Roman Godfrey Imagines

Very Bad

Roman glowered after you as you sighed and stormed out of the mansion. He couldn't comprehend why you were walking out on him, Roman Godfrey, of all people. Of all the things you had to walk in on him doing was drinking blood.

With a defeated sigh he grabbed at the phone that lay on the coffee table in front of him and dialled Pryce's private number and lent back in the sofa.

"Pryce... do you still have the machine?" Roman grumbled.

"Yes but you are aware that it may not work?" Pryce sighed nervously.

"I really don't care." Roman snapped back. "I'll be there in half an hour."

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Roman's heart was pounding as he was strapped down, telling himself over and over that there was no way you'd dare leave him for good if your least favourite flaw was gone for good.

"This will hurt a lot." Pryce told him.

"I don't care just get it over with." Roman hissed.

Roman zoned out after a while, Pryce hadn't been kidding about the pain, and he attempted to relax so he couldn't feel it but it did nothing to relieve his pain. His head was spinning too much to notice anything other than the violent buzzing of the machine to notice Pryce had pulled away.

"Pryce you can't..." Your voice drifted through his consciousness and he wandered if he'd actually flipped and lost his mind.

"We're half way through the procedure." Pryce muttered.

As if to prove Pryce's point the machine pumped fresh blood into Roman and the Upir could feel the flood of ease was over him as if he'd drunk enough blood to last him weeks. The machine suddenly stopped whirring and your face appeared above him.

"Roman?" You whispered.

"Pryce killed me didn't he?" Roman slurred.

You smiled and shook your head, a hand gently stroking down the side of his neck as you waited for Roman's restraints to be undone.

"You're an idiot." You said fondly and kissed his cheek.

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Roman was sat alone in the study, a whisky tumbler rolling in his hands as he stared at the floor, his mind a blur as he tried to understand why you'd stopped him. He didn't look at you when you sat down at the opposite end of the sofa.

"Why'd you stop it?" Roman asked eventually.

"I don't know." You mumbled.

"I could have been..." Roman started as he looked at you.

"Normal?" You hummed. "A good Godfrey man... Roman even if you didn't drink blood you'd still have the drugs, hookers, the bad temper and the god complex."

"Why are you with me?" He chuckled, watching as you crawled across the sofa and knelt next to him while you stroked a hand through his hair.

"Maybe I'm a hopeless girl thinking she can change you into a good boy." You teased. "Or maybe I just like it that you're very bad."