occasional coke line. And he hasn't done that since we've been together. Only thing he's an addiction to is smoking, and I'm trying to get him weaned off that. I don't even kiss him when I can smell that cancer on him. Ugh, disgusting just to think about."
"That's what Dr. Pryce said," Letha further explained. Your lips twitched at the mention of that man's name.
"Right. Well, I trust that man as far as I can throw him. Which, evidently, I'm not willing to throw him that far." You moved past them and made your way up to the attic. The steady beeping of a heart monitor echoed from the room. When you passed under the doorway, you focused on the stationary hospital bed set up in the middle of the floor. You slowed your pace when you got closer, nervously peering past the bed's frame. You stopped walking when you saw Roman lying in it, unconscious.
"You fucking idiot," you sighed, traipsing to his side. You gently cupped his cheek, brushing some hair out from his eyes. "I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm letting you know right now, that when your mother comes back; I'm killing the hell out of her." You leaned on the side of the bed and gently pet his face, taking extra care not to jostle him too much.
Eventually, Peter and Letha slowly reentered the room, having want to give you time with Roman.
"He's been. . . doing shit since your death," Peter spoke carefully. "He really loves you."
You looked over your shoulder at him and nodded slowly. "Yeah," you agreed. "I wasn't ready to go. To leave him. To leave you all hanging with this. . . well, you know."
Peter nodded in understanding. "He'll be happy to see you're alive. . . somehow."
You snorted. "Yeah. I'll explain it to you guys soon. Also, can I ask a favor of you two?"
Peter gestured for you to continue.
"Don't tell Olivia I'm alive."
Something seemed to have clicked in Peter's mind because he nodded almost immediately. "Not a word." He nudged Letha who also agreed, albeit slightly quieter.
You nodded at them gratefully before turning your attention back to Roman. "Can't go one day without getting yourself in some shit, huh?" You whispered with a small smile. "That's fine, though. I'll be here when you wake up. I promise."
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With a tired sigh, you slumped on the couch across from Roman's bed. You got tired of standing and there wasn't enough room on the hospital bed for both of you. You sprawled out on the couch and stared up at the arching ceiling. Wherever Olivia was you don't even know--and Peter was speaking--or rather yelling--with Letha downstairs. About what, you didn't care to know.
Your eyes suddenly shifted over to the dark figure standing in the corner of the room, body having the appearance of ink in water; but it was glitching. As if it was inside of a tv screen losing reception.
Ö̵͓̫̮l̸̻̹̺͗͒̎͊̊̚ḯ̴̯̈́͂͒v̷̢͙̺͉̋̃̂i̵̼͋̿ä̴̗̜̩̟́̄̑ ̸̻͎͕̻̬͖͋͛̕͝G̵̝̜̤̹̰͗̌ͅo̸̹̣̎̉͠d̸͈̻̆̎̀̅̔ͅf̶̞̪̋̈́͐̋͘͝ṛ̵̰͕̫͋̾̇̆͊̾è̶̫͖̙̤̦̽͗͐ͅy̸̲͇̺̓̋ ̸̪̉̈́̑s̴͓̯̝͖̘̀̈t̷̰̭̯̲̝͇̅͛͆̕i̴̧͈̠͕̿͜ͅl̸͍͇͐ľ̵̹ ̶̹̻̠̍̎̚ḷ̶͈̼̕i̷͓̔v̷͕͗ê̸̢̖͐s̷̙̜̪͂͛
"Yeah, I know," you spoke out. "She's not here. She doesn't know I'm alive. It's perfect, is it not?"
W̴̹̥̤̐̒̈͗̑i̸͕̬͆͝l̷͍̩͋̀̌̆̑͝l̸̨̳̔ ̴̢̮̼̠̈́̇͝ͅt̷͉̩̟̺̽ẖ̴̭̒̿ỉ̴͈̮s̷̟͉͈̼̬̾͐ ̶̜̖̩̝̼̈̂b̸̗̥̙̽̓̓̄̚͘é̶̬͔͑ ̶̖͆̌̆̀̄t̶̝̖͖̔̂͜h̷̬̿̔̒͘e̶̼͉̭̜̬̓͛́͊͝ ̵̽͒̃̅͆ͅf̸̛̮̦̈͐̊̋̃ĭ̷̲̄́̒̚r̸̝͖̳̠̰͍͐͛͂̚š̸̠̼̘̝̖̜͊̈́̊ţ̸̭̹̜͓̹̃̈́̀͝ ̵̘̇̎̅͗͗͝t̷̞̗̲̤͔̬̀͑͗̈́̌͗i̷̺̺͑͌͒m̴̮̠̈́ę̶̳͚̣͖̠̆͑͛͝ ̶̭̄͌̐̉ͅy̸̤͚̮̍̈̄̕ȫ̷̝̉͑̈́̉ṳ̵͎̭̟̝̠̀̆́̑͛͝ ̶̢͓͇̋w̶͉̬̮̻̅ò̴͉̥̫̦͚̒̂́n̶̹̄̕'̶͖̂́̐̊t̸̡͇̺͙̍ ̶̧̳̬̾͐̑͊́̊b̸̨͖̼͇̮͖̽̽̓̀ĕ̸̙̹̆̏͂͊ ̷̼̀̏̿̿̊ͅǎ̴͙̦͕͓̞b̷̧̤̮̙̄̃͒̑̐͘l̷̨̜͙͖̜͉͘ȩ̷̟̀̈́̊̄ ̶̨̧̖̖̰̦͋͑̿̏̔̅t̸͙̊ǒ̵͍̟́̾͒͋ ̵̹͍̮̆̓̿̎̚e̴̩̘̥̜̿ͅṋ̵̨̖̱̬̈̌̋a̶̢̛̘͎͉̙͊̑͌̉͑c̸̨̨̰͗͗͑͗͗͜͝t̶͍͇͙͇͊̓͐́̉̄ ̸͚͝͝r̶̘̠̩̬̮̍̈́e̷̦̦̍̈́̅̎̆v̵̞̯͎̔̑̚ḛ̵̣̠̈́̀̈́͊n̸̨͔̬̑͒̐̍̇̏g̴̨̣̒ë̷̗͆́̋̀?̶̲̽̈́̏̀͋
"No," you immediately replied. "I'll pay my blood debt with her life. Don't worry about it."
The inky shadow being bled into the walls, body leaking back into the cracks of the house.
You sighed heavily. "I fucking hate you Olivia Godfrey."
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Shelley Emails #1
Characters: Roman Godfrey x Reader
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Dear Uncle:
I'm sorry for not wrote to you in all this week, I was very bussy. Not worry, didn't bad happening to me or to Roman, all I can say is was happening the opposite. This week a new studen arrived on our high school, her name is (Y/N) (L/N).
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She is very beautiful, sweet and very smart, she likes to read a lot! Just like me! The only bad thing about she is her shyness, the twins were bullying her a lot because of it. She tries to still strong in front them, but I saw her crying in the girls bathroom.
I want to do something for her, I dont like when she cryies. I talked with Roman about her and for my soprise he put his eyes on her, I didn't think he will notice her so fast but here he go. (Y/N) and Roman looks happy when they are together, I think they are very cute!
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Roman is not going to say he likes her, but I saw the way he looked at her. He's in love, and I know she is falling in love with Roman too. After all, the chemical's teacher was right when he said 'The opposite attracts themself, like magnet' Well he was talking about electrons and that kind of stuff, but I know this works on people to.
What can I do ?
Mother noticed the change on Roman, she doesn't look happy about that. I'm start to feel worry about this situation, mother was being hostile the last two days. Roman looks worry too, he doesnt want to show it as much but you know how Roman is like when things are about his feelings...
If something happen, I'll going to send you another email.
Love, S.G.
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stevesharrlngtons · 4 years
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adam, carved from the rib of eve.
roman godfrey x reader
summary: godfrey industries throws a party in the honor of their new ceo. roman is less than thrilled to be attending, but at least he has you. 
word count: 3.4k (a shortie)
a/n: i am such a slut for the “i hate everyone but you” trope as you can probably tell and that’s basically this fic lol. i ended up not loving the ending to this, but i like the beginning so i’m posting it anyways lol
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Roman’s hand hadn’t left the small of your back for hours. His fingers widened and drummed and stroked and squeezed you through the slinky fabric of your dress, to both soothe himself and to keep you intune with his moods throughout the evening. His nails would probe into your skin when someone would approach him that he disliked, telling you with his fingertips of his distaste. Leaving small crescents in your dress and the smooth skin underneath kept him from showing his true loathing for an employee on his face. At certain points during the evening, you were worried that Roman would draw blood from his ministrations, fearing little lines of crimson would blot your dress and force you to tie his suit jacket around his waist like some midwestern mother. During these moments, you’d reach out to stroke his lapel or lean your temple to his shoulder in a show of affection and warning. Roman would ease his prodding and smooth his fingertips over his marks in sweet apology. 
Tonight was a big night for Roman. Tonight was the night that he was being officially inducted as the new CEO of Godfrey Industries. Large posters had been unrolled from the ceiling that pictured his signature pout and chilling glare; a slideshow that was being projected on a far wall of the rented ballroom showed pictures of Roman, Pryce and JR; napkins were leafed across tables with a congratulation message for Roman’s succession. Tonight was a momentous night in the history of The White Tower and the Godfrey legacy, and Roman was miserable. 
He hated that everyone wanted to talk about his father and Norman and his mother and Pryce and what he would do for the company in the future. He hated that he had to put on a neutral face and hob knob with men and women he deemed to be serfs and peasants. He hated that men eyed you up and down and women tried to grope him and he hated that anyone thought they were worthy of your combined presence. If either of you were forced to shake another hand he’d blow his brains out (hyperbole, unfortunately, because he could see a fat man with a wet upper lip approaching him).
But, he thanked whatever higher power that was out there that you were by his side, looking gorgeous and regal and supportive. Roman Godfrey said a silent thank you to every God his mind could name that you loved him and he loved you back, because he could not fathom attending this party without you. Without you smiling when he couldn’t conceal his hatred, without you lightening the mood with sweet anecdotes and pretending to look interested when his employees talked to you. 
You nodded and hummed and asked thoughtful follow up questions that left the impression on his lessers that Roman Godfrey and his girlfriend were good people; the kind of people who cared about the lives of their workers. He would be utterly lost without you, a thought that crossed his mind every time he glanced down at you, huddled into his side with a glass of champagne cradled in your dainty hand. 
Well, that and how much he wanted to fuck your brains out when you both returned home. You looked down right delicious in your evening gown.
Unfortunately when there is a party thrown in your honor, people are interested in talking to you. Soaking up your presence without any regard for how the honoree might feel. The mouth breathing attendees wrapped in their rented Men’s Wearhouse tuxedos didn’t care that Roman just wanted one minute alone to cozy up to his girl, as they formed a line to congratulate him and try to perform for him as a way to prove their keep. Little did they know they were just doing the opposite, only fueling his ire for them. Thankfully, the line had diminished for the first time that evening, leaving you and Roman to your own devices by the bar. 
“Thank fucking God,” Roman murmured as he order a bourbon and another glass of champagne for you. 
“Just try to grin and bear it. We can leave in an hour.” You reply, squeezing his hand that still resided near your backside. 
He groaned, “An hour?” 
“Yes, an hour. This party is for you. You don’t want to seem ungrateful or stuck up.” 
The bartender placed your drinks in front of each of you. Roman took his quickly and took a long pull from the glass. 
“You my PR director now?” He muses. 
“Hell yes I am, and you better be thankful,” You say, quite matter a factly, “I make you look good, approachable, the boy next door. Not the playboy who snorts coke off of hookers tits. I am the Persephone to your Hades. And people love it.” 
Roman chuckles, “I can’t say I don’t like that comparison.” 
You smile at him over the rim of your glass. Roman takes a drink from his own glasses and swallows thickly before speaking again.
“You know I am thankful for you, right?” 
Your grin softens at the uncharacteristic confession and you place your glass back on the bar so you can cozy up to him, “I’m thankful for you, too.” 
Roman stared down at you, love and appreciation pooling in his green eyes as his hand loops around you to link with his other. You place both hands on his chest and kiss his chin chastley as Roman melts into your embrace. You make him feel so needy and weak in a way he had always chased away and feared. But you made him love it, revel in it, look forward to the feeling. Though, it made his guard fall, you and your sweet kisses and sweeter touches, and right now, while he was in a room full of judgmental employees that he was trying to make see him as their alpha, probably wasn’t the best time for him to be turning to honey and sun shining warmth. 
Luckily (or not so luckily) the haze you two were in was broken by an onlooker. 
“I believe congratulations are in order.” 
Roman’s glare hardens within seconds as he looks away from you to Pryce, who stands behind you, hands clasped behind his back. 
“I don’t need them.” Roman replies, letting you untangle yourself from him. 
“Well, I offer my sincere pride and happiness for you, anyway.” Pryce says with a tight lipped smile. 
Roman doesn’t respond, just raises his eyebrows at the other man. 
After a beat of uncomfortable silence, Pryce moves his attentions to you, “(Y/N), you look stunning tonight.” 
“Thank you, Doctor.” You respond politely. 
“I’ve heard from many patrons tonight that you have bewitched them, they are all fat and happy with the care you’ve shown them.”
“I do what I can.”
“I would enjoy it if some of that good will would rub off on you, Roman. It isn’t becoming for any of us for you to look like a tyrant.”
Roman scoffs, “I don’t want them to like me. I want them to be fucking scared of who I am and what I can do.” 
“I believe Mussolini said something similar.” Pryce quips back quickly. 
“I’ll be their fucking Mussolini if I have to be.” 
“Let’s hope you’ll be more effective.” 
And again, there is a tense pause between the three of you. You sip the bubbles from your glass and try to burrow into Roman’s side to calm him. You knew Roman was capable of explosive outbursts, and you really preferred if he didn’t have one tonight in front of all these people. Especially at Pryce, when they were supposed to be creating a united front for the company. 
“Well, unfortunately I didn’t just come over to offer my congratulations,” Pryce begins. 
“It’s never just one thing with you,” Roman responds spitefully. 
“I came over to inform you that you are expected to give your speech soon.”
Roman’s jaw ticks, “What fucking speech?” 
“The speech we discussed last week.” 
“We didn’t discuss shit.”
“Believe me or not, we discussed a speech last week. Though, I suppose I am not surprised you don’t remember, as you seemed less than thrilled with the news when I gave it to you.” Pryce lamented. 
“I am less than fucking thrilled about it now.” He snapped. 
“I don’t know what to tell you, Roman. This is a part of the job; addressing the troops.” 
“I don’t address the troops, I delegate someone to do that for me. Which is you, in the scenario.” 
“I am already giving a speech tonight, Roman. The one before your own that introduces you.” Pryce informs. 
Roman doesn't retort, just clenches his jaw tightly, you could see his muscles pulse through his skin. The glare he was giving Pryce would have made a lesser man quake, make them sweat and tremble with fear. But, the good doctor was used to Roman’s stares. 
“Go fuck yourself.” Roman spat, his face so close to Pryce’s that you could see flecks of spit freckle his skin. 
Roman then stormed off, pushing his way through the crowd and disappearing. 
Pryce gives a deep sigh, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his face while you simply shrug. 
“I can’t say it doesn’t worry me that a bonafide child will be taking over this company.” 
“Easy.” You say, reminding Pryce who he is talking too, “He’s just overwhelmed. He’s not much for public speaking.”
“But public tantrums he has no problem with.” 
“He’s very passionate. Something that will take this company far. Don’t forget that he is JR’s son, who himself was a very passionate man.” 
Pryce eyes you, “Will you continue to spin his outbursts into good omens?” 
You shrug again, this time with a budding smile, “I don’t mind.” 
He snorts, “What we do for love.” 
“Tell me about it.” You reply, before leaving Pryce by himself at the bar and going to search for Roman. 
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You found him in a back hallway of the ballroom, back pressed to the wall with his knees to his chest, a lit cigarette between his lips.
“You look very modelesque right now. Very sexy,” You smirked and Roman looked up at you, “Like this in black and white? Boom, Vogue cover guaranteed.” 
You walked toward where he sat and smoothed your dress against the backs of your thighs so you could do the same. You faced him and rested your cheek to his bent knee. 
“You’re very funny,” He replied sarcastically, taking another drag from his cigarette, “Maybe I’ll just quit now and work on finding an agent.” 
“Well, you have the bone structure for it.” You played, but Roman still seemed less than amused.
“I’m serious. What if this is a sign?” He said, twiddling the filter between his thumb and forefinger. 
“What, the speech?” 
“Yes, the speech. What if me fucking it up, forgetting about it, is some sign from the business Gods that I’m just bound to mess this all up in the end? That I’ll embarrass myself and my father…” Roman’s voice shook at the periods. 
He was terrified, but had done a good job at hiding it. Over the last few weeks, you had been asking him how he felt about taking over at Godfrey, and everytime his answer was succinct and indifferent. Each time he told you that he was perfectly fine with the idea, as it was something that had been promised to him since birth. You never pried or pushed, but you made sure to keep a closer eye on his feelings than you normally did. You had a feeling the other shoe was going to drop and Roman would feel the weight of this decision lay on him, you were just waiting for when. 
“Baby, hey,” You cooed, snuggling closer to his folded up form, “None of that is going to happen, and you forgetting some stupid speech doesn’t mean anything. It means that you forgot, that's it. You’re human, you’re allowed to make human mistakes.” 
“Not in this job. Not when everyone is already waiting for me to fail.” Roman said.
“Well, you still are, because I’m telling you. You are allowed fuck ups and mistakes. It makes you seem more relatable.” You pluck the cigarette from between his fingers and take a drag. 
“I don’t want to relatable to those people,” Roman spits, “My God, nothing sounds worse.” 
You giggle, “Good thing you will never be like those people out there. Because those people, the ones out there desperately searching for your approval? Those people were born to worship men like you, Roman. You were born the man to be worshipped, the man to be followed.” 
Roman looked at you with his big doe eyes, both filmed with unshed tears as his lips pursed. You moved to place his cigarette back between his pouted mouth and let your thumb sweep across his bottom lip as you did.
“You, Roman Godfrey, will be amazing. You will shock and awe any and everyone. You’re not going to fail, because you don’t know how, baby. You are the man that I love, and no matter what, that won’t change.” 
A few tears had fallen on his cheeks as you spoke and Roman sniffled quietly, “You promise?” 
“I do.” And you leaned forward to slot your lips with his. 
The kiss was gentle and reassuring, you could taste the salt of his tears and the bourbon and smoke on his tongue. Roman’s hand came around to rest on your side and you purred at the contact. 
When you parted, it was because you could both hear the muffled sound of Pryce’s booming voice over the microphone. 
“Fuck,” Roman groaned, thunking his head against the wall, “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” 
“This is what you’re going to do,” You leaned forward and took his face in your hand, “You’re going to go up there, thank Pryce for his words about you. Then, mention how much this company meant to your father and how proud you were of him, and how proud he would be of you. Then say something about how much you love the company, how much it means to you and the world of medicine, blah, blah, blah. Then round it out with something light hearted, maybe make a joke? Then you’re done, you’re out of there.” 
“Are you sure that’s enough?” 
“It’s gonna have to be.” 
Roman nodded, before crushing the remainder of his cigarette under his dress shoe and pulling you into his side. You both sat in silence as you listened to the faint sound of Pryce’s speech. He was a well spoken man, which you knew made Roman nervous. 
“You know,” You said, breaking Roman from ruminating on what was to come, “I heard this couple talking shit about us.” 
“What?” Roman barked, snapping his head to look down at you. 
“Yep, when I was coming out to look for you, I heard them.” 
“What in the ever loving fuck did they say?” He fumes. 
“They were talking about how we were eye fucking each other all night, and how are PDA was inappropriate for the event.” You snort a laugh. 
“Who were they? Did you get a good look?” He was angry, you could feel it in the rigidity of his body. Your plan was working.
“Nah, just overheard them.” 
“Well, they better fucking hope I don’t find out who the fuck they are. Fucking rip their fucking eyes out for looking.” 
You giggle and Roman looks down at you again, anger and curiosity in his eyes. 
“I just love it when you get all riled up, it’s hot, baby,” You reach out to press a lingering kiss to his pulse point, “Love it even more than when you show everyone that I’m yours.”
Roman’s expression changes on a dime and pure hatred shifts into a sauve look of arousal, “Oh yeah?” 
“Yeah,” You hum, leaning to give more kisses to his throat, “I love how your hands feel on me, love that everyone can see, love how possessive you are, baby.”
A moan rips from Roman’s chest and he quickly grabs you and forces your legs around his hips to straddle him, “You like it when I show everyone you’re mine, huh?” 
He subtly bucks his crotch into your own and you whimper at the contact, “I love everything you do to me, baby.” 
His lips descend on yours once more, but this kiss is anything but soft. It’s hot and passionate and intense and fucking raw. His teeth clanging against your own, his tongue pushed deep in your mouth, both his hands groping your breasts. He occasionally broke apart from you to curse or to whisper an obscenity. You loved when he got like this, and you knew he needed it. He needed to feel in control, he needed to feel desired and strong. He needed to know he was still powerful; a protector. 
“You wanna know what you’re gonna do?” You moan, pushing his face to mouth at your neck.
“What, baby?” He asked breathlessly as he covered your skin in filthy kisses.
“You’re going to go out there, and fucking nail this speech. Show them that you’re the fucking boss, that you are in charge. That you own them and this fucking company. And you’re gonna do it knowing that I am in the audience, watching you, waiting for you to take me home and fuck me so good I can’t see straight.” And you pulled him away from you. 
His pupils were blown, his mouth red and kiss bitten and he panted as he gazed at you. 
“What the hell? Your plan was to give me blue balls then throw me on stage?” 
“A little, but mostly make you remember who you are. Roman Godfrey, the most powerful man I know, the only man who gets me soaked in seconds.” 
“Damn right I am,” He kisses you hard once more before you pull him off again. 
“Now go give your speech so we can go home,” You patted his shoulders firmly then stood from his lap. 
“I fucking hate you, you know that?” Roman complained, standing as well. 
But he didn’t, he really fucking loved you. Because somehow you knew every part of him, every nook and cranny of his twisted brain, every emotion and feeling before he had it. You knew him, and you always knew just what to do. He had been preening at your earlier praise and then fully immersed in your kiss and had totally forgotten about the speech altogether, along with his nerves. You had pumped up his ego with acclaim and hot touches and suddenly he wasn’t so scared anymore. Because all those stupid fucks out there, they didn’t matter. Like him or not, he owned this company, he owned them. They would learn to fear him, to want to be him, and that was something Roman knew was true (something that you had helped remind him). He fucking loved you so much, for always knowing what to do when he felt lost and helpless in the dark. Roman knew that taking over Godfrey Industries was the first in many steps he would take for the rest of his life to take care of you, and guide you through the blackness when you needed it.
“Sure you do,” You laugh.
“I’m supposed to go up there with this? You gonna let that happen?” He gestured to the bulge in his pants. 
“Think about baseball.” You shrugged and started back to the ballroom. 
Roman groaned loudly before catching up to you. 
As you both came through the double doors to the event, Pryce seemed to just be finishing up, catching Roman’s eye in relief that he hadn’t bounced. You reached down and gripped his hand as Pryce introduced Roman and gestured him to the stage. 
His face fell as all eyes moved to him, but you were there to plant a strong kiss on his lips and whisper, “Just giving that couple somethin’ to talk about.” 
Roman couldn’t help the cocky smile that spread over his face after that. He walked to the stage and you took your seat at one of the head tables. 
Roman cleared his throat and shook his blazer over his shoulder to resettle it as he looked out over the sea of his new employees. The sea of his new employees and you: who gave him an excited thumbs up and a wink. 
And Roman knew this would be a piece of cake. 
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i really hope you enjoyed!! if you did, i would love to hear any and all feedback <3 also, bear with me for a while, i am not sure when my next story will be out bc the ones i have working on rn are kinda long, but! until next time (:
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kreepykix · 5 years
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Peachy - (Roman Godfrey x Reader)
summary: you show up at roman’s house finding him hungover and try to make him feel better only you start to notice... maybe you’re not just friends.
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Chapter 2  Chapter 3
“Rommeee,” You called as you made your way up the stairs towards Roman’s bedroom, Olivia having let you in prior with only the barest of nods. You heard a noise of acknowledgement from down the hall and you swung into the room with a sly smile, jumping into his bed without a second thought. What you hadn’t realized though, was that Roman was buried underneath the covers and you had accidentally body slammed him further into the bed with your excitement to feel the coziness of his bed again. You heard him grunt loudly in pain and you quickly rolled to the side and off him. “Oh jeez sorry! I didn’t know you were there… wait why are you still in bed?” You questioned, leaning up on one arm and pulling the blanket back to reveal a sickly, sleepy Roman. There were purple bags resting heavily under his half-lidded eyes and he was much paler than usual, his body screamed exhaustion and you frowned in realization.
“I may or may not have had a late night down at the bar with Peter,” He croaked out, voice hoarse and crackly from disuse. He pulled the blanket back up and flipped onto his side, facing you. You shook your head before getting up from the bed, Roman snagged your wrist in a tight embrace before you could get all the way up. You glanced up to see him gazing deep into your eyes. “Where are you going?” He asked, a minuscule note of unfamiliar desperation creeping into his voice. 
“I’m just grabbing you some water and Tylenol, I’ll be right back.” You said with a small smile, his grip on you loosening enough for you to take your hand back and successfully get off the bed. You dug around in his bathroom for a moment before finally acquiring the Tylenol and grabbing a glass and filling it up with water from the tap before returning to Romans room and patting his leg as you came around to his side of the bed. He sat up and took the pills and water from you, swallowing the medicine easily. He set the water down on his bedside table before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him, stumbling on top of him once again though he was ready for it this time. Your faces were mere centimeters away and you smiled. “Hi,” You spoke quietly, afraid to shatter the moment. Roman's hand reached up and gently brushed some stray hairs out of your eyes, his fingertips lingering on your cheek.
“Hi,” He answered with the same hushed tone, his smile mirroring your own easily. “Stay with me today?” He asked and you nodded without hesitation. He grinned and planted a solid kiss on your forehead. 
“Can I steal some of your clothes before we settle in? Skinny jeans aren’t exactly comfort wear,” You asked, turning the puppy dog eyes up to the max. Roman rolled his eyes after a moment and nodded. “Yes!” You squealed, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek before flouncing off the bed and prancing over to his dresser. You only got to wear Romans clothes on rare occasions and you savored those moments. You picked up a black t shirt which would be ten times too big for you and quickly ran to his bathroom to change. Romans clothes always smelled exactly like him and it made you feel comforted and safe every time you put them on. You would always try to smuggle them home but you were only successful once and you wore that shirt till it lost its scent and reluctantly returned it. You peeled off your jeans and pulled your shirt over your head and you unclipped your bra since it was uncomfy to sleep in and tossed on Romans shirt. It hung just above your knees and you laughed at the size difference the two of you had before you slipped back into Romans room, sliding his blackout curtains closed before hopping back into bed, this time landing squarely next to him. You slid under the covers and turned to grin at Roman. He just smiled softly, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. Your head rested on his chest and you felt the heat radiating off of him which only added to your comfort. “What do you want to do?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him. 
He shrugged, “Movie?” He offered and you nodded, snagging the remote from the bedside table and hitting the power button, flipping back onto your back in the process. Romans arm was still snaked around your shoulder and you looked up at him in appreciation. 
“You’re the best bestie ever.” You stated as if it were a fact, which you did whole-heartedly believe. You and Roman had met in the sixth grade and been attached at the hip ever since. You befriended Shelley easily, and eventually Olivia. As Roman had begun to get more into drugs and girls you had desperately tried to steer him in the other direction but it seemed to honestly just be in his nature and you eventually got used to it even though whenever you saw him smoking or doing drugs you would always frown or take it away from him. You didn’t want to have to live without your best friend. The girls were whole nother thing for you though, it made you anxious and sometimes even sick to the stomach whenever you would see him with another girl though you didn’t know why, he was free to do as he pleased. Maybe it was the STDs he could be contracting or something but it just didn’t sit right with you. When Peter showed up the dynamic changed a bit between you, a bit of distance in the shape of Peter coming between you and your time together was shortened and so you were always eager to spend time with Roman when you got the chance but you had felt much more included lately, you finally felt you had a place with your friends. 
“I know,” Roman answered with a smirk, pulling you out of your thoughts and you rolled your eyes before directing the TV to Netflix and scrolling through the options. You bickered over movies till you finally decided on Monster House, technically family friendly but also a little spooky. You settled in, one leg tossed over Romans and head resting on his chest as you watched the screen intently. Eventually your eyelids grew heavy and you fell into a peaceful slumber. 
You woke hours later, light no longer creeping around the sides of the curtains and a slumbering Roman curled around your body. You both must’ve shifted at some point since he was now spooning you from behind. It felt nice, really nice. Not that you thought it wouldn’t it’s just that you finally realized this was something a couple would do. A lot of things you did together were things couples did. Kissing each other on the forehead and cheek, the cuddles and slumber parties, stealing his clothes and the constant care for each other. It was all things a couple would do and it made you feel strange and confused, awkwardness clouded your mind and your felt Roman stir behind you, pressing his face into your neck and inhaling.
“You smell good,” He murmured against your skin and your cheeks were set aflame. 
“Thanks,” You squeaked out, silently willing the bed to rise up and swallow you whole so you wouldn’t have to feel this way. No such luck.
“Are you ok?” Roman leaned up, sensing something wrong in your voice and searching your face for the answer.
You averted your gaze and cleared your throat, “Yeah, fine, how are you feeling?” You asked, switching the subject back to him.
He stared for a moment longer before coming up empty and laying back down, hands behind his head. “Peachy, haven’t slept that good in… well, ever.” He said with a rare soft smile directed towards you and added a wink for good measure. Your face warmed once again and you smiled a bit.
“Happy to help,” You said softly.
A/N: This may have more to be added, don’t know yet, hope you enjoy! I’ve also posted this and my other stories on AO3 if you wanna check it out my username thingy is cosmicbrowni3 :)))
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tawneybel · 4 years
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Imagine being Roman’s ex who’s still on good terms with him. When you start dating Peter, he asks if he can watch you two have sex. Peter doesn’t have any issues with it. Do you?
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headoverhiddles · 6 years
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All I Want For Juldagen [Bill Skarsgård x Reader]
Warnings: Nothing! Holiday fluff! 
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Bill is a hopeless romantic. 
He tries to tell you he isn’t, but when he takes you out for candlelit dinners “because you look cute”, you beg to differ. Today, he’s got your hand in his, and you’re wrapped around his arm as you stroll by the water together, you in your toque and him with his own new black beanie on (after you made him ditch his grandpa paperboy hat, after much sulking). 
“So did you get what you needed today?” he asks. 
“Yep. I’m fully loaded,” you smile, referring to the shopping trip the two of you had taken today for Christmas– your boyfriend was off for a couple of months right now, as he had finished all the filming he needed to on the latest film he was in. You love that you’ll have him to yourself for a while. 
“My siblings and I are all throwing in to send dad and mum on a trip, and you’ve gotten them matching sweaters, so they’re covered,” Bill says. 
“I got Gustaf a tea set, Valter Far Cry 3, Alex a cactus because he always said he wanted one and I take all of his jokes seriously on purpose, and Elijah a gift card to Le Chateau,” you recount. 
“And I got your mom a honey-scented candle, your dad an Amazon gift card, and your dog a new antler bone,” he smiles, kissing your cheek. You giggle. 
“You know my family and my dog love you more than they love me, right?” you deadpan. 
“And I intend to keep it that way,” Bill nods, and you smack his arm lightly. The unspoken wondering hangs in the air of what each of you got the other person– you had gotten a box of Bill’s favourite Swedish candies, and made him a book of those cheesy coupons with ridiculously kinky favours inside like “you are entitled to watch me do the dishes naked” or “you are entitled to ten minutes of head while you do the vacuuming” which isn’t technically a great or physically practical privilege, but hey… you knew your boyfriend would get a kick out of them. You had mentioned a few things you were looking for this year, like a new tea towel for the stove or a new lampshade that didn’t have a thread hanging off it, but you always felt bad for asking Bill for any real gifty-type gift. 
He always insisted, and you always insisted right back that of course you wanted nothing more than a new toilet seat cover or a nice carpet for the foyer. Before now, Bill had chalked it up to you being really into interior decorating– that is, until he caught you today staring intently through the window of the jewellery store. He saw what you were looking at, but you had quickly assured him you were just browsing, keeping your daydreams to yourself. 
“Still gonna tell me you want a lampshade for Christmas?” Bill asks, finger rubbing circles into your palm as you keep walking. You look out over the water, the stars reflecting beautifully in it. 
“Well… I guess I can be a little naughty, and spring for a sexy pair of panties from Victoria’s Secret.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know, baby… that’s asking a lot… getting a little greedy there, I think." 
You giggle again, blushing, and he tilts you chin up, smile suddenly fading from his gorgeous lips as he stops you. 
"Hey. I would give you the world if you asked for it, you know that?"  You slowly nod, and stand up on your tippy toes to kiss him.  You two continue walking. 
-                                                                                                        
You roll over and sigh contentedly as Bill joins you in bed. He had just finished brushing his teeth after having his last cigarette of the day, and the two of you were settling in for a movie. 
"What do you wanna watch?” he murmurs, “We’ve got Elf… that old Moomin Christmas movie Alexander was in… The Santa Clause… Rudolph-" 
"Black Christmas,” you say, and he huffs a laugh. 
“I fully blame you if I can’t go to the bathroom tonight in fear of somebody strangling me with Christmas lights." 
"Come on, you know I like to watch this every year,” you pout. 
“If you can put up with my Christmas traditions, I can put up with yours,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, and you both turn to the screen. About halfway through, Bill looks down to find you asleep on his chest. He tries to keep watching just to say he did, but he’s too terrified, and turns it off to snuggle with you. You both fall asleep in each other’s arms.  It’s almost Christmas, and the tree is up. It’s got a combination of your decorations and his, yours being the little bells and snowflakes and Santa ornaments, and his being the traditional apples (fake ones), candles (plastic tea lights, so you didn’t burn the place down like so many Swedish people obviously did in the 16th century) and a few small gnomes that he had taken with him from his childhood home. It was a nice tree, you had to admit, and the decorations made it perfect. 
This year, your respective families were coming to visit you where you both lived (just outside of LA right now, convenient for Bill’s work), and you had already had your family over.
If you didn’t go to Sweden to visit, (which was always fun, especially the particularly appetizing anchovy and egg dish you got to eat with everyone, Gubbröra) Bill’s family usually came a little after Juldagen (Christmas Day) and closer to Annandag Jul (Boxing Day) as it was hard with all of Bill’s brothers to coordinate who was available when, who was shooting what when, etc. etc.. You did love when the Skarsgårds came and visited here though, especially with Stellan dressing up as Jultomten, knocking at the door with his sack of gifts. Every time, Bill insisted you both were way too old for that, and every time Alexander, like the dutiful eldest son he is, always reminded everyone that nobody was too old for Santa Claus. 
Your parents loved the gifts, as did your dog, and once again, Bill had won their hearts. You remember watching him talk to your dad in private, and thought back to when your parents used to tell you how they hoped you would find someone right for you.  Bill feels like that guy. 
- Three days before Juldagen, you both are busy with preparations.
“I’m so glad our families aren’t annoying,” you remark, pouring some eggnog. 
“Well, mine’s annoying. Yours isn’t,” Bill smiles, adjusting the two stockings over the fireplace. 
“I love your family,” you say, sticking your tongue out, and he shrugs.  “Glad one of us does.” He laughs out loud. “No, I agree. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about a mother in law from hell." 
"In law?” you ask in curiosity, and he quickly snaps his gaze up. 
“Uh, hypothetically." 
"Oh,” you nod, and he clears his throat. 
“Hey, um, is that snowman thing on the roof still crooked?” he asks, dashing up the stairs quickly with those freakishly long legs, “I’ll fix it!”
You frown at his weird behaviour, and go back to pouring a little rum into each glass of eggnog. 
“Don’t get strangled with Christmas lights up there!” you call with a grin, and hear him shriek playfully. You take out your phone, sending Merry Christmas texts to all your friends and family, and sigh. 
It never snowed in LA like it did when the two of you visited Sweden, but other than that, it was shaping up to be a perfect Christmas. 
-
Childlike excitement fills you as you wake up earlier than you usually do on Christmas Eve.
“Baby,” you hiss, “Hey! It’s Christmas Eve." 
He blinks awake, and rubs his eyes. "Oh… Merry Christmas,” he smiles, kissing you softly. A few seconds into the kiss, you push lightly on his chest as he starts to deepen it and get handsy. 
“Come on. We can save that for dessert,” you grin, and he smiles too, tugging on a shirt and pyjama pants to go downstairs. You forget when you launch yourself out of bed that you’re still in your candy cane lingerie dress, that wouldn’t be complete without the little panties that read “Dear Santa, Define "Good”. Bill slaps your ass as he walks by, and as you squeal, he picks you up, carrying you bridal style down the stairs. 
“I have to change,” you protest, laughing. 
“Why?” he laughs too, “You look perfect. Don’t ever change." 
"Saying I look perfect and being a cornball won’t get you laid any faster,” you tease, and he shakes his head. 
“Damn. Thought I really had that one in that in the bag.” You two giggle together until you make it to the huge tree in your living room. You hop down from Bill’s arms to turn on the tree lights, and flop down by the TV. An entire day of watching Christmas movies and cuddling with hot chocolate and Creme de Mente later, it’s time for the gifts when it gets dark. In Swedish tradition, gifts were opened Christmas Eve, so you had gotten used to it this way. 
About a half hour later, you’re finally on the last one. Bill loved his candies and had already eaten half the box, and his coupons were a hit too- he had already redeemed ‘you are entitled to an upside down on the floor kiss’. 
“One more,” he says, licking his lips. You watch him… he only really does that when he’s nervous. You reach for the box at the back of the tree skirt, and begin to take the paper off slowly. 
“Bill…” you start, and he envelops your hands as you finally open the gift up. A gasp escapes you. It’s… it’s the rose ring from the front display of the jewellers, the one from that new Beauty and the Beast “Enchanted” line that you couldn’t stop staring at and dreaming about! It was beautiful– the little twists of the silver and diamond made the middle look like a little rose, and oh god, it was everything you wanted and more. 
“Will you be my wife?” he asks simply, very nervously, and you break down, sniffling and rubbing your eyes. 
“Oh my god… yes, Bill! I Iove you so much." 
”(Y/n),“ he smiles, and squeezes your hands, "I know you hate the song, but…”
You look up at him from the ring, tear-brimmed eyes widening.  “D-don’t say it,” you laugh through your happy tears, “Don’t be th-that guy."  "Hey, I’ve got nothing to lose now.” He beams at you. “All I want for Christmas is you.” He slips the ring on your finger, and tugs you closer to him, crashing your lips together. 
“Oh, and the new pair of panties is waiting upstairs under the bed. Along with the lampshade." 
You giggle, resting your forehead against your fiancé’s. By next Christmas, you two would be married… and not a season too soon.
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