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After Roman called to say he might have to add two more days to his trip, you took one of his crisp white shirts from the closet and cried into it for longer than you cared to admit.
In a way, it had been easier having the house to yourself for the week. You didn’t have to put up with his short temper, or his insistence on Patrick Bateman levels of order and routine. You could let the dishes build up in the sink, or lay on the couch in your pajamas all day if you felt like it without him saying it was barbaric of you not to get dressed by ten o’clock. You had never met the woman, but in those moments, you were certain you saw his late mother in him. That was a private thought, one which you wouldn’t dare say to his face.
You also found that you missed his hard footsteps in the hall, the way he sank into the bed after you’d already gone to sleep and pulled you to him, inhaling the scent of your hair, the scent of your warm skin stretched over arteries in your neck, and held you so tightly you felt like you had finally found the person who would never let you go.
You missed that embrace now, and truth be told, you had barely slept all week, alone in that cold house. That night, you slept in his shirt. It smelled like sandalwood and leather with a hint of cigar smoke and something metallic. You had strange dreams of fruit rotting on the vine. When you woke up, you saw a tall dark figure looming over you, and your veins iced over with fear before you realized it was Roman.
He had dark circles under his eyes, but his suit was still impeccable, and his hair fell into his face in just the right way. He furrowed his brows as he stared down at the wrinkled shirt, a patch of tea staining the sleeves where you had spilled it on yourself last night.
“Is that my shirt?” he finally asked.
You were afraid to answer—not because you were afraid of him, but because this was not how you had imagined being reunited. You hadn’t washed your hair in two days and your mascara was still smudged in the corners of your eyes. Not to mention you had planned to clean tomorrow. The sheets hadn’t been changed since he left, the pot of spaghetti from last night still sat on the stove downstairs, and you were pretty sure you had spilled Cabernet on the carpet in the living room.
“I—” you stammered. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Roman shrugged off his suit jacket and threw it on the floor before stretching out across the bed and burying his face in your neck.
“Me neither,” he said, kicking his shoes off. He breathed in deeply as you tousled his hair and ran your hands over his shoulders, the taut muscles slowly easing beneath your touch. “You’re never leaving my side again,” he grumbled.
You kissed the top of his head and laughed softly. “I missed you too.”
A/N: I would like to thank everyone who are reading this. I’m not sure I am really back in tracks with this story since my Word pissed me off and didn’t save a lot of pages I wrote a few weeks back. But let’s hope that bitch will listen now. Sorry for typos, obviously even turned off automatic correction doesn’t mean shit to Word. Leave some comments, if you like. I’ll be glad.
Warning: Adult themes & language, murder
Other tags: Magic, friends to lovers, slow build, nightmares, witches, upirs, swearing
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 10
Masterlist
Chapter 11 - You’re an idiot
After one class at school I could tell it would be boring day as fuck. It was shitty morning, followed by even shittier class in which my thoughts were similar to someone who's planning some kind of murder. What the fuck was he thinking? Was he an idiot or something? Obviously he was, because what kind of person asked how was it for me to watch my parents die? Retard. And what did he expect for answer? Yeah, man! It was terrific! You should try it sometime with your parents, you'll be thrilled.
I was sitting by my desk, looking out of window and waiting for my biology class to start. Some places in the classroom were still empty but I didn't pay attention. I was thinking about how one could brutally but efficiently kill Roman fucking Godfrey. My grip around my pencil was deadly and my tapping with the pencil's point against pages of my notebook was loud.
"Tell me how it felt to see your parents die."
"Spoiled. Rich. Little. Fucker." I furiously muttered under my nose.
"Aren't you a ray of sunshine today?" Peter mocked me and sat down beside me. I didn't even look at him, just tried to calm myself but then I heard the giggle our class dumb bitch let out only when certainsomeone was near. Just to make myself sure I looked around. Yep, there he was. My pencil broke in two.
"Whoah, someone is clearly pissed. What the hell happened?" Peter asked as I bend down to pick what remained of my pencil.
"Nothing. Your retarted friend tried to ask me- No, he did ask me, how it felt to see my parents die. And then he was surprised I didn't answer. What did he expect? Five star review with recommendation?" I wanted to scream at him but I couldn't and knew Peter wasn't in fault here. He didn't do nothing wrong.
"He what?" O-okay, that was so not quiet. Everyone turned their heads in our way and I rolled my eyes.
"Couldn't you be even more louder? I think the principal didn't hear you quite well."
"Idiot, idiot, idiot. He's just an idiot," Peter mumbled to himself as his hand ran through his hair. Then he stood up and made his way to Roman's seat, whispered something to his ear and both of them disappeared. Huh.Weirdos.
×
"It's official. You're an idiot," Peter started even before he could close the door of empty classroom.
Roman rolled his eyes and openedone of many windows to lit up a cigarette. "Why? Because I asked her what basically everyone would ask her if they would know about what happened to her? I don't think so."
"You don's ask people this kind of questions. You ask them how are they, if they slept good or something but not this, Roman. It's like you're from Ice Age. No filter and no empathy." Peter sighed and shook his head.
"It didn't even worked, Peter. If it worked, she wouldn't remember a thing. I was just curious."
"You... You tried your thing on her, right?" Peter was really amazed. Not only Roman was sometimes dumb as shit but he couldn't tell Abigail was a witch and that was the reason his mesmerizing didn't work out.
"Yeah. It never happened before to me. How's possible it didn't work?"
"Maybe because she isn't into you, is stubborn as fuck and isn't trying to get into your pants? Just guessing," Peter offered his opinion and Roman made a face. Again.
"You just made that up, right?"
"Hey, listen, I don't know but maybe it is because she is stubborn. Look at every other girl in this school or town. They want you and they are easily influenced. This one? Right now she hates your guts."
"Yeah, maybe you're right."
×
In my last class of the day I said to our teacher I'm not feeling well and if I may go to the Girls. And because of this class was our teacher a man, he just waved it away and let me go. And that's how I, ladies and gentlemen, ended up about an hour earlier in my room. I just went home. And theoretically I didn't lie. I was pissed at Roman and tried to ignore him all day but wasn't sure if he didn't prepare another stunt after school like yesterday. So I went home.
I sat on my bed cross-legged, my notebook in front of me, earphones plugged in and I tried to relax. I think I did deserve it. Just a little bit of time for myself. A moment where I could forget my parents were dead, that I was a witch.
Knock. Knock.
It was loud knocking. Not my aunt Erika's knocking. Maybe Peter? I huffed and went to get the door.
As soon as I opened it, I immediately regretted it and tried to close it. A fancy leather shoe stopped me from that. "I just want to apologize."
"You just did. Now get out."
"Come on, just let me in, hear me out."
"Will you then piss off?" Probably not the answer he wanted but I let him in anyway and sat on my bed again, before he could say a thing. Now there was definitely awful silence between us. I was looking at him, he was looking at me and neither of us said a thing.
"I think you wanted to apologize. Is this some kind of special silent treatment?" To be honest he did look a bit nervous.
"Let's be clear, I don't know how to do this properly, let alone right. I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have asked that question. I was just curious. I've never met another person who lost parents."
"What do you mean by another person?"
"When I was a child I found my father dead. He blew his brain out."
"Okay, I did not see that coming," I said after few awkward minutes of silence but the anger was still inside. "Still, it's no excuse to ask how it felt for me. You just don't go and ask people this. It makes you look like Neanderthal man."
Roman raised his hands up in defense and nodded. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Can we start again? I promise I won't tell anyone and if someone will have stupid talks how you are my new sex toy or something I will put end to it. Do we have a deal?" He said, surprisingly calm and serious with outstretched hand.
There was this tingle in the back of my neck when I said, "What worse could happen. Fine. But I will deal with gossipers myself. And I try not to comment your sex life. Deal?" I outstretched my own arm and we shook on it while he accepted those terms.
"You, trying not to comment something? Will we have something to talk about at all?" Roman asked with pretended worry in his voice.Little fucker.
×
Olivia Godfrey was old. Very old, came from old blood, bloody money and combination of these two gave disgustingly powerful lineage which was surviving through centuries with no problems.
Head of Godfrey family was spoiled like a brat and even more manipulative bitch. Let's not forget she was also rich and influential, at least for the rest of her subordinates. Many feared her and only people on high positions were able to talk to her. And still it didn't matter if you were head of some department, she would be still looking at you like driver looks at smashed bug on his windshield. Disgusted and unworthy of her attention. There weren't many things that could actually move something inside her - not people, not their opinions and certainly not their actions.
There also wasn't a lot of things that made her afraid. She was surrounding herself with expensive and beautiful stuff using everything she could to distract and cloak herself from reality. Because reality could be boring and somehow a bit dull for Olivia.
But there, sitting in her workroom, fingers gripping edge of desk so hard it hurt, the reality for Olivia was dreadful. Yes, she was old but not that old to live through stories her father told her about. About powerful creature who made their lineage wealthy and... well, almost immortal. How was the creature deceived and banished back to his world.
And now it was back. She knew it, she could feel it inside of her. Like some connection.
Once servant, always servant. I think I will find use for you, Olivia Luspec.
She let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding. So there it was. The old, ancient, terrifying evil. Interesting how in one moment you are on top of the game and one second later you're trying just to be alive. Of course there wasn't any visible threat but-
"It's nice to see I still have some effect on others after so many centuries."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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13. Nickname headcanonhe calls charlie shaynkeit sometimes. mostly in bed. charlie doesn’t have a specific nickname for him aside from “little meyer/little addin’ machine” etc. though in modern au the first time charlie absentmindedly calls him “babe” they both freeze and go red. which definitely doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen again.