#peter x lynda

[untamedlobo]

“It suits her .. Lena Grace ..” he hardly felt the pain in his hand anymore , too enthralled in his new baby girl, he looked a bit scared when he was asked to hold her she was so small.. what if he hurt her .. what if she didn’t like him.

Did babies bite ? He bit.. well when he was a bit older and teething , Lynda said he bit alot.

Lynda let out a soft chuckle and came to her son’s rescue “hold your arms like this honey and support the head no need to be afraid .. “ she showed him the proper way to have his arms up as she helped transferred the baby over .

@prideschosensinner

Onyx gripped Peter's hand tight as another contraction made her cry out.

She had opted for Lynda and Destiny to help her give birth, not knowing what would happen with Peter's genetics.

"Oh....I swear you're never touching me again!" She growled, glaring at her fiancé.

@prideschosensinner

Oh yep there was definitely something breaking in his hand .. he wasn’t gonna have much of a hand left if Onxy kept this up. “.. babe .. babe I’m sorry I really am but uh I kinda need both hands to help you with baby you know—“ he stopped when he was glared at by all three women in the room and opted to read the room for once and shut up.

“Almost there honey one more push .. “Lynda coached gently as Destiny got the blankets and towels ready .

[upirprince]

@sp00kshowbabyyy continued from X

Roman swore under his breath hearing he'd just missed Peter, raking a hand through his hair as he turned away to pull out his phone. No new messages for him either, only the same chain of texts as before. He decided to add a quick 'Pick up your phone, asshole' before turning back to Destiny.

"What's he helping Lynda with?" He demanded, shoving his ridiculously expensive phone back into his pocket. "Baking cookies or some shit?"

[aurorarebeka]

[certifiedskywalker]

The Wolf - Peter Rumancek

You and Peter have been dating for a while, even as he and Roman are hunting the vargulf. One day, you watch him turn into his wolf form and you can’t help but worry yourself into a mess. Luckily, Peter promises that he’ll be okay. Or will he be?

“You don’t have to watch, Y/N. You can go home, I’ll be alright.” You shook your head and Peter gave you a fond smile. He reached his hands to the sides of your face and pulled you in for a kiss. His slightly chapped lips pressed against yours softly, his beard tickling the skin of your cheeks. The sensation made you smile into the touch, your worry melting away.

“Ahem,” you and Peter parted at the sound of Roman’s voice. You curled your lips together and glared up at the tall boy. “What? I want to catch the fucking vargulf,” Roman snapped, his cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

“Alright, chill,” Peter said, dropping his hands from your face. He gave you a soft look, his bright blue eyes holding your gaze like a promise. You reached for his hand quickly, giving it a squeeze. Peter shot you a boyish smile, but you just stared at him.

“Be safe, okay? I need you here with me.” Peter nodded at your words, leaning towards you to press a soft peck on your forehead.

“I’ll be okay,” he promised and you could almost hear Roman’s eyes rolling in their sockets. Before he could snap at them again, Peter parted from your touch, leaving you cold and wanting his warmth again. He walked over to a more clear section of the trailer and started to strip off his clothes. Roman glanced at you, as if ready to make a joke, but your eyes were downcast with worry. Your thoughts were of the worst case scenario: Peter not coming back.

The sound of the trailer door opening and then slamming shut caused your thoughts to disperse. As you moved your gaze, you made eye contact with Lynda. She seemed to sense your fear and walked past Roman to get to you. Peter’s mom wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a small hug.

“He’ll be okay,” she said, “he’s done this before.” You nodded, giving Lynda a thankful smile. You looked up at Peter, now fully nude, as he slicked his hair back.

“Hold up,” Roman said, pulling a piece of fabric out of his pocket. “This was near one of the bodies,” he explained to you and Lynda. He walked over to Peter, offering it to him for a sniff. Your boyfriend gave his friend a nod. Roman stepped back to where you and Lynda now stood.

Peter breathed in a steady breath and opened his eyes. He gave you a reassuring smile as your eye met. You nodded at him, still feeling that pinprick of worry in your heart. The instant after, the snapping of bones under flesh began and Peter fell on all fours. You furrowed your brows and wished with all your heart you could stop what was happening. Peter’s cries in pain soon turned into animalistic howls.

You closed your eyes then, unable to see what was next. You felt Lynda’s hand rested against your upper back, moving against your coat soothingly. It was hard to imagine that Peter’s own mother could watch the scene; but then again, she was probably used to it by now.

When Lynda tapped your shoulder, you looked up timidly. Your eyes moved to where Peter had once been and you saw the dark colored wolf. It, Peter, turned his head, letting you look into it’s feral, yellow eyes. The wolf stepped forwards for a moment, shaking it’s head as if to tell you that he was, in fact, okay. You smiled, feeling tears stinging at your eyes.

“Find it,” Roman said and the wolf, Peter, seemed to understand. He turned tail and ran off into the woods that surrounded the trailer. “I’m going to try to keep up with him in the car,” Roman said as he turned to you and Lynda. “I won’t let him get hurt.”

“Thank you, Roman,” you said softly, your voice faltering a little as you spoke. The tall boy nodded and then started towards the stairs to get to his car.

“You did good, Y/N,” Lynda said calmly. “The first few times are always the worst. Do you want to come inside for a bit? You can stay here until he gets back,” she offered.

“I would like that,” you said and Lynda started to lead you inside. The Rumancek’s trailer smelled like herbs, smoke, and the trashy cologne Peter wore. Somehow, the mixing scents gave you a sort of comfort as you sat on the couch. Lynda walked over, mugs of tea in her hands. You accepted it graciously, taking a sip of the hot liquid.

“That’ll help you get some sleep. It’s going to be a while till he comes back so you might as well rest.” Lynda said, giving you a smile. “At least, that’s what it’s suppose to do. You just have to let go of your fear and relax. Peter’s a big boy, he’ll be alright.” As much as you felt she was telling that to you, you couldn’t help but think she was also trying to reassure it to herself.

“Thank you, Lynda,” you said, already feeling your eyes start to droop. The tea worked fast. Peter’s mom gave you a smile and gently took the mug from your hand.

“You can go sleep on Peter’s bed. His room is the farthest down the hall.” You nodded and stood up on somewhat shaky legs. You trailed down the hall and turned to the right when you reached the end of it. Peter’s room was hardly decorated, but his clothes were just about everywhere. You smiled and shook your head before shucking off your coat and setting it on a chair. You slipped off your shoes as well, than climbed into his bed. As soon as your head hit Peter’s pillow, sleep opened it’s dark embrace.

Despite the aid of the tea, your restful sleep lasted for ten minutes. Visions of a wolf, tracking through the forest only to get shot and killed played through your head. The cry that escaped it’s snout wasn’t a howl, it was Peter’s voice yelling out for help.

You could feel yourself tossing and turning in Peter’s bed, but you remained trapped in the nightmare’s clutches. You mumbled out your boyfriend’s name, as your dream focused on the dying wolf. The blood was everywhere, around it’s mouth and out of a hole it’s chest.

It’s yellow eyes started to fade into grey, then the same bright blue as Peter’s. Suddenly the dying wolf lifted it’s head, it’s dark fur matted with it’s own blood. Your vision seemed to hammered in the look in the wolf’s eyes; one of panic and pain.

“Y/N?” Peter’s voice escaped the wolf’s snout, it’s mirroring blue eyes widened on it’s dog-like face. You felt yourself shaking, but before you woke up the wolf lunged at you as you could now been seen in your own dream. “Y/N!”

Your eyes flew open and you looked up. Peter’s blue eyes, like the wolf’s in your dream, were wide with fear. You jumped up off his bed and into your boyfriend’s arms. Peter’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close to his bare chest. He smelled like the woods and little bit of the metallic scent of blood.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured as your arms tightened his neck. “What happened?”

“It was,” you swallowed, suppressing the sobs that threatened to spill over. “It was a nightmare. I saw you, as a wolf and-” The sobs took over anyway. Peter’s arms tightened around your waist and he pressed a kiss to your head.

“Whatever you saw, it didn’t happen. I’m here, I’ve got you and I’m not letting you go.” You nodded against his chest, wishing that you could stay in his arms like that forever; but you had no idea what time it was anymore.

“What time is it?” You managed to get out. Peter pulled away from you, just enough to look into your eyes. He reached up and brushed some hair out of your face.

“Seven in the morning,” he said softly and you eyes widened.

“We have school,” you said, looking around for your coat and shoes. You glanced over at Peter, who stared at you with affection in his features. “What?”

“Skip with me, just today,” he said tiredly and you realized you hadn’t even thought about the night he could’ve had. You nodded and put down your coat, walking back over to him. He wore on boxer shorts, leaving the ‘g’ on his side completely exposed.

You reached out and let your hand brush against the mark, looking at it as you did. Peter smiled down at you, feeling his tiredness start to take over. He gently grabbed your arm and led you back to his bed. He laid on his side, while you too the spot closest to the wall.

You both faced each other at first, staring into the other’s eyes like you were having a silent conversation. When you felt your eyes start to grow heavy again, you scooted closer to Peter’s warmth. He turned on his back, letting you rest your head on his chest.

“Did you find it?” You asked quietly.

“No,” Peter said sadly, “we found another body.”

“I’m sorry, Peter,” you mumbled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

“I am too,” he whispered and you leaned up slightly. Looking down into his face, you could see worry in his expression. You leaned down and pressed your lips to his gently. The hand he had on your back moved and traveled to the back of your neck. Peter’s other hand moved to cup your cheek as you kissed him softly.

“You’re trying,” you said, pulling away from his lips. You looked down at him through half-lidded eyes and Peter looked even more tired. “And I love you for that,” you added.

“I love you,” Peter whispered, “a lot.” You smiled and pecked his lips one last time before settling back against his chest. Your eyes started to shut and you felt Peter’s arm tighten around your waist. You felt your fears melt away as his hold on you put all of the missing parts back into place; your nightmare, the wolf, forgotten for now.

[psychoangiethings]

The Bloodline [Roman Godfrey x Reader]

Warning: Adult themes & language, murder

Other tags: Magic, friends to lovers, slow build, nightmares, witches, upirs

Summary: After very suspicious car crash that killed both of her parents, Abigail   Wolff moves in with her aunt to Hemlock Grove only to discover a truly interesting family history which her father kept from her. As she awakens her powers, something much older and terrifying is coming after her. Or maybe not after her at all.

Chapter 6

Masterlist

Chapter 7 - I promise you that

22nd November 2016

When we say "I dreamed all night", it's not uncommon. But most people don't know that their dreams didn't last for whole night but mere for a few seconds. Maby for twenty minutes but that's top. The dreams are changing too and we can have something about five dreams in one night. Sometimes even more. And every single person, every single place we dream about, we have already seen in our life. A stranger in a shop, that nice tree across the street - every little detail our brain processed and hid and when the time came, used it in our dreams. Why? Because human brain just can't create details or emotions we haven't seen or felt.

So when my body ran through dark forest, jumping over branches and stones, I knew I was dreaming. I had to be because there was no way in my life I would be dressed in those clothes I was wearing. Let alone won't be able decide what my next move would be. Nope. This had to be dream and crazy one.

I was running in the night through woods I didn't recognized, wearing a wool dress like some wench from Middle Ages and wasn't even scared. That totally couldn't be me because I was scared of spiders, unexpected noises and everything else which I considered unexpected.

But still, I ran for my life and felt only determination. I didn't look over my shoulder, just ran as fast as I could deeper into the forest, until I saw a fire. Actually torches stuck in the ground forming a circle and once I stood in it, I knew I have won.

There were shadows crawling on the ground, trying to get closer to me. But when I looked, really looked, they stopped and formed a man. A handsome man with long black hair, he wore simply clothes and had so beautiful smile it hurt my heart.

"We don't have to do this, love," he said and I felt something disgusting crawl under my skin.

"You won't fool me with his face! I know exactly what you are." It wasn't my voice, but I've never really heard someone speak with so much resolution.

"I was trying to be pleasant to look at. Maybe try to convince you to join me. Like one of your sisters did."

Suddenly I felt sharp pain, an ache inside of me. My sister. "I killed her." The man didn't look surprised, maybe even pleased.

"Amira, Amira... What am I going to do with you. I can't have you just running around, ruining my plans. I have to do something about it since none of my minions succeeded."

"I was a bait. And now," I said with so much relief and satisfaction at the same time,"now you are trapped."

He just grinned and tried to ran to me but invisible barrier threw him on the ground. "That is impossible! You can't have so much power!"

It was my turn to grin. "What makes you think I am alone?"

When realization hit him, he started to laugh. Evil laugh only demons are capable of. And then he shifted but because he wasn't from our world, he couldn't change to his full form and became a giant ever-changing shadow instead. Which didn't make him less dangerous though. It hurt my eyes to look at him, especially my right eye. Power radiated from him but I stood my ground as did my allies. From all of them, I brought the biggest sacrifice.

"You did something you can't handle! Release me and maybe, just maybe, I won't kill everyone you hold dear."

He was angry, I could feel that. Angry at me but mostly at himself that he fell for my trap. I lifted my arms to the sky and began to chant. The wind began howling and carried my words to others. The fire of torches around me grew stronger.

"I will kill you! I will! I promise you that, Amira! You and your bloodline until every single person who has your blood is destroyed!"

Blood was boiling under my skin, my clothes were damp on me and I didn't stop even when my nose started to bleed. The strength others gave me was quickly draining but I was gaining power even from the earth itself. "Sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves to get rid of evil, even if it should interfere across the centuries."

"Then I will destroy your soul!"

"Good luck with that."

I woke up with jerk, staring up at my ceiling. On my bedside table there was my phone. I checked the date. Okay, I was out for one day give or take. No Erika this time. Actually everything was quiet. Again. I got out of my bed and walked towards my door, passing a mirror. Erika said something about a gift and for the first time I was able to see what actually she meant. One blue eye, the other one green. It looked like heterochromia, at least that I could say. Now what with the rest of me? There were no visible changes but what about supernatural creatures? Will they perceive me differently? There was only way to find about it.

I went downstairs, taking slowly each step because I didn't like the silence in our house. It reminded me of the forest in my dream. Being in that situation I don't know how I would react. Obviously not so calm. Standing in the kitchen, there was no one to be found. "Erika?" I highly doubted Erika would leave me alone. But hey, everything was possible. "Aunt Eri-" Something hit me from behind in my back and I fell on my knees. Blood rushed into my head as I lifted my arm and without thinking and looking over my shoulder I threw behind myself a chair with my newly found powers.

"Holy fuck!" someone exclaimed. Or at least I thought it was only chair but soon find out it was whole table with all chairs we had there.

I stood up and turned around only to see Erika with Lynda stand there in a pile of broken furniture. "Oh my god, are you alright?" I asked with wide eyes, almost afraid to move.

Erika just clicked with her tongue. "Well, we have to work on that but the tattoo did a good job too."

Wait, what? "What? Are you sane?! I was terrified who was there! Couldn't you just say I'm here like a normal person?!"

"Where's the fun in that? You've got the proper welcome of Wolff family after your Awakening."

"You've got to be kidding me." I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. So after everything that happened, after that agonizing dream I was forced to live through and those hallucinations, my aunt decided to do this.

"You have to train, you have to be ready. I thought you knew that."

"That's not the fucking point, Erika!" I yelled at her, anger rising in my body, projecting itself even outside of it. "I woke up alone in my room from something I can't even describe, I don't know what's happening to me and the first thing you do is firing something at me just to find out how will I react?!" In one second, there was nothing, in the other one with a new blink I saw magic that was flowing through Erika's veins, I saw a purplish air shifting around her hands and as soon as I looked at her, it was gone.

"Mom? Are you there? What the fuck is happening?" That was Peter's voice. Obviously he came to look for his mother and pulled me out of my trance. Lynda looked relieved, she just stepped over the broken things and went to the door. I was still staring at Erika, wondering what the hell happened right now.

"Peter, it's alright now."

"There was this weird wind, I thought something happened here."

"Where is the Godfrey boy?"

"Home I think, we returned an hour ago. Is really everything okay?" There was slight trace of uncertainty in his voice and Lynda finally gave in.

"Abigail's awake."

"Oh."

And with that oh it was clear as a blue sky. Erika knew something she didn't tell me. Even Rumancek's family knew more than I did. I did had my doubts about undergoing this freaking stuff but I did it for revenge and tried to ignore all the signs of depression that was creeping upon me. I lost my parents and didn't grieve. I hungrily absorbed every new information Erika gave me just to keep myself occupied with something, anything.

Maybe if it weren't for those hallucinations or heartbreaking dream, I would be good. But now I was just sad, hurt and mostly really pissed off.

And that's how I found myself on the ground, falling apart in front of my aunt with Peter and Lynda on our doorstep.

[bonniebird]

Peter Rumancek x Reader

Requested by Anon

Masterpost

Support me on Ko-fi

Make a request

December Event

When you’d woken up on christmas morning with your nose full and your head feeling dizzy you gave up. All of your preparation the night before, your fancy meal. You’d invite Lynda and Destiny for the day.

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you’d woken up. But you felt the distinct feeling of someone prodding your face. “Are you dead?” Peter asked. You groaned in response and tried to bet him away but did nothing more than lazily flick your arm. “Jesus. You aren’t dead but you look at it.” 

“You have to call Lynda to say I’m sick and can’t do dinner.” You croaked out. Peter watched as you slowly fell back asleep and hustled off. He called his mother who sent Destiny with something to make you feel better. She then hurried to find a shp that was open to get you your missing ingredients. Peter woke you and forced you to drink the foul tasting liquid then gave you a bucket in case you threw up.

You woke up a few hours later to the smell of food and feeling miles better. You were now grateful Peter had made you drink whatever Destiny had made for you. Heading out of the bedroom wrapped in a blanket you found the Rumancek family in the kitchen.

“Did you manage to sort the food?” You asked Lynda.

“Peter had it all covered sweetheart. Come here.” She said as she hugged you tightly.

“Peter?” You asked.

"I got this, I watch food network." Peter insisted. “I also helped him. So you wont get food poisoning.” Destiny informed you. Lynda insisted that she got you settled on the sofa. Peter came to check on you a few minutes later and laughed. You were wrapped with every blanket Lynda had been able to find. Peter thought you looked rather like an angry cat that had been swaddled in order to stop being a pest.

“Haha. I should have warned you that being sick gets my Mom in a mothering mood.” Peter teased. You groaned as your door busted open and Roman came in with a skittish looking young man who was weighed down with bags of gifts. Roman came into the living room, looked at you with disdain, then looked at Peter.

“What’s wrong with them?”

“I can hear you.”

“Woke up sick and Mom burritoed them.” Peter answered.

“Gross you’re sick! Running my christmas.”

“Well excuse me for having a human immune system.” You grumbled.

“Naw it’s ok. You can’t help being fragile. You’re food.” Roman said as he patted your head and smiled.

“If I could move my arms I would slap you.” You said firmly.

“I know.” Roman said back with the same sarcastic tone. “I have to go and meet Shelly. But I will leave you with gifts.”

“What’s with the assistant?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to have someone do everything for me for a change.”

“For and change?” You said sarcastically.

“Watch it or I'll take all your Christmas gifts.” Roman said as he waved to Lynda and headed out.

“I bet he poisoned me and made me sick! He probably wanted to kill me off and came to check.” You insisted. Peter laughed as you tried to sound serious and flail free of tie blankets.

“(Y/N) is delusional. Destiny, have you got any more of that magic juice?” Lynda asked as she felt your forehead. Something started beeping loudly and Peter set his drink down, his laughing at your predicament stopping as he hurried to the kitchen.

Peter Rumancek tags:

@alexxavicry @daughterofthenight117

[ao3feed-love]

[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Firefly (TV 2002), Agent Carter (TV), How I Met Your Mother, Hart of Dixie, Once Upon a Time (TV), Gilmore Girls, 10th Kingdom (TV), Leverage, Necessary Roughness (TV 2011), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), X-Men (Movieverse), Veronica Mars (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Lethal Weapon (TV), My Boys (TV), Caroline in the City, That '70s Show, Chuck (TV), Angel: the Series, Press Gang, The Librarians (TV 2014), Alice (TV 2009), Smallville, White Collar (TV 2009), Timeless (TV 2016), The Big Bang Theory (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Malcolm Reynolds/Inara Serra, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Robin Scherbatsky/Barney Stinson, Zoe Hart/Wade Kinsella, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore, Virginia Lewis/Wolf, Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford, Nico Careles/Danielle "Dani" Santino, Spike/Buffy Summers, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Lemon Breeland/Lavon Hayes, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, Maureen Cahill/Martin Riggs, Brendan Dorff/P. J. Franklin, Caroline Duffy/Richard Karinsky, Jackie Burkhart/Steven Hyde, Chuck Bartowski/Sarah Walker, Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle, Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Lynda Day/Spike Thomson, Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen, Jayne Cobb/River Tam, Alice Hamilton/Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Hoban "Wash" Washburne/Zoë Washburne, Lex Luthor/Chloe Sullivan, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Tansy Truitt/George Tucker, Cassandra Cillian/Jacob "Jake" Stone, Dick Casablancas/Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie, Sheldon Cooper/Penny, Kaylee Frye/Simon Tam, Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41913813

[ao3feed-that70sshow]

[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Firefly (TV 2002), Agent Carter (TV), How I Met Your Mother, Hart of Dixie, Once Upon a Time (TV), Gilmore Girls, 10th Kingdom (TV), Leverage, Necessary Roughness (TV 2011), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), X-Men (Movieverse), Veronica Mars (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Lethal Weapon (TV), My Boys (TV), Caroline in the City, That '70s Show, Chuck (TV), Angel: the Series, Press Gang, The Librarians (TV 2014), Alice (TV 2009), Smallville, White Collar (TV 2009), Timeless (TV 2016), The Big Bang Theory (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Malcolm Reynolds/Inara Serra, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Robin Scherbatsky/Barney Stinson, Zoe Hart/Wade Kinsella, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore, Virginia Lewis/Wolf, Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford, Nico Careles/Danielle "Dani" Santino, Spike/Buffy Summers, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Lemon Breeland/Lavon Hayes, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, Maureen Cahill/Martin Riggs, Brendan Dorff/P. J. Franklin, Caroline Duffy/Richard Karinsky, Jackie Burkhart/Steven Hyde, Chuck Bartowski/Sarah Walker, Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle, Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Lynda Day/Spike Thomson, Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen, Jayne Cobb/River Tam, Alice Hamilton/Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Hoban "Wash" Washburne/Zoë Washburne, Lex Luthor/Chloe Sullivan, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Tansy Truitt/George Tucker, Cassandra Cillian/Jacob "Jake" Stone, Dick Casablancas/Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie, Sheldon Cooper/Penny, Kaylee Frye/Simon Tam, Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

from AO3 works tagged 'That '70s Show' https://ift.tt/ZYLG8kv via IFTTT

[ao3feed-spuffy]

[VID] My 37 OTPs

by UltraVids1 (Ultra)

A simple tribute to my 37 OTPs.

Words: 0, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Firefly (TV 2002), Agent Carter (TV), How I Met Your Mother, Hart of Dixie, Once Upon a Time (TV), Gilmore Girls, 10th Kingdom (TV), Leverage, Necessary Roughness (TV 2011), Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), X-Men (Movieverse), Veronica Mars (TV), Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Lethal Weapon (TV), My Boys (TV), Caroline in the City, That '70s Show, Chuck (TV), Angel: the Series, Press Gang, The Librarians (TV 2014), Alice (TV 2009), Smallville, White Collar (TV 2009), Timeless (TV 2016), The Big Bang Theory (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Relationships: Malcolm Reynolds/Inara Serra, Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa, Robin Scherbatsky/Barney Stinson, Zoe Hart/Wade Kinsella, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Luke Danes/Lorelai Gilmore, Virginia Lewis/Wolf, Sophie Devereaux/Nathan Ford, Nico Careles/Danielle "Dani" Santino, Spike/Buffy Summers, Logan/Rogue (X-Men), Lemon Breeland/Lavon Hayes, Rory Gilmore/Jess Mariano, Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, Maureen Cahill/Martin Riggs, Brendan Dorff/P. J. Franklin, Caroline Duffy/Richard Karinsky, Jackie Burkhart/Steven Hyde, Chuck Bartowski/Sarah Walker, Cordelia Chase/Allen Francis Doyle, Parker/Eliot Spencer (Leverage), Lynda Day/Spike Thomson, Eve Baird/Flynn Carsen, Jayne Cobb/River Tam, Alice Hamilton/Hatter (Alice TV 2009), Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Hoban "Wash" Washburne/Zoë Washburne, Lex Luthor/Chloe Sullivan, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Garcia Flynn/Lucy Preston, Tansy Truitt/George Tucker, Cassandra Cillian/Jacob "Jake" Stone, Dick Casablancas/Cindy "Mac" Mackenzie, Sheldon Cooper/Penny, Kaylee Frye/Simon Tam, Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis

Additional Tags: Love, Kissing, One True Pairing, Video, Embedded Video, Song: Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/41913813

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

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

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

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

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

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

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

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

“(Y/N)?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

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

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

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

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

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

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

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

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

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

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

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

“Still, he was your dad.” 

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

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

You purse your lips and sigh.

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

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

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

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

“Four forty, even.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

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

“I just find that hard to believe.”

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

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

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

“Apologies.”

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not in name or blood.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

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

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

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

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

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

“Tomorrow would be-” 

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

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

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

“I love you, too.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” He asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With you. Yes.” 

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

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“New York that good, then?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Never again.” 

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

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

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

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

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You already have.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you don’t mind.” 

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

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

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

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

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

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

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

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

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

He was already looking at you. 

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

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

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

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

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?” 

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers. 

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap. 

“Not really.” 

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate. 

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself. 

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence. 

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him. 

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?” 

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.” 

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you. 

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips. 

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer. 

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.” 

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired. 

Roman doesn’t answer. 

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.” 

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…” 

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else. 

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder. 

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten. 

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts. 

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells. 

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?” 

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers. 

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms. 

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.” 

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection. 

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.” 

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.” 

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly. 

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you. 

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that. 

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut. 

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips. 

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart. 

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment. 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose. 

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him. 

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust. 

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).��� Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin. 

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?” 

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him. 

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?” 

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-” 

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. 

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.” 

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked. 

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. 

“Stop, Roman...” 

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes. 

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.” 

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul. 

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly. 

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable. 

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months. 

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.  

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.” 

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.” 

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche. 

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway. 

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now. 

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night. 

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong. 

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it. 

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become. 

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back. 

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips. 

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you. 

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him. 

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest. 

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.” 

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you. 

“I needed you and you knew and you came.” 

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.” 

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you. 

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you. 

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company. 

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone. 

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug. 

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown. 

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm. 

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.” 

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek. 

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch. 

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?” 

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?” 

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.   

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you. 

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly. 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” 

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a  victorian novel.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.” 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?” 

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia. 

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject. 

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room. 

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back. 

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.  

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch. 

“Vodka cranberry?” 

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.” 

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.” 

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out. 

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one. 

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.” 

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.” 

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world. 

“Me too.” 

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions. 

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?” 

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night. 

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself. 

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled. 

“That was a really good night.” You said. 

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.” 

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his. 

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of. 

“No, it really isn’t.” 

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished. 

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you. 

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you. 

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes. 

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down. 

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible. 

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you. 

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them. 

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.” 

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin. 

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.” 

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty. 

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son. 

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb. 

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart. 

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat. 

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time. 

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.” 

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend. 

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke. 

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth. 

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman. 

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?” 

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room. 

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent. 

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father. 

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he? 

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb. 

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities. 

“What?” 

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.” 

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.     

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you. 

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back. 

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.” 

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully. 

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips. 

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road. 

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest. 

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.” 

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before. 

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one. 

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours. 

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper. 

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had. 

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door. 

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin. 

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive. 

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop. 

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss. 

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.” 

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with. 

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.” 

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.” 

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you. 

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront. 

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.” 

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies. 

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily. 

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued. 

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.” 

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger. 

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak. 

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!” 

“Roman,” You sigh. 

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.” 

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you. 

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear. 

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well. 

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers. 

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.” 

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off. 

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,” 

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.” 

“Baby,” You choke out. 

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return. 

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states. 

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly. 

“Roman, just-” 

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?” 

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t. 

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact. 

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze. 

“I love the city…” 

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal. 

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands. 

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.” 

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears. 

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again. 

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements. 

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said: 

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

bisclavret - roman godfrey

roman godfrey x werewolf!reader

warnings: it’s weird that i don’t have to put anything here after writing a few things in every part of in too deep but this is PURE FLUFF

notes: this is probably ooc for roman but he has a soft side somewhere i just know it 🥺 also i came up with this premise ages ago and i’m kinda proud bc i think it’s one of my most original ideas so i really hope you guys like it

******************************

you slowly trotted back towards the rumancek residence, ducking past trees and over the creek. you spotted roman asleep in the hammock and gave him a little greeting lick on the hand. he stirred, glancing down to find the culprit. a grin made its way onto his face when he realized it was you, giving you a pat on the head.

“you freaked me out a bit, i thought you got lost or some shit.” he mumbled, looking up at the sky. it was nearing noon now, so it was a bit unusual for you not to have become human by now.

“shouldn’t you be - well, you by now?” he asked in confusion. you let out a low whimper, your ears folding back in fear. “are you scared?” you licked his palm again, answering his question.

“come on, let’s head inside. i’m sure you’ll be back in no time.” you huffed, following him inside.

peter was asleep on the sofa, dead to the world after his transformation took it out of him. you whined, resting your snout on his thigh, but he still stayed asleep.

“what the hell are you thinking bringing her in here like that?” lynda piped up from the kitchen. you sniffed your way towards her, following the scent of bacon on the griddle. you stood up on your hind legs, your front legs pawing at her for some food. she tossed one to you and you busied yourself by quietly gnawing on a strip of bacon while roman smiled down at you.

“look at her, does she look dangerous? she’s practically a puppy.” he smirked when he heard you growl at him. he gave you a patronizing scratch behind the ears but you couldn’t find it in you to complain. 

“well if you’re sure she’s so harmless, why don’t the two of you stay in peter’s room until she transforms?” she suggests. you headed down the tight hallway, hopping up onto peter’s cozy bed and waiting for roman to lie down.

  “am i even gonna fit on this?” you pawed at the sleeve of his jacket in a silent plea for him to lay next to you. “alright, alright, i know.” he stripped down to his wife-beater and boxers, finally flopping down beside you. 

roman leaned his upper half against the wall and ran his fingers along the soft fur of your ears. he pulled a cigarette out of his altoids case, whipping out a match with the full intent to smoke it. you growled in warning, but he didn’t seem to care. he made the motion to strike the match and you smacked the box out of his hands before he could do it. he reached down to pick it up and you barked at him as if to say ‘don’t even think about it’.

he raised his hands in innocence, putting the contents back into his case. “i’m just putting it away! relax you fucking narc.” he sighed, slipping the case back into his pocket. “i should’ve known you wouldn’t let me smoke. what do you expect me to do, just sit here and cuddle you when you’re not even you?”

you plunked your head right onto his lap and nuzzled against him, absolutely. “you’re so fucking irritating,” he huffed, but you knew he didn’t mean it. he just didn’t want to admit that rough and tough mr godfrey had a soft spot for a little puppy dog that also happened to be his girlfriend on a regular moon. 

after a few beats of silence, your fears had time to build up in your mind. what if you never turned back? what if you were stuck like this? would you have to leave your whole life behind? you let out a low whine, placing a paw on roman’s chest.

“hey, it’s gonna be okay.” he murmured, picking up on your cues. “you’ll be human again in no time. and if you’re not, i’ll just convince olivia to let us adopt you as the family dog.”

you bit at his hand, snarling at the ridiculous idea. he laughed and resumed stroking your soft coat. “you’re right, i’m much more of a cat person.”

you let out a low whine and crawled on top of him, curling into his warmth. all cozy and comfortable, you soon fell into a heavy sleep.

roman, who had also fallen asleep, let one eye peek open as he felt an odd shift in the weight on top of him. he was suddenly wide awake when he noticed the sight before him; while you were sleeping you had changed back, now naked and shivering from the lack of fur to keep you warm.

he shifted ever so slightly, gently maneuvering himself to grab his jacket. he moved slowly as not to wake you up, though at this point with how sound asleep you were, not even an earthquake would’ve woken you. he draped it over your shoulders and pulled the covers up over you.

roman pulled you closer, softly running his fingers up and down your spine. as he felt the softness of your skin underneath his fingertips, an immense feeling of relief washed over him. he was joking about the situation earlier, mostly to make you feel better, but also to ease his worries. truth be told, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself without you, but it seemed he didn’t have to worry about that any time soon. “there’s my girl.”

******************************

i really like this one a lot and i hope you guys do too 🥺

tags: @emmyrosee @jadelynlace @babyboy-cody @hecohansen31 @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @stevesharrlngtons

[sanguinesinners]

Continued from X @spells-n-bluebells

------

Despite moving around with his mother Lynda throughout the years, something the Rumancek's were used to doing, the Romani had grown fond of Hemlock Grove to start with - The peaceful yet eerie forest that his new home had been situated in had made the Wolf share a small smile to himself, Nicolae sure had picked a sweet spot to nestle and hide away alright...

The trailer has been somewhat dismal from abandonment, but Lynda was sure making it feel like home in no time. Peter had searched out the woods, scanning his surroundings to see if it was safe enough for his transformations, though one person in this damn town would be sure to try and inspect this place sooner or later, digging their nose in unwanted business.

------

School was alright, part of it. Rumancek settled in a few days before attending Hemlock High. The students were just nosy little pricks, for a new kid, it was expected.

There was one girl whom roamed the corridors that had seemed to belong in some fucking movie - The way she stomped and strolled about with her head down, Peter was complex, but intrigued...But he sure knew that she probably wanted to be left alone. Especially when he had seemed to of caught a large pair of green hues starting straight at him. The tall smartly dressed stranger seemed to of surrounded the giant girl, wrapping his arm around her and directed her throughout the corridors. Strange fucking town...

First class seemed a bore, as did the second period, But Peter sensed something was slightly different this time - Another set of eyes were on him once he shifted in his seat, throwing down his leather bag, a tedious expression plastered his features, but this time it wasn't out of judgement, he had hoped, it seemed to of been more of curiosity... Icy blues had now caught another. She was pretty.

He didn't know if this girl was new, or had been here for some time before he moved to Hemlock Grove - There was one way to find out, but Peter was too hesitant to even let a simple smile pull at his lips, instead he just flickered his hues over at her and then back onto the ramblings of the teacher within the classroom. Every now and then he would eventually glance over at the woman, sharing his own thoughts, and keeping thoughts to himself, and only after a few moments of silence did the corner of his thin lips twitch into a small smile. Fingers reaching to itch at his neck nervously.

Least she looked....welcoming.

[roleplayedits]

To do list

Sophia Lillis x Jodie Whittaker.

Sexy! Tom Holland x Jennifer Garner.

Andrew Garfield (as Peter Parker) x Lili Reinhart.

Barbara Palvin x Zayn Malik.

Tom Holland (Peter Parker) x Amber Heard (Mandy Lane).

Ella Purnell x Jeffrey Dean Morgan (father/daughter).

Amber Heard (Baja Miller) x Emma Stone (TASM series).

Sexy! Tom Holland (Peter Parker) x Scarlett Johansson.

Aron Piper x Madelyn Cline.

Lynda Carter (Wonder Woman) x Henry Cavill (Superman).

[elefantebu]

O longo trajeto das super-heroínas

Por Djenane Arraes

Estava a acompanhar o canal Quatro Coisas, sobre papo Marvel e DC basicamente. Ao comentar a incógnita da bilheteria que o filme da Viúva Negra (Marvel/Disney) pode gerar devido à pandemia e aos novos modos de consumo de cinema, ele comentou um pequeno erro ao dizer sobre a trajetória dos filmes de super-heroínas no cinema. O produtor de conteúdo disse que antes da Capitã Marvel (2019), não houve no cinema um filme protagonizado por uma super-heroína que fizesse sucesso. Bom, ele se esqueceu do primeiro filme da Mulher Maravilha, lançando em 2017, estrelado por Gal Gadot, fez 822 milhões de dólares de bilheteria, e atingiu a aprovação de 83% da audiência no site Rotten Tomatoes.

Esse equívoco é o que menos interessa. O legal é o gancho dado para o assunto. Por que os filmes anteriores protagonizados por super-heroínas não deram certo no cinema? São dois motivos basicamente: o primeiro foi porque os filmes em questão pré-Mulher Maravilha eram de péssima qualidade; o segundo motivo foi porque houve um longo percurso na história para que as mulheres conseguissem ganhar o protagonismo em produções midiáticas, até chegar no sucesso de Mulher Maravilha e na bilheteria bilionária de Capitã Marvel.

A Mulher Maravilha foi a personagem super-heroína pioneira dos quadrinhos. Ela foi criada em 1941, no período chamado Era de Ouro dos quadrinhos, pelo casal William e Elizabeth Marston e pelo desenhista Harry Peter. William Marston foi o inventor do polígrafo e tinha algumas peculiaridades. Ele tinha uma relação à três com a esposa e com a amante, Olive Byrne. A aparência da Mulher Maravilha foi inspirada em Olive, e a história em quadrinhos da personagem era altamente sexualizada, com referências à cultura BDSM, como podemos ver na ilustração a seguir:

Isso não durou muito. Logo, o quadrinho da Mulher Maravilha (escandaloso para a época) foi censurado, e a personagem se transformou na secretária da Liga da Justiça, secundária, obsoleta, sem poderes. A Mulher Maravilha, como conhecemos hoje, só foi ressurgir na década de 1970, graças em parte aos movimentos pelos direitos civis na década de 1960, que englobava também a segunda onda feminista. Aliás, foi apenas a partir anos 1970 que as personagens femininas nos quadrinhos de heróis ganharam relevância e protagonismo, mas não vou entrar em detalhes nessa parte.

Vamos pensar na parte televisiva e cinematográfica. Na televisão, a mulher como protagonista era sempre a dona de casa esperta, dedicada ao marido e aos filhos. Temos a protagonista de I Love Lucy, nos anos 1950, um marco televisivo estadunidense, e todos os seriados que vieram em seguida, incluindo os clássicos A Feiticeira e Jeannie é um Gênio, nos anos 1960. Esse foi o perfil midiático das mulheres até meados dos anos 1960. 

A segunda onda feminista nos anos 1960, como parte do movimento dos direitos civis, fez surgir a primeira super-heroína nos cinemas com o filme ítalo-americano Barbarela, de 1968, cuja personagem título foi interpretada por Jane Fonda. A personagem feminina era durona, porém extremamente erotizada. As heroínas, nesse sentido, podiam ser badass, contanto que fossem “gostosas” e com pouca roupa. O seriado da Mulher Maravilha (1975-199), com Lynda Carter, tinha essa mesma lógica, só que com a sexualidade mais contida, afinal, era para a TV. Pode-se ver o mesmo efeito nos quadrinhos, como o uniforme na personagem Tempestade, dos X-Men.

A construção de uma heroína forte, popular, feminista, e que não era usada para excitar os homens, foi acontecendo aos poucos. A primeira, nesse sentido, foi Ellen Ripley (Alien), de 1979 interpretada por Sigourney Weaver. Depois tivemos Sarah O’Connor (Exterminador do Futuro), de Linda Hamilton. Mas a personagem dela só virou mesmo protagonista no filme de 1991, e mesmo assim dividindo tela com o Arnold Schwarzenegger. Ah, você pode lembrar que Leia Organa, de Star Wars, veio antes. Mas não se pode esquecer que ela era uma personagem secundária em relação a Luke Skywalker. O que Sarah O’Connor e Ellen Ripley tinham em comum era a supressão da feminilidade, como se elas precisassem serem “machos” para serem críveis. Mas não podemos deixar de reconhecer que elas foram importantes para começar a educar o público para receber protagonistas femininas fortes e independentes.

Os anos 1990 foram um segundo divisor de águas, especialmente na televisão. Em vez de Superman solo, tivemos Lois e Clark, de 1993, em que a jornalista Lois Lane ganhou uma interpretação incrível de Teri Hatcher. Em vez de duplas masculinas de detetives que expeliam testosterona nos anos 1980, tivemos os agentes Mulder e Scully, de Arquivo X, em que Gillian Anderson conduziu a personagem Dana Scully de forma majestosa. E sim, tivemos também Xena – A Princesa Guerreira e Buffy – A Caça-Vampiros, em que víamos as personagens femininas, super-heroínas, estarem efetivamente à frente dos homens. Essas séries também foram pioneiras ao acenar para a comunidade LGBT+. Além disso, Buffy tornou-se uma das séries mais analisadas nos estudos feministas em ambiente acadêmico.

A televisão estadunidense mudou em relação ao protagonismo feminino após a década de 1990. Mais e mais produções tinham protagonistas femininas à frente das histórias de séries aclamadas por público e crítica: Gilmore Girls, Grey’s Anatomy, The Good Wife, The Good Fight, Moms, Jane The Virgin, OITNB, HTGAWM, Orphan Black, The Good Place, Glow, The Marvelous Mrs Maisel, Fleabag, Parks and Recreation, Homeland, etc, etc, etc. As mulheres nessas produções são diversas, mas com um ponto em comum: todas tomam as rédeas da própria vida.

E no campo das super-heroínas? Tivemos Jessica Jones, Supergirl, A Lenda de Korra, Wynonna Earp, Watchmen, Batwoman, fora os seriados de grupos de super-heróis que tem personagens mulheres e coprotagonistas que são incríveis, como Fugitivos, The Umbrella Academy, Titãs, Boys, Agents of Shield. Mais recentemente, a Disney Plus ganhou rios de novos assinantes com Wandavision, cuja a protagonista era a personagem de Elizabeth Olsen.

Essa tendência também se refletiu nos cinemas. Em 2019, 40% dos 100 filmes de maior bilheteria daquele ano tinham mulheres protagonistas. No ano anterior, foram 31%. Como vê, a incrível bilheteria e a aceitação conquistas pelos filmes de Mulher Maravilha e de Capitã Marvel são resultados de uma longa transformação social e de consumo, frutos a uma série de lutas e de processos. Nada aconteceu de repente, da noite para o dia.

[bonniebird]

Peter x Reader

Requested by Anon​

Masterpost

Support me on Ko-fi

Halloween Event

Peter watched you looking at the Halloween decorations that were hanging in one of the windows of a store you passed. You liked to get a few decorations that you kept out all year round. But neither of you really celebrated Halloween.

This year the new moon would be on the same day as Halloween and Destiny was already worried about it. Lynda had called and assured him he didn’t need to worry. But he did anyway. “We could have a little Halloween party!” You muttered on the way home as you continued to peak curiously into the store windows.

“You want to throw a Halloween party during a full moon?” He muttered, When you paused he grinned, watching you think for a moment then crinkle your nose in frustration.

“I forgot other people don’t know about werewolves.” You admitted. He laughed and shook his head as he smiled. Trust you to become so used to living with a werewolf that you would forget that it isn’t the norm.

“We could have our own Halloween?” Peter offered and you laughed a little.

“Ooh! We could get you one of those pumpkin-shaped rawhides!” You joked. Peter gave you a look and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, haha. It’s bad enough that one time the wolf ate out of the trash.” He muttered. You muttered a giggled apology and he smiled.

“I wish we could have halloween everyday.” You muttered as you passed by the last store which had some adorable wolf statues with red eyes, holding a little cauldron bowl. 

“Every day is Halloween, isn’t it? For some of us.” Peter said as he watched you peer in the window a moment longer than the others. Halloween passed quickly. You and Destiny took full advantage of the discounted candy. At one point Peter opened a cupboard looking for the coffee before he went to work, to find candy raining out of the cupboard and making a small pile by his feet. The night after Halloween he had flopped down in bed, exhausted from the full moon and thought for a long while. The next day he’d gone to the store and bought the ridiculous dog statue and moved as much of your candy as he could into the bowl in its mouth. He set it on the kitchen counter and frowned at it.

“Ugly looking mutt.” He muttered to himself. He was relieved however when you came home from work and were so delighted that you clapped your hands in glee.

“Oh look! He’s so cute.” You exclaimed. Peter frowned and then raised his eyebrows at you. “Of course not as cute as you! Thanks.” You said as you joined him on the sofa offering him several bits of candy from your pocket. 

[isslibrary]

New additions to the Indian Springs School Library May thru August 2020

Bibliography

Sorted by Call Number / Author.

152.4 O

Owens, Lama Rod, 1979- author. Love and rage : the path of liberation through anger. "Reconsidering the power of anger as a positive and necessary tool for achieving spiritual liberation and social change"--.

200.973 M

Manseau, Peter. One nation, under gods : a new American history. First edition.

304.8 K

Keneally, Thomas. The great shame : and the triumph of the Irish in the English-speaking world. 1st ed. New York : Nan A. Talese, 1999.

305.5 V

Vance, J. D., author. Hillbilly elegy : a memoir of a family and culture in crisis. First Harper paperback edition. "Hillbilly Elegy is a passionate and personal analysis of a culture in crisis--that of white working-class Americans. The decline of this group, a demographic of our country that has been slowly disintegrating over forty years, has been reported on with growing frequency and alarm, but has never before been written about as searingly from the inside. J. D. Vance tells the true story of what a social, regional, and class decline feels like when you were born with it hung around your neck. The Vance family story begins hopefully in postwar America. J. D.'s grandparents were "dirt poor and in love," and moved north from Kentucky's Appalachia region to Ohio in the hopes of escaping the dreadful poverty around them. They raised a middle-class family, and eventually their grandchild (the author) would graduate from Yale Law School, a conventional marker of their success in achieving generational upward mobility. But as the family saga of Hillbilly Elegy plays out, we learn that this is only the short, superficial version. Vance's grandparents, aunt, uncle, sister, and, most of all, his mother, struggled profoundly with the demands of their new middle-class life, and were never able to fully escape the legacy of abuse, alcoholism, poverty, and trauma so characteristic of their part of America. Vance piercingly shows how he himself still carries around the demons of their chaotic family history. A deeply moving memoir with its share of humor and vividly colorful figures, Hillbilly Elegy is the story of how upward mobility really feels. And it is an urgent and troubling meditation on the loss of the American dream for a large segment of this country." -- Publisher's description.

305.8 D

DiAngelo, Robin J., author. White fragility : why it's so hard for white people to talk about racism.

305.800973 D

Dyson, Michael Eric, author. Tears we cannot stop : a sermon to white America. First edition. I. Call to worship -- II. Hymns of praise -- III. Invocation -- IV. Scripture reading -- V. Sermon -- Repenting of whiteness -- Inventing whiteness -- The five stages of white grief -- The plague of white innocence -- Being Black in America -- Nigger -- Our own worst enemy? -- Coptopia -- VI. Benediction -- VII. Offering plate -- VIII. Prelude to service -- IX. Closing prayer. "In the wake of yet another set of police killings of black men, Michael Eric Dyson wrote a tell-it-straight, no holds barred piece for the NYT on Sunday July 7: Death in Black and White (It was updated within a day to acknowledge the killing of police officers in Dallas). The response has been overwhelming. Beyoncé and Isabel Wilkerson tweeted it, JJ Abrams, among many other prominent people, wrote him a long fan letter. The NYT closed the comments section after 2,500 responses, and Dyson has been on NPR, BBC, and CNN non-stop since then. Fifty years ago Malcolm X told a white woman who asked what she could do for the cause: Nothing. Dyson believes he was wrong. In Tears We Cannot Stop, he responds to that question. If we are to make real racial progress, we must face difficult truths, including being honest about how black grievance has been ignored, dismissed or discounted. As Dyson writes: At birth you are given a pair of binoculars that see black life from a distance, never with the texture of intimacy. Those binoculars are privilege; they are status, regardless of your class. In fact the greatest privilege that exists is for white folk to get stopped by a cop and not end up dead...The problem is you do not want to know anything different from what you think you know...You think we have been handed everything because we fought your selfish insistence that the world, all of it--all its resources, all its riches, all its bounty, all its grace--should be yours first and foremost, and if there's anything left, why then we can have some, but only if we ask politely and behave gratefully"--Provided by publisher.

305.800973 G

Begin again : James Baldwin's America and its urgent lessons for our own. New York, NY : Crown; an imprint of Random House, 2020.

305.800973 O

Oluo, Ijeoma, author. So you want to talk about race. First trade paperback edition.

320.9 B

Bass, Jack. The transformation of southern politics : social change and political consequence since 1945. New York : Basic Books, c1976.

323.1196 L

Lowery, Lynda Blackmon, 1950- author. Turning 15 on the road to freedom : my story of the 1965 Selma Voting Rights March. Growing up strong and determined -- In the movement -- Jailbirds -- In the sweatbox -- Bloody Sunday -- Headed for Montgomery -- Turning 15 -- Weary and wet -- Montgomery at last -- Why voting rights? -- Discussion guide. As the youngest marcher in the 1965 voting rights march from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama, Lynda Blackmon Lowery proved that young adults can be heroes. Jailed nine times before her fifteenth birthday, Lowery fought alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. for the rights of African-Americans. In this memoir, she shows today's young readers what it means to fight nonviolently (even when the police are using violence, as in the Bloody Sunday protest) and how it felt to be part of changing American history.

364.973 U.S.

U.S. national debate topic, 2020-2021.

420 M

McCrum, Robert. The story of English. 1st American ed. New York, N.Y., U.S.A. : Viking, 1986.

488.2421 A

Balme, M. G., author. Athenaze : an introduction to ancient Greek. Revised Third edition. Book I -- Book II.

510 C

Clegg, Brian. Are numbers real? : the uncanny relationship of mathematics and the physical world.

530.092 F

F©œlsing, Albrecht, 1940-. Albert Einstein : a biography. New York : Viking Penguin: a division of Penguin Books USA, Inc, 1997. Family -- School -- A "child prodigy" -- "Vagabond and loner" : student days in Zurich -- Looking for a job -- Expert III class -- "Herr Doktor Einstein" and the reality of atoms -- The "very revolutionary" light quanta -- Relative movement : "my life for seven years" -- The theory of relativity : "a modification of the theory of space and time" -- Acceptance, opposition, tributes -- Expert II class -- From "bad joke" to "Herr Professor" -- Professor in Zurich -- Full professor in Prague, but not for long -- Toward the general theory of relativity -- From Zurich to Berlin -- "In a madhouse" : a pacifist in Prussia -- "The greatest satisfaction of my life" : the completion of the general theory of relativity -- Wartime in Berlin -- Postwar chaos and revolution -- Confirmation and the deflection of light : "the suddenly famous Dr. Einstein" -- Relativity under the spotlight -- "Traveler in relativity" -- Jewry, Zionism, and a trip to America -- More hustle, long journeys, a lot of politics, and a little physics -- Einstein receives the Nobel Prize and in consequence becomes a Prussian -- "The marble smile of implacable nature" : the search for the unified field theory -- The problems of quantum theory -- Critique of quantum mechanics -- Politics, patents, sickness, and a "wonderful egg" -- Public and private affairs -- Farewell to Berlin -- Exile in liberation -- Princeton -- Physical reality and a paradox, relativity and unified theory -- War, a letter, and the bomb -- Between bomb and equations -- "An old debt. Albert Einstein's achievements are not just milestones in the history of science; decades ago they became an integral part of the twentieth-century world in which we live. Like no other modern physicist he altered and expanded our understanding of nature. Like few other scholars, he stood fully in the public eye. In a world changing with dramatic rapidity, he embodied the role of the scientist by personal example. Albrecht Folsing, relying on previously unknown sources. And letters, brings Einstein's "genius" into focus. Whereas former biographies, written in the tradition of the history of science, seem to describe a heroic Einstein who fell to earth from heaven, Folsing attempts to reconstruct Einstein's thought in the context of the state of research at the turn of the century. Thus, perhaps for the first time, Einstein's surroundings come to light.

530.092 G

Gleick, James. Isaac Newton. 1st ed. New York : Pantheon Books, c2003.

539.7 B

Lise Meitner : Discoverer of Nuclear Fission. Greensboro, NC : Morgan Reynolds, Inc, 2000. A biography of the Austrian scientist whose discoveries in nuclear physics played a major part in developing atomic energy.

598.07 T

Watching birds : reflections on the wing. United States : Ragged Mountain Press, 2000.

811 D

Dabydeen, David. Turner : new and selected poems. 2010. Leeds : Peepal Tree Press, Ltd, 12010.

811.54 J

Jones, Ashley M., 1990- author. Dark // thing. Slurret -- //Side A: 3rd grade birthday party -- //Side B: roebuck is the ghetto -- Harriette Winslow and Aunt Rachel clean -- Collard greens on prime time television -- My grandfather returns as oil -- Elegy for Willie Lee "Murr"Lipscomb -- Proof at the Red Sea -- Sunken place sestina -- Hair -- Antiquing -- The book of Tubman -- Harriet Tubman crosses the Mason Dixon for the first time -- Avian Abecedarian -- Harriet Tubman, beauty queen or ain't I a woman? -- Broken sonnet in which Harriet is the gun -- Recitation -- What flew out of Aunt Hester's scream -- Election year 2016: the motto -- Uncle Remus syrup commemorative lynching postcard #25 -- To the black man popping a wheelie on -- Interstate 59 North on 4th of July weekend -- Red dirt suite -- Love/luv/ -- Summerstina -- Ode to Dwayne Waye, or, I want to be Whitley -- Gilbert when I grow up -- I am not selected for jury duty the week bill -- Cosby's jury selection is underway -- A small, disturbing fact -- Water -- Today, I saw a black man open his arms to the wind -- Xylography -- I see a smear of animal on the road and mistake it for philando castile -- There is a beel at morehouse college -- Dark water -- Who will survive in America? or 2017: a horror film -- In-flight entertainment -- Imitation of life -- Broken sonnet for the decorative cotton for sale at Whole Foods -- Racists in space -- When you tell me I'd be prettier with straight hair -- (Black) hair -- Kindergarten villandelle -- Song of my muhammad -- Ode to Al Jolson -- Hoghead cheese haiku -- Aunties -- Thing of a marvelous thing / It's the same as having wings. A multi-faceted work that explores the darkness/otherness by which the world sees Black people. Ashley M. Jones stares directly into the face of the racism that allows people to be seen as dark things, as objects that can be killed/enslaved/oppressed/devalued. This work, full as it is of slashes of all kinds, ultimately separates darkness from thingness, affirming and celebrating humanity.

814.6 G

Gay, Roxane, author. Bad feminist : essays. First edition. A collection of essays spanning politics, criticism, and feminism from one of the most-watched young cultural observers of her generation, Roxane Gay. "Pink is my favorite color. I used to say my favorite color was black to be cool, but it is pink, all shades of pink. If I have an accessory, it is probably pink. I read Vogue, and I'm not doing it ironically, though it might seem that way. I once live-tweeted the September issue." In these funny and insightful essays, Roxane Gay takes us through the journey of her evolution as a woman (Sweet Valley High) of color (The Help) while also taking readers on a ride through culture of the last few years (Girls, Django in Chains) and commenting on the state of feminism today (abortion, Chris Brown). The portrait that emerges is not only one of an incredibly insightful woman continually growing to understand herself and our society, but also one of our culture. Bad Feminist is a sharp, funny, and spot-on look at the ways in which the culture we consume becomes who we are, and an inspiring call-to-arms of all the ways we still need to do better.

822.3 T

the tragical history of Doctor Faustus : The Elizabethan Play. Annotated & Edited by John D. Harris, 2018. Wabasha, MN : Hungry Point Press, 2018.

822.33 Shakespeare

Major literary characters : Hamlet. New York : Chelsea House Publishers, c. 1990.

822.8 W

Wilde, Oscar, 1854-1900. An ideal husband. Mineola, N.Y. : Dover Publications, 2000.

823.914

Vincenzi, Penny, author. Windfall. 1st U.S. ed. Sensible Cassia Fallon has been married to her doctor husband for seven years when her godmother leaves her a huge fortune. For the first time in her life, she is able to do exactly as she likes, and she starts to question her marriage, her past, her present, and her future. But where did her inheritance really come from and why? Too soon the windfall has become a corrupting force, one that Cassia cannot resist.

843.8 F

Flaubert, Gustave, 1821-1880. Three tales. Oxford ; : Oxford University Press, 2009. A simple heart -- The legend of Saint Julian the Hospitaller -- Herodias.

909 S

Sachs, Jeffrey, author. The ages of globalization : geography, technology, and institutions. "Today's most urgent problems are fundamentally global. They require nothing less than concerted, planetwide action if we are to secure a long-term future. But humanity's story has always been on a global scale, and this history deeply informs the present. In this book, Jeffrey D. Sachs, renowned economist and expert on sustainable development, turns to world history to shed light on how we can meet the challenges and opportunities of the twenty-first century. Sachs takes readers through a series of six distinct waves of technological and ideological change, starting with the very beginnings of our species and ending with reflections on present-day globalization. Along the way, he considers how the interplay of geography, technology, and institutions influenced the Neolithic revolution; the spread of land-based empires; the opening of sea routes from Europe to Asia and the Americas; and the industrial age. The dynamics of these past waves, Sachs contends, give us new perspective on the ongoing processes taking place in our own time-and how we should work to guide the change we need. In light of this new understanding of globalization, Sachs emphasizes the need for new methods of international governance and cooperation to achieve economic, social, and environmental objectives aligned with sustainable development. The Ages of Globalization is a vital book for all readers aiming to make sense of our rapidly changing world"--.

937.002 B

Bing, Stanley. Rome, inc. : the rise and fall of the first multinational corporation. 1st. ed. New York : Norton, c2006.

937.63 L

Laurence, Ray, 1963-. Ancient Rome as it was : exploring the city of Rome in AD 300.

940.3 B

Brooks, Max. The Harlem Hellfighters. First edition. "From bestselling author Max Brooks, the riveting story of the highly decorated, barrier-breaking, historic black regiment--the Harlem Hellfighters. The Harlem Hellfighters is a fictionalized account of the 369th Infantry Regiment--the first African American regiment mustered to fight in World War I. From the enlistment lines in Harlem to the training camp at Spartanburg, South Carolina, to the trenches in France, bestselling author Max Brooks tells the thrilling story of the heroic journey that these soldiers undertook for a chance to fight for America. Despite extraordinary struggles and discrimination, the 369th became one of the most successful--and least celebrated--regiments of the war. The Harlem Hellfighters, as their enemies named them, spent longer than any other American unit in combat and displayed extraordinary valor on the battlefield. Based on true events and featuring artwork from acclaimed illustrator Caanan White, these pages deliver an action-packed and powerful story of courage, honor, and heart"--. "This is a graphic novel about the first African-American regiment to fight in World War One"--.

940.53 B

Browning, Christopher R., author. Ordinary men : Reserve Police Battalion 101 and the final solution in Poland. Revised edition. One morning in Józefów -- The order police -- The order police and the Final solution : Russia 1941 -- The order police and the Final solution : deportation -- Reserve Police Battalion 101 -- Arrival in Poland -- Initiation to mass muder : the Józefów massacre -- Reflections on a massacre -- Łomazy : the descent of Second Company -- The August deportations to Treblinka -- Late-September shootings -- The deportations resume -- The strange health of Captain Hoffmann -- The "Jew hunt" -- The last massacres : "Harvest festival" -- Aftermath -- Germans, Poles, and Jews -- Ordinary men. In the early hours of July 13, 1942, the men of Reserve Police Battalion 101, a unit of the German Order Police, entered the Polish Village of Jozefow. They had arrived in Poland less than three weeks before, most of them recently drafted family men too old for combat service--workers, artisans, salesmen, and clerks. By nightfall, they had rounded up Jozefow's 1,800 Jews, selected several hundred men as "work Jews," and shot the rest--that is, some 1,500 women, children, and old people. Most of these overage, rear-echelon reserve policemen had grown to maturity in the port city of Hamburg in pre-Hitler Germany and were neither committed Nazis nor racial fanatics. Nevertheless, in the sixteen months from the Jozefow massacre to the brutal Erntefest ("harvest festival") slaughter of November 1943, these average men participated in the direct shooting deaths of at least 38,000 Jews and the deportation to Treblinka's gas chambers of 45,000 more--a total body count of 83,000 for a unit of less than 500 men. Drawing on postwar interrogations of 210 former members of the battalion, Christopher Browning lets them speak for themselves about their contribution to the Final Solution--what they did, what they thought, how they rationalized their behavior (one man would shoot only infants and children, to "release" them from their misery). In a sobering conclusion, Browning suggests that these good Germans were acting less out of deference to authority or fear of punishment than from motives as insidious as they are common: careerism and peer pressure. With its unflinching reconstruction of the battalion's murderous record and its painstaking attention to the social background and actions of individual men, this unique account offers some of the most powerful and disturbing evidence to date of the ordinary human capacity for extraordinary inhumanity.

940.54 S

Snyder, Timothy. Bloodlands : Europe between Hitler and Stalin. New York : Basic Books, c2010. Hitler and Stalin -- The Soviet famines -- Class terror -- National terror -- Molotov-Ribbentrop Europe -- The economics of apocalypse -- Final solution -- Holocaust and revenge -- The Nazi death factories -- Resistance and incineration -- Ethnic cleansings -- Stalinist antisemitism -- Humanity.

951.03 S

The search for modern China : a documentary collection. Third edition.

973 M

Meacham, Jon, author. The soul of America : the battle for our better angels. First edition. Introduction : To hope rather than to fear -- The confidence of the whole people : visions of the Presidency, the ideas of progress and prosperity, and "We, the people" -- The long shadow of Appomattox : the Lost Cause, the Ku Klux Klan, and Reconstruction -- With soul of flame and temper of steel : "the melting pot," TR and his "bully pulpit," and the Progressive promise -- A new and good thing in the world : the triumph of women's suffrage, the Red Scare, and a new Klan -- The crisis of the old order : the Great Depression, Huey Long, the New Deal, and America First -- Have you no sense of decency? : "making everyone middle class," the GI Bill, McCarthyism, and modern media -- What the hell is the presidency for? : "segregation forever," King's crusade, and LBJ in the crucible -- Conclusion : The first duty of an American citizen. "We have been here before. In this timely and revealing book, ... author Jon Meacham helps us understand the present moment in American politics and life by looking back at critical times in our history when hope overcame division and fear. With clarity and purpose, Meacham explores contentious periods and how presidents and citizens came together to defeat the forces of anger, intolerance, and extremism. Our current climate of partisan fury is not new, and in The Soul of America Meacham shows us how what Abraham Lincoln called 'the better angels of our nature' have repeatedly won the day. Painting surprising portraits of Lincoln and other presidents, including Ulysses S. Grant, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, Franklin D. Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, Dwight Eisenhower, and Lyndon B. Johnson, and illuminating the courage of such influential citizen activists as Martin Luther King, Jr., early suffragettes Alice Paul and Carrie Chapman Catt, civil rights pioneers Rosa Parks and John Lewis, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt, and Army-McCarthy hearings lawyer Joseph N. Welch, Meacham brings vividly to life turning points in American history. He writes about the Civil War, Reconstruction, and the birth of the Lost Cause; the backlash against immigrants in the First World War and the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in the 1920s; the fight for women's rights; the demagoguery of Huey Long and Father Coughlin and the isolationist work of America First in the years before World War II; the anti-Communist witch-hunts led by Senator Joseph McCarthy; and Lyndon Johnson's crusade against Jim Crow. Each of these dramatic hours in our national life has been shaped by the contest to lead the country to look forward rather than back, to assert hope over fear--a struggle that continues even now. While the American story has not always--or even often--been heroic, we have been sustained by a belief in progress even in the gloomiest of times. In this inspiring book, Meacham reassures us, "The good news is that we have come through such darkness before"--as, time and again, Lincoln's better angels have found a way to prevail."--Dust jacket.

976.1 S

Smith, Petric J., 1940-. Long time coming : an insider's story of the Birmingham church bombing that rocked the world. 1st ed. Birmingham, Ala. : Crane Hill, 1994.

F Bir

Birch, Anna, author. I kissed Alice. First. "Fan Girl meets Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda in this #ownvoices LGBTQ romance about two rivals who fall in love online"--.

F Bra

Bradbury, Ray, 1920-2012, author. Fahrenheit 451. Simon & Schuster trade paperback edition, 60th anniversary edition. Introduction / by Neil Gaiman -- Fahrenheit 451. The hearth and the salamander ; The sieve and the sand ; Burning bright. History, context, and criticism / edited by Jonathan R. Eller. pt. 1. The story of Fahrenheit 451. The story of Fahrenheit 451 / by Jonathan R. Eller ; From The day after tomorrow: why science fiction? (1953) / by Ray Bradbury ; Listening library audio introduction (1976) / by Ray Bradbury ; Investing dimes: Fahrenheit 451 (1982, 1989) / by Ray Bradbury ; Coda (1979) / by Ray Bradbury -- pt. 2. Other voices. The novel. From a letter to Stanley Kauffmann / by Nelson Algren ; Books of the times / by Orville Prescott ; From New wine, old bottles / by Gilbert Highet ; New novels / by Idris Parry ; New fiction / by Sir John Betjeman ; 1984 and all that / by Adrian Mitchell ; From New maps of hell / by Sir Kingsley Amis ; Introduction to Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451 / by Harold Bloom ; Fahrenheit 451 / by Margaret Atwood ; The motion picture. Shades of Orwell / by Arthur Knight ; From The journal of Fahrenheit 451 / by Fran©ʹois Truffaut. In a future totalitarian state where books are banned and destroyed by the government, Guy Montag, a fireman in charge of burning books, meets a revolutionary schoolteacher who dares to read and a girl who tells him of a past when people did not live in fear ... This sixtieth-anniversary edition commemorates Ray Bradbury's masterpiece with a new introduction by Neil Gaiman ; personal essays on the genesis of the novel by the author; a wealth of critical essays and reviews by Nelson Algren, Harold Bloom, Margaret Atwood, and others; rare manuscript pages and sketches from Ray Bradbury's personal archive; and much more ... --- From back cover.

F DeL

White noise. 2009; with an introduction by Richard Powers. New York, NY : Penguin Books, 2009.

F Gri

Grisham, John, author. Camino Island. First edition. Bruce Cable owns a popular bookstore in the sleepy resort town of Santa Rosa on Camino Island in Florida. He makes his real money, though, as a prominent dealer in rare books. Very few people know that he occasionally dabbles in the black market of stolen books and manuscripts. Mercer Mann is a young novelist with a severe case of writer's block who has recently been laid off from her teaching position. She is approached by an elegant, mysterious woman working for an even more mysterious company. A generous offer of money convinces Mercer to go undercover and infiltrate Bruce Cable's circle of literary friends, ideally getting close enough to him to learn his secrets. But eventually Mercer learns far too much.--Adapted from book jacket.

F Hem

Hemingway, Ernest, 1899-1961, author. The sun also rises. The Hemingway library edition. The novel -- Appendix I: Pamplona, July 1923 -- Appendix II: Early drafts -- Appendix III: The discarded first chapters -- Appendix IV: List of possible titles. A profile of the Lost Generation captures life among the expatriates on Paris' Left Bank during the 1920s, the brutality of bullfighting in Spain, and the moral and spiritual dissolution of a generation.

F Hur

Hurston, Zora Neale. Their eyes were watching god. 1st Harper Perennial Modern Classics ed. New York : Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2006. Foreword / Edwidge Danticat -- Their eyes were watching God -- Afterword / Henry Louis Gates, Jr. -- Selected bibliography -- Chronology. A novel about black Americans in Florida that centers on the life of Janie and her three marriages.

F Kid

Kidd, Sue Monk. The invention of wings. The story follows Hetty "Handful" Grimke, a Charleston slave, and Sarah, the daughter of the wealthy Grimke family. The novel begins on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership over Handful, who is to be her handmaid, and follows the next thirty-five years of their lives. Inspired in part by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke (a feminist, suffragist and, importantly, an abolitionist), the author allows herself to go beyond the record to flesh out the inner lives of all the characters, both real and imagined. -- Provided by publisher. "Hetty 'Handful' Grimke, an urban slave in early nineteenth century Charleston, yearns for life beyond the suffocating walls that enclose her within the wealthy Grimke household. The Grimke's daughter, Sarah, has known from an early age she is meant to do something large in the world, but she is hemmed in by the limits imposed on women. The novel is set in motion on Sarah's eleventh birthday, when she is given ownership of ten year old Handful, who is to be her handmaid. We follow their remarkable journeys over the next thirty five years, as both strive for a life of their own, dramatically shaping each other's destinies and forming a complex relationship marked by guilt, defiance, estrangement and the uneasy ways of love. As the stories build to a riveting climax, Handful will endure loss and sorrow, finding courage and a sense of self in the process. Sarah will experience crushed hopes, betrayal, unrequited love, and ostracism before leaving Charleston to find her place alongside her fearless younger sister, Angelina, as one of the early pioneers in the abolition and women's rights movements. Inspired by the historical figure of Sarah Grimke, the author goes beyond the record to flesh out the rich interior lives of all of her characters, both real and invented, including Handful's cunning mother, Charlotte, who courts danger in her search for something better. This novel looks with unswerving eyes at a devastating wound in American history, through women whose struggles for liberation, empowerment, and expression will leave no reader unmoved. -- Publisher's description.

F Nab

Vladimir Nabokov. Glory. United States : McGraw-Hill International, Inc, 1971.

F Orw

Orwell, George, 1903-1950. 1984. Signet Classics. New York, NY : Berkley: an imprint of Penguin Random House, LLC, c. 1977. "Eternal warfare is the price of bleak prosperity in this satire of totalitarian barbarism."--ARBookFind.

F Sal

Salinger, J. D. (Jerome David), 1919-2010. Nine stories. 1st Back Bay pbk. ed. Boston : Back Bay Books/Little, Brown, 2001, c1991. A perfect day for bananafish -- Uncle wiggily in Connecticut -- Just before the war with the Eskimos -- The laughing man -- Down at the dinghy -- For Esme--with love and squalor -- Pretty mouth and green my eyes -- De Daumier-Smith's blue period -- Teddy. Salinger's classic collection of short stories is now available in trade paperback.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. The hate u give. First edition. "Sixteen-year-old Starr Carter moves between two worlds: the poor neighborhood where she lives and the fancy suburban prep school she attends. The uneasy balance between these worlds is shattered when Starr witnesses the fatal shooting of her childhood best friend Khalil at the hands of a police officer. Khalil was unarmed. Soon afterward, his death is a national headline. Some are calling him a thug, maybe even a drug dealer and a gangbanger. Protesters are taking to the streets in Khalil's name. Some cops and the local drug lord try to intimidate Starr and her family. What everyone wants to know is: what really went down that night? And the only person alive who can answer that is Starr. But what Starr does or does not say could upend her community. It could also endanger her life"--.

F Tho

Thomas, Angie, author. On the come up. First edition. Sixteen-year-old Bri hopes to become a great rapper, and after her first song goes viral for all the wrong reasons, must decide whether to sell out or face eviction with her widowed mother.

F Tol

The Hobbit : or There and Back Again. First U.S. edition; Illus. by Jemima Catlin, 2013. New York, NY : HarperCollins Publishers, 2013.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Classics. Trans. by Geo. M. Towle. Lexington, KY, : October 29. 2019.

F Ver

Around the world in 80 days. Illustrated First Edition. Translated by Geo. M. Towle. Orinda, CA : SeaWolf Press, 2018.

F. Gri

Belfry Holdings, Inc. (Charlottesville, Virginia), author. Camino winds : a novel. Hardcover. "#1 New York Times bestselling author John Grisham returns to Camino Island in this irresistible page-turner that's as refreshing as an island breeze. In Camino Winds, mystery and intrigue once again catch up with novelist Mercer Mann, proving that the suspense never rests-even in paradise"--.

SC A

Alomar, Osama, 1968- author, translator. The teeth of the comb & other stories.

SC Mac

Machado, Carmen Maria, author. Her body and other parties : stories. Contains short stories about the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. "In Her Body and Other Parties, Carmen Maria Machado blithely demolishes the arbitrary borders between psychological realism and science fiction, comedy and horror, fantasy and fabulism. While her work has earned her comparisons to Karen Russell and Kelly Link, she has a voice that is all her own. In this electric and provocative debut, Machado bends genre to shape startling narratives that map the realities of women's lives and the violence visited upon their bodies. A wife refuses her husband's entreaties to remove the green ribbon from around her neck. A woman recounts her sexual encounters as a plague slowly consumes humanity. A salesclerk in a mall makes a horrifying discovery within the seams of the store's prom dresses. One woman's surgery-induced weight loss results in an unwanted houseguest. And in the bravura novella 'Especially Heinous,' Machado reimagines every episode of Law & Order: Special Victims Unit, a show we naïvely assumed had shown it all, generating a phantasmagoric police procedural full of doppelgängers, ghosts, and girls with bells for eyes. Earthy and otherworldly, antic and sexy, queer and caustic, comic and deadly serious, Her Body and Other Parties swings from horrific violence to the most exquisite sentiment. In their explosive originality, these stories enlarge the possibilities of contemporary fiction." -- Publisher's description.