Bill Skarsgård • Roman Godfrey Imagines

You Have A Really Nice Ass• Roman

Fluff, slight angst, crack, slight NSFW 😚

"You're pissed off? About what?"

You roll your eyes at the refusal in Roman's tone, your skin prickling with the heat of anger, steam practically billowing from your ears at this point.

"About what?! Really?!"

You spin around as fast as he walks towards you, your chin high in the air as you strain to look up at him from this angle.

Despite the very real and very heated argument you two are having right now, Roman's chest tightens with adoration for how unafraid you are.

No ones ever been as fearless as you when it comes to him. However, this attitude that you've been sporting all night is well on its way to pissing him off.

"Well you leave it to me to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you instead of telling me like a capable fucking adult."

He doesn't yell, this time, and your fists clench together with the urge to swing. Not at him, maybe at a wall or something. This week has been bad.

You huff as you realize that he's pulling the holier than thou card, acting as if you are the one who hasn't communicated your feelings properly.

Which is absolutely one hundred percent true, but you won't admit it. Not now. You're still angry and have things to say.

"Maybe I should talk to the girl who was up your ass all night, perhaps she'll know the best means of communicating with you."

There it is.

Now now, you're not the jealous type. Well, not technically.

Sure, you've got insecurities. Everyone does. Roman, the love of your life, does. But the reason you two have what you have is because both of you have accepted the other in ways no one else can.

You've both accepted the good, the bad, the awful, the monstrous.

But that doesn't mean that seeing someone eye fuck your boyfriend right in front of you, doesn't piss you off.

"So that's what this is about?"

He laughs. Your eye twitches.

"Yes, Roman, thats what this is about! You did nothing while she rubbed up on your arm and told you how handsome you look."

To be fair, you're not good at impressions, but you're pretty sure you've got that chicks nasal disorder down PAT.

"For fucks sake," he mutters to himself, pinching the bride of his nose between his thumb and forefinger as you stomp upstairs.

Your heels are too loud and he not so subtly watches your hips swing as you walk, trying to get a peak up under your skirt the higher up you go.

Some things never change.

He sighs as he saunters his way to the staircase, trudging up the incline with a prick in his chest. He doesn't like fighting with you, mostly because you're usually right and he can't stay mad even if he wants to.

He hears a faucet start, water spraying onto the bottom of a tiled surface.

"I swear to fuck if you shower without me!"

That's you guys' thing, and he'll be damned if the shower head gets to see you naked and he doesn't.

So, he practically stomps to the bathroom like a raging, overgrown toddler, opening the door only to see your shirt briefly covering your face before it's slung to the floor.