#and it was because he spent the night with camilla
Text
What a February
Well...what a great couple of days to be stuck in the office, amiright? (I work mostly from home but on occasion I have to go into the office and of course some nice little royal bombs get dropped when I can't be here.)
I've gotten some anons about what's happened but I won't be posting them (sorry, everyone!). Because so much has happened, I think it would just be confusing to rehash some of it, and other asks were also sent to Empress and Sassy (nothing wrong with that! They were doing answers in real-time and they've said pretty much the same things I'd have said).
So to recap recent events:
2/5/24: Buckingham Palace announced King Charles has cancer. Fortuntely it was caught early, Charles is doing/feeling well, he's beginning treatment immediately.
2/6/24: Harry catches a last-minute flight to London. Clarence House puts out a story "business as usual, nothing to worry about, King can still work and he is still working" (i.e., Harry go home).
2/7/24: Harry arrives in London. He goes directly to Charles, who is delaying travel to Sandringham to see him. Harry's PR says they met for an hour, Meghan wanted to say hello/wish him well via Facetime but Charles declined, and Harry went to BP for the evening. The Daily Mail tracked the comings and goings from Clarence House and realized the meeting lasted less than 15 minutes, from the time of Harry's convoy entering the grounds to Charles's helicopter leaving. It is further revealed that Harry spent the night in a hotel, William didn't return Harry's calls, Harry didn't want Camilla involved in the meeting, and none of Harry's "friends" offered to host him for the night. Also, William makes his first public engagements since mid-January when Kate's treatment began; Tom Cruise is there.
2/8/24: Harry flies home. He's papped at Heathrow entering the VVIP suite (as one does). Wait, Harry's not at home! He's in Las Vegas for the Super Bowl (or the Superb Owl) and makes a surprise appearance to present the Walter Payton NFL Man of the Year award. Sussex PR immediately begins telling everyone that Harry and Meghan will be attending the Super Bowl.
2/9/24: Lambrook School begins half-term break and the Wales family travels to Anmer Hall/Sandringham estate. Harry's appearance in Vegas gets picked up by the media.
2/10/24: Meghan's PR starts walking back their own rumors that they'll be in Vegas for the Super Bowl, citing the need to prepare for their Canada IG trip.
2/11/24: Super Bowl Sunday. No Harry and Meghan to be seen.
2/12/24: Meghan's PR reveals she spent the weekend cooking with Afghan immigrants in an Archewell initiative.
2/13/24: Harry and Meghan launch their newest rebranding effort with their new Sussex website with Meghan's coat of arms (rather than their joint coat of arms). Meghan announces a new podcast deal with someone no one has really heard of.
2/14/24: Harry and Meghan arrive in Vancouver for the "one year to 2025 Invictus Games." Meghan coordinates a photoshoot with outdoor activities; merches two outfits; and virtue-signals their "we're still royal" demands with Kate cosplay, a coat called Kensington, and a 'you can call us Sir/Ma'am' exchange caught on camera. In the evening they're papped going to a super-romantic Valentine's Day dinner date.
2/15/24: Day 2 of the Vancouver IG kickoff visit. They visit wheelchair basketball. Meghan gives her signature full-body contact-hugs. Sussex PR announce that the family has changed their surname to Sussex (from Mountbatten-Windsor) and this is the first time all family members have the same surname. Meghan also claps back at mounting criticism by saying "We will not be broken."
2/16/24: Day 3 of the Vancouver IG kickoff visit. Harry gives an interview to GMA's Will Reeve (son of the late Superman actor Christopher Reeve and his wife, Dana) in which he blabs about Charles's cancer and reiterates how much he loves his family, hinting that he's available to come back. Sussex PR also drops an article in the afternoon (with BP collaboration) announcing Harry and Meghan's plan to return with half in/half out; this is very clearly one of Charles's trial balloons from Clarence House.
(Today) 2/17/24: Backlash to the trial balloon is swift, so Clarence House backtracks immediately and does damage control. Kensington Palace announces that William will attend the 2024 BAFTAs tomorrow. Half-term break for Lambrook School ends on February 19th so the Waleses are traveling back to London/Windsor this weekend. And Hollywood has fought back by leaking about their Netflix deal, which contradicts a ton of Meghan's PR from 2020/2021.
Since some of you have asked for my thoughts, here you go. I am warning you now it's probably going to be my usual essay.
On the new website:
The new Sussex website is a problem. It conveys a legitimacy to the public that Harry and Meghan do not have, which The Queen and Edward Young made very sure was publicly known back in 2020. In particular, it's the use of Meghan's coat of arms, which signals palace support or endorsement. IMO, Buckingham needs to force them to take the coat of arms down.
I suspect they are using Meghan's coat of arms because a) Meghan believes it was personally awarded to her and is hers to use as she wants, whereas Harry's coat of arms probably comes with strings from the BRF and b) it's CYA if ever there's a divorce - if you look at it from a business standpoint, this is nothing more than Meghan branding the company with her name so she can prove ownership when they're splitting assets in a divorce, increasing her chances of getting the "company."
What about Archewell?
They're probably phasing out Archewell. It doesn't have the same visual connection to Harry and Meghan that Sussex does. I think they struggled so much with Archewell and were never able to get it off the ground in terms of a brand or an identity, in part due to the COVID-era launch. Sussex is a much stronger association for them and connects them more tightly to the royal identity. Archewell will probably be either their nonprofit arm or their content creator arm but it won't be as important going forward as it's been in the past.
Frankly, I would be surprised if Archewell v Sussex branding didn't come up in the brand analysis that WME did when Meghan first signed with them. We know they did a brand analysis because there was a ton of PR in August 2023 about Harry and Meghan becoming separate brands, which didn't work at all and they were back together as a "Sussex" brand in September 2023 with Dusseldorf Invictus Games. Seeing the success of "Team Sussex" in Dusseldorf definitely informed the website and the rebranding attempt.
What about the timing of all this?
They're taking advantage of the quietness from the royal family. They do this every year like clockwork when 1) the BRF is on summer holidays (July through early September) and 2) the BRF is on winter holidays (late December through early February). What is unusual about this timing is that it's taking place in mid-February and possibly well into March, which is a clear signal that it's the Sussexes taking advantage of Kate's absence to draw attention to themselves because Kate isn't there to steal their headlines.
And that it was a whole week of Sussex PR is not unusual either. It's their usual pattern when they have something big they want to promote and dominate the news with. It's cyclical at this point: first is a reminder of their royal status (Harry flying to Charles's bedside), then it's a reminder of their celebrity status (the Super Bowl appearance), then it's a big announcement (Sussex website), culminating in a set of public engagements/appearances (Invictus Games) with media attention. And to keep the attention coming, they drop breadcrumbs about the royal family to look like they're still "in," which buys them a few extra days of coverage because Charles falls for the bait every time.
The more interesting bit of timing in all of this is the Netflix article. Netflix wouldn't randomly give comments like this, so something must have happened behind the scenes for them to be pushed to this particular breaking point. I feel like perhaps the Sussexes may be trying to renegotiate their deals - maybe they asked for more money or maybe Meghan is trying to get more out of this 'Meet Me at the Lake' production than was agreed - and this is Netflix making it clear that it's over and done. I also have a niggling feeling that it might be connected to the upcoming film awards (BAFTA Film Awards tomorrow, Oscars on March 10th) - maybe they're trying to score tickets to parties using Netflix's name?
Are they really going to come back? Will Charles let them work again?
Analytically, the evidence points to 'no.' The trial balloon failed quickly faster than any other I've seen recently, which is and isn't surprising. It's surprising how quickly Charles backtracked since it had his implicit endorsement. It's not surprising that Charles pulled it down - he's as thin-skinned as Harry and Meghan both are when it comes to criticism.
But it's also more than just the trial balloon. It's everything else.
Charles wants them back on the family side. That's always been pretty clear. I think he waffles on having them back on the "work" side: on the one hand, the BRF needs the help since 10 of The Queen's 14 working royals are elderly (all 5 Kents, the 2 Gloucesters, Charles and Camilla, and Anne) and 2 of the remaining 4 are dealing with a signficant health issue and are temporarily out of commission - in the business sense, this is unsustainable and untenable succession planning. But on the other hand, no one wants Harry and Meghan back, for a litany of reasons including how much shit they've talked about the family (collectively and individually), the petty PR games they play for attention, and the Sussexes' general toxicity. And by 'no one,' I mean family members, courtiers/staff, others in the aristocracy (not getting invites to the Grosvenor wedding is a huge reflection of what "their kind" thinks of teh Sussexes), and the at-large general public.
Charles probably has entertained the idea of half in/half out now that he's in charge and the Sussexes are now lovebombing him (vs in 2020 when they were lovebombing The Queen) but his biggest opposition is public support - it took Charles 30 years and 4 significant deaths (Diana, Queen Mother, Philip, and her own forthcoming death) to get The Queen's support for Camilla to become 'Queen Camilla and, in turn, the public's support or the public's indifference.
Charles doesn't have that kind of time to get the institutional and public support to bring Harry back. He's got 10 years at best, which is now handicapped by a cancer diagnosis.
Beyond that, he doesn't even have Harry and Meghan's cooperation the same way he had Camilla's cooperation. Camilla cooperated with a 10-year wait to be liked well enough that no one would object to her marrying Charles. Camilla then cooperated with a further 17-year wait to be liked well enough that the institution would support her becoming Queen.
Can Harry and Meghan wait that long? No. They can't. They couldn't wait an extra year to get engaged. They couldn't wait to have their first child. They couldn't wait out the criticism from Fall 2018. They couldn't wait out the criticism from Summer 2019. Harry couldn't wait for the phone-hacking settlement. When they want something, they want it now. They buy completed projects and slap their branding on it vs. developing their own programs.
Can Harry and Meghan cooperate with anyone? No. They can't. They couldn't cooperate with William and Kate on the Royal Foundation. They couldn't cooperate with the courtiers for Archie's birth. They couldn't cooperate with the family on Megxit. They couldn't cooperate with the rota for tour coverage. They need to be totally and fully in control of absolutely everything. Their idea of cooperation is 'I tell you what to do, you do it.'
And because they're too impatient and because they refuse to cooperate, there's no way they'll support a 10-years long PR drive for Charles to rehabilitate their public image and get William's support. Heck, they can't even last a 3-month media rebrand. Charles knows that, which I suspect is why he may be trying to fast-track it but 1) when has fast-tracking something ever gone well for the BRF and 2) William is the linchpin holding it all together. Charles can't do anything without William's support. Yes, William is that powerful now - the public does pay attention to what he and Kate signal and the public would support them more than they would support Charles. Charles can't risk losing William's favor any more than he already has.
The third reason stopping Charles from taking Harry and Meghan back as working royals is Camilla and that Harry doesn't want her involved. He admitted it last week when he didn't contradict her leak about it. IMO, this reveals Harry's hand: he wants to position himself (or Meghan and himself) as Camilla's alternate, the way Charles often stood in as Philip's alternate. They want Camilla to retire so they can take her place in prestige, wealth, and attention. It's the only way they can "be better" than William and Kate, and they probably think it's how they can get "more" in the inheritance than William. Unfortunately for them, Camilla is Charles's line in the sand so no way will Charles let that happen after he spent 30 years getting Camilla to be able to sit next to him, and on top of all that, Camilla herself didn't wait 30 years to be Queen just for a pair of narcisstic glassbowl shitheads to usurp her at the last second.
That's the "working royal" side of it.
When you look at the "family" side of it, we know that Charles is more accepting of allowing the Sussexes back as family members, albeit with two strict rules:
No Meghan
No royal work
We know these are Charles's rules because it's already been communicated to us, most especially in the events around the Queen's funeral and his own coronation.
We also know these are Charles's' terms because Harry is publicly fighting against them this week, which suggests that these may have been reiterated (or relitgated, perhaps) during the <15-minute visit on February 7th.
"We all finally have the same surname for the first time as a family" and "maybe I'll become an American' is Harry's way of telling Charles and the courtiers that all four of them are a package deal and they all move together (like Archie's salt and pepper shakers). Meaning that if Charles wants Harry back, Charles must also take Meghan, Archie, and Lili too.
The Vancouver trip being such a royal rip-off is Harry's way of demanding royal work. His position is that he and Meghan must have the exact same lifestyle now that they had back in 2018: a palace residence, glamorous patronages, military honors, gushy praising media coverage, carriage processions, and equal precedence to the entire Wales family.
All this to illustrate that the dividing line is over the work aspect.
On one side is everyone saying "no, they can't work, they're just family." On the other side is Harry and Meghan saying "we're not just family, we're also working royals." And Charles is there smack in the middle saying "don't make my last years miserable" begging someone to give in. It's clear that Charles hopes it will be the institution (i.e. William) that gives in so he can fast-track the rehabilitation.
So no, I don't think Charles and the Sussexes will succeed in being part-time working royals. I think we'll see a lot of negotiating in the coming weeks and months (like Sussex demands for Trooping) and it may get loud and it may look frighteningly real, but that's only because William and Kate are on leave from work and their absence lets Harry and Meghan play offense. Once the Waleses are working again, or a new picture of Kate is released (I'm still hedging my bets for something celebrating Mother's Day next month), the Sussexes go back to playing on defense, and playing poorly.
We only need to worry if William, Kate, and Camilla appear to be changing their minds. They represent "the institution" to Charles, as well as public support (William) and establishment media (Camilla). William continues to tell everyone he isn't speaking to Harry. Kate's body language at the Windsor Walkabout keeps resurfacing. Camilla has leaked that Harry doesn't want to see her when he visits Charles and that she doesn't support the Sussexes coming back. There's nothing to worry about for now.
175 notes
·
View notes
Text
and wouldn't you love to love her?
Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader
djats masterlist
Word Count : 2.1k
Summary : basically my fic they long to be (close to you) with a warren!ending. OR the one where Warren reveals he can't sleep without you anymore.
Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because I have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more warren fics xoxo
Moving to LA had been much more isolating then you'd ever thought it'd be. Sure, you'd moved with there with some of your closest friends, but it still felt harrowingly lonely compared to what you were used to in Pittsburgh. In your small hometown, everyone knew everyone, so wherever you went, you saw someone you knew - here, in LA, you felt lucky to accidentally make eye contact with a stranger on the street.
Warren was the number one person happy to fill the needed affection you often sought out since moving to LA. He, himself, was quite the lover - always one to take a cuddle and hold onto a hug for way longer then most would deem appropriate - which was exactly what you needed. The two of you had spent many nights in bed together in LA just for the company of it, and not that you didn't like it, you just wished it was with someone else, instead.
"You coming to bed, sweet girl?" Warren asked with a tired drawl to his words, extending a hand out to you while the other held the remainder of his joint to his lips.
"In a little." You hummed back, taking a hit out the joint he offered out to you, the joint being held to your lips by Warren instead of taking it into your own hands. "I'm not tired enough to sleep."
Warren pulled the joint back to his lips, his other hand coming to brush your hair out of your eyes and behind your ear, his hand resting against your hair and keeping you tucked in the crook of his neck. "You want me to wait up with you? Or you can come keep my company? I'll put on some Fleetwood Mac, it'll help you sleep, baby girl."
That was another thing that you missed about Pittsburgh; the constant nicknames you let the others call you. Back in Pittsburgh, everyone had some kind of name to call you except the one you were born with. Now? Karen called you sweet-pea, Eddie called you birdie, Camilla called you sunshine as did Graham and even Billy, but Warren? Warren called you whatever he liked; sweet girl, baby girl, baby, doll, his.
"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."
You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen.
"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes.
All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."
"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.
"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."
"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."
"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."
Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?
"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, everyone enjoying the way the two of you were slowly but surely morphing into one person with the more time you spent confined in the LA rental.
A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, letting the nature of your relationship with Warren lie for at least the time being.
By the end of the third episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham was fast asleep, his head leaning against yours making you trapped in his hold, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.
As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and stumbled sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.
Eddie got up from his seat without a word, joining you on the couch with his arm stretched over your shoulders and across the back of the couch cushions.
"I know you like him." Eddie teased, letting his arm fall around you and pull you into his side. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and placed it over the two of you, trying to keep you warm now that Graham had stolen your provisos blanket. "I can tell, I think we all can."
"Everyone except Warren, I guess." You complained, letting your head fall back against his shoulder, taking the warm beer he held in his hands and having a sip of it.
"He likes you too you know." Eddie laughed at the face of disbelief you pulled, taking the beer back from you to have another sip for himself. "All I'm saying is, you don't see me in his bed every night, and he likes me just fine."
You hummed into him, tucking your head away from the light of the tv screen, thinking about what Eddie was suggesting. His fingers moved to run through your hair, soothing you to sleep even if he hadn't meant to.
It wouldn't be the first time you had ended up in this predicament, you and Eddie cuddled up together on a couch in someone's living room, the night having gotten away from you. But it was the first time since coming to LA, the first time since you'd basically moved into Warren's bed, and if it weren't for the fact you were already half asleep, you would've felt sick about it.
Eddie wasn't far behind you when it came to falling asleep, his fingers shortly stilling and beer left half drank and held loosely between his fingers.
As people slowly began to filter into the living room the following morning, you made yourself plenty comfortable in Eddie's lap - instead of taking up the whole couch - allowing him to wrap an arm around your waist and hold you up and against him by your thighs. You lazily tuned into the conversation everyone else seemed to be having, mainly focused on eating the bowl of cereal Camilla had given you and the feeling of Eddie's fingers toying with the hem of your shorts. Picking up another spoonful of food, you offered him a mouthful, him taking it with a grateful smile.
"I thought you and Warren were sleeping together?" Billy asked, gesturing at you and Eddie with the tip of his spoon accusingly.
"And I thought we discussed this last night." You deflected with a shrug. Everyone apparently knew of your feelings for the curly haired brunette according to Eddie, but that didn't mean you had to admit them to them. It would only give them more ammunition to tease you with anyways. "Me and Ed's stayed out here last night, tried to stay up watching scooby-doo but failed, that's all."
"You and Ed's, huh." Graham asked, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"You're just jealous that she doesn't have a cute nickname for you." Eddie spat back, quickly coming to your defence as you offered him another bite of your cereal.
Scanning your eyes around the room, you took notice of the lack of a certain member of the sixes presence. "Where is Warren, actually?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Graham teased, earning a smack on the chest from Eddie who came to your defence as you left the room, leaving him with your cereal and an unusually rowdy Graham.
You crept into Warren's room, quiet as a mouse, hoping not to wake him up as you made your own way to bed. Despite your claim last night, you headed over first to the record player in the corner, pulling out your Fleetwood Mac vinyl and skipping to where Rhiannon should start. Turing the volume down enough that it wouldn't go outside the room but would reach you from Warren's bed. Cracking open the window just enough to let in a cool breeze, you finally got into what had become your side of Warren's bed.
No sooner then you'd lied down and turned on your side to slowly wake him, Warren was cosying himself into your side, nuzzling into your shoulder and wrapping his arm around you, intertwining your fingers.
"I didn't mean to wake you, m'sorry." You murmured, wiggling your arm out of his hold to wrap it over him, tangling your fingers in his mess of curls. You scratched gently at his scalp, Warren preening into your touch, yearning for it. "Well I did actually, but not like this, it's nearly 9."
"You didn't wake me, sweet girl." He purred, pressing a kiss, then another, then another to your shoulder. "Can't sleep without you, just been sat here all night trying to."
"Warren." You whined, shuffling to face him better at his confession. "You should've said so. I would've come with you when you first asked. You could've come to get me."
"I didn't want you to think I was needy." He whispered, avoiding your eyes as he busied himself in trying to get comfy now that you were in his arms again. "Plus, when I did come out to get you, you seemed pretty cosy with Eddie."
"We just fell asleep watching tv, that's all." You promised, feeling as a smile creeped onto Warren's face at your admission. "Nothing else. If I didn't have the blanket I would've come here, to you. I promise."
"You're here now, baby girl. That's all that matters to me." Warren was already dropping asleep, his need for it catching up quickly now that your presence was beside him, now that he was safe in your arms. "All that matters."
At your lack of response, Warren began to move, exhibiting the most life you'd seen in him since you'd walked into the room minutes ago. "C'mere hot stuff." Warren opened his arms to you, letting you shuffle down until your head rested against his chest and your arms were wrapped under his, going up his back and holding onto his shoulders from behind.
You gently scratched your fingers up and down his back, lulling him to sleep just as he was lulling you sleep with the soothing circles he was rubbing into your hip. You were quick to fall asleep again in his hold, as you did every night in Warren's bed, as did Warren, who, like he'd just admitted, couldn't sleep without you in his arms.
#warren rojas#warren rojas oneshot#warren rojas imagine#warren rojas x reader#eddie loving x reader#eddie roundtree#eddie roundtree oneshot#eddie roundtree imagine#eddie roundtree x reader#daisy jones and the six imagine#daisy jones and the six x reader#djats imagine#djats x reader
769 notes
·
View notes
Text
Headcanons of Dating Warren Rojas | Warren Rojas x Reader
request by @shitheadsthings : "Hi! I loved kill you to try could you please write headcanons for dating Warren like how you did for Daisy? 😁"
words: 542
Ok, this may sound like a stereotype but I think you and Warren meet for the first time at some party.
What i can do? This man lived at all the parties.
You see each other so many times before he has courage to talk with you, he was very confident about himself, but with you was different.
In the beginning, he thought it would be just one night. But he was so wrong.
When he introduced himself to you, you're like "oh cool, you're nice" and don't say anything more to him and this man was in shock that you ignored him like that. He's a fucking rockstar, the song of his band is a hit how you could turn your back and walk away?
This man tries everything to get you. He always looks for you at the parties. Spent all night talking with you.
Everybody around him notices his change. Eddie is tired of listening to the drummer talk about you. He didn't see the groupies anymore
At first you were afraid, you knew he was a womanizer and so you had a hard time trusting him. But with his change and Karen advising you that he was worth it.
So you get out on a date. Warren had no experience of how dates should be, so he prepared dinner for the two of you. The truth is, he asked Camilla for help and she was very happy for him and you.
Your first date was so funny!! Warren was so nervous. Is something to laugh at. But in the end everything worked out.
Warren asked you to be his girlfriend so fast, you had bewitched him.
You and Warren listen to many songs together.
(I talked about this a time before, but I had a personal headcanons where Warren likes the disco music like Bee Gees)
SO HIS DEDICATE MORE THAN A WOMAN FOR YOUUUUU
(I will write a one shot about it someday 😁)
I feel Warren was so proud to say you're his girlfriend.
You watched Rollerball with him every timeeeeeee and listen him talking about it all the time and never get bored!!
Travel in the boat and a lot of photos from you in the travel
You probably make a photo album
In the beginning he didn't know how to treat you, he didn't have someone fixed, but with time he got used to the care and love
He teaches you how to play drums and is very patient with you!!
Number 1 fan of snuggle
Loves being hugged by you.
Warren had a great style, so he would have a big closet and you'll steal all his clothes to look like him.
Going out to parties with him and the band, you loved to party, especially the bus parties were crazy
Wearing shorts, skirts and dresses because you know what your legs do to him
I know Warren is a relaxed person and carefree, for this reason so many people think that he wouldn't like to assume anything serious but I don't believe it!!
I think Warren would ask you to marry him because this man was on his knees for you!! And only just for you!!
You would have a small wedding reserved only for family and friends.
You would live on the boat for years until you buy a house. But you two would not sell the boat!
If you accept maybe he will put your name on the boat
He calls you "kitten", "love" or "my love"
– – – –
daisy jones and the six masterlist
#warren rojas#daisy jones and the six#warren rhodes#djats#warren rojas imagine#warren rhodes x reader#warren rojas x reader#warren rojas headcanon#swiftgreatest's write#warren rhodes headcanon
235 notes
·
View notes
Note
You know what's just burrowed into my head? given how often poor Camilla was forced to say the word daddy on that show it made me picture lacy saying it to Eddie but in that I'm clearly making fun of you, I'm not into that stuff kind of way but he's our beloved pervy loserboy so of course he short circuits over it anyway. I hope she finds out just how much of a perv he can be now that they've done the do. I mean the whole thing with her pen in the very first chapter? and the shower scene when she had to stay over? I would love to know how she'd react
18+ MINORS DNI i accidentally went crazy on this?
god bless you anon happy valentines day
l i t erally she is shoving eddie out the door of the newspaper room after a heavy makeout session where she's got him all wound up and whining on purpose, sing-songing something like, "c'mon, hurry up! everyone in the drama room is gonna be looking around that dungeon, wondering where-oh-where is daddy?"
and eddie just shoves himself between the jamb and the closing door (painfully, for a multitude of reasons) (reasons pertaining to his cock) and hits lacy with the prey animal stare.
"huh? come again?" you'd like that wouldn't you badum tsss etc
but lacy like, knows and like, eats it right up, the way she draws out every syllable with a dirty little mockery of a snarl.
"better run along now, da-a-addy."
eddie manages to wrangle her in for one last kiss, stomach all butterflies and dick all cardiac arrest, "i'm gonna get you for that," and lacy's squealing into his ear, "and your little kitty too! shit! evil!"
"first and last time you'll ever hear it, i guarantee you!" liar!
but, evil actually comes in the form of lacy lifting a pair of her panties from the glovebox of the van later that night.
"hello? have you been doing my laundry or what?"
eddie gets a laceful in the face as she flings them at him. immediate snow white blush on his cheeks, this guy, because he's still toeing the line of being a little bit of a pervert with her. testing the waters. though, she had perched in his lap and watched him jerk off the other day, after specifically asking to which naturally made him cum neatly under the runtime of zeppelin's dazed and confused.
i wanna see how you do it. how do you touch yourself when you're thinking about me?
and she'd been all sweet, tits out and skirt on, running her hand up his chest as he pumped his cock in his fist (he hadn't been allowed to touch her), telling him how pretty he was, how much she liked watching him make himself feel good. eyes never leaving him. studying him like SAT prep. not putting as much as a fingertip on herself, but squirming against his thigh.
this is about me, he realized, heart warming, dick throbbing. she wants to make it about me.
eddie had cum, and had possibly narrowly avoided a hemorrhage of the brain due to how fucking hot that was, and was soon springing to back to life in lacy's palm. she had that effect on him; just when he thought he was spent, boom, he is risen.
he needed a solid fifteen minutes to process the aftershocks after she rode him til both their eyes were streaming, lacy stroking his hair and pretending like she wasn't trembling as much as he was.
if that girl isn't careful. he swears to god. wedding bells. big 'uns.
but. anyway. panties. panties he had been actively using as a gag when he jerked off on the rare occasions she couldn't come meet him. sure. whatever.
"you must've left 'em here!" eddie shrugs (wide-eyed, beautiful, you know the vibes), tossing them back at her, to which lacy rolled her fanned-out mascara'd eyes.
"and walked around commando? when have you ever known me to do that, smartass?"
true. she liked making him take off her panties with his teeth too much, and he liked watching the way she slid them back on. that little jump she did that made her ass shake.
which could be a part of the whole stuffing them in his mouth thing. listen, he didn't have time to ruminate on it.
guilty as all hell, he shrugs again, slapping his hands on the wheel. but eddie's heart is like, hammering. was that a step too far? nabbing her panties out of her room the last time he'd snuck in there?
there's this silence in the van for a couple beats that he hates, even though lacy resumes looking for a tape in the glovebox she's probably never gonna find.
"you know," she goes, eyes downcast, "if you wanted to borrow a pair, you could've just asked."
a stutter in the air. she knows just how to make his record scratch.
"whassat now?" eddie leans in, gripping the steering wheel for dear life.
"you heard me," and her mercurial eyes flash at him, gaze drawing down his body in that way that makes him sure he knows what it's like to do heroin without ever having tried it.
"just, tell me if you ever wanna try 'em on," lacy smiles, and eddie smiles, and eddie also dies somewhat, "i wanna see how cute you look when you're hard in them."
and look, we haven't even begun to think about lacy's reaction the first time he jokingly calls her mommy.
#powder room talk#Anonymous#e. munson by powder#edlacy#hai brainrot#father john misty voice je ee e esus christ girl
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
henry’s attacks on charles (camilla involved?)
can we take a moment to brief through what charles went through?
it’s clear henry was the one to tell charles to go with cloke to bunny’s dorm and request marion to call the police. why charles specifically? by getting the police to come over when charles is there, he’d be the one questioned most, henry knew this and took advantage of it. most of the FBI investigation and questioning fell upon charles, and he spent countless hours in their offices, while henry just let him take it on. not to mention he was very clearly morally against the idea of killing bunny from the start. so why charles? henry knew charles had a growing alcohol problem, and this added stress would make it worse. why would henry want it to be worse? because henry wants to be with camilla and charles disapproves. by making his alcoholism worse, camilla would be less inclined to being around him and leaning more towards henry.
later on, we see henry beginning to make attempts to straight up kill charles. why do you think charles ended up being arrested for drunk driving in henry’s car? henry and charles had just ended an argument, would it be plausible to assume henry just handed over his car sweetly to him afterward? certainly not. henry knew charles was drunk, and by giving him the car, henry knew he’d either 1) crash and get hurt 2) get arrested for DUI.
henry then attempts to murder him through pills. giving him pills claiming it’s to help him sleep better, but knowing full well those same pills react fatally with alcohol, knowing that charles has a drinking problem. (and we know henry knew that because richard had told him that same fact at the Corcoran’s house the night before bunnys funeral.) he also was seen by charles walking around his apartment in the middle of the night?? clearly he had certain evil intentions. creepy ones, at that.
now for my theory…
camilla had much more in the involvement of henry’s treatment towards charles after bunny’s death.
clearly from an outward view, camilla cares deeply about charles and henry cares deeply about camilla. i highly doubt henry would treat charles with such crap if camilla didn’t like it. camilla may have been so fed up with charles’ behavior that henry talked her into an idea where it would be better if charles died? why else would henry make multiple attempts to kill charles and camilla didn’t do a thing, but stay by henry’s side? and let’s not forget, at the very last scene in Albemarle, henry outwardly says they’d all be better off if charles just died. camilla didn’t even say anything? and i know it wasn’t out of fear.
i’m sure she loved charles but it’s either 1) she didn’t know of henry’s attempts 2) henry brainwashed her, OR 3) she herself is evil and self conceited too.
#the secret history analysis#the secret history#henry winter#camilla macaulay#charles macaulay#richard papen#francis abernathy#bunny corcoran#edmund corcoran#donna tartt#books#dark academia#tsh#the secret history aesthetic#judy poovey#julian morrow#dark academic aesthetic#papenathy#booklover#dark acamedia#winterpapen
114 notes
·
View notes
Note
When you have time and only if you're up for it could we maybe have a blurb where gf comes back from a night out with her friends and Matty he's waiting for her because maybe there's some drama going around and he wants to hear the gossip and she's like "I don't want to bore you with this" and he goes like: I literally asked, this is better than any TV show.
But only if you feel up for it, totally fine if you aren't
💕
“Oh, honey I’m hooommeee” she announced, a bit buzzed on the drinks she’d sipped on all night.
“Hello, my darling.” Matty rushed to the entryway to greet her with his kisses, hugs, and a few playful tickles. He loved the sound of her flustered laughter when she would try to slither away from his tickle attacks. “You taste….like gin.” He laughed. “So…I guess someone’s had a fun night.”
“Hmm” she snippy hummed, leaning on him to kick off her shoes.
“Wait, what’s that supposed to mean? You, didn’t have a fun night?” Matty raised an eyebrow, watching her expectantly.
“I had…a night.” She shrugged. “Want some food? Cuz I realllyyy want some pasta.”
“Baby, it’s almost midnight. Also, I’m gonna need clarification. What happened?”
“But, don’t you want some- some Parmesan? Some butter? All hot and melted together on some- some-“
“The word you’re looking for is ‘Pasta’” he laughed.
“No, genius! I know. But what’s the best kind of pasta to make buttered noodles with?” She rushed into the kitchen, aiming for the pantry.
“Literally noodles.” Matty, still in the hallway, said to no one in particular. “Okay, okay,” I don’t trust you with a stove. You seem a bit drunk.” He finally caught up to her, prying the box of pasta out of her hands. “You, go sot over there, and I’ll make the pasta.”
Matty flicked the kettle on, leaning against the counter as he waited for the water to boil. “So, tell me about your night…”
“Well, it was kind of dramatic, actually.”
Matty’s face lit up at the news. “Oh, yeah? Do tell…”
“Okay, so, you know how I told you that you couldn’t come tonight cuz it was just gonna be a girls night?”
“Yeah! You girls wanted to hang out and try to talk things out after the whole Camilla-Emily fiasco.”
The fact that he remembered the minute details of her inner circle made her giggle. “Yeah, exactly, so guess who showed up with her boyfriend?”
Matty covered his mouth with his hand “oh, Camilla, why??!”
“Obviously, that didn’t go over very well with Emily. You know, ever since the thing with the handbag and all.”
Matty turned around to grab a pot and fill it with boiling water, keeping his listening ears on. “Mhm…go on. What happened next?” He added a little salt to the water before dumping the pasta in and turning the stove on.
"Emily spent the first half of the night giving her the cold shoulder. Like, literally pretending she doesn’t exist. At one point, Emily bought a round of drinks for the whole table EXCEPT Camilla.”
Matty gasped dramatically. “Bro! That’s mean. Even if Camilla did deserve it a bit.” He sliced some butter in preparation for the pasta to cook.
“I- sorry, this is boring isn’t it? I haven’t even asked about you you yet. How’ve you been? How was your day?”
Matty shook his head, opening the fridge door and fishing out some Parmesan to grate over their pasta bowls. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been waiting for you all to hang out again so I could get the tea. I need to know what happened! Better than whatever nonsense is on TV these days.”He pulled out two forks from the silverware drawer and carried their bowls over to her, one in each hand.
“Extra, extra cheese one’s for you.” He slid the bowl across the table.
“You know what I’ve been thinking? Maggie had to have told Camilla what Emily said about her boyfriend. That’s the only reason she’d bring him tonight…”
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
don't go pt.2 - Billy Dunne
PT1 - don't go
Warnings: slight angst, fluff, mentions of drugs, mentions of overdose
requested by the lovely @sunnysidesadie
Everybody in the band could tell there was a shift in your and Billy's relationship (if you could call it that) but nobody except you, Camilla, and Billy actually knew why.
they didn't know it was because he stayed with you when you were dying of an overdose or that he wouldn't leave your side for the days afterword and you planned on keeping it that way
you still fought, I mean this is you and Billy were talking about, there was no way everything would get done without some kind of bump in the road along the way but it happened less and less
The more alone time you spent together was less writing songs and more basking in each others presence talking about nothing and everything
It was the first night you went out again after that everything seemed to start to go bad again, you two had a fight consisting of screaming back and forth why you should and shouldn't go out
“It’s too soon!” Billy yelled trying to get his point across to you
“It will always be too soon Billy, if I don't face it now I never will!” you rebutted
And that was the end you had decided you were going and nobody could stop you.
But as the night progressed you realized more and more how right Billy was, you weren't ready and you would much rather be in some hotel with him talking for hours than doing what everyone else was at this party.
You felt clammy and uncomfortable, the large room felt tiny with how many people were in it and you couldn't find room to breath
‘What am I doing, I can't handle this’ you kept telling yourself trying to find an exit but you couldn't see one especially in the maze of people
But you did see him, Billy, you didn't know what he was doing here being as he never partied anymore but you had never been more thankful as you rushed over to him
He caught you in his arms seeing the pale look of panic on you face
‘Hey, hey you okay?’
‘Can we please just- please can we leave’ you begged him
‘ of course’ he said never letting go of you as he made his way tho the exit
He decided he wouldn't tell you why he was there. He wouldn't tell you he stayed in that gross smelly party just to keep an eye on you. It would only make you feel worse.
He held onto you the entire way to the hotel room until the second you sat down on the white fluffy bed
‘I’m sorry’ you said quietly
‘You were right for once’
Your snarky comment brought a smile to his face
‘Anytime darling’ he responded
As you two sat together on the edge of sleep you looked up at him and smiled
Sitting up you leaned over and pecked his lips
‘Thank you’ you say laying back down on his chest
‘Of course’
-------
Ok I hoped you liked it cause I loved writing it and thank you for all the love on the first part!!!! and that you for reading this part!!
<333
-Ads
#daisy jones fanfic#daisy jones and the six#billy dunne#imagine#camilla dunne#camilla morrone#fluff#one shot#part 2#sam claflin#thg finnick#graham dunne#karen sirko
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
random assortment of nohr sibling headcanons (part 2)
- xander once tried to help elise with her literature homework. 47 dead 109 injured
- camilla used to open the window of the northern fortress to let corrin sit on the windowsill. they couldn’t do that anymore after nearly falling out of the window for the 4th time
- when they were children, leo once joked that the reason corrin had large ears was because they were part-goblin. this hurt corrin’s feelings so severely that they cried for at least 40 minutes
- when xander and camilla gave corrin “the talk” they intentionally made sex sound as horrifying as possible to keep them from making bad choices. xander went as far as to imply having unprotected sex makes you catch on fire and die
- corrin always wanted to have a pet in the northern fortress but was forbidden by (anankos) garon. xander made up for this by bringing up nohrian guard dogs for corrin to play with for awhile
- the reason camilla used to hold corrin as a kid to help them fall asleep was because corrin would routinely have night terrors (ptsd from sumeragi’s murder probably) and wake up screaming and shaking. while cuddling corrin didn’t make the night terrors themselves stop, it did make waking up not such a horrible experience
- little prince used to be (pre-possessed) garon’s nickname for xander when he was a boy. xander later gave the nickname to corrin, both to help corrin cope in the absence of a true father, and also to help himself keep the old garon’s memory alive
- if they lived in modern times xander would be one of those people who got a blackberry in 2006 and then stubbornly refused to get another phone ever again even at the cost of it taking 30 minutes to receive text messages from his siblings
- camilla is one of those people who digs like through her purse like a feral animal trying to find something, while repeatedly telling her siblings they can’t go anywhere until she finds what she’s looking for, and after they spent 30 minutes searching for it in the castle, camilla finds it at the bottom of the purse
- corrin is the only sibling who is left-handed. leo is ambidextrous
- leo once fell down two flights of stairs when he was younger and was so embarrassed that he didn’t tell anyone
- corrin has a weak immune system and gets sick easily, which only adds to their siblings coddling them
- elise once called xander (who is in his late 20s) an old man. 68 dead 203 injured.
#fire emblem#fe#fe fates#fe14#fire emblem fates#fe headcanons#fef#fe corrin#fe xander#fe camilla#fe leo#nohr siblings#text
150 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gyles Brandreth's Exclusive Extract Part 1
The Mail Plus | Published 25 November 2022
SATURDAY and Sunday, September 3 and 4. It is the weekend before the Queen’s death. The Right Reverend Dr Iain Greenshields — who is staying with her at Balmoral — finds her ‘in fantastic form’.
He has dinner with her on Saturday evening, gives the sermon at Braemar and Crathie Parish Church on Sunday morning, then has lunch with her on Sunday afternoon. They talk about the Queen’s childhood, her horses, church affairs (she is ‘well up to speed’) and her sadness at what is happening in Ukraine.
This is quite typical. The Queen is good at living in the present but often draws on her memories of the past, grateful for the lessons it has taught her.
‘She was so alive and so engaging,’ recalled Dr Greenshields later.
Tuesday, September 6. Clive Cox, one of Her Majesty’s favourite racehorse trainers, gets a call from the Queen at 10 am. She wants to chat to him about the prospects for her two-year-old, Love Affairs, who is running in the two o’clock at Goodwood.
‘We talked about the filly,’ he said, ‘how the race might pan out, how another horse of hers was doing in my stable, and about a couple of other things. She was sharp as a tack.’
It is a busy day. Not only does the Queen present her outgoing Communications Secretary with an honour, but she also spends time with her fourteenth and fifteenth prime ministers.
Boris Johnson said: ‘She could not have been kinder, more sympathetic or personally encouraging.’ Moreover, she was full of ‘characteristic humour and wisdom’.
Wednesday September 7. Every newspaper is carrying pictures of the Queen at Balmoral yesterday. She appears old, yes — she is 96 — and frail. There is a dark bruise mark on the back of her right hand but she looks alert and very much alive.
She is smiling, looking over the tops of her spectacles at the camera. There is a definite, mischievous twinkle in her eye.
For other royals, today is business as usual. Prince Charles spends the day doing good works in Lanarkshire. Tonight, he is hosting a dinner at Dumfries House in Ayrshire.
Edward and Sophie, the Earl and Countess of Wessex, are at events across Lancashire. Princess Anne is visiting the Isle of Skye and the Isle of Ramsay.
By late afternoon, however, rumour is rife. I have a call from my son-in-law (a former Coldstream Guards officer) to say that he is at the Cavalry and Guards Club in Piccadilly, where groups are gathering to discuss the detail of Operation London Bridge — the codename for the action-plan that comes into being the moment the sovereign dies. What has happened? Has she had a fall? Has she had a stroke?
Thursday September 8. Rumour had swirled all morning. At 12:32 p.m. Buckingham Palace issued a statement saying the Queen’s doctors were concerned for her health and, though she was ‘comfortable’, recommended she remain under medical supervision while family members were informed. The Queen’s helicopter left Windsor Castle at 6:48 a.m. to collect Prince Charles from Dumfries House where he had spent the night. He reached Balmoral at 10:27 a.m. Camilla had spent the night at Birkhall on the Balmoral Estate and was driven by car to join him.
Charles leaving Dumfries house to rush to the Queen's bedside
The Princess Royal was already there — at her mother’s side to the end. Andrew and Edward, the Queen’s younger sons, and Sophie, Edward’s wife, and Prince William and Prince Harry were reported to be on their way.
There was confusion about whether or not Harry’s wife, Meghan, would go up to Scotland with him. When it became clear that Catherine was not going because she would be collecting her children from school, it emerged that Meghan was not going, either.
Andrew, Edward and Sophie, and Prince William arrived at Aberdeen airport in an RAF executive jet at 3:50 p.m. and William drove the four of them to Balmoral, 45 miles away. They arrived at 5:06 p.m. Queen Eli
The formal announcement of her death came from Buckingham Palace at 6:30 p.m. while Prince Harry was still in the air. His flight from Luton airport to Aberdeen was delayed. He was the last of the family to arrive at Balmoral, and the first to leave. Travelling to a BBC studio in London in the early evening, I saw a double rainbow in the sky above Buckingham Palace.
And I found out from a friend in the racing world that the Queen’s horse, Love Affairs, comfortably won the two o’clock at Goodwood on Tuesday: ‘led field centre, made all, ridden and stayed on gamely final furlong, unchallenged’.
The truth is that Her Majesty always knew that her remaining time was limited. She accepted this with all the grace you’d expect.
‘Her faith was everything to her. She told me she had no regrets,’ said Dr Greenshields, referring to the last weekend he spent with her at Balmoral.
I had heard that the Queen had a form of myeloma — bone marrow cancer — which would explain her tiredness and weight loss and those ‘mobility issues’ we were often told about during the last year or so of her life. The most common symptom of myeloma is bone pain, especially in the pelvis and lower back, and multiple myeloma is a disease that often affects the elderly.
Currently, there is no known cure, but treatment — including medicines to help regulate the immune system and drugs that help prevent the weakening of the bones — can reduce the severity of its symptoms and extend the patient’s survival by months or two to three years.
Was the Queen given steroids to help get her through that important final day of duty two weeks ago? Was that bruise on the back of her hand that we saw in the photographs of her with Liz Truss the mark left by an intravenous cannula? Or was it simply the kind of accidental bruise that comes with old age?
All I do know is that ‘cause of death’ on her death certificate will be given simply as ‘old age’ — just as it was for the Duke of Edinburgh last year.
‘Old age’ is a quite commonly listed cause of death when a patient is over 80 and their doctor has cared for them over time and seen their gradual decline.
(When the Queen’s death was registered on 16 September my prediction proved accurate. The death was certified by Dr Douglas James Allan Glass, a local GP and official apothecary to the Queen who had been looking after her in Scotland for more than 30 years and who was with her when she died. Dr Glass said: ‘We have been concerned about the Queen’s health for several months. It was expected and we were quite aware of what was going to happen.’)
When Prince Philip retired in 2019, the Queen very deliberately left him to it. She carried on with her royal duties at Buckingham Palace or at Windsor Castle while he lived out his days at Wood Farm on the Sandringham Estate.
They would speak regularly on the phone, but weeks could go by without them seeing one another. That shocked some people, though not those who appreciated how well the Queen understood her husband — understood his wish to be left to his own devices, ‘not to be fussed over’, to be allowed, after more than 70 years of duty, to see out his days in his own way.
When the Covid-19 pandemic swept the world in 2020, however, Prince Philip decided to spend ‘lockdown’ with the Queen, and a small retinue of staff, at Windsor Castle.
And when lockdown was lifted, Philip and Elizabeth, having spent more time close together than they had done in years, decided it rather suited them. They left Windsor together and travelled up to Balmoral together for their traditional summer break.
When that was over, they went back to Sandringham — but not to the big house. Instead, together they went to live at Wood Farm, Philip’s bolthole, the un-grand, unpretentious place he regarded as his home on the estate.
It’s where he wanted to end his days, and the Queen wanted to be with him to the end. But on February 16, 2021, the Duke was admitted to hospital in London as a precautionary measure after feeling unwell.
On March 3, he underwent a successful procedure for an existing heart condition. He was discharged 13 days later and returned to Windsor Castle.
Three weeks later, his death was announced at noon, April 9, with the release of a statement saying he had ‘died peacefully’ that morning at Windsor Castle.
His daughter-in-law, Sophie, Countess of Wessex, described his death as ‘so gentle. It was just like somebody took him by the hand and off he went’.
The Queen was reported to have been at her husband’s bedside when he died on the morning of April 9, 2021. In fact, I don’t believe she was.
The Duke of Edinburgh had been in a hospital bed, set up in his dressing room at Windsor Castle. That morning, he went to the bathroom, helped by a nurse.
When he came back, he said he felt a little faint and wanted help getting back into bed. The nurse called the Duke’s valet and the Queen’s page, Paul Whybrew, for help — and he died before the Queen could be called.
The Queen wasn’t yet up. And she wasn’t called until after a doctor had come and pronounced the Duke dead.
He was being laid out when the Prince of Wales arrived. Charles waited and had a cup of tea, but went away without seeing his father.
Prince Edward did see him and then, gradually, the rest of the family began to arrive. As they tried to comfort the Queen, the Queen was comforting them.
It helped that Elizabeth was accustomed to her own company. Even when her husband was alive, she had so often spent evenings on her own.
Immediately after Prince Philip’s funeral, she returned to her apartment in Windsor Castle in silence.
‘I helped her off with her coat and hat,’ her dresser, Angela Kelly, remembered, ‘and no words were spoken. The Queen then walked to her sitting room, closed the door behind her, and she was alone with her thoughts.’ When Prince Albert died, Queen Victoria retreated from the world. When Prince Philip died, Queen Elizabeth II went towards it.
She knew it was her Christian duty to carry on as best as she could. ‘There is no magic formula that will transform sorrow into happiness,’ she said, ‘but being busy helps.’
In the immediate aftermath of Prince Philip’s death, Vice Admiral Sir Tony Johnstone-Burt, the cheery Master of the Household, told me: ‘My principal duty with HM has been to keep her spirits up — so I’ve been watching Line of Duty with her . . . I’m “the Explainer”! It’s very funny.’
The 95-year-old widow of Windsor laughed as she struggled to understand the convoluted plotting and sometimes incomprehensible dialogue in the popular ‘police procedural’ television series.
She enjoyed watching television, she told me: ‘It keeps me in touch — when I can understand what’s being said. There’s an awful lot of mumbling on television now. It’s not my hearing. They just don’t seem to speak as clearly as they used to do.’
Her grieving was private, but in public the Queen was determined to carry on as normal. ‘Life goes on,’ she said. ‘It has to.’
That first summer after Philip’s death, she chose to dress — as she herself put it — ‘as cheerfully as possible.’ With the help of Angela Kelly, she opted for yellow and pink and powder blue, in summery dresses with pretty floral designs.
Her closeness to Kelly, the daughter of a Liverpool dockworker, did not always go down well; the ladies-in-waiting found her a nuisance at times. The dresser was from a quite different background to theirs, and irritated some at court with her no-nonsense Northern manner, her easy access to the Queen and her effortless familiarity with her.
They particularly resented the way Kelly felt able to step out of line to adjust the Queen’s clothes or drop a word in her ear at what they considered to be inappropriate moments. But they could do nothing about it because the Queen regarded Kelly as one of her true friends.
She was dazzling in green when she opened the Scottish Parliament on October 2, 2021. A few days later, all in pink this time, she opened the Welsh Senedd in Cardiff.
The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Cornwall were also on parade for both visits. ‘We weren’t required,’ the Duchess said to me soon afterwards, laughing. ‘We were there to help out if necessary. It wasn’t necessary. The Queen did it all. She wanted to. She’s unstoppable.’
For six months following Prince Philip’s death, the Queen did so much, so purposefully and with such a determination not to give way to any form of self-pity (which, she said, ‘My husband would certainly not have approved of’), that she probably did too much.
In the autumn of 2021, she had a sudden ‘energy low’. She felt exhausted. Her doctors ordered her to ‘rest a bit, not to push herself so much, to take it easy.’
She had planned to attend ‘COP’, the climate change conference in Glasgow, in person on November 1 but, in the event, had to record a video message instead.
She had also hoped to attend the Festival of Remembrance at the Royal Albert Hall and the Remembrance Sunday service at the Cenotaph — fixtures in her calendar — but was persuaded not to. ‘I’ve got to be sensible,’ she said. Until then, her energy had been little short of astonishing. Over her final decade, she’d not only continued her work as monarch but actively engaged with modern life.
She had her own mobile phone, and obliging grandchildren ready to show her how it worked. She understood ‘texting’ though was rather defeated by ‘apps’. And she did not allow her grandchildren to bring their ‘devices’ to the dining table, under any circumstances.
Believe it or not, I think I once heard Her Majesty refer to the lavatory as ‘the toilet’ — in a concession to the vocabulary of the younger generation.
She had loved the early James Bond films — ‘before they got so loud’, she said.
And it was thanks to Bond that she famously made a truly dramatic entrance when the 2012 Olympics were staged in London, in a filmed sketch with Daniel Craig. Craig was seen running up the red-carpeted stairs at Buckingham Palace, meeting two of the royal corgis, being greeted by the Queen’s page and ushered into the royal presence.
It was the Queen’s own idea to keep Bond waiting a moment as she signed off a letter, before turning around to say: ‘Good evening, Mr Bond.’
Her line delivered, the Queen, accompanied by Bond and her page and her corgis, walked with purpose to the waiting helicopter that transported her past the statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square (Churchill looked up and gave Her Majesty a wave —she especially liked that touch), along the course of the river Thames, to the Olympic park in East London.
‘She was a natural,’ said Daniel Craig. ‘I was definitely more nervous than she was.’
Lord Janvrin, the Queen’s former private secretary, told me he was sure the Queen wouldn’t have done the stunt during the Queen Mother’s lifetime. ‘Why?’ I asked him.
‘Simply because she would have felt her mother wouldn’t have approved — that it would have been a bit undignified.
The Queen became less inhibited in several ways after her mother’s death [in 2002], less constrained, more relaxed.’
There was a different Bond connection when it came to the Queen’s next dramatic outing. In 2022, for the Platinum Jubilee long weekend of celebrations marking her 70 years on the throne, the Queen played herself in a delightful sketch with Paddington Bear, the creation of author Michael Bond.
In the scene, Paddington (voiced by Ben Whishaw) is taking tea with Her Majesty at Buckingham Palace and offers her one of his marmalade sandwiches — which it turns out the Queen doesn’t need because she already has her own marmalade sandwich, hidden in her handbag.
This time, much more in terms of acting was asked of the Queen than had been at the time of the Olympics — and she delivered in full measure. I happened to be working with Britain’s most honoured film and stage actress at the time, Dame Judi Dench, and she said to me the day after she had seen it, ‘Wasn’t she good? I mean, really, really good.
‘Her timing was perfect. Every look, every line was just right. It was completely on the money — none of it over-stated. Just wonderful.’
She added, laughing: ‘I’m quite worried. She’s going to be offered all my work now.’
What did the Queen make of it? ‘Great fun,’ she said. She marvelled that such a large crew had appeared at the palace to film such a short sequence, and she was truly amazed that word of it didn’t leak out before the day of transmission.
‘Everyone kept the secret,’ she said, delighted. ‘That was lovely.’
IN ROYAL circles the Duke of York is now someone — like Harry and Meghan —whom it’s better not to talk about.
There is no doubt, however, that the Queen loved her second son to the last. When she died, each of her children published a personal statement about her. Part of Prince Andrew’s read: ‘Mummy, your love for a son, your compassion, your care, your confidence I will treasure forever. I have found your knowledge and wisdom infinite, with no boundary or containment.
‘I will miss your insights, advice and humour. As our book of experiences closes, another opens, and I will forever hold you close to my heart with my deepest love and gratitude, and I will tread gladly into the next with you as my guide.’
Some of the turns of phrase could have been written by his former wife, Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York, who still shares a home with the prince, but the part of the message he very much wanted the rest of us to take note of was where he spoke of the ‘confidence’ the Queen had shown in him.
Prince Andrew stepped down from public life in 2019 over his friendship with the ‘billionaire paedophile’ Jeffrey Epstein. He was stripped of his honorary military roles, including Colonel of the Grenadier Guards, and obliged to give up his HRH style in public. But his mother stood by him. She loved her boy. She retained her ‘confidence’ in him.
That said, there had been a cloud hanging over his reputation, and the Queen was a realist. She essentially fired her own son. A senior courtier said to me, ‘There was a lot of nonsense talked about no one being at the helm, but the Queen took a firm grip of things. To use the military jargon, there was only a few days between flash and bang. Action was called for and the Queen took it.’
The day after firing Andrew, however, she showed us how much she loved him by taking him riding with her through Windsor Great Park in the rain and ensuring that there were photographers on hand to capture the shot. She was also glad to have him at her side as she travelled to her husband’s memorial service.
The rest of the Royal Family was less happy to see Prince Andrew taking centre stage — not because of any personal hostility, but because they feared the pictures of him side by side with Her Majesty would dominate press coverage of the memorial service. And so it proved.The Duke of York, of course, told his mother the whole story of his long relationship with Epstein, all the ins and outs of it, and the details of the accusations made against him.
The first time he gave her the full account of the whole sorry saga, she listened carefully. Then the Queen, who never said more than was necessary, responded with just one word: ‘Intriguing.’
I chair ‘The Oldie of the Year Awards’ where we honour people of a certain age who still have what might be described as ‘snap in their celery’. So last year, post the pandemic lockdown, I wrote to the Queen’s private secretary to ask whether Her Majesty might consider accepting the Oldie of the Year Award.
A witty reply was sent to me from Balmoral Castle on August 21, 2021: ‘Her Majesty believes you are only as old as you feel. As such The Queen does not believe she meets the relevant criteria to be able to accept and hopes you will find a more worthy recipient.
‘This message comes to you with Her Majesty’s warmest best wishes.’
After the birth of Prince Andrew, the Queen — according to one of her ladies-in-waiting — suffered ‘post-natal side effects’ because the baby had been born using the now-discredited method of ‘twilight sleep’.
‘Dammerschlaf’ was a form of childbirth pioneered in Germany in the early twentieth century in which the adminstration of drugs (morphine and scopolamine) puts the patient into an amnesic state during labour. The mother remains semi-conscious but apparently pain-free and has no subsequent recollection of the experience. The baby is delivered by forceps.
In fact, Charles and Anne were also delivered via the ‘twilight sleep’ method — and Prince Edward’s was the first birth not to involve it. The difficult aftermath of Andrew’s birth may possibly have put the Queen off that delivery method for good.
2ND EXTRACT
#Elizabeth: An Intimate Portrait by Gyles Brandreth#this was so hard to read#my heart 😭😭😭😭#queen elizabeth ii#biography
61 notes
·
View notes
Text
Female Vampire/Female Reader
SFW
Wordcount: 3,762
Pt 1, Pt 2 (here)
Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist
You stumble across Miss Esmeralda’s halfway house, hurt and desperate for sanctuary. Miss Esmeralda’s doesn’t usually cater to humans, but it seems the owner has taken a liking to you.
Esmeralda nudged you forward with an encouraging nod. Her smile, despite being filled with fangs, was gentle.
It was enough to have you stepping forwards, hands laced in front of you, to smile awkwardly at the odd collection of people in front of you.
"Hello," you chirped, and you almost lifted a hand to wave before realising how stupid that was. You must have looked ridiculous enough, practically clinging to Esmeralda as you stared about the kitchen. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't help your eyes from flitting between each of the residents; the seaweed-haired woman was the most normal of all, save for her hair and slight green tint to her skin. The others? Not so much.
The second woman was the first to move. She had dark, navy blue skin that sparkled and shimmered, and she slipped from her stool with the fluidity of water. When she stretched out one slender hand, she looked damp - but no water dripped into the kitchen floor.
"Camilla," she said coolly, "but most people call me 'Mil. It will be strange to have a human around, but if Esmeralda has taken a liking to you, then you must be quite special."
You flushed at the insinuation as embarrassment flooded you. "I'm not special," you said, but you shook Camilla's hand nonetheless.
She was cold to the touch, as if she had dipped her hand in freezing water before touching you. Yet when you pulled away, your hand was dry and warm.
"Camilla here is a water nymph," Esmeralda said from behind, perhaps sensing your confusion. "She may be cold, but she's a sweetheart really."
With a smile and a coy nod, Camilla flowed back onto her stool.
"The kelpie here is Maisie - you two have met before."
My gaze shifted to Maisie, who was considerably smaller than Camilla. If the myths were true, then kelpies were known to drag men to their deaths in the ocean - but they were also supposed to look like drowned horses, and Maisie didn't look drowned nor equine. Maybe not all of the myths were true?
Even so, I gulped down my nerves when she waved shyly, and couldn't quite bring myself to wave back.
"Olivier and Laurent are twins," Esmeralda continued. Whether it was for your sake or hers, she elegantly swept past your blunder. "They've been here almost as long as Lucas. Haven't you, boys?"
The taller of the two - Olivier or Laurent, you wondered? - offered a toothy grin. Despite looking like chiselled rock statues, their teeth gleamed perfectly white.
Gargoyles, you surmised, and tried not to imagine them looming above you on a dark night as you passed beneath an old building. Were all statues alive, or only some?
A gentle hand on your shoulder had you stuttering back to reality. Although it made you shiver, you were grateful for Esmeralda's presence. She was comforting beside you, petite and slim but filled with a steady kind of strength. You noticed then, that her sharp fingernails were painted a velvety black.
"I'll leave you all to breakfast, and show our new guest the rest of the house. Olivier, will you make sure to keep a plate for her?"
Olivier must have been the grinning one, because he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Sure thing, boss. So long as she isn't vegan or anything."
I shook my head mutely, not trusting my voice.
"Good, then you can have eggs and bacon with the rest of us."
With that, Esmeralda took you by the elbow and glided back into the hall. "I do apologise if they are somewhat... difficult to get along with. Laurent and Olivier especially; they haven't spent much time around humans, if any at all."
Now that the cool air of the hallway was calming you, you found your voice again. "It's all right," you replied, although it was far from it. "I'm just... this is a lot to take in, you know? I thought sleep might help, but this time yesterday I didn't even realise any of you were real, let along living in big, Victorian houses and eating breakfast like regular people-"
"We are regular people," Esmeralda replied curtly. "Perhaps not by your standards, but by our own."
Your stomach twisted itself into knots. Great, now you felt like an asshole. That wasn't what you had meant, only that it was difficult to comprehend that vampires and whatever else were living day to day lives amongst humans. And if vampires and gargoyles and werewolves existed, what else did too?
Esmeralda must have sensed your discomfort, because her expression softened. She offered your arm a gentle squeeze, before reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face with feather-light fingers.
It made your stomach flutter in a wholly different way to the nerves overtaking you just before. You hadn't expected such tenderness, or for her touch to linger on your cheek just a moment too long to be necessary. You looked up at her with wide eyes, lips parted ever so slightly-
Only for Esmeralda to drop her hand and turn towards the stairs. It was as if nothing had even happened, and left you wondering sourly if you'd imagined the longing in her gaze.
"You know where your bedroom is, and the kitchen, which are the most important things. You'll find a bathroom in almost every hallway, so I don't suppose that will be an issue. I can show you the two living rooms and the library, although until Beau is gone I wouldn't suggest going near the garden I'm afraid."
You shifted, staring at Esmeralda's clasped hands and wondering why you felt so cold without her nearby. She was hardly warm herself, but with only a meter between you, you felt the loss of her hand against your arm, the ghost of her fingers across your face.
Oblivious - or at least, you hoped so - she held out her hand again. "How about the library first? I have the best book collection in Farfield, I guarantee it."
You didn't care about the books, not really, but any excuse to spend time with Esmeralda was one you'd gladly take. Without hesitation, you took her hand and allowed her to guide you towards the library.
She led you through narrow, winding hallways that were mostly dark, save for the flicker of dim chandeliers. It was like something out of an old book or a fairytale, as if stepping into this house had transported you back a hundred years in time.
You saw huge portraits lining one especially long hallway; five women all in a neat line, their portraits contained in elegant oak frames. Although their hair and clothing changed, they all had the same haunting, blood-red eyes.
The most recent one was clearly of Esmeralda, with her flowing black hair and painted lips. You wondered if the other four paintings were really of her, too, and not some long dead ancestor with uncanny resemblance.
Then, Esmeralda paused - and when she swept open a set of enormous oak doors to reveal the library inside, it took your breath away.
"Woah," you murmured, stepping past Esmeralda and into the cavernous room.
The house was enormous, but you still hadn't expected something as grand as this; towering bookshelves stretched from ceiling to floor, crammed with so many books that you wondered how they all managed to fit. The floor was a huge swatch of black hardwood, but somebody had stacked even more books into every corner, every crevice, leaving only the middle of the library clear.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Esmeralda asked as she swept past. She wore a long dress today, more modern than what you had seen her in last night - but the thick fabric swished about her ankles as she turned to beckon you forward. You had never paid much attention to what she was wearing before, too captured by her ethereally gorgeous face and sparkling crimson eyes; but it struck you now how the dress hugged her curves, tight at the bust and waist before blooming into folds of tulle at the hips.
Esmeralda looked as if she was dressed for a ball; and you, in the same jeans and top as yesterday, felt so out of place in this perfect house.
Yet before you could delve too much into self-consciousness, Esmeralda took your hand and led you deeper into the library. The sensation of her cool hand in yours was soothing, her skin soft and blemish-free as it squeezed yours. She had an odd way of comforting you, without even saying a word.
The two of you settled into a little nook at the window, tucked into the corner where two tall bookshelves joined. You couldn't see any ladders or railings to reach the top, and wondered how anybody was supposed to reach. You had the sudden, ridiculous image of Esmeralda turning into a bat and grabbing a book in tiny talons - but she couldn't really do that. Right?
It was a silly thought, but stuck in your mind as Esmeralda picked out a few books. You were surprised to note that so many were romance - modern ones too, despite the old fashioned appearance of the house and herself. You even recognised a few.
Conversation flowed easily between the two of you; Esmeralda had been alive for a long time, and she had ready so many books that it was difficult to keep up. It was soothing though, listening to her voice as she excitedly told you all about her favourite stories over the centuries.
You hadn't seen her so enthusiastic before, some of that cool and composed exterior melting away the more time passed. It was impossible to know how long you spent there, breaking only once you remembered to eat. You ate breakfast still tucked away in the reading nook, and lunch too, when Maisie appeared suddenly with sandwiches and a huge mug of coffee.
"You might be here for a while," she whispered with a grin. "If you want to stay awake, you'll need this.
You had argued that you loved listening to Esmeralda talk; but after an entire day spent here, even you were beginning to drift off. Eventually the sky began to darken, and you only knew because the tinted windows lost their rosy glow and became a drowsy grey.
After a while, Esmeralda quietened. You glanced up from your position sprawled across the old couch, to see her sorting the books on the table into neat piles.
"It's late," she stated kindly, "and you look tired. I talked your ear off all day. You can rest here if you like, and I'll wake you when supper is ready."
You rose a brow. "You don't mind?"
"My guests are free to go wherever they please, within reason of course. Besides, you look so sweet there that it would be a shame to disturb you."
You smiled when Esmeralda lay a blanket across your middle. That smile only widened as your hands brushed, her perfectly manicured nails skimming across your skin.
She's probably this kind to all of her guests, you reasoned quietly. There was a small part of you, though, that hoped for more. Was it possible that this was more than simple concern for you? The thought made you shiver, and you buried deeper under the blanket in an attempt to hide it from Esmeralda.
If she noticed your odd behaviour, she didn't comment. Instead, she brushed dark hair from her eyes with a gentle hand, making you wish that it was you running your hand through her silky locks.
You let out an audible sigh; and perhaps you imagined it, but it felt like Esmeralda sent you a barely perceptible smirk. It was difficult to tell though, with your eyes growing heavy as sleep threatened to overtake you. Eventually, you slipped into unconsciousness, relaxed by the quiet murmurs of Esmeralda as she began to read.
***
It was night when you were wrenched back to wakefulness by a chill jolting through your entire body. You winced, shuffling upright to look about the library.
The lights were still on, but they had been dimmed to a peaceful glow. Esmeralda was nowhere to be seen, her chair vacant, and you stifled a shudder at the though of being alone in this big, old room. She had to be somewhere though, perhaps in the kitchen while the others made supper, or in one of the several living rooms.
There was a flash by the window, making your chest leap as you spun - but outside it was dark, and you couldn't see anything except the bushes that had always been there. It had probably just been a rabbit or something scurrying past while you weren't looking.
Even so, unease settled deep in your stomach, as you realised that Esmeralda had left her book open. There was a cup of half-finished tea too, and the scent of coppery blood emanating from the cup was less concerning than the fact it seemed to have been abandoned so abruptly.
Biting down on your lip, you picked up the cup and took a sniff. Yes, that was definitely blood, metallic beneath the otherwise sweet scent of peppermint tea. You set the cup down with a wince. For all of her charm and beauty, Esmeralda was still a vampire.
A tap at the window made you startle, bumping into the coffee table and nearly sending the books clattering to the floor. At the last second, you managed to slam a hand against the haphazard pile to stop them from falling, while your eyes darted towards the window.
You couldn't see anyone there, it was too dark and the windows were tinted to almost black. There was definitely someone there though; a silhouette with long hair and slender, folded arms.
"You wouldn't mind letting me in, would you? Lucas has locked the front door and I've been knocking for ages."
The feminine voice brought a rush of relief spreading through you. It was only Esmeralda! There was just one issue...
"I don't have the keys."
Her silhouette straightened. "Oh, it's not locked - you just have to open it from your side and invite me in."
Well, all right then. It was kind of rude of Luke to lock the door, especially if the only danger was a man who physically couldn't enter without being asked.
When your fingers found the window's latch, it slid open easily. Pale moonlight spilled into the library, thin beams spreading across the floor.
"Here, you can come in now. Sorry I can't open it more, it's - I think it's jammed?" You gave it an experimental tug and sure enough, it wouldn't open more than halfway.
"That's all right," Esmeralda said with a chuckle; but it wasn't a kind sound. It was so cold that you felt ice freeze you solid.
The long, sturdy limbs that slithered through the window did not belong to Esmeralda. The hand that gripped the windowsill belonged to a man, the nails filed to a short, sharp point. Slowly, having to duck to fit through, the rest of him emerged; long white hair spilled over his shoulders as he pulled himself into the room; and between those folds of hair you glimpsed a grinning, manic face.
Finally, Beau stood before you at his full height. In the perfect mimic of Esmeralda's voice, he said, "thank you for letting me in, little one. If it wasn't for you I would have been there all night, waiting for Lucas to give up the hunt."
Nausea rolled in your throat. You stumbled back as fear rose in your gut, shaking hands outstretched to keep from smacking into the table a second time. When your foot kicked the table leg, you hardly even felt the jolt of pain.
For every step you took backwards, Beau stalked forwards. A slow, menacing smile crept across his features as his hands reached out for you. You could have run, but the library was like a maze and you didn't know where to go, backed into a corner by Beau's slow advance.
When your back hit the wall, you panicked.
"You really thought you could escape me?" Beau purred, as one elongated hand cupped your chin. "You thought that hiding here could keep me away? Esmeralda is nothing but a sentimental idiot, thinking that she can get along with you humans - shit."
You barely had time to register that Beau had stepped back, before something huge and dark launched itself across the library. The person - creature? - went tumbling, Beau underneath them, knocking furniture carelessly aside in the process. Beau shouted something unintelligible as the creature rose to loom above him.
The creature in question was a huge black wolf the size of a bear, standing on its hind legs.
"What the fuck-"
Something grabbed you before you could finish the thought. Slender hands tugged you aside and out of harm's way and you stumbled, legs unwilling to hold you anymore.
You weren't sure how you made it into the hallway, the echoes of the fight far behind you. Yet somehow you made it, but your legs suddenly buckled and then you collapsed without a word.
The floor was cold beneath your crumpled legs, but it did little to snap you back to reality. Rather, it only made you shiver and bury deeper into the comforting embrace of whoever sat beside you.
You realised with a whisper of embarrassment, that the person in question was Esmeralda. At some point, she had swept a blanket over your shivering shoulders and pulled you close, her chin resting on the top of your head.
"It's all right," she hummed, and gave you a little squeeze. "I don't know how Beau got in, but he won't hurt you. Lucas will take care of him now."
Lucas... he must have been that enormous werewolf inside the library. You wanted to feel comforted by the knowledge that such a hulking man was on your side, but it was Esmeralda's soft touch that soothed you more.
She continued to whisper soft reassurances, drowning out the howls and snarls of Lucas. It sounded as if he was tearing the library apart, and you almost felt sorry for Beau to be on the receiving end of that. Almost.
"I really thought that he was going to get me," you murmured against Esmeralda's shoulder. "He sounded exactly like you, and I didn't think twice about letting him in."
Esmeralda huffed. "Mimicking. It's one of the oldest tricks a vampire has, I don't blame you for falling for it."
You had nothing to say to that. Your heart still thundered too loudly in your ears to think of a proper reply anyway, pounding desperately against your ribs. Instead of answering, you simply curled up beside Esmeralda and let her hold you.
Later - it could have been hours or only minutes, but probably the latter - heavy footsteps clunked down the hall. A masculine - yet surprisingly soft - voice whispered. "He's dealt with. Beau won't be coming back here anytime soon."
Relief struck you hard enough that you were almost ill from the force of it. You peeked up to see a man you assumed was Lucas; he was towering and broad, but his smile was soft.
"Sorry you had to hear all that," he said sheepishly, and his nose crinkled in embarrassment. "Beau's a nasty one. Oh, and Es? You might want to buy a new sofa at some point. That's my bad."
Esmeralda only rolled her eyes and shooed him off - Lucas ambled off down the hall, perhaps to check on the others. Or to deal with Beau, whatever that entailed. Honestly, you didn't want to think about that too much.
You took a moment to cool your racing nerves, before turning to Esmeralda with a frown. In the wake of almost being eaten, you should have been more torn up about it. And you were, except that now Beau was dealt with you really had no more reason to stay.
"Thanks for saving me. Again." You chuckled, but it was dry. "Now that Beau's gone, does that mean I should go?"
Esmeralda's thin brows furrowed. "I'm hardly going to kick you out the moment the danger passes."
"Sure, but... I'm just a human, and don't you need the space?"
She sent you a wavering look, but her glowing eyes were soft. Gentle. Dare you even say... affectionate?
"I have more bedrooms here than I could ever reasonably use. While you don't have to stay, this house is always open to you." Carefully, as if you were made of delicate china, she used one sharp nail to brush hair from your face. "But perhaps you should stay another day or two to recover."
You parted your lips to argue, even as your pulse quickened. When had Esmeralda gotten so close? Her hair draped across her shoulders, close enough to tickle your cheeks as she bent down to your height. You could see those smouldering red eyes, smell the odd mix of peppermint and tangy blood on her breath. Any closer now, and all you'd have to do was tilt your head up and allow your lips to meet.
You never had the chance, because Esmeralda closed the last inches between the two of you. You had always found her cold before, but now the two of you seemed to be on fire as warmth lit up your chest. Her lips caught yours in a tender kiss, as one arm slipped around your waist to hold you carefully.
When she pulled away, there was a dazed smile across her lips; one that you knew you mirrored in your own expression.
"If you leave after such a perfect kiss," Esmeralda said, "I would be terribly disappointed."
Still flushed, you replied, "then I suppose I have no choice but to stay."
She hummed in agreement - and then pulled you in for another long, lingering kiss.
#exophilia fiction#exophilia#monster x reader#monster girlfriend#monster romance#tag: fxf#tag: vampire#tag: female monster#tag: female reader#tag: sfw
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mending of the Heart
You go on a date with Maglor, prepared to confess your feelings for him. But then, a reminder from your past leaves you frightened and you run away. Luckily, you did not go far and you two talk about your feelings and your fear of the past mistake.
Warnings: fluff, going on a date with Maglor, mentions of a panic attack, voices inside the head, mentions of the incident, getting shot, and near-death experience, some angst, comfort, and finally a confession of love.
Chapter 24 (Final)
-----------------------------------------------------
Luckily, you were blessed with a free day after the morning arrived. You had no energy to deal with work, but you were more than happy to visit Faye, who had been worried about you since your disappearance. You spent time together catching up on what had happened, and as the evening approached, you began preparing for your date with Maglor. Unfortunately, you didn't have many clothes suited for dates or similar occasions, so you settled for the nicest-looking and cleanest clothes you could find. Now, you were struggling to decide on a hairstyle and tried to persuade Camilla to help, knowing she was better at styling hair.
"Seriously, should I go with something stylish, braids, ponytail? Whatever might look best on me," you questioned while brushing your hair. You had two hours before you needed to go to the gardens to see Maglor, but you were not able to set your mind on the right hairstyle.
"Why don't you just go with your normal hairstyle?" Camilla questioned.
“Because there is a chance that this is a date! Do you really think going with your usual hairstyle is appropriate for something like a date?!” you replied while trying to handle your hair to mimic some styles.
"I don't think I have ever seen you so worked up on impressing someone. " Camilla stated while she watched you get frustrated with your hair for the tenth time. "You always go how you like," she added.
"Well, this isn't just someone, now is it?" you asked sarcastically.
"Oh yeah, this is the guy you have the fattest crush on, how could I forget," Camilla said while rolling her eyes.
"But seriously, he seems to like you the way you are. I don’t think it's too important to impress him,” Camilla stated.
"But, what if I kinda want to impress him? Try something new and put some effort into my appearance," you questioned. “To show, I’m serious about my feelings for him,” you said while looking in the mirror.
"I think the amount of pining you’ve done is enough to show how serious you are about him,” Camilla remarked.
“I know, so come on! Now that I'm finally allowed to go on a date with someone. You could give some suggestions. Don’t be a boring sister, and help me out,” you grinned at her.
“Fine,” Camilla rolled her eyes at you, setting down her book and cup of coffee.
"I still think it's important for you to go with what makes you feel most comfortable. But if you must insist, I can try some braids that might impress him, since elves are all about braids and hairstyles," she explained, pulling a stool in front of her and gesturing for you to sit.
“Now you understand my dilemma! Oh, could you possibly do one of those waterfall braids? I think that might impress him the best?" you asked as you walked over to her.
"I can try, but I can’t promise you that I know how to do them,” she answered as you turned your back toward her.
"Now sit your ass down," she ordered, pushing you down to sit on the stool in front of her.
“The hairbrush,” she said, reaching her hand over your shoulder. You handed her the hairbrush and then watched as she started brushing your hair, parting it, and thinking about how she should get started with the braiding.
Your mind then wandered to the dream you saw last night. You tried to forget about it, but you could not stop thinking about the looks on Camilla’s family member’s faces and her grandmother’s words. Were you truly making a mistake?
"Say, what do you think your family would say if they saw us now?" you asked.
"Most likely freak out. You do remember we have lived in this world for a whole year, so we have most likely been declared missing in our world,” Camilla answered.
"Well, that's the obvious reaction, but what do you think they would say in our current situation and that I am now going to see someone?" you questioned.
Camilla was quiet for a moment, thinking about your question.
“They would most likely be disappointed with you and try to convince you out of it. They were pretty strict about the curse and the downsides of it,” she said.
"Yeah, they would," you agreed.
"Why do you ask?" she asked.
"Nothing. I have just been seeing dreams about the incident and everything else that followed," you explained.
"Well, don't let them bother you. That incident is now a thing of the past, so focus on the future," Camilla then started braiding your hair.
"Okay," You smiled and allowed her to focus on your hair.
You felt somewhat assured by her words, but you could not help but still feel hesitant about the decision you were making. The dream replayed in your mind over and over again, and then you were reminded of the voices you heard in the dream, where you drowned in the ocean of blood. Now, they merged with the voices of Camilla’s family, with her grandmother’s voice and the question she asked being the loudest.
Were you already repeating the same mistake again?
You tried to brush it off and focus on the present, but it kept coming back like a snake that refused to give up on its prey.
After two hours had passed, Camilla managed to braid your hair into lovely waterfall braids after thirty minutes of figuring out how to do it. You dressed nicely and then left for the gardens to see Maglor. The flowers were blooming beautifully, filling the garden with colors. There were little bugs flying around the flower beds and a few birds nesting in the trees, filling the garden with their sounds. It was very atmospheric, and you found Maglor waiting on a familiar bench.
He smiled when he saw you, and you noticed a basket sitting next to him when you approached him.
“You made it,” he said, then looked at the braids in your hair. “You look very lovely today,” he stated.
“Thanks…” you said with a bashful smile. “Sorry, if I was late. I had to take care of a few things at home,” you explained.
“You’re not late at all. I was worried I was the one who was being later,” Maglor said as you sat down beside him on the bench.
“I brought some biscuits and treats you might like,” he said, taking off the cover from the basket, revealing delicious treats beneath it. “I know you like tasting new things, so I thought I should bring them,” he said.
“That’s… very sweet of you,” you smiled as you grabbed one of the cookies.
“Be honest. Is this a date or something?” you grinned while taking a bite out of the cookie.
“It might be. I’m sorry if I was not more forward about it,” he said as you munched on the cookie and nearly moaned from the taste.
“Don’t worry about it, and these cookies are really good,” you said as you grabbed another one and began eating it.
“So, what was it that you wanted to show me?” you asked.
“Oh, yes… I…” Maglor said, looking nervous all of a sudden. You then watched as he brought out a harp. Your eyes widened as you began to think what you thought was happening.
“It’s been a while since you have heard me play an instrument, and there is this one song I would like to sing to you. Would you be willing to listen?” he asked as he set his harp on his lap.
“I love your singing, so go for it,” you encouraged him.
“Wonderfull,” he smiled.
“Alright then…” he said as he positioned his fingers against the strings.
You listened as he began to play the harp, and the garden was filled with gentle and beautiful music. Then, Maglor began to sing, and it felt as though your ears were being blessed by an angel. Unfortunately, Maglor's song was in Elvish, so you could not completely understand the lyrics. However, strangely enough, you were filled with adoration for his song.
You even stopped eating so the sounds from your eating would not disrupt the music that blessed your ears. You found yourself fully enraptured by Maglor and his song.
Your ears managed to pick up a few words in the song you understood thanks to Melui teaching you some words in elvish, and you felt your heart race when you understood the meaning of the song and its words. Was he singing you a love song?
You continued to listen to him play and sing for what felt like an hour. When the final notes faded away, you couldn't help but clap enthusiastically, showing your appreciation for his talent.
“Bravo! That was beautiful!” you clapped your hands as he set the harp down.
“What was the song about? Call me silly, but I felt like I was being filled with love,” you questioned, causing him to smile.
“I did manage to understand a couple of words. My friend at Doriath agreed to teach me a few words in Elvish while I was there, and I could not help but notice a few things in this song. Maglor, was this a love song?” you finally asked.
“I’m surprised you managed to pick on it quickly, and the answer is… yes it is a love song,” Maglor answered. “I actually wrote it a few days ago, and my motivation to write that song was my feelings for you,” he revealed and you felt your breath getting stuck in your throat.
“(Name)... about the thing I wanted to tell you,” Maglor said as he grabbed your hands and looked at you in the eye.
You waited for him to continue with anticipation in your eyes.
“These past months have been… eventful, and I admit that I never imagined meeting someone like you,” Maglor began. “But after getting to know you and hearing your stories, I’ve come to realize that I enjoy your company,” he continued. “I've also noticed that my life has become brighter and more joyful after you stepped in,” he added with a smile.
Your heart began to pound faster, and warmth crept into your face as you waited for him to say it. You were at the edge of saying it yourself. But then, in the corner of your eye, you caught a flash of shadow. To your horror, it resembled Camilla’s grandmother. She regarded you with a disappointed expression before vanishing from sight.
You did not know if your mind was playing tricks on you, but you felt your breath getting stuck in your throat but with fear this time. The voices from your dream also returned, silencing all the thoughts in your mind and screaming to stop yourself from making a mistake.
“What I mean to say is…” Maglor took in a deep breath.
“(Name). I come to…” he suddenly felt your hand become cold and noticed the panicked look on your face.
“(Name). Is everything alright?” he asked with a worried tone since you looked like you were about to pass out.
“I can’t…” you uttered as it became harder for you to breathe. Your mind fell frantic and now all you could think about was to run away.
“I’m sorry. I can’t. I need to…” you stood up, feeling your heart pound painfully against your chest. The voices in your head became louder.
“I need to go!” you exclaimed then bolted out of the garden.
“(Name)!” Maglor called out as he stood up, but you had already fled the garden, disappearing from his sight.
Worry seeped within his heart. He was not certain what it was that caused such a reaction from you, but he had a feeling it was not him that scared you away, but something else, something that made you afraid and run away like a deer getting chased by a wolf. He quickly went after you, worried you might end up hurting yourself in a state of panic.
After hours of looking for you, Maglor quickly came to your apartment and hastily knocked on the door. He stopped when he heard footsteps inside and prayed you were there since he had failed to find you in other places in Himring.
In a minute, Camilla opened with a confused frown.
“What’s going on? Why are you here? Aren’t you and (Name) supposed to be on a date or something?” she questioned.
“Well, we were in the garden, and I was going to confess my feelings to her, but then she was frightened by something. She kept saying she couldn't do it and needed to leave. Then she disappeared,” Maglor recounted. “I got worried and went looking for her, but she's nowhere to be found. She did not return here, did she?” he asked, concerned.
“No,” Camilla shook her head.
Maglor released a heavy exhale. “I’m sorry. I might have overstepped, or…” he started, thinking he had gone overboard.
“No. No, I don’t think you overstepped or anything,” Camilla shook her head.
“I think it’s about the incident. (Name) asked me a pretty weird question today, but now that I think about it. She might still be affected by what happened in her previous relationship,” she explained.
“What happened in her previous relationship?” Maglor asked.
"Way before we came into this world, during the last year of high school. It was a place we went to learn things. There was this boy, Jace. (Name) liked him a lot, and when he asked her to prom, I allowed it despite the rules since she really wanted to go. But then, without my knowledge, she started dating this boy, and… “ Camilla hesitated. “Well, like I said before, It did not end well,” she finished.
“Jace… he somehow came in contact with hunters or was one in the first place. We didn’t care to find out which one was true. He learned about (Name)’s curse, and then, he tried to kill her,” she revealed, causing Maglor to widen his eyes in shock.
“He shot her right in the chest with pure silver. The Frost breath barely saved her life. She was rushed to the hospital, but any seconds wasted, she wouldn't be standing here today,” Camilla explained.
“That’s… awful,” Maglor uttered, horrified at the thought of you being at death’s doors, by the hands of your former lover as well.
“After she recovered, (Name) never dared to go against the rules again. And it seems she’s still affected by it. She looked like she was over it, but now I realize it must have been the nightmares and the trauma she received that made her hesitant. She had also followed this advice my grandmother gave her after the incident, which was about never seeking love while she was still cursed,” Camilla said.
“I think that advice is still in the back of her mind, and that’s why she freaked out and ran away,” she added.
“But where she could have gone? I looked everywhere in Himring,” Maglor questioned.
“There’s a high chance she left Himring, and I have one idea where she could have gone,” Camilla stated as she grabbed her cloak.
“Where?” Maglor asked as she walked out and closed the door.
“To our old village, we lived there a whole year before meeting you. Now, come on,” She answered and the two left the apartment and went to fetch horses to leave Himring.
The moon was high in the sky, shaped in a sharp crescent form. The stars painted the sky as Camilla and Maglor arrived at the village that now stood as ruins since the night of the attack. Few burned houses still stood, and plants have now covered everything.
The two stopped at your former burned-down house. Camilla climbed down and tied the reins to the intact wood post.
“I’m gonna go check the village, you can check the house and the woods,” Camilla said as she started searching the village.
Maglor jumped down from his horse. He glanced at your house which now stood as a haunting memory. He then turned his gaze toward the forest, and one place came into his mind. He left his horse with Camilla’s horse and made his way to the place where you two first met.
He came to the familiar tree and there he found you leaning against the tree, sitting on the same spot where he first laid his eyes upon you.
“(Name),” he said softly.
You jolted a little then looked at him. He frowned when he noticed redness in your eyes, meaning you had been crying.
“Oh, Maglor. Hey… I’m sorry for freaking out earlier and bolting out. I swear I was gonna come back,” you answered as he sat beside you.
“It’s alright. I was more worried about you…” he said.
“Listen… Camilla told me about your previous relationship and what happened,” he explained. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” he said.
“No, no, you don’t need to apologize. I should have told you earlier. It’s just…” you struggled to find the right words. “I… I don’t know how to talk about it,” you uttered.
“I sometimes still see nightmares about it, the sound of the shotgun explosion, the screaming, the sensation of feeling my chest being blown open and the struggle to breathe with the bleeding and the Frost Breath growing out of my lungs,” you described.
“I can still sometimes feel the lingering ache in the scar on my chest, because it's the only wound that never disappeared,” you uttered, feeling the scar through your shirt.
“But that was not the only way I was hurt,” you said.
“Can you imagine getting nearly killed by an ex-lover, especially when everyone else warned you of the consequences?” you asked as you looked at him.
“I felt so stupid when it happened,” you exclaimed, struggling to contain the tears.
“And I won’t make excuses. I went behind my adoptive family’s back because I was desperate… desperate for something normal, something so simple as love,” you said quietly.
“Anything not to be excluded and feel like… I’m not human,” you mumbled.
“But you are very much human,” Maglor said.
“Camilla’s family and everyone at the compound said the same, but…” you started. “In their eyes, I needed to be safely contained and at arm’s reach, in case something happens or if I lose control of myself,” you finished
“They didn’t treat me badly, but it also felt like they never saw me beyond my curse. I did not feel like a human even in their care,” you said.
“Then I did something stupid as trying to date a normal person, who had no idea that I was cursed with something so bad as a Wendigo,” you stared at the grass in front of you as the tears fell from your eyes again.
“I don’t think it was stupid, nor do I think it was your fault. That boy was easily persuaded to cause harm to you instead of giving you the chance to explain yourself,” Maglor stated.
“Well, people in my world are easily scared by something they do not understand,” you replied.
“You are perhaps the first person who gave me the chance to explain myself when you found out what I was,” you said, remembering when you attacked the orc camp and found him trapped there.
“(Name),” Maglor said then grabbed both of your hands into his.
“I admit I was scared and confused when I found out about your curse, but I saw a long time ago that you were not an evil person, who wishes harm upon others,” he explained and looked at you in the eyes.
“I see you beyond your curse. I adore the light you have brought into my life and how you would smile and tell stories to your heart’s content. I never got tired of hearing them,” he said with a smile.
“This curse of yours has robbed you of many joyful things, and if you allow me, I would be more than happy to give you my heart,” he added.
“But what if things go wrong and I end up hurting you as a beast? Or when I age and leave this world behind?” you questioned. “I once saw a dream where I ended up losing control and then I drowned in an ocean of blood,” you revealed.
“I don’t want to hurt you in any way. I feel like that’s the worst thing I could do to you,” you sniffed.
“I’m not worried about the curse, especially when you have now found the medicine to control it once more. And I know you would eventually leave this world as you are not immortal, and I am willing to embrace it once the time comes,” Maglor said as he held his hand against your face.
“Compared to me, you are more deserving of good and things that make you happy. It would only pain me more to see you deny yourself of those,” he stated
“I…” more tears began to run down from your eyes.
You sniffed and grabbed onto his warm hand, instinctively leaning into it. “I don’t know what to say,” you mumbled.
“Then don’t… let the tears come out,” Maglor said as he pulled you into his arms. You were surprised by his gesture, but when you felt that familiar sense of warmth and safety, you began uncontrollably weeping, holding on to him tightly.
Maglor held on to you, gently stroking your hair as you released all the tears and the pain you had held back over the years. His heart ached for you, but he knew this was what you needed.
You cried for minutes and when you felt like you had released everything, you pulled out of his embrace, drying your tears.
“Thanks… that helped a little,” you said as your eyes burned red.
“I’m certain it's what you needed,” Maglor said as he still held onto your hand, squeezing it gently.
“I guess… an honest conversation can fix up many things and release bottled emotions, huh?” you said with a smile.
“But are you certain that you can love someone like me? I’m literally cursed with one of the worst creatures known in my world,” you questioned.
“I meant what I said. And I’m not worried about the beast because I know you have the strength and ways to control it. Even if you do lose control or are unable to control it for the time being, I would still stand by your side,” Maglor said.
You stared at him before releasing a laugh. “Shit. I think you are the medicine I needed all along…” you said, making him softly smile.
“Maglor, I…” you began, trying to push yourself to say it.
“I…” you struggled as the word refused to come out of your mouth.
“Damn it! Why is it so hard to say?!” you cursed.
“Then allow me,” Maglor pulled your hand toward him.
You watched as he brought the back of your hand in front of his lips then placed a kiss that nearly felt like a touch of a feather on your skin. Your face warmed up by the gesture.
“(Name), I love you. Will you give me the honor of courting you?” Maglor asked with a loving smile.
You inhaled, nearly too nervous to answer.
“Yes… I would love that,” you answered.
The cold of the night seemed to have vanished in that moment and you felt yourself finally become free from the past. Hand in hand, Maglor led you back to the village, where Camilla was waiting with the horses.
“Nice for you to show up after running away?” Camilla said with a glare.
“Yeah… sorry about that,” you uttered.
“So, I guess you two are official now?” she said, glancing at your conjoined hands.
“Yep, after a lot of talking and releasing emotions,” you answered while drying your eyes.
“Hm. Cringe,” Camilla said.
You frowned at her. “Well, fuck you too! At least I got a boyfriend now,” you said, pointing at Maglor, who only snorted.
“Anyway, are we ready to go now?” Camilla said.
You glanced at Maglor, who only gave a reassuring smile.
“Yeah, let’s go home,” you replied.
#tolkien#silmarillion x reader#middle earth x reader#silm fic#middle earth#maglor#silmarillion fanfiction#silmarillion#maglor x reader#maglor x human reader#cursed reader#modern reader#the spring heart's bloom#slow burn
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
they long to be (close to you)
Eddie Roundtree x Fem!Reader
djats masterlist
Word Count : 3.6k
Summary : Eddie doesn't understand why you seem to like him less then your other bandmates since moving to LA. little does he know that really isn't the case.
Thank you for all the love on the last fic, especially @thefemininemystiquee !! your comment absolutely made my day!! so this one is for you <;33
Warning!! I have not read the book or the show!!! All info I have gathered has been from other x readers I have read. sorry in advance if I have butchered your fav show/book because i have plainly made shit up in favour of satiating my own need for more Eddie fics xoxo
Ever since the move to LA, the shitty rental Billy had paid for was getting on Eddie's last nerve. Not because it was constantly too hot inside and too cold outside, not because of the lack of air conditioning, not because of the thin ass walls and not because of the way the sun never seemed to set enough that it wouldn't peak under his curtains when he was trying to sleep. The thing about the house in LA that got on his nerves the most was the fact that he couldn't escape you.
It wasn't that Eddie didn't like you - it was quite the opposite in that matter. Eddie really liked you, but it just seemed like you didn't like him, at least not anymore. Back in Pittsburgh, you and Eddie had been the best of friends, and you still were, but since you'd all moved into the same house, he'd noticed something; you never touched him.
Plenty of times had he seen you wrapped in a tight hug with Karen, her head atop your own as you hid your face in her shoulder, with one hand on the small of Camilla's back and the other holding her own as you danced around the kitchen together, Graham's legs intertwined with yours as you shared a blanket when the widows were wide open late at night - fuck, he'd even seen you tucked under Billy's arm with one arm wrapped around his waist as you made small talk.
But the worst was every time he saw you with Warren.
You were always together, seemingly inseparable in the way he thought the two of you had been back in Pittsburgh and it hurt. Everywhere he looked, if you weren't touching someone else, you were touching Warren. Holding his hand as you walked through the house or with his head in your lap (or yours in his) on the couch as you watched some shitty rerun, his arms wrapped around your waist as he held you from behind as the two of you stood together, his hands pulling you close to him as you cuddled up in his lap late at night in the living room, your hands in his hair as the two of you shared a blunt, or three, on the porch late at night. He couldn't escape it or the thought that that should be him.
Eddie longed to be close to you in a way you didn't seem to want with him. Boy, if only he knew how wrong he was.
In all the years you'd known Eddie, he hadn't been one for touchiness. If your hand brushed his he'd always been quick to pull it away, or if you reached for a hug he turned it into a quick side hug then carried in with whatever he was doing. As far as you were concerned, you were just respecting Eddie's wishes to be left alone.
Warren was happy to fill the needed affection you often sought out. He, himself, was quite the lover - always one to take a cuddle and hold onto a hug for way longer then most would deem appropriate - which was exactly what you needed. The two of you had spent many nights in bed together in LA just for the company of it, and not that you didn't like it, you just wished it was with someone else, instead.
"You coming to bed, sweet girl?" Warren asked with a tired drawl to his words, extending a hand out to you while the other held the remainder of his joint to his lips.
"In a little." You hummed back, taking a hit out the joint he offered out to you, the joint being held to your lips by Warren instead of taking it into your own hands. "I'm not tired enough to sleep."
Warren pulled the joint back to his lips, his other hand coming to brush your hair out of your eyes and behind your ear, his hand resting against your hair and keeping you tucked in the crook of his neck. "You want me to wait up with you? Or you can come keep my company? I'll put on some Fleetwood Mac, it'll help you sleep, baby girl."
That was another thing that had Eddie seething. The constant nicknames you let the others call you. Back in Pittsburgh, Eddie was the only one who'd ever called you anything but your name, and now he was the only one who didn't. Karen called you sweet-pea, Camilla called you sunshine as did Graham and even Billy, but Warren? Warren called you whatever he liked; sweet girl, baby girl, baby, doll, his.
"No, it's okay Warren, you go to bed." Warren scooped you up in his arms, placing you down in the spot next to Graham who had already opened up his blanket for you, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. "I'll leave the door open for you."
You let your head fall to Graham's shoulder, who pulled his arm out from between the two of you and wrapped it over the back of the sofa. He allowed you to tangle your legs up in his pyjama covered ones, making sure you were comfortable before he turned his attention back to the tv screen.
"You and Warren are sleeping together?" Karen had been the one brave enough to ask, the conversation between the two of you not unnoticed by the rest of the group - it being the only thing to break the silence in the past 40 minutes.
All heads turned to you, attention suddenly on something that had the potential to be more interesting then the rerun of Scooby-doo that had just started. "Not like that." You answered softly, eyes still focused on the cartoon dog and his gang on friends, not noticing how everyone else was now looking at you. "We both just like the company of it. I don't think either of us realised how lonely it would be coming out to LA."
"Cute." Camilla mused, a warm smile curling on her lips as she took in that even in your sleep you were reaching out for the touch and warmth of someone else.
"You're always welcome in my bed, sweet-pea." Karen added, a smile curling on her own lips as she managed to take your attention away from the tv. "I swear you run cold. Would be nice in the LA heat."
"You can't steal my blanket buddy." Graham gasped, pulling you tighter against him and furiously tucking the blanket around the two of you. "She's the perfect amount of cold. The windows open, with the blanket, with y/n is the perfect temperature for me."
"I'm going to have to pass on that one Karen, unless you want to come down to my room." You countered her offer with a soft smile, attention moving back to the tv once more. "Warren says your room is haunted."
Laughter spread through out the room as you sided with Warren even in his absence; he was so sweet to you, and that's what friends do, so how could you not?
"What?" You asked, laughing yourself. "We left it empty until your arrival for a reason." That caused another round of laughter to break out in the room, save for Eddie who's brow tightened at the way everyone laughed at you, looked at you. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own angst, then maybe he would've noticed the way you spared a concerned glance his way.
A particularly loud shout of "scoob!" from the TV had everyone's attention turned back to the cartoon, everyone except yours, your eyes, laced with concern, lingering on Eddie. Something was going on and you were going to get to the bottom of it without doubt.
By the end of the episode, only you, Graham and Eddie remained in the room. Graham was fast asleep, his head leaning against yours making you trapped in his hold, and Eddie was sat in the armchair against the wall, legs curled into the seat and a bottle of warm beer in his hands that he'd been nursing for the last half an hour.
As the intro to the next rerun of Scooby-doo blasted from the TV, Graham startled awake, literally jumping out of his seat and pulling the blanket with him. He grumbled some attempt at what you thought was a goodnight, and stumbled sleepily out of the room, the warmth of him and the blanket leaving you alone on the couch.
Eddie stood, though with more awareness then Graham and turned to you with a tight lipped smile. Before you could ask him to stay a while, not wanting to be alone when you were still not ready to go bed with Warren, he turned for the kitchen, coming with back two new, cold beers in hand. He held one out for you, then almost jumped away in shock when you grabbed his wrist instead of the bottle. You quickly pulled your hand away from his, chiding yourself for forgetting Eddie didn't like to be touched, and curling into yourself. "Sit with me? Please?"
Eddie could never say no to you. So, he sat down on the couch, though made sure to keep a good bit of distance between the two of you, then handed your your beer, watching as you took a quick swig of the cold liquid.
"So, you and Warren?" Eddie couldn't help himself from asking, even though Karen had only an hour ago, too caught up in the fact it wasn't him to take notice of the sweet, friendly, moment you and Warren had shared earlier.
"Not like that, I already told you guys."
"You sure?" Eddie asked again, and though he had a teasing lilt to his words, you could feel a sense of something more behind them - some kind of worry, or something, you weren't entirely sure.
"Positive. He's just a friend." Taking another swig of your ice cold beer, you remained focused on the tv, really enjoying the antics of Scooby-doo and mystery inc in your effort to fall asleep.
"Really?" Eddie asked, his teasing tone coming off more in a way of disbelief now. "Cause he asked you to 'come to bed'."
"I sleep in Warren's bed most nights." You explained, coming clean for the first time about how often you actually found yourself in the curly-haired, brunettes bed. "We both like the company."
"And how did that start?" Eddie's asked, one arm stretching out over the back of the sofa in your direction. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he was slowly testing the waters of how close he could get to you, see if he, himself, was the reason you never touched him or if it was something else entirely.
"We were both out smoking late, then it got cold. Warren suggested we move it inside, and I reminded him of how Cami said she hates it when the living room stinks of shit." You paused, taking another sip from your beer, your fingers running across the droplets of water that were forming across the outside of the glass bottle. "Warren offered we go to his room so my room wouldn't get cold when we opened the window. We both fell asleep and ended up all tangled together the next morning. Neither of us wanted to get up cause we were too comfy, so I promised him I'd come back the next night if we got out of bed and got to practice. Now it's just become routine."
Though you'd given a pretty concise and accurate explanation of your relationship with Warren, Eddie was certain there was something more, something that made you act like that with Warren and not him, some kind of feelings or something that made it different.
"Yeah, but I think we all thought you guys were together before tonight." Eddie continued, your gaze breaking away from the tv just for a moment to meet his eyes. You'd never thought anyone thought you and Warren were together because of the way you acted - otherwise people would've thought you were dating everyone in the band. "Y'know, with all the times he's holding your hand, or your sat in his lap, giving him a hug. It just looks like you're together - are you sure you aren't?"
"I'm like that with everyone." You dismissed, eyes unmoving from the TV, worried that if you looked at Eddie you'd see something you didn't want to - disgust, repulsion, or some other kind of thing that told you he thought you were weird. Though, when push came to shove, you knew you wouldn't care what Eddie thought - whatever you and Warren had made it that much easier to be in LA, and you couldn't be more grateful for it.
"Not with me." He whispered, sipping from the cool beer that he had held against his lips, eyes moving away from your figure and back to the tv with a huff.
"What did you say?" You asked, warmth and all together y/n-ness dropping from your face as your turned your entire body to face him, your knees now bent up on the couch.
Eddie was done acting like he didn't care. If things went bad tonight it gave him just another reason to add to the list of why he hated the band and this stupid house. He had a bone to pick and he wasn't going to back down now he had the ample opportunity to speak out about it. "I said, not with me."
Eddie didn't give you the chance to cut in edge way with an explanation or an apology - though he didn't know exactly what would leave your mouth. He'd never really considered what was going on in your head about not touching him - only really focused on the fact that, once again, he seemed to be the one left out.
"You get all cuddly and shit with everyone else except me. Your always hugging Karen or Camilla, snuggled up with Graham, don't even get me started on how you're all over Warren and Billy - even Billy - you've hugged him more times here in LA then I think we've talked!"
"No I haven't." Your words came out in a whisper, suddenly unsure of everything that had happened in the past few months since you'd moved to LA. "You're my best friend Ed's, i don't ignore you, don't say that."
"That's not my point." Eddie let out a sigh, calming down immediately as he took notice of the way you moved further into the arm of the couch when he raised his voice a little. Taking a second to compose himself, he ran a hand over his face, placing down his beer on the coffee table in front of you two. "It seems like you want to, y'know, do all that with everyone but me. And I guess, what I'm trying to say is - why not me? Did I do something?"
Your heart broke at the crestfallen look of Eddie's face. "I thought you didn't like to be touched." You murmured, beginning to think you'd read into his actions a little too much - maybe he just needed the time to warm up to you touching him first - you'd never considered he'd feel left out by what you thought was what he wanted. "Whenever I've tried to touch you, you've brushed me off. I just figured that was you way of being nice about it, y'know, letting me down gently or whatever. I didn't think-"
You paused, reflecting on when the last time you'd even tried to touch Eddie had been, when the last time you'd called him Ed's had been, when the last time you'd held a conversation with him that wasn't in a group setting had been. "I don't know what I thought."
Your arms were wrapped around your knees, holding them close to your chest as you rested your chin on them, looking up at Eddie woefully. "I'm sorry, Eddie. I never meant to make you feel that way."
"Birdie..." He almost, whimpered, wanting to reach out for a hug but not knowing where to begin. How could he? He couldn't remember the last time someone had given him one. What if he did it wrong?
Standing from your seat, remote in hand, you flicked the TV off, quickly placing it down beside Eddies abandoned bottle. You offered your open hand out to him.
Eddie cautiously took it, your hands cupping each others and Eddie letting your thumb run over the flesh of his knuckles. You pulled Eddie behind you, careful not to move too quickly as to let his hand slip from yours, or to wake anyone else up. In a way, it felt wrong to be doing this with someone who wasn't Warren, in another, you'd never been more excited for anything.
Leading Eddie into your room, you urged him to get into your bed, closing the door gently behind you. Turning around, you were surprised to see him stood staring at you in confusion.
"I mean, I would've settled for hug or something - I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong." He rushed out his words as he spoke, trying to convey all his feelings on the matter before he could hurt your feelings in any capacity. "I'm just- I didn't say what I said to try and replace whatever you and Warren have, I'm not, I'm not that kind of guy. At least, I don't want to be."
"I already told you." You whispered, reaching out for his hand again as you crossed the room to meet him. "Just friends. Besides." You pulled him with you into the bed, pulling the duvet up from where it'd been kicked off the bed and onto the floor the last time you and Warren had stayed in here, and over the two of you. "No one I'd rather share it with."
Eddie froze for a moment, not quite believing the words that had just graced his ears. Turning on his side to face you, he found you already looking at him, one of your hands reaching out for his under the covers and intertwining your fingers. "Really? No one else?"
"No one else." You confirmed, shuffling closer to Eddie as you whispered your answer into the darkness of the room. "I love Warren, but sometimes it's an absolute fight sleeping in a bed with him."
"Yeah?" Eddie giggled, giggled, completely flustered by the new and close proximity the two of you were sharing.
"Yeah." You answered, slipping one of your legs between Eddie's and putting the other atop him own, pulling the two of you even closer together. Now pressed chest to chest, there was nowhere to look except the others eyes. "He kicks, he scratches and by God does he snore. Keeps me nice and warm though. Brings good company."
"I can be good company." Eddie proposed, an unsaid question lingering the words shared just between the two of you.
"I bet you can, Ed's." You answered, eyes flickering between his and his lips, catching him doing the same when you tried to meet his eyes again.
Eddie pressed his lips to yours in a featherlight kiss, holding the kiss for a long while as he tried to express everything that had built up inside of him since the arrival to LA, and everything he'd already thought since high school. You snaked your arms up between the two of you, wrapping them around his neck and pulling him even closer to you, deepening the kiss as you did so. Eddie hummed into you, pulling away from the kiss only to lean back in, pressing a series of quick as chaste kisses to your lips.
No other words were said that night, you nuzzling into the crook Eddie's neck and Eddie resting his head atop yours - not without pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, however. The two of you fell asleep rather quickly, the late night catching up with you in the warmth of tangled limbs, a messily thrown on duvet and the LA heat. You slept right through the night till late the next morning, neither of you shifting away from the position you'd fallen asleep in, except to burrow further into the other every time one of you felt them pull away.
You would've slept for longer, in fact, curled into each other and dreaming about what would happen on nights going forward, if it weren't for the fact Warren came barging into the room with a loud cry of your name the following morning.
"Y/n!" He shouted, causing both you and Eddie to stir from your sleep, neither of you moving from the arms of the other despite his loud arrival. "I was worried sick! I woke up and you weren't here I thought you'd been kidnapped or something!"
Warren collapsed on top of you, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he could given the barrier of the duvet. His sudden weight on top of you had your groaning in protest, however, it was Eddies voice that had Warren springing from his position and out of your bed.
Eddie never got the opportunity to ask Warren to get off of you, Warren running from the room with a cry of 'y/n slept with Eddie instead of me,' that gained the attention of everyone else in the house.
Neither you nor Eddie cared though, closing your eyes once more after you shared a quick, soft kiss, falling back asleep in the comfort of each others hold, something - you thought - that you should've been doing a long time ago.
#eddie loving x reader#eddie roundtree#eddie roundtree oneshot#eddie roundtree imagine#eddie roundtree x reader#eddie loving onehsot#eddie loving#eddie loving imagine#daisy jones and the six imagine#daisy jones and the six x reader#djats imagine#djats x reader#warren rojas x reader#warren rojas imagine#warren rojas oneshot
801 notes
·
View notes
Text
closing out the year with a short locked tomb fic because the unwanted guest reactivated my bullshit.
Title: do not go gentle into that good night. go loud.
Summary:
That's the thing about self-sacrifice. You think it all through, you make all of your preparations, and once you've done it you realise you forgot to say goodbye. Of course, when I woke up that morning, I didn't know it would be my last. I must have assumed we would have a few more days. Time stretched so oddly at the end, there—I could see it in Cam’s face, and Harrowhark’s and Gideon's. We were all so tightly wound, and when we came from Marta’s body through the sickroom and then found Ianthe standing over Naberius’ body and the Eighth decided to be the Eighth about it, I thought, This is the day when it ends. If I had said goodbye to Cam then, if I had let her see me leave the room, I would not have had time. I was able to keep Gideon suspended while I had it out with Cytherea, but that was only because she was not my cavalier. I had not spent my whole life with her, taking our every step together.
—
In the truck, while Nona is in Honesty's house, Palamedes makes one last tape recording.
> link and short excerpt are behind the cut <
Clack.
Being dead affords one a lot of time for contemplation. Even now, sitting here in the truck while Nona is inside asking her friends for information that will determine whether the Sixth survives, in a body that isn't Camilla’s for the first time in months, all I can do is think. I suppose that's good, in a sense. I can rest up for whatever comes next.
I was never really sure why I became a revenant and Dulcinea didn't—it probably has something to do with Cam, and with Dulcie’s illness. Revenants need to want to live, or at least to have something to live for. That's a mind fuck, a rabbit hole best not traversed. If I start thinking I wasn't enough for her to live for… well. I’d better not. It would be cruel and unusual punishment, and she wouldn't like it at all.
But in my case, I think it wasn't just me who wanted me to live. It was Camilla, my Scholar, my cavalier, who refused to let me go. She never told me how she survived Cytherea—it never mattered more than the other things we had to say to each other, bouncing in and out of her head like tennis balls and pressing the tape recorder in between. But she did survive, very plausibly in fact, and she went looking for me in the River, and in the end it was Harrowhark who found me.
What Ianthe said about Coronabeth… now that's interesting. It’s the Naberius in her again, of course. He could never bear to be thought of as a lesser swordsman than someone who was never afforded the chance to be a real cavalier. And Coronabeth wanted it. She would have died if it had meant ascension as part of her sister; but even without Lyctorhood, she wanted what being Ianthe’s cavalier meant. None of us saw it at the time, and more to the point, none of us would have believed it of her; but she was terribly jealous of Naberius. She was jealous of Marta Dyas, too. She might even have been jealous of Gideon Nav.
read more on ao3
#the locked tomb series#the locked tomb fanfiction#the locked tomb spoilers#palamedes sextus#camilla hect#dulcinea septimus#nona the ninth spoilers#the unwanted guest spoilers#az writes#my fics#posts into oblivion
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
IF the Kaia Austin Deuxmoi sighting is true, that was probably before Sunday given DM posts everything at once early Sunday. If it's true and no pap pics, that is a red flag, cause Kaia has been doing pap walks all over NYC and Austin is not playing ball. He keeps her so separate from everything else in his life, that you don't see her with any of his people. He has never spent any holiday with his fam and her. And since the last Cabo pap pics, you can see he clearly said no more calling them. I don't know if I'm making sense, but Austin is clearly not proud to be with her, I wouldn't want to have a bf like that if I'm being for real.
austin was still in LA on february 2 doing dune junkets, as we have proof of that because there are fan pictures and videos of him at a hotel where he did the junkets. kaia was papped on february 2 in new york by herself in the morning and then at night with camilla. on the third she was obviously at SNL and attended the afterparty with camilla. best believe if austin was in new york, one of the most heavily photographed cities, we would have the picture proof. either civilians would have pictures or the paps would have gotten him.
first rule of thumb for dealing with gossip like deuxmoi...never believe it unless it gets proven with pictures. otherwise it's hearsay and literally anybody can make up a claim that they saw so-and-so at this place, just for a bit of a hoopla. if a bunch of different people on twitter had come out to make the same sighting, then that is also more believable. but one person on deuxmoi? and no pictures? nope.
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
If you shared any thoughts you had on the twins as children/their childhood I'd commit unspeakable crimes for you
if you asked....
TW: mentions of sexual assault, mentions of eating disorders, religious trauma ;
Charles' first taste of guilt was that it was for him and him alone that Camilla was brought into the world. His father wanted a son to name after himself and pawn off to his mother, and their mother wanted a ride home on a winter night. Camilla came out first and screaming and left their father angry, to where he missed Charles' birth getting fucked up at the bar. They were named Charles Lycurgus IV and Camilla Róisín by their Pop and Nana, with vague agreements from their parents and maternal aunt.
Senator Charles Lycurgus Macaulay III got sworn into office a couple of days after the birth of his children, and was off to DC more than he was ever at home. Cecelia Macaulay was a girl herself at 17 and read them Oliver Twist to both lull them and sleep herself. She never wanted to go to DC. Her 17th birthday she debated if she wanted to go to Rutgens or Columbia, her 18th birthday had her two children in pretty pink onesies in attendance. The picture of the 3 of them with "Momma, Mille and Lee" neatly scribbled atop it used to rest at Charles' desk at the Childhood Education Center.
Their aunt Minerva was kicked out of the funeral for announcing her pregnancy at the service. It's why she even tried to fight for custody, a bit of spite (a bit of trying to bring her last surviving brother back, the one she lost way before he was dead). Mary Gray Addelson was not there to listen to the Macaulay dramatics of any of it. They sort of got forgotten in a room with cousin Catie and Miss Louvinia from Charlotte, but who could blame someone of sparing such small children the sight of their dead parents. They brought Camilla in to throw a fistful of dirt, Charles was asleep.
They were miss Mille and mister Lee before anyone realized how and why, they just grew into the nicknames and never wondered. "Lala" and "Charlie" never stuck besides on old kindergarten clothes with dirty labels.
Pop tried taking on teaching them to read, but was too blind for Ma's ripped paperbacks of Twain and Fitzgerald that she brought with her from South Carolina when moving in. Ultimately, it was miss Minerva they telegraphed from Roanoke to spend the hours reading to them so they could learn to speak. Camilla's first word was "bear", Charles' was "please". They began speaking with others at age 3.
Birthdays were always spent with aunt Minerva and cousin Jay, usually the most memorable part being the drive from Virginia to South Carolina. Aunt Minnie has never been mean to them, but there has always been a cold air between the pictures of the blonde woman and the three children she's walking around the amusement parks. The neighbor's cats made the children happy, at least.
Charles bit cousin Jay's finger at Christmas when he was 5 and Jay was 4 for trying to climb into bed with Nana, it makes her sad. Aunt Minnie left in a ruckus and Pop took up smoking again. It's called the incident, and they don't discuss it to the day.
The majority of Macaulays are blond with dark blue eyes, it was their mother Cee who had iron grey eyes and mousey brown hair. Charles doesn't want to admit he feels he desecrates her by bleaching his. It's a knot in Charles' throat that Camilla and Jay look too much like aunt Minerva and father at their age that never leaves, no matter how old they are.
Camilla was always Pop's favorite, picking him wildflowers and listening in while he gardened. For their 13th birthday, he gave Camilla Father's signet ring, the C III turned into a CM. Pop taught her to read in French and took her to singing lessons with miss Petunia Bell, the old lady of the town. Charles loved helping grandma in the kitchen when he was small, but eventually was kicked out because it was not a man's job.
Mawmaw stabbed Pawpaw and herself before they were even born, but from Mother's side of the family, they did meet Mary Gray and Ormie, back then a junior at Williams. Ormie was cozy with the uncles and bought Nana chocolates from when he went to Europe for a summer. Miss Catie or Cousin Lalie always snickered behind the back of the awkwardness of Mary Gray's smoking problem, she's always been less about the colors of azaleas and more on the drinking bar.
Charles painted Camilla's nails since grandma's hands began shaking too badly to keep up the perfect glazy pink. They always ended up chipped within the hour, but it became a ritual. Aunt Mary Gray showed up to their confirmation dinner a bit springy but with a tiny box of lacquers and a bigger box of mini bottles, and both ended up in Charles' side of the room.
They spent one summer with Ormie's folks at Cape Cod, some folk endeared by that Charles could butcher Gaelic and sharply calls her Roe if she walks too far ahead of him. He called Minnie to pick them up within three days.
It was aunt Minnie who taught them Greek on a whim, gardening with Camilla on a Saturnday and mumbling lowly about mandrakes and the Greek superstitions. The knowledge of names of pill bottles long expired from the long-since closed cabinet of Dr. Constance Minerva Macaulay herself, bits and pieces on herbs and Latin superstitions. The Last July she even drove Pop from Virginia to spend a couple of weeks with the three of them grandkids in the dirt of the garden in Gable, a stick's throw away from Charleston. He'd die less than 2 weeks after they are back in Virginia, but it was not a surprise for anyone. Charles Macaulay Jr had been a good man, but it was time he joined his son and daughter in law.
Charles took it worst, already a child seemingly without rest or purpose beyond walking behind his sister's skirt or talking up aunties, just rapidly free-fell. He stopped eating at first, and even Camilla couldn't get through to him. He studied his Greek and his Latin and flowers and closed himself off to their prodding eyes. He began sleeping in the attic, leaving the little shared childhood bedroom with only Camilla's bed touched for months. Neither Orman nor Mary Gray, even the cries of Jay scratching at the doors really did much, "he is possessed". They called a priest.
It was about salvation and confession, and things Charles whispered behind the attic door to a face unseen, that made him finally get out and face them once. The Father held his hand as he went down to eat something besides dried flowers and moldy crackers for the first time in weeks and brushed his hair for him. Charles began going to church, dragging Camilla wordlessly with him. He began playing the organ then. The piano came later, with Mrs Carter from church asking if he cared perhaps for her son's confirmation. He never learned to read notes proper, but his hands played fast.
He was a youth pastor at the local church fast, a story to smile at politely when old ladies began clinging to him about it. Camilla never quite understood his comfort in the crowds of them, but it made it easier to forget and live on. He did not go to either Minnie or Mary Gray for the summer, choosing to stay in Virginia with Nana and the church.
By the beginning of July, Nana called Camilla back and paid for her ticket from Boston, Lee was sick again. They never get to why, and Camilla knows better than to ask. He chewed at wallpaper and shaved his head, he tried to sign up for the military, he pulled a gun on another pastor. He began drinking for the first time. While he was calm, it was Minerva who called, face white and hands shaking, that the Institute for Troubled Youth of Something Something take him, no matter the price. Charles was in Nevada, undergoing Christian wilderness therapy for the evils in less than a fortnight. Camilla told their aunt he's never speaking to her again.
Survive the wilderness Charles did, but vacant doesn't begin to describe it. He came back thinner than he left, gaunt and prone to fevers and wild swings. Nana tried taking him to the doctor's but he never listened. He too, never would step foot in South Carolina again.
[Part 2]
#eating disorder tw#murder tw#religious trauma tw#sa tw#the secret history#camilla macaulay#charles macaulay#im also mind you *cough* depressingly mostly a charlesposting girl#i have cami thoughts and feelings clearly but this might come off a little unilateral... if so i am sorry in advance
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Do-Over-December. Knifeplay And Sugar. "Sweet On You." Buddy Swanson X FEM! AFAB! Reader.
I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas! We are in the home stretch and here we are with Buddy doing some dirty, dirty knifeplay action! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do! Kinky December's redo marches onwards.
—
Rating. Explicit. Length. 3.7K. (Old Length. 3.6K.) Warnings. Established Poly Relationship. Exposition. Some Softness. Some Domesticness. Making Out. Biting. Grinding. Choking. Knifeplay. Cunnilingus. Praise. Pet Names. Dirty Talk. Semi-Public.
—
Buddy Swanson was a hard-working guy.
Passionate was one of the most apt descriptors you had for him. He had such a difficult life growing up before you met him. It had taken a long time to get the full story, but you had, he had filled you in about Centre Stage, and Roger and Camilla and his mother and just why he hated theatre so badly and all of it.
One of the things that helped him through those awful times was cooking.
He threw himself into it and developed his skills and worked hard, one of the things that had helped was accepting a job at Camp Clear Vista and with that job, of course, meeting Sam Wescott.
Sam had hired Buddy based on his previous experience from Centre Stage, being lead cook for so many years was impressive, and Buddy didn’t disappoint. They both ended up becoming great friends, Sam was a hard worker himself and appreciated Buddy’s work ethic and how funny he was, that he knew how to let go and have a good time at the end of the day and how he could push him out of his shell. Buddy appreciated how difficult a position Sam was in, running his family’s summer camp after what happened to them was a tall task, and he admired how he took it in stride and with a smile, doing everything he could to do it right and keep it going as close as it was before.
Buddy had started the job pretty soon after moving to America, fleeing Canada after the events of Centre Stage, he lived at the camp obviously, it was a sleep away camp after all. So when camp finished he needed to find a place to live, Sam helpfully suggested letting him stay with him while he found a place, and they just found that they were so compatible living together that instead they both looked for and found a new place, a positively perfect two bedrooms. Buddy got a great job at a restaurant and felt like everything couldn’t be better.
Life was finally good.
Then the next summer, Sam wasn’t driving up to camp by himself, Buddy was with him. It worked out well, there was a program at the restaurant he worked at to give people fresh out of culinary school some real restaurant experience and training, which freed Buddy up to go work at camp in the summer. He intended to keep this habit up as long as Sam did, he was excited about another summer, it was good and fulfilling work, and then something unexpected happened that made his life and to be fair, Sam’s life, infinitely better.
They met you.
You had been hired as a fellow counsellor, and it just kinda ended up happening over the summer. You liked them both, they both liked you, it was all talked about, everyone knew about it, and it ended up working out. Not only that, but you all just clicked so well and brought out the best in each other.
It had to be the best summer of your life.
Days spent running around in the sunshine and swimming and games, activities and looking after campers. And nights spent with either Sam or Buddy or of course both, stargazing and dinners, drinks and stories around the fire and of course much more adult activities.
You all didn’t want to stop seeing each other after the summer.
So you didn’t and suddenly that perfect two-bedroom apartment wasn’t as perfect because you weren’t living there. You spent more nights there than you didn’t. Holidays approaching, and you all agreed that in the New Year that apartment hunting was in order.
You were excited as fuck to move in with them. But for now you enjoyed what you had, spending the night was fun.
Buddy was working at the restaurant tonight, it was later than normal. Where he worked had a reputation as being a great venue for people’s holiday parties and December was usually packed with events, he had been working so damn hard. There had been some nights where you and Sam had a date night, and Buddy had every intention of joining you when he got home. He’d come in and greet you both with a kiss, you’d be watching a movie or something, and he’d take the armchair near the couch and end up passing out right there. Or another night he grabbed a shower soon as he came in and went to his room after to get changed and when you and Sam came in, mid-make out, hot and heavy, you were walking backwards, tugging on Sam’s collar as you pulled him along, both stumbling into Buddy’s room to again find him asleep.
You and Sam ended up in his room instead that night.
You could tell Buddy was annoyed about it too. He loved his job and the work he did, but being worked so aggressively this month and having no energy at the end of the day. Him passing out so frequently and missing out and getting to spend time with you and Sam was starting to get to him.
He missed you a lot.
Thankfully, he was about to get some time off. He was working late to wrap up dessert preparations for this holiday party that was happening tomorrow. It was a closed off private event, the rest of the place would be closed to the public so not as much staff was needed, he had been putting in so much extra time he had earned a few days off.
You and Sam had picked up a lot more skills in the kitchen being with Buddy, so tonight you two had conspired to put some of those skills to work, making dinner for you to wrap up and bring to Buddy’s work to have before you brought him home. He was usually starving after work, but he had fallen into the bad habit of passing out with no dinner from being so tired, bringing him dinner and having him eat before taking him home would hopefully help give him enough energy to actually stay up for your date night. You wanted to celebrate the time off and him getting to spend some proper time with you again.
You found yourself now walking up the back alley behind the restaurant, bundled up, boots crunching through the snow.
Soon you were in front of the back door and knocked loudly. The door swung open, and you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend, Buddy Swanson himself, he smiled upon seeing you and held the door open, gesturing for you to come inside, “Hey you. Been a while, get in here.”
“Hi Buddy.”
You took the one step up and paused in the doorway, one hand on his chest as you leaned up and kissed him. It was meant to be a quick kiss hello, but in classic Buddy fashion it didn’t stay that way. His hand came to the back of your neck, fingers gripping the soft scarf you had on, and he pulled you closer, he deepened the kiss, you returned it easily, not at all upset at him escalating it so soon. You missed him, missed this. He had pushed you so your back hit the door frame, pressing you against it, kissing you deeply, grip tightening on the back of your neck, your tongue ran over his bottom lip before nipping it playfully, and he groaned against your mouth.
You broke the kiss and his forehead pressed to yours, a quiet, “Fuck.” -breathed out before he allowed himself to pull away. You looked up at him as he stood up straight again, hand smoothing out his apron, you couldn’t help letting out a little laugh from how badly you had gotten to him so quickly. This would be unreasonably fun.
“Missed me that much, hmmm?” You asked playfully.
He scoffed with a roll of his eyes and a laugh of his own, “Obviously.”
You shivered a little, still standing in the open doorway, and he took your hand, pulling you inside, letting the door close behind you two.
“C’mon, I’m almost done.”
You shouldn’t really be doing this. You didn’t work here, and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be bringing his S/O in the back of house after hours, but no one else was here and you both liked the idea of doing things you weren’t supposed to.
Being back here with him reminded you of camp with him. The afternoons and nights you would visit Buddy as he worked, and everything that happened in that kitchen other than cooking. He led you back to where he was working, walking you past the dish pit and stove tops and polished metal tables to one that was covered in trays.
“Well, look at all of this. You’ve been busy.”
“Oh, you have no idea.” He said with a laugh picking up the piping bag and resuming his work, you watched him for a minute, unwrapping your scarf and unzipping your coat, mittens pulled off and stuffed in your pockets.
Your eyes took in the trays scattered about, Buddy had been working tirelessly on improving his dessert making skills and had been working more with the pâtisserie at the restaurant and the work had clearly paid off.
“So, what is all this?” You asked as you shrugged your coat off and dropped it on an empty table behind you, hat pulled off too now. He seemed to brighten at that. He was always excited to share his work with you, he enthusiastically began explaining what was what, gesturing to different desserts, talking about some of the process and challenges they presented, how he had impressed his mentor and how he impressed him so much he had trusted him to finish up on his own. It all sounded delicious and looked even better.
It reminded you of the food you brought. He had finished up decorating the last one and set the piping bag down, wiping his hands off on a rag, and you held up the bag, “Dinner before you clean up?”
“Oh fuck yes! I’m starving, thank you.” He came around the table and took the bag you offered, he leaned down, a kiss pressed to your forehead, and he set the bag down, pulling out the Tupperware and fork you had brought him. It was still warm as he opened the lid, asking, “You and Sam make this?”
You were smiling as you watched him, leaning back on the table as you responded, “You know it.”
Nerves were always common when it came to this. Buddy was so talented, and you were always worried about whatever you made measuring up. You watched as he brought up the first forkful and tried it, holding your breath for a moment, and then his reaction made all that hard work worth it. His eyes rolled back a little, with a satisfied groan, hand coming up to cover his mouth still partially full as he spoke, “Fuckin’ hell. Did you two make the pasta from scratch?”
You recalled earlier that afternoon with Sam, both making dough and cursing as you fussed over the pasta maker, trying to remember exactly how Buddy showed you how to do it. You and Sam figured it out eventually, and seeing how he reacted now, it made you feel happy and proud.
“Yeah we did!” You and Sam had made him pasta from scratch as well as the tomato sauce and put in some sausage too, you had both already had a plate earlier and had liked it but still weren’t sure Buddy would like it.
It was foolish to be honest, of course he would love it, he understood the two of you were amateur cooks and were held to a different standard, plus you two were very important to him, the idea of turning his nose up at something you both had made with love and care was unthinkable. Buddy showed his love often through food and of course appreciated when you and Sam reciprocated.
He stuck the fork back into the food and strode over to you, scooping you up into a hug, swinging you a little, you laughed until he set you down, and you asked, “So it’s good?”
“So good! You and Sam are improving a lot. Thank you.” He praised you a little more as he ate, obviously happy as he ate, expressing the sentiment that he felt so very lucky to have a pair of S/O’s that were not only so damn funny and sweet and beautiful but could also cook too.
Once he had finished up dinner, he just had to run one load of dishes through and put the trays of the finished desserts in the fridge and he could go.
You were eyeing the desserts as he loaded up the dishwasher, you couldn’t help it and when Buddy came back over, wiping his hands on a clean dish rag after having washed his hands, it was like he read your mind when he asked, “You want some?”
“Oh really? Can I?” You asked, and he smiled, his head cocked to the side as he said, “Course. I thought ahead. I made some just for us to take home.”
So thoughtful as per usual. He crouched and pulled out a box from under the counter and opened it up, showing it off, several of the different desserts sitting inside, they looked delectable. “Awe Buddy! Thank you, I can’t wait to try em.”
“Well, why don’t we have one now?” He was looking at you in that one particular way that you positively loved.
He was leaning on one hand that was on the table-top, looking you over, slight smirk, towel thrown over his shoulder. You knew that look well, it was the same one on his face before he kissed you that first sun soaked afternoon in the kitchen at camp. It was playful and flirty look, a tad mischievous too. It was the kind of look that invited you to be playful, and you run with it, “Fuck it. Why not!”
You said, leaning over the box, peering at the confectionary inside before looking up to him. “And what pray-tell does the chef recommend?”
He came around behind you, one hand on your hip as he leaned over your shoulder, a quiet hum as he considered it. “I thiiiink… That you would like this one best.”
He reached over you and into the box. His chest felt warm against your back, and he picked up one of the treats by the wrapper underneath. His hand on your shoulder, leaning back a bit, and he turned you around, you were close to him, looking up at him.
“May I?” He asked as he held out the dessert, and you certainly couldn’t say no to him, you never could, and you allowed him to feed it to you. It felt surprisingly intimate. This wasn’t the first time that something like this happened. You recalled a similar incident at the apartment, where making pizza had turned into a hell of a lot more.
The dessert was amazing, chocolate and cream and fruit all intermingling in this perfectly balanced dance of flavour and texture on your tongue. You couldn’t restrain your moan at the taste, and he smirked at that, Buddy was a lot of things, and one of those things he had in abundance was confidence.
It was a bit messy.
Some of the sweet cream and some smudges of chocolate ended up on his fingers, and your hand closed around his wrist, making unbroken eye contact as you sucked the sweetness from his digits. You could see something in that look of his change, something a little darker, you loved when that side came out to play.
He let out a hum, watching as your tongue rolled between his fingers before sucking them rather obscenely. One of your legs between his, thigh pressed between them, and he let out a sigh before pulling his hand away from you, he felt hard already. Wet fingers slipped down, and he gripped your throat, making you gasp. He was always rougher than Sam was, and it had been so long since you got to have this, have him, that it hit harder than usual.
“You sure you want to do that?” Playing dumb seemed like a fun idea, and so you did. “Mmm do what Buddy?”
He chuckled and shook his head, those soft looking brown curls of his bouncing as he did. “So that is how you want to play it tonight? Be an awful tease?”
You bit your bottom lip as his grip tightened and yeah that did sound good, so good if it would get him to treat you like how you wanted to be treated. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
He let go of your throat and his mouth was on yours so quickly. Kissing you deeply, your arms thrown around his neck, the make out progressed quickly.
You had missed him terribly, were in desperate need and so was he, it had been weeks and while you had Sam of course he hadn’t had either of you, just been too busy and he needed this. He dipped down, and his hands came under your thighs, and he lifted you up, setting you on the mostly empty table that just had your winter clothing on it. He ground on you and the friction felt incredible at that moment, you ground back on him for a second. His kisses were hungry and desperate, and then you felt something you never had before.
Something cold and hard, unrelenting on your thigh. You had worn a skirt and high socks that peeked out of the top of your knee-high boots, and you felt something sliding over the exposed expanse of skin between the top of your sock and the bottom of your skirt. One of your hands in his curls you tugged, getting him to break the kiss, and you looked down to see one of his strong hands gripping your thigh tightly, the other hand dragging the flat part of the blade of a knife over your skin.
Your heart had never beat harder.
His mouth was on your neck, your eyes never left the knife. He moved it slowly and carefully. You had no idea when he had picked it up or his intention with it. He bit down on the side of your throat, your hips bucked slightly at the jolt of heat that sent to your quickly damping core, and he laughed into the crook of your neck.
“Like it that much, hmm?” The knife moved and was soon resting on your inner thigh, and he tapped it there, you spread your legs wider as you stammered, trying to tell him that no, of course you didn’t, but you couldn’t.
The words just wouldn’t come out because they would be a lie. You did like this.
A surprising amount.
Heart pounding, sweating, palms slick, pulse racing, already breathing harder. You couldn’t help it. The danger of it was arousing. The cold steel on your skin that was heating up so quickly was getting to you so badly. Him kissing over your neck was making it worse too, he sucked on the skin where your neck met your shoulder, and you arched into him, whispering his name, voice strained with sheer need, “Buddy…”
“I think you’re ready.” Before you had a chance to ask what he meant he had fallen to his knees in between your spread thighs, he pushed your skirt up higher and the sight of this was too hot to handle. Him looking up at you through his curls, mouth on your inner thigh, hand on your leg near your ankle and his other hand holding the knife to your opposite leg, dangerously close to the edge of your panties. His mouth trailed down, taking his time, and he pressed the flat of the blade to the damp crotch of your panties, and you shivered from the shift in temperature, and he smirked against your skin. You resisted the urge to grind on the knife and instead tried to just enjoy the light pressure it provided. Just sit there and take it and hope he will give you more soon.
His hand slid up your leg and his fingers hooked in the crotch of your panties, and you watched, he paused for emphasis, building the tension. Regardless of what he said about it, Lord knows Buddy had a flair for the dramatic, theatre kid still somewhere inside of him, and then finally he cut the fabric in two, exposing your dripping slit to him.
Your legs were shaking, fear and arousal both running through you, he leaned in, and his tongue finally ran over your clit causing you to moan his name, wanting to arch your hips to get more of your mouth on him, but he pulled back when you tried, “Ah-ah. Might want to re-think moving too much.”
He had adjusted the knife. The sharp edge held to you, biting slightly into your plush thigh and your eyes were wide, and he leaned back in. Another pass of his tongue that then turned into his mouth closing around your clit, a slow suck that ended with a swirl of his tongue over you, and you fought hard not to move a single muscle.
He spoke against your soaked flesh, looking up at you, knife pressed just a bit closer, and your breath caught in your throat.
“I missed this far too much. I’m gonna take my time, and you aren’t going to stop me, baby.”
Another lick that made you desperate to squirm, and he kept going, “I need you to be good and stay nice and still. Let me do what I want to. I trust you to be a good girl and control yourself, but this-” He gestured to the knife with a tilt of his head, glancing at it for a moment, making you do the same as he finished the thought, “-is just extra incentive for you to be good for me.”
Your hands gripped the table’s edge. White knuckled, and he licked over your whole slit again, a breathless laugh before saying, “Better hold on tight.”
Fuck.
#Buddy Swanson x reader#Metal Killer x reader#slasher x reader#BHF writing#Do-Over-December#I love this one omfg
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
luigisvampirebae
Jack Russell's Best Gworl
nerellie
nerella 🌚
camili-eleven
11:11🙏
00lemonfizz00
Lemons-corner