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wholoveseggs · 11 months ago

Note

Omg love your elijah stuff it's the best out there! Could you write a fluffy smut where the reader and elijah get married and she's still human and they plan for her to turn on their wedding night. But since she's about to become a vampire and knows elijah loves the taste of her the blood she has him drink from her during sex one last time and she drinks from him so after sex and aftercare his blood is in her system and he turns her then:)

Something Sweet

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

It's the day of your wedding, a day you've dreamed about since you were young. Everything is exactly as you imagined it would be, except one thing. Today is not only the day of your wedding, today is also the day you die... And you never wanted anything so badly.

♡♡Thanks for the request lovely @sarah-bear706318! I made this one super fluffy♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: smut, oral sex, so much flufffff, blood drinking, sappy Elijah, something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top! If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv @myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy

It was the day of your wedding and you were awoken by the birds chirping outside of your bedroom window. You rolled over to find your side of the bed empty and cold, a note from Elijah in his elegant handwriting.

My love,

I thought it best if I did not see you until the ceremony, as that is a tradition.

I have not been able to sleep. I am both excited and nervous for today, my beautiful wife. I will spend every waking moment cherishing you.

Elijah

You smiled to yourself as you read his words, imagining him pacing the floor as he wrote this, probably in the study or the library.

You pressed the note to your chest, you could hardly believe that you were getting married today. It was a day you had dreamed about since you were young. You had imagined what your wedding dress would look like, the flowers you would pick for the arrangement, how you would wear your hair. But now, none of that seemed important, the only thing on your mind was what came after the wedding.

Elijah would make you a vampire tonight, and then you would have eternity together.

He was still hesitant, even though you had insisted this was what you wanted. He worried that one day you would regret it, that you would hate him for it, that it would break the connection between the two of you.

But he was wrong, you knew it would only strengthen your bond. You loved him so much that it was impossible to put it into words. You would do anything for him, give him anything, including your life.

After a few moments of lying in bed and thinking of your handsome husband to be, you heard the sound of your bedroom door opening. In walked your three bridesmaids and your maid of honor, carrying a tray of delicious breakfast foods.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" Rebekah said, walking around the bed and placing the tray on the mattress in front of you.

"What are you still doing in bed?" Freya asked.

"Yeah, it's your wedding day! We have a lot to do!" Camille exclaimed.

You chuckled and sat up in bed, tucking the duvet over your legs. Hayley laid on the bed next to you, popping a bottle of champagne open and pouring four glasses.

"Everybody relax, we have lots of time," she said, handing you a glass. "Don't stress her out,"

Rebekah rolled her eyes and picked up a bag from the floor.

"We have some gifts for you, Mrs. Mikaelson," she teased.

"I'm not Mrs. Mikaelson, yet," you pointed out, taking a sip of the champagne.

"Oh please, the two of you act married already, he is the most whipped man I have ever seen," Rebekah said, sitting on the other side of the bed and passing a wrapped present to you.

You giggled at her comment, knowing it was true. You were a little surprised by how much he was willing to bend to your will. He was a stubborn man, but with you, he was a complete pushover. He told you once that he found it impossible to deny you anything, and that's how he knew you were the one.

You carefully unwrapped the gift and found a beautiful necklace, with a sapphire pendant, you held it up to the light, the rays bouncing off the gem and painting the walls of your room in blue light.

"It's beautiful," you said, smiling at the girls.

"It's something blue, from Freya," Rebekah explained, as Freya fastened it around your neck.

"I spelled it so you can always find each other, no matter where you are. So when you are away, you can always feel him close to you," she explained.

You were touched by her thoughtfulness, touching the stone as it rested against your chest. You couldn't explain it, but it did feel like him, like he was right beside you.

"Thank you, Freya," you said, squeezing her hand.

"Okay now mine!" Rebekah interrupted, holding her present out to you. "Something old,"

You grinned and took the large box from her, opening it to find a beautiful vintage corset, along with a matching set of lace underwear and stockings.

"Rebekah, these are gorgeous!" You said, running your fingers over the intricate designs.

"They're vintage, of course," she said, proudly. "Elijah is rather fond of that time period, I thought they might... inspire him," she added, winking.

You blushed, he didn't need any encouragement in the bedroom, you were certain of that.

"My gift is next," Hayley said, holding out her gift to you. "Something new, and I'm really sorry, but they aren't quite as classy as the last two," she said, nervously.

You took the bag and opened it, it was full of luxury naughty nightwear, baby dolls, bras, panties, a silk robe, all in different colors and fabrics. Along with a few sex toys and a pair of handcuffs.

"I had to get you something practical," she said, with a smirk.

"I love it, thank you," you said, giggling. "I will certainly put them to good use,"

"Okay now mine, it's something borrowed," Camille said, handing you a small box.

You opened the velvet box and found a gorgeous pair of diamond earrings, with a matching bracelet.

"Camille, these are beautiful," you breathed, examining the sparkling jewels.

"They've been in my family for a long time, they belonged to my grandmother," she explained, clasping the bracelet around your wrist.

You looked at your wrist and smiled, your friends were the most wonderful women you had ever met, they had been so welcoming and so supportive, and now here they were, giving you the best gifts ever.

"Thank you, all of you, so much. This has been the best morning," you said, pulling them all in for a group hug.

"More champagne!" Rebekah exclaimed, grabbing the bottle and topping up everyone's glass.

"We still have the day to go, I'm going to have a terrible hangover at my own wedding," you pointed out, taking a large sip anyway.

"Not for long," Rebekah said, a mischievous smile on her face.

The wedding party went quiet, everyone knew exactly what she was talking about, that Elijah was planning to turn you after the reception.

"It's really happening then, tonight?" Hayley asked, looking at you.

You nodded.

"How are you feeling about it?" She asked.

"A little nervous, I guess," you admitted. "But excited,"

"It's a big decision, are you sure you are ready for it?" Freya asked, putting her arm around you.

"Absolutely. I've never been more sure of anything," you said, without hesitation.

"You'll make a lovely one," Rebekah added, pulling you out of bed and to your feet.

"Come on, we have a lot to do, the hair and makeup people will be here in an hour, and I need to make sure you eat something first," she said, ushering you towards the bathroom.

"And then we can finally see this dress!" Hayley added, excitedly.

The five of you spent the rest of the morning in a flurry of activity, the girls made sure you ate and drank water, despite how much champagne was flowing. The hairdresser and makeup artist did wonders, and then finally, it was time for the dress.

You had put on the vintage corset and underwear, rolling up the stocking and clipping them in place. The girls helped you step into the gown, fastening the buttons up the back, before you stood in front of the mirror.

Rebekah started to cry and Freya and Camille put their arms around her, all of them staring at you.

"Are you okay, Bekah?" You asked, looking at her reflection.

She wiped her tears and sniffed. "He's going to faint when he sees you,"

The four of them laughed and you turned around, holding out your hands.

"Well, let's go get married,"

The music started as you entered the garden, and everyone stood, turning to look at you.

It was like a fairytale.

Your eyes were on Elijah the entire time, his eyes were a bit glassy and he was nervously playing with his hands. Klaus handed him a tissue, patting his shoulder and Rebekah hooked her arm in yours , guiding you down the aisle.

"No fainting yet," you whispered to Rebekah, making her giggle.

"I promise I will catch him if he does," she whispered back.

He held out his hand to you when you finally reached him and you took it, Rebekah handing your bouquet to Hayley.

"Hello," you whispered, looking up at him.

"Hi," he replied, smiling down at you, his brown eyes warm and loving.

"You look perfect," he said, softly.

"So do you," you said, grinning at him.

Klaus cleared his throat and began to speak.

"We are gathered here today, to join Elijah and Y/n in matrimony. They have both written their own vows, so Elijah, you may start,"

Elijah squeezed your hands and smiled at you, his eyes soft and full of love.

"My love, you are the one that I have waited centuries for. The one who brings light into my life. I love you so much, I will be forever grateful that I found you. I promise to spend every day of eternity showing you how much I love and cherish you. Thank you for agreeing to marry me, thank you for loving me," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You felt tears in your eyes as he finished speaking, reaching up and brushing a tear away with his thumb. The crowd aww'd at his words, and the entire wedding party dabbed at their eyes with tissues.

"I'm afraid my vows are going to sound a little lame after that," you teased, making Elijah chuckle.

"Elijah," you began. "I have loved you from the moment I saw you. You have always been there for me, through good and bad, you have taken care of me, supported me, loved me. I know my heart is safe with you. You have always said you would give me the world, and I know you will, and I want to give you mine, for as long as I live,"

Elijah's eyes became glassy again and he took a deep breath, fighting back his tears.

"Do we have the rings?" Klaus asked.

You glanced down the aisle to see Hope toddling towards you, with a pillow in her hands. Everyone watched her and she reached you, proudly handing the rings to her uncle.

"Thank you, darling," Elijah said, ruffling her hair.

"You may exchange the rings," Klaus said, Hope was now clinging to his leg, watching the ceremony with fascination.

Elijah slipped the ring on your finger, and you did the same, looking down at the two silver bands. You realized that your ring had a lapis lazuli stone embedded in the metal, the one that would allow you to walk in the sunlight when you were a vampire.

"Elijah, do you take Y/n as your lawfully wedded wife, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do," he replied, staring deep into your eyes.

"Y/n, do you take Elijah as your lawfully wedded husband, to love and cherish, until death do you part?"

"I do," you said, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"Well then, by the power invested in me by a monk in the 12th century, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,"

Elijah cupped your cheek in his hand, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His hands moved down your back, tilting you backwards, dipping you. The guests cheered and applauded, and the photographer snapped pictures.

"I love you," he said, whispering the words into your mouth.

"I love you, Mr. Mikaelson," you said, grinning.

He pulled you up, his eyes were bright, and his cheeks were flushed, his happiness radiating off him.

"Mrs. Mikaelson," he said, softly.

You kissed him again, the two of you wrapped in each other's embrace, his arms holding you tight against him.

"Let's get this party started!" Marcel yelled, causing a cheer from the crowd.

The two of you made your way back down the aisle, and back into the house. As soon as you were inside, you pulled Elijah in for a passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"We are married," you said, giggling.

"Indeed we are," he replied, smiling.

"Can't we skip the party, and just go upstairs now?" You asked, kissing him again.

"My greedy little wife," he teased. "Don't worry, tonight will be worth the wait,"

The compound was elaborately decorated, with lights and flowers hanging everywhere, and the guests were laughing and dancing, having a great time.

You sat at a table near the dance floor with your new husband, watching everyone. His hand was resting on your thigh, squeezing it gently every so often.

It was getting late, the sun had set and the guests were getting more and more drunk. The music slowed and the couples swayed together, some kissing and holding each other tight.

"So," Elijah whispered in your ear. "How are you feeling about tonight?"

"I can't wait," you said, turning to look at him. "I just can't wait for us to start our lives together,"

"Me either, sweetheart," he said, brushing his lips against your temple. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"I want this." You placed a hand on his cheek. "More than anything."

He let out a long sigh, his hand squeezing your thigh tighter. But he didn't say anything else.

After a moment, he stood up and held out his hand.

"Dance with me?"

You took his hand and he led you out to the dance floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands rested on your hips.

The two of you danced slowly to the music, lost in each other's eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked him, breaking the silence.

"Nothing." He replied, smiling softly, looking away.

You narrowed your eyes. "Don't lie to me, Mr. Mikaelson."

He chuckled. "Fine. I'm thinking about how beautiful you are, and how lucky I am."

"I'm the lucky one," you whispered, leaning in and kissing him softly.

The two of you continued slow dancing and you rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I'm nervous," He admitted, softly his hands running up and down your back.

You lifted your head and looked up at him. "Why?"

"I don't want to see you die," He looked into your eyes, and you could see the pain behind them. "I don't want to watch the light leave your eyes, and not be able to do anything about it."

You cupped his cheek and stroked it. "I'll come right back, Elijah. You have nothing to worry about."

He nodded, then leaned in and kissed you, soft and slow. His hands on your hips, slowly guiding you, the two of you still moving to the music.

After a few minutes, he broke the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

"I don't think I'm capable of not worrying about you." He said, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"Well," You whispered, smiling up at him. "That's something we have in common, then."

His hands were on your lower back, his fingertips tracing patterns on the soft fabric.

"Do you remember when we met?" He asked, looking down at you.

"I do." You said, giggling. "It was the most cliché thing ever, but I remember it like it was yesterday."

"You were wearing a green dress." He recalled. "You were trying to get a book from the top shelf at this little bookstore. You had climbed onto a chair and were stretching your arm as far as you could, but you just couldn't reach it. And I thought, 'that's the most adorable thing I've ever seen'."

You laughed, remembering how flustered you'd been. "And then, I dismissed your attempt to help me as being creepy,"

"Until you tripped over your own feet and fell into my arms." He reminded you, a smirk on his face.

"You caught me, though." You whispered.

"That I did," he murmured. "And I will always catch you."

You stood on your tiptoes, kissing him softly. "I'm glad," you said.

His hands moved lower, grabbing your ass, and pulling you closer. You blushed and looked around quickly, but nobody seemed to be paying any attention to you.

"I remember something else about the day we met," he whispered in your ear.

You looked up at him and smiled. "What?"

"How you looked in my bed that night, the soft little moans you made," he teased.

You bit your lip, a wave of arousal washing over you. The memory still fresh in your mind.

"You have a way of making me lose all sense," you said, breathlessly.

"I know," he smirked, his eyes sparkling, "I've got you right where I want you."

You giggled, burying your face in his chest, breathing in his scent.

"You are so bad," you whispered.

He hummed in agreement, squeezing your ass once more, causing you to let out a little squeak.

"We should say goodbye to our guests," he murmured. "There is a car waiting,"

You nodded and let him guide you around, saying goodbye to all the guests. They followed the two of you out to the courtyard, and then they began throwing rice and rose petals, while the two of you got into the waiting car.

As the car drove away, the guests cheered and you couldn’t help the huge grin on your face, waving at them until they were out of sight.

Elijah's hand rested on your thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the city go by.

"So, are you going to tell me where we are going?" You asked, glancing at him.

"There's this lakehouse, about an hour from here. It's a quiet, private place, not even my siblings know about it." He said, pulling your hand into his lap.

"You didn't tell anyone about it?" You asked, a little shocked.

"Not a soul," he said, smiling. "I've had a few secret hideaways over the years, but this one is special."

"Why is that?" You asked.

"It's where I go to get away from everything, to clear my head and recharge," he explained. "And now, it's going to be our special place,"

"That's sweet," you said, kissing his cheek.

The drive seemed to take forever, but finally the car turned onto a long driveway. Elijah helped you out of the car, and then he scooped you into his arms.

"You are such a romantic," you said, giggling.

"I try," he teased, carrying you inside.

He set you down in the entryway, and then took your hand, leading you around. It was a gorgeous home, and it was obvious that Elijah had put a lot of work into it.

But he didn't give you much time to admire it, before he was on you, quickly dragging you to the bedroom.

His hands roaming your body, his mouth crashing onto yours, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

"Don't you dare rip my wedding dress Mr. Mikaelson," you breathed.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he murmured, his hands gently tugging the fabric.

You giggled and pushed him away, holding his gaze, then you turned and looked over your shoulder at him, motioning to the buttons going down your back.

His fingers deftly undid the small buttons, taking his time, as if he was savoring each one. He kissed along the back of your neck and shoulders, pushing the straps of the dress off, and letting it fall to the ground.

His hands went to your waist, helping you step out of the dress, and he knelt down, picking it up and placing it carefully on a nearby chair.

"Such a gentleman," you said, softly.

His gaze roamed over your body, admiring the way the lingerie clung to your skin, accentuating every curve.

"Gorgeous," he said, stepping closer, his fingers tracing along the boning of the corset.

Your hands went to his chest, reaching up to undo his bowtie. He watched your hands, his eyes darkening with desire.

You tossed the tie aside, and began unbuttoning his shirt. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, your hands continuing their path.

When you got to his pants, you stopped, a wicked grin spreading across your face. You ran your finger along his waistband, teasing him.

He groaned and picked you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck.

In an instant you were on the bed, the speed of vampires never ceased to amaze you. You lay there, looking up at him, your hair fanning out around your head, and you couldn't help but grin.

"Will you teach me to do that?" You asked, referring to the vamp speed.

He chuckled, leaning down and kissing your cheek. "Of course, my love. I will teach you everything you need to know."

You smiled, then reached up and pulled him down, crushing your lips together. He pressed his hips against yours, and you could feel the bulge in his pants.

"What else can you teach me?" You whispered, biting your lip and looking into his eyes, trying to look all sweet and innocent.

He raised an eyebrow and smirked, his eyes darkening. "Lots of things."

You ran a hand through his hair, tugging lightly. "I can't wait."

He grinned and leaned in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His hands moving all over your body, caressing and squeezing.

"But first I'm going to take this corset off." He said, his fingers trailing down your chest and finding the ribbons. "I'm going to untie it slowly, and then I'm going to kiss every inch of your skin."

You let out a small gasp, his words sending a wave of arousal through you. He pressed his hips harder against your hand, still working to slowly untie the first ribbon.

"I'm going to make you come all over my tongue," He said, his voice raspy and low, working on loosening the second ribbon, pulling it free. "Over," He tugged on the third, "And over," the fourth, "And over."

You moaned, his words making you dizzy, and he grinned, pulling the last ribbon loose.

The corset fell away, and Elijah quickly pulled it from you, tossing it aside. His hands were on your breasts immediately, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, causing them to harden.

He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out and swirling around one nipple, before sucking it into his mouth.

You were panting, your hands gripping the sheets, watching as he made his way down, slowly removing your panties. He kissed his way up your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

He looked up at you and smirked, then slowly lowered his head, groaning as he licked a broad stroke over your pussy.

You gasped, arching your back, pushing yourself closer to him. He chuckled, his hands gripping your thighs, pushing them further apart, his tongue teasing and licking at your clit.

You were in heaven. The sounds he was making, the way he was devouring you, it all felt incredible. You couldn't help the moans and whimpers escaping from your throat, only fueling him on.

You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of him between your legs, the way his gaze would meet yours sent a thrill through you. He looked so content and satisfied, his eyes hooded, his tongue working you expertly.

He suddenly slipped a finger inside you, curling it against your walls, searching for that sweet spot. When he found it, he smirked, picking up the pace of his tongue lapping at your clit.

You came undone in seconds. Your walls clenched around his finger and your back arched, crying out his name.

He lifted his head, staring up at you, his eyes black. He licked his lips and winked at you, two of his fingers still pumping in and out of you.

He looked down at your flushed face and swollen lips, watching your body coming down from your high. You were always so beautiful after an orgasm. He could always coax these little spasms out of you afterwards, making you moan even more.

"I love you." He whispered. "My perfect wife."

With a wicked smirk, he slid a third finger in, curling against your g-spot, a delighted squeak escaping your lips as you squeezed his fingers.

"I can't wait to spend eternity with you," He said, his voice slow and gruff, the pleasure overwhelming you. "Watching you come like this, every night."

He continued to pump his fingers, with firm and steady strokes, the pressure building and building. Your body began to tense again, your moans becoming louder and more desperate. He grinned, watching you fall apart for him.

Your body started to shake, the waves of pleasure hitting you again and again, as you came on his fingers. He captured your lips in a rough kiss, swallowing your moans.

You collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily, the aftershocks still rolling through you. Elijah leaned down and kissed your neck, nuzzling against you.

"My wife," he said, savoring the way it sounded.

You giggled, still feeling a bit floaty. You looked up at him, taking in the sight of him. He was so handsome, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his eyes shining with love and affection.

"My husband," you said, reaching up and brushing some hair out of his eyes.

He smiled, his hands tracing along your bare skin. "You don't have to turn tonight, if you're not ready,"

You shook your head, smiling. "No, I want to. I'm ready."

"Are you sure?" He asked, his voice full of concern.

"Eli," you said, cupping his cheek. "I'll be okay,"

His expression turned a bit serious, his eyes flashing with worry.

"You're my whole world, I won't lose you," he said, kissing you deeply.

"You won't lose me," you said, softly.

"Promise?" He asked, his hand moving to your cheek, stroking it gently.

"I promise," you said, your heart fluttering.

He gently pushed your legs apart, his fingers stroking your thigh, the touch sending sparks through you.

"I will never let anything happen to you," he said, positioning himself between your legs.

"I know," you said, gasping when you felt him ease into you, slowly and gently.

"I love you," he said, leaning down and kissing your lips, as he began to move his hips, pushing himself deeper. "More than anything,"

"I love you, too." You gasped, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him closer.

One of his hands went to the small of your back, the other cradling behind your neck. He held you to him, forehead to forehead, his eyes boring into yours.

He rocked his hips, grinding against you, filling you completely. His thumb brushed across your lower lip, then his lips pressed against yours, whispering how much he loved you.

You felt as though your heart beats were the same, the way it was pounding in your chest, in time with his. The way he held you like this, close and tight, it was everything.

The heat and friction began building between you, his thrusts becoming deeper and harder. The air filled with the sounds of your moans and sighs, your bodies moving together.

You could feel another orgasm building, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. He seemed to sense this, his pace picking up, his eyes locked on yours.

"I want you to come with me," he said, his voice husky and low, as his hips drove into you, over and over.

"Yes," you whimpered, your fingers digging into his back, leaving crescent moon marks in his skin.

Together, you let go, your bodies trembling and shuddering, clinging to each other. He buried his face in your neck, groaning, his teeth scraping your skin.

You lay there for a few moments, holding each other, your breathing slowly returning to normal. His lips were still against your neck, his arms wrapped around you.

"Elijah?" You asked, hesitantly.

"Mmm?" He mumbled, not wanting to move.

"I know how I want to die," you said, quietly.

He pulled back, looking at you. ". . . You do?"

You nodded, chewing your bottom lip, you weren't sure if he would be willing to do this for you.

"I want you to drink from me," you said, softly.

His eyes widened, a look of shock on his face.

"I mean, only if you're okay with it. We can find a different way... You can just snap my neck like we originally planned... I just thought...," you said, quickly, starting to ramble.

He cut you off with a deep, passionate kiss.

"Are you sure?" He asked, once the kiss broke.

You nodded, a shy smile on your face.

"Absolutely."

"Alright, but if it gets too much, tell me. We can always stop," he said, his hand resting on your cheek.

"Okay," you said, nodding.

He sat up, leaning against the headboard, pulling you into his lap. His hands on your hips, he didn't move for a moment, just looked at you, a gentle smile on his lips.

"I'm ready Elijah... I want this," you said, cupping his face, and brushing your lips against his.

He kissed you softly, with pure tenderness and love. He looked into your eyes, and you could see the conflicting emotions running through him. Fear, happiness, sorrow, joy.

You stroked his cheek, reassuring him.

"I love you," he said, biting down on his wrist and bringing it to your lips.

"I love you, too," you whispered, taking his blood into your mouth, his free arm wrapping around your waist.

His wrist fell away, and he tilted his head, pressing his lips to yours. Then, he kissed a trail down your neck, stopping right over the vein.

You could feel the sharpness of his fangs, his mouth ghosting across your skin. His hands moved to your back, rubbing it soothingly. He was still hesitating.

Your hands gripped his chest, preparing for the sting of pain, the dark shroud of death that awaited you.

His fangs sank into you, and your body jerked. But the pain was fleeting, as the pleasure began to take over. His hands moved up and down your back, pulling you closer, his mouth working over the bite.

He was so gentle, and tender, the way he was holding you, caressing you. It made your heart swell with love, as the blood flowed from you.

He drank slowly, savoring the taste of your blood, listening to your heart beating slower, your breathing becoming shallower.

He could feel your life force slipping away, the blood no longer rushing through your veins. He felt an almost uncontrollable fear, and he had to fight the urge to let go.

You began to drift away, darkness creeping around the edge of your vision. Your eyes fluttered shut, your heart skipping a beat, before it came to a complete stop.

He pulled his mouth away, and pressed his forehead to yours, his tears falling on your face.

He let out a choked sob, the anguish of losing you was too much. He knew you would return, but in this place of nothingness, the void, it was all too real.

Your body was cuddled into his, your head resting in his shoulder, the wound on your neck still oozing blood.

He closed his eyes, and focused on the future, of all the things he would teach you. The places he would take you. The adventures you would have.

He was going to make the most of this eternity with you.

It didn't take long for your heart beat to return, or for you to stir. Your eyes opened slowly, blinking against the light.

"Eli?"

He pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Welcome back," he said, smiling.

You returned his smile, snuggling against him, and sighing.

"How do you feel?" He asked, his arms tightening around you.

"Hungry."

He laughed, stroking your hair. "I have just the thing for that,"

You nodded, sitting up, and looking at him. He looked tired, his eyes rimmed with red, his hair tousled.

"Have you been crying?" You asked, gently.

He nodded, looking a little embarrassed.

You kissed him softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"It's alright, my love. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere," you whispered, pressing your forehead to his.

"Good," he said, letting out a shaky breath.

He held you, his hands stroking your back, your hair.

You lay there for a while, in the safety of his arms, before he pulled away, and smiled at you.

He reached for a blood bag he had gotten ready, and handed it to you. You tore into the bag, and drank deeply. You hadn't realized how thirsty you were, until you tasted the blood. It was sweet, and thick, and it was exactly what you needed.

He watched your eyes turn black, dark veins snaking underneath them, and smiled. You were beautiful.

When you were done, he tossed the bag aside, and wrapped his arms around you again.

"So, what happens now?" You asked, your eyes searching his.

"We live.”

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banana-pancake5 · 1 year ago

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This stuff is so cool!!! I love Camille’s powers so much!!!!! I love how Frida is called Big Sis it seems so fitting and intimidating. Big mama retiring Frida from the nexus seems so in character I love it! Gewiudbwsiubdwsiubdwsuiswdiudswb I have more I wanna say but the words ain’t wording ;-;

I love this very much and I am so incredibly excited for more about this au!!!!!! Also now you really got me thinking about my Frida…

I have lil questions about spiders web widens!

Does Frida mainly live in the Hotel or the Battle Nexus (I would assume the battle nexus would have lodging)? And if she lives down in the hidden city would Frida be allowed to sneak up to the surface? Or does Big mama keep her close at all times?

Also is it known to the public that Frida is Big Mama’s daughter?

Alsoooooo is there any lil fun fact(s) you’d like to share about Camille?

Hi, Moo! Thanks for the questions ^^ this was a really well timed ask bc I was thinking about all of these today so yay

This was very long so imma put a cut hahaha

1. So. What I’ve been thinking so far is that Frida (and Big Mama) would live in the hotel. I believe that one room with the lava lamp to be hers, as I’ve probably mentioned before but let’s just pretend I didn’t. But today I was watching “Battle Nexus: New York” and at the end, after the shredder attack, the entire hotel crumbles to the ground. I did not notice this before so unless it’s in the last two episodes that I plan on watching tomorrow, I guess they won’t be living there during SWW? I think they would be almost done rebuilding but would be in an alternate place probably. Mama’s web of resources is quite expansive so they probably will have some place else I’ll figure out the details to later.

When she was an active participant in the Nexus, Frida would have lived there. This was probably several months, but at the point of the story, she’s a couple years retired from the Nexus. Not by choice (though she would have chosen that), Big Mama just felt she was getting too much attention and didn’t want her to develop an ego.

Wherever their new living space is, it probably is in the Hidden City, but Friday doesn’t get the opportunity to roam. Her job is to assist Big Mama, and Frida is a bit of a workaholic. Never leaves her side except for when Mama sends her on errands. Big Mama has quite the hold on her, but it can’t stop Frida from taking an extra second to people watch… she has quite the interest in them.

2. Frida’s public image is a bit choppy. She’s a sort of legend in that not many people know much about her and lots of info seems to conflict. Many know Big Mama has a child- it’s in her name after all- but they can’t often put a face to the child. She grew up around the hotel but didn’t do much apart from her studies. Then once she got to an age Mama deemed old enough to fight, she became known as a warrior and eventually a champion. Once she had proved herself (or really, once Mama felt threatened by the amount of attention Frida was getting), she retired from the Battle Nexus and began her duties at the Hotel. She became known by the other staff members as “Big Sis”- no longer the child they had seen grow up, now a seasoned killing machine. Once the opportunity arose, Frida became Mama’s assistant until it was her main and most important role. When she makes appearances in public, her masked persona is known for her strength and brutality. When she is unmasked, she is the daughter of Big Mama- prestigious and powerful. Very few know the true extent of who she actually is. And wow this is getting long…

3. Hehehe I was just wanting to mention this ^^ I don’t think I’ve discussed Camille’s mystic abilities. In SWW, there is a distinct difference between mystic stuff and the Hamato ninpo. What Frida uses is her ninpo; Camille has had no such luck with ninpo stuff though (being alone for most of her life and all that). She does, however, possess a knack for mystic stuff and has some “natural” mystic powers. I say natural bc it’s as natural as it can be when you were made in a lab.

So first, she has psychometric precognition and retrocognition. That means when she can see the future or past (specifically relating to the individual) when she touches people. This results in her greeting people by just grabbing their faces (“I know more stuff the closer I touch to their head”). It’s not consistent though. For instance, it doesn’t always happen. She may touch someone and get nothing then do it again and oh wow so many visions all at once. She also can’t tell if it’s future stuff or past stuff which leads to lots of confusion.

Second, it’s not an innate power but Draxum taught her a telekinetic spell which is one of the few things she managed to remember from that time. She has the spell running almost constantly bc it’s very convenient and plays into her fighting style a lot.

#do not apologize for the long read! I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again I LOVE hearing rambles #people being passionate and excited about things makes me happy #also this stuff is literally so interesting #I thank thee for thine answers #oooooo goofy drawing idea for Camille and Vita is brewing in my head #SWW #spider’s web widens #moo’s moots #rottmnt camille #Rottmnt Frida #Rottmnt big mama #Rottmnt oc #Rottmnt ocs #Rottmnt au #Rottmnt

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straywrds · 5 months ago

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hyunjin's interlude | super bored chapter 5

pairing: hyunjin x f!reader | word count: 11.4k | genre: romance | warnings: angst (heavy) ; heartbreak ; depression ; mild themes of jealousy ; distance between lovers ; explicit sexual and adult content. reader discretion is always advised as this work contains themes that might be sensitive to some.

He thought about it, about those words he dreaded so much, words he hadn’t had the chance to taste on his tongue yet. All this time they had remained buried in his chest but not like the treasure they ought to be, rather like a nuclear biohazard, slowly contaminating their surroundings. “I miss someone.”

Hyunjin was cold when he met Camille.

Linguistics is a funny thing but it only becomes apparent as one acquires fluency in a second or third language. Before French, Hyunjin had never really paid much attention to the way he expressed the fact that the weather was chilly and how it affected his physical body. Back home, he would have said, simply, 추워요 or maybe 나 추워 or just 춥네. In any case, whatever he would have said could have been translated literally to I am cold, just like one would say in English. I am cold, or It is cold.

It’s quite different in French. In French, one would say, J’ai froid. I have cold. Not as in I have a cold, or it is cold, no. Not even I am cold. I have cold. And now that Hyunjin knew this, he rarely thought that he was cold anymore. It no longer suited him, it was no longer enough to convey the way he felt, for he felt like he had the cold within him, like a mind-numbing chill had made a home out of his body. Like he was carrying it with him everywhere he went.

That cold was the reason he went to the Jardin in the first place, and why he was so desperate to find blue hydrangeas somewhere. Anywhere. Just to look at them. To touch them perhaps, feel them under his fingertips. To remember how it felt to touch you. To forget what it was like to have winter as a permanent resident of his heart, even for just a few minutes.

He saw her, Camille, after spending a solid hour walking aimlessly in this vast and beautiful garden. He was supposed to hand out his assignment in just a few days and hadn’t even started it. It was not the first time it happened, but the worst of it had been the year before when things were so bad that his father felt compelled to act like a father again, which said much about the gravity of the situation.

He had met with Hyunjin in his chaotic apartment, finding his son in a state of apathy so deep that he immediately called his office to take time off work, no matter how much Hyunjin insisted it wasn’t necessary. But he couldn’t remember the last time he ate a real meal or slept for more than two or three hours at a time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been truly happy.

Or rather, he remembered it a little too much.

» Read the full chapter on ao3.

Hey, long time no see with our frog boy, hasn’t it?

It was a conscious decision on my part to keep this “chapter” hidden away—not because I did not want to share it, rather because I was afraid the final chapter would be too little, that the events in it would not be enough to please my beloved readers. So I thought, well then I’ll simply put Hyunjin’s Interlude at the beginning of it, to make it worthwhile. But as certain emotions evolved and as time passed, I realized I was putting too much pressure on myself, and more importantly I realized that I needed this interlude to come out. Because it contains feelings that were enclosed in my heart, prisoners of this terrible cage. And I just needed them out.

So now they are out.

I am terribly sorry if this means this interlude and the final chapter that will ensue won’t be enough. But I hope you know I poured all of my heart into it, which is the only way I know how to write.

Thank you to my readers who wait so patiently after updates. Thank you to my readers who somehow trust me, who support me, who care about me. There are many times when my head is full of darkness and often in these times I remember the kindness that you guys show me. This love that you give me. I want to keep working hard so that I one day deserve that love. I am so grateful. Thank you for accepting me despite my mistakes, my flaws, thank you for giving my words a purpose. I am very emotional as I release this short chapter.

Thank you to those who take the time to reach out to me—or to the authors that you love. You guys keep this place alive. You keep my passion alive when there are so many things trying to kill it.

May you all have a lovely 2025. I hope life is kind to you. I hope your lives become soft, gentle, and hydrangea blue.

Permanent taglist:

@abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @anylady-fics ; @b4kuho3 ;

@binstitsweat ; @byeobie ; @cb97percent ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ;

@compersian ; @cybergracie ; @flowersun ; @hanjingin ; @hyuneyeon ;

@hyunfruits ; @hyvneluv ; @hyunnie4ever ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh ;

@hyuwunjinie ; @hynjinnnnlvr ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ;

@karlachsleftbicep ; @leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @love-stays ; @m00n-dream ;

@miraworldsstuff ; @mmoonriseflowerr ; @naoristerling ; @neosracha ; @rubyshoedpixie ;

@palindrome969 ; @selinia86 ; @shywolfcherryblossom ; @skzfelixlove ; @straydhampir ;

@suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

#hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin fic #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #skz angst #skz fic #skz smut #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x you

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theorahsart · 4 months ago

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@hemille I'm sorry to have accidentally misled you, I was just joking around in my reply!

The joke being, I find Camille to have a (loveable but undeniable) inflated ego at times 😂 I don't think there's any evidence that he was bi either, but some of his ott praises of Robespierre sure feel that way to a modern day reader ahaha (here is just one I came across in a book last year that I love):

"✨️Robespierre, always so pure, so incorruptible, and at this session so eloquent, was surrounded by all the elite of patriotism ✨️ "

#I swear every other thing I read from Camille about Robespierre is like “🥺🥺🥺 you're so amazing and perfect *sighs audibly* ”#robespierre #camille desmoulins

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hexhomos · 6 months ago

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random question (please feel free to ignore)... do you have any recommendations for where to learn more about League of Legends lore/worldbuilding? I'm fresh off watching the show, totally unfamiliar with the game and wanting to try my hand at writing fic but am finding myself a bit lost as far as learning more about the setting (specifically Piltover and Zaun). I ask you because I've been reading (and greatly enjoying) some of your fics and they feel really grounded in the setting. thanks so much for your time!

I'll always direct you to the vikjayce codex first (open this on browser so you can see the site tabs/better reading experience) so you can get a hold of their characters pre-arcane.

After that, try the Piltover page and the Zaun page on the league universe website! There are other tabs for champion lores and such. I recommend skimming through every region's summary pitch to get a feel of things and then reading whatever you like.

I recommend these roster champs for a sampler:

The interactive map of Runeterra can give you a good sense of scale/positioning for things and navigating it will lead to more links. It's a pretty cool experience but browser only.

We also have ALTERNATE UNIVERSES with their own lore and different takes on the champs. Arcane implies they remain all canon simultaneously. Star Guardian is a magical girl universe & Odyssey is a space opera universe with their own pages, though there's far more based on skins. Every timeline every possibility etc you have freerange

There's also a 2021 companion book called Realms of Runeterra, I don't think its particularly game changing but it presents things in an organized way and you can.... find it in places where books are uploaded...

lastly, youtube has a lot of 'lore of runeterra' 'league lore summary of X & Y' videos - some of them pretty good! I'm not going to link any because I havent watched them in a while but it can make things easier for you. JUST KEEP IN MIND pretty often these youtubers will get details wrong and you should be double-checking on any assumption they do before internalizing it as hard canon, like read the short story or bio for yourself etc. A lot of people mischaracterized jayce/viktor for a while bc these guys kept conflating arcane with past canon and arcane changes up the world A LOT, the previous timeline is basically destroyed.

On the last point: writing Arcane verse gives you a little more wiggle room because the entire worldbuilding is up on the air, and relies entirely on what is most convenient or narratively sound for the story. Readers are totally willing to see your own take on things.

#meta tag #arcane #jayvik #league of legends #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jayce arcane #jayce lol #viktor lol #viktor league of legends #jayce league of legends #vikjayce #hexposts #star guardian #odyssey #runeterra #lore of runeterra

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amateurvoltaire · 7 days ago

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Do you know if this guy just hates Camille or is any of this is true? Like he was "so little respected" and "never entrusted with duties of any consequence"?

I'm reading "The Twelve Who Ruled" by R.R. Palmer because it got recommended a lot on reddit, but this guy seems kind of mean. He refers to Camille's writings as "childish pretentions to learning" & even goes out of his way to say how he didn't die "with fortitude" like everyone else.

His Wikipedia article says he was begging for his wife's life, which paints a totally different picture. But I'm having trouble getting access to a lot of the books that I see referenced, and I don't know if that's a romanticized version or if Palmer's is slanted.

Camille's last letter got its hooks into my brain and I can't stop chasing down his story! People are complicated & I love that he might've been an awkward little weirdo, but also I don't know that the sources I have available are particularly unbiased.

Camille Desmoulins: A kind of child in politics?

First of all, I have to say I adore this question. Genuinely. Thank you, @secondjulia, for sending it in.

Why do I love it? Because it lets me say the obvious thing that somehow still needs saying: Camille Desmoulins, like everyone else in the 18th century, was a person. Not a metaphor. Not a cardboard cut-out. Not a tragic hero cooked up by a novelist. An actual human being. Loved by some, ignored by many, hated by others.

I’ve said this before, but it bears repeating: historical figures were people. They sulked, lied, procrastinated, wept, and occasionally changed their minds.

And so, as with Robespierre, Danton, Saint-Just and the rest, our understanding of Camille depends far more on who’s writing than on Camille himself. The sources, primary or not, often reveal more about their authors than their subjects.

So what about Palmer? I like Twelve Who Ruled. It’s a sharp piece of scholarship. Palmer had a clear aim: to explain the Committee of Public Safety. And that’s what he did. The book is about them, told from their vantage point.

Palmer reconstructed Year II from the Committee’s outgoing paperwork and their own letters. In other words, he built his narrative from the records of the people who had Desmoulins arrested. Naturally, their prejudices bled through. When Saint-Just called him a Danton’s vain syncopath (1), Palmer more or less nods along and copies it out.

So, was Camille really a political child whose death meant nothing? As always with history, it depends who you ask.

A Short (and simplified) overview on Historiography of Camille Desmoulins

Nineteenth-century French historians such as Michelet, Lamartine, Thiers and Claretie, cast Desmoulins as a central (if impetuous) voice of 1789: the spark that roused Paris, an eloquent pamphleteer elected to the Convention, and a tragic victim of the Revolution’s tendency to eat its own children.

Twentieth-century assessments split. The Marxist-Jacobin line, via Mathiez and Lefebvre, paints Camille as vain, erratic and unserious. In this respect, Palmer follows this view, no surprise, since he admired Lefebvre and borrowed from his intellectual conclusions. And Palmer, after all, wasn’t writing a book on Desmoulins.

Revisionist historians , from J. M. Thompson to François Furet, pushed back, reframing Camille as a voice of early dissent, warning of the Republic’s descent into purges and paranoia.

Since the 1980s, press historians have looked more closely at his journalism. Révolutions de France et de Brabant, Le Vieux Cordelier. They have found serious contributions to republican thought and critiques of the Terror.

Today, writers like Hervé Leuwers depict him as a thoughtful Enlightenment man of letters, a proto-republican, and a principled journalist whose private letters radiate clarity, courage and, and, above all, love for his family.

Palmer’s charges against Camille

So, given that the historiography is anything but settled, let’s examine what Palmer actually accuses him of:

Political immaturity and irrelevance. Desmoulins was "a kind of child in politics". So unimportant that he was never given any serious responsibility.

Mock-intellectualism and distortion. He had “childish pretensions to learning” and twisted facts for the Indulgents’ cause.

Cowardice at death. He alone struggled at the scaffold.

Cruel hypocrisy. He was cruel and mocked others for dying badly but couldn’t manage composure himself.

Undue familiarity. People called him “Camille”, and that, somehow, is evidence of his unseriousness.

So, with all the charges laid out, let’s get into it

1. Political immaturity and irrelevance.

This is nonsense.

Desmoulins wasn’t just writing pamphlets in cafés, the 18th-century equivalent of a keyboard warrior. He was elected Deputy for Paris from 1792 to 1794. Convention transcripts show him speaking at the king’s trial and submitting official opinions on the veto, the royal succession, and the state of army morale.

He sat briefly on the Commission of Public Safety (March 1793) (2) and then on the Committee of War, submitting papers on military supply and recruitment. In February 1793, he alone was tasked with inspecting Didot’s paper mill (3), which was vital to revolutionary printing.

Danton and Robespierre also used him strategically. They gave him documents and political cover to attack the Hébertists in Le Vieux Cordelier (4). Even Palmer concedes that his Histoire des Brissotins (5) was so influential that entire pages were quoted in the Girondins’ indictment.

So no, he wasn’t kept out of power because no one respected him. The Committee turned on him when he demanded clemency, not because they thought he was harmless, but because they knew he wasn’t. They understood perfectly well that his words could shift public mood, that he could cause real trouble. If he were just Danton’s decorative shadow, there’d have been no need to silence him. But they arrested him, too. That tells you exactly how seriously they took him.

2. Mock-intellectualism and distortion

Camille’s notebooks are still in the Bibliothèque Thiers. Marginalia in Cicero, Tacitus, Livy, Rousseau. Not bad for a political child…

In La France libre he coined “liberté, égalité, fraternité”. In Révolutions de France et de Brabant, he cites Grotius and Vattel to sketch a law of nations. I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t call that childish. When I was a child, I was reading Harry Potter, not Grotius.

Palmer accuses Le Vieux Cordelier of distortion. But what did Camille actually write? He warned of secret denunciations, lawless arrests, and the slow crawl toward dictatorship. Robespierre himself approved the first three issues until Camille turned the critique on the Committee itself and dared to demand clemency. That was the line. Truth was acceptable, so long as it didn’t threaten the precarious stability of the revolutionary government.

And let’s be clear. I’m not in the “Robespierre was a tyrant” camp. He wasn’t. Not even a little bit. But Year II was an unholy mess, and Camille was right to say so.

3. Cowardice at death.

First of all, I don’t know about you, but if I were about to have my head cut off for writing a few pamphlets, I’d be a little miffed too. But let’s set that aside.

Did Camille lose his composure on the scaffold? Yes, he did. Eyewitnesses like Beffroy de Reigny (6) saw him in the tumbrel, shirt torn, laughing convulsively, looking unhinged. He did not cut the calm figure Danton did beside him.

But was he truly afraid of death itself? Perhaps. He had every reason to be. That would have been natural, even expected. Yet his final letters suggest something else. In one of them, he wrote: “My head rests on the pillow of my writings... they all breathe philanthropy.” (7) He knew why he was being killed, and he accepted it.

So why the breakdown? In court, when Fouquier-Tinville (8) dragged Lucile’s name into it, Camille lost control. “They want to murder my wife too!” (9) he shouted, and had to be forced down. Perhaps his despair was not for himself, but for her. For the child they had. For the family he knew he was leaving behind, and feared might follow him to the scaffold.

Palmer was writing in an era that still venerated stoicism as a masculine ideal. Men were expected to die well, quietly, without emotion. It is a ridiculous standard. Always has been. Men, 18th-century ones included, are allowed to be human. A thirty-four-year-old husband and father, facing a violent end and the likely execution of his wife, is allowed a moment of collapse.

Yes, Camille broke down physically. So did Fabre d’Églantine (10) and Chabot (11), though Palmer leaves them out. But courage should be measured by your posture in the cart. It should be measured by whether you stood by your words. Camille did. He never disowned what he wrote. He died with it, and with all the fear that came with being someone who loved deeply.

4. Cruel hypocrisy

Camille Desmoulins was a brilliant journalist. In my view, the best of the Revolution. His style was elegant, funny, and direct. He picked his topics shrewdly and knew exactly what would catch the public’s attention. At times, he was cruel, but cruelty was the currency of the era. No one ever accused Marat or Hébert of restraint…

He was a masterful satirist. Early in the Revolution, he mocked the high and mighty with gusto. In Révolutions de France et de Brabant, he took aim even at the executioner Sanson (12) and earned himself a libel suit. In Discours de la lanterne, he justified the lynching of aristocrats. The title alone was a nod to the violent street slogan “à la lanterne” (13). He made his position very clear.

And he was hardly an outlier. Violent rhetoric was everywhere. It was the daily fare of the press, speeches, and yes, even the national motto. “Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort.” (14) This was a very intense time.

That said, by the time Year II descended into madness, Camille had changed his tune.

In Vieux Cordelier no. III, he called for clemency and due process, an unpopular stance in the Convention, though wildly popular in the streets. The issue sold out across Paris. Robespierre had to speak on his behalf at the Jacobins just to stop his peers from tearing him apart.

By the end of 1793, Camille had become a humanist. He had moved from vengeance to justice. He had seen what violence looked like when taken to its logical end. That was not hypocrisy. It was growth.

5. Undue familiarity

This one barely deserves a rebuttal. Yes, people called him “Camille” instead of “Desmoulins”. In the West, they also called La Rochejaquelein “Monsieur Henri”, and still do. It did not make him any less of a general. It was not disrespect. It was affection. Perhaps even popularity. Was it a bit infantilising? Maybe. But that is hardly an indictment.

Conclusion

Every one of Palmer’s criticisms, whether it be childishness, flippancy, uselessness, shallow intellect, fear, hypocrisy, or lack of seriousness, collapses under scrutiny. Read the transcripts. Read the pamphlets, the letters, the modern biographies. You will not find a clown. You will find a sharp, impassioned writer. Not a child, but a man whose conscience could no longer stomach what the Revolution had become.

Palmer was writing during the Second World War. He valued discipline, executive clarity, and the capacity to act decisively. Desmoulins, a polemicist and tribune rather than a minister, naturally fell outside Palmer’s pantheon.

So, who was Camille? He was a man. He had friends. He was loved.

That may not have counted for much in Palmer’s eyes, but it was precisely what made Camille so effective. He moved people. He mattered to them. He made them listen.

Robespierre put it best during one of the most memorable exchanges between them. Camille, instead of keeping quiet and letting Robespierre speak for him, insisted on defending his own writings. Robespierre, exasperated, said: "Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, we might not be so indulgent with you." (15)

That tells you everything you need to know.

Notes

(1) Saint-Just had a busy spring in 1794. As the Committee of Public Safety’s mouthpiece, he was repeatedly sent to the Convention to justify the arrests of Danton, Desmoulins, and the rest of the Indulgents. On 31 March, he made it perfectly clear what he thought of Camille. In his view, Desmoulins was a vain little man, too foolish to think for himself and too dazzled by Danton to notice he was being used.

(2) Not to be confused with the more infamous Committee of Public Safety. Desmoulins briefly served on the Commission of Public Safety in March 1793. This commission was established to protect the young Republic from internal and external threats. It would eventually evolve into the Committee we now know.

(3) The Didot family were renowned French printers and typographers. Their paper mill was instrumental in producing the high-quality paper used for revolutionary materials, including assignats (paper money).

(4) Le Vieux Cordelier was the last journal founded by Desmoulins, launched in December 1793 to attack the radical Hébertists. It ran for seven issues, the last of which appeared posthumously.

(5) In May 1793, Desmoulins published Histoire des Brissotins, a pamphlet attacking the Girondins, particularly Jacques Pierre Brissot. It portrayed them as enemies of the Revolution, helping to discredit them and strengthen the Montagnards’ hold on power.

(6) Louis Abel Beffroy de Reigny, known by the pseudonym "Cousin Jacques", was a French dramatist and journalist. He is best remembered for his satirical commentary during the Revolution.

(7) Original French: "Je repose ma tête calmement sur l'oreiller de mes écrits... tous respirent la philanthropie."

(8) Antoine Quentin Fouquier-Tinville served as the public prosecutor in Paris during 1793–1794. He was responsible for leading many of the key trials of the Terror, including those of Desmoulins, Danton, and Robespierre.

(9) Original French: "Ils veulent encore assassiner ma femme !".

(10) Philippe-François-Nazaire Fabre, known as Fabre d’Églantine, was a French actor, playwright, and politician. He helped create the Revolutionary calendar and was a close ally of Danton. Accused (rightly) of corruption, he was executed alongside Desmoulins in April 1794.

(11) François Chabot was a former Capuchin friar who became a radical Jacobin and Convention deputy. He was implicated in financial scandals and executed with Danton and Desmoulins in April 1794.

(12) Charles-Henri Sanson was the official executioner of Paris throughout the Revolution. Desmoulins satirised him, claiming he dined with aristocrats , a jab that earned him a libel suit.

(13) The phrase “à la lanterne” was a revolutionary slogan calling for perceived enemies to be hanged from street lamps.

(14) The motto of the First Republic was "Liberté, égalité, fraternité ou la mort" or "Liberty, equality, fraternity or death."

(15) Original French: "Apprends, Camille, que si tu n'étais pas Camille, on pourrait bien ne pas avoir autant d’indulgence pour toi."

#frev #french revolution #camille desmoulins #history #robespierre #thank you for the question #amateurvoltaire's essay ramblings

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grlsbstshot · 7 months ago

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Hi! We're B & S! If you've found your way here, it's for a reason. Let's get the official stuff out of the way:

Disclaimer: These fics are intended for mature audiences (18+ only) due to themes, language, and explicit content. The content on the blog is not safe for work. We are not responsible if minors choose to ignore this warning. By proceeding, you confirm that you are of the proper age to engage with this content. Respect the Content Warnings: The stories and one-shots written on this blog by us may include sensitive topics, themes, or character behavior. Please check any content warnings provided before reading. They will always be at the start of the post. Be sure to read them carefully before proceeding. Updates: Due to work schedules and other activities, updates may not always be frequent, but patience is appreciated. Encouragement: Please feel free to reblog, comment, etc. on posts and story updates. We absolutely would love to read comments and geek out with everyone. Commentary: While we do love hearing from you guys, please refrain from using slurs or the like about our characters. Especially the women. Don't call black women monkeys or whores. Especially not on this blog. You will be blocked.

Masterlist below the cut !

NEON LIGHTS Novella - Chapters

In the glitzy world of Hollywood, it can be easy to crash and burn under the California sun. Few are more self-sabotaging than R&B singer/songwriter, Jameson Lucas. The only thing the charming playboy is known for more than his long list of lovers is his Grammy wins. Imani St. Cirie, an emotive singer/songwriter herself, is the latest in a long line of women he's wronged but she's determined to different. Imani refuses to let Jameson make or break her. The two A-listers are consistently drawn together by an electric chemistry that neither can deny or easily manage. As common sense pulls them in opposite directions -- friendships are tested, old flames resurface, and new opportunities threaten to tear them apart for good. They must decide if their love is strong enough to withstand the weight of the mistakes in their past. In this industry, dreams can make or break you -- but what happens when love becomes the gamble of a lifetime?

Chapters:

Extra, Extra:

Music Releases:

Imani: Diary | EP Jameson: Midnight & Dawn | Album

Main Cast:

Aaron Pierre as Jameson Lucas Megan Pete as Imani St. Cirie Jayme Lawson as Genie Adesanya Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Ellington Dupree

Supporting Cast:

Lori Harvey as Sloane Lennox Kofi Siriboe as Christian McKay Kysre Gondrezick as Camille Leferve Skepta as Isaiah Ellis

Guest Appearances:

Halle Berry as Anaïs Lucas, Jameson's mother Beyoncé Knowles-Carter as Toni St. Cirie, Imani's aunt Sterling K. Brown as Kendrick Adesanya, Genie's father Nia Long as Nina Dupree, EJ's mother Marsai Martin as Ella Dupree, EJ's sister Michael Ealy as Julian Gautreau, Jameson's father Marcus Scribner as Lucian Gautreau, Julian & Toni's son

LOVE LANGUAGE Novella - Chapters

Overcoming emotional obstacles and family dysfunction, Genie and EJ prepare for their lavish Parisian wedding. The couple and their loved ones arrive in Paris the week before the big day. Beneath the glamorous façade of wedding plans simmers a deep-seated tension and a little calculated sabotage goes a long way to shatter the joyful occasion. As Genie navigates the turmoil of her fractured family unit, Camille Leferve stands on the precipice of a life-altering revelation. The truth about the father of her unborn child emerges and she has to pick up the pieces of her life as Kendrick’s guilt threatens to swallow him whole. After a fateful encounter, Jameson stumbles upon a shocking family secret when he meets his younger brother, Lucian. The revelation of Lucian’s origins – a concealed affair between Imani’s aunt and Jameson’s father – sends shockwaves through their lives, challenging their perceptions of loyalty and family connections. As the wedding day draws near, the city becomes a stage for a crescendo of secrets and revelations, each poised to collide with explosive force at any moment.

Chapters:

Main Cast:

Aaron Pierre as Jameson Lucas Megan Pete as Imani St. Cirie Jayme Lawson as Genie Adesanya Kelvin Harrison Jr. as Ellington Dupree

Supporting Cast:

Lori Harvey as Sloane Lennox Kofi Siriboe as Christian McKay Kysre Gondrezick as Camille Leferve Marcus Scribner as Lucian Gautreau

Guest Appearances:

ONE-SHOTS Short Stories

A collection of standalone moments from the lives of various characters. These snapshots delve into untold encounters and fleeting drama.

Make Her Mine

Model-turned-actress-turned-hotshot publicist, Toni St. Cirie, puts her career first over any man. But what happens when actor, Nasir Holmes, enters her life hoping to become her next beau? Cast: Beyoncé Knowles-Carter as Toni St. Cirie Lucky Daye as Nasir Holmes

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whoopsyeahokay · 4 months ago

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October Moon

summary: the day after the Homecoming Dance, everyone had been out of it. still, there'd been a lot of opportunity to learn and form a game plan, which you and Wally had done. amongst other things.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smutty smut smut. mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER MOON pt.7

The Ciorcal. A council that oversaw a clutch of families whose blood was infused with connectedness. There were many throughout the world, the number of families under each Ciorcal's governance limited to ensure the rules could be effectively enforced. Ciorcals weren't all powerful or meddling. Nothing like the Volturi in Twilight or the Ministry of Magic in Harry Potter. More like a rural Board of Revision who stepped in to make decisions when families couldn't agree on courses of action. Very mundane stuff that often involved pots upon pots of coffee during deliberations, and a lot of paperwork. Often, hearings took time to schedule since most councilmembers had real lives with real jobs and real social demands.

You'd never met them. You didn't know who your family had to report to if an issue arose with someone's connectedness. There was a ledger tucked away somewhere that only the matriarch had the privilege of using to reach out to them or to the other families under your Ciorcal's administration.

The matriarch in your family was, of course, Ginny. And Ginny didn't seem pleased to have had to call one of the councilmen ('Godfrey', you'd heard her bark when he'd rambled on for too long about his grandkid's ballet recital) simply because Andrew had found a totem linked to a homicide that'd occurred in Mississippi in 2010.

The right thing to do, you thought, was to hand it over to police so they could test it for DNA or whatever. Only, there was nothing special about the totem to indicate that it'd had anything to do with anything apart from having been donated. They were normal-looking sneakers. Not even a pair that the victim had been reported as having worn. And Andrew had happened upon them at a Goodwill while browsing for costume pieces with his girlfriend. There was nothing Andrew could say that would sound plausible enough to avoid becoming the next prime suspect.

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose, groaned, and then said harshly, "I understand that Camille has apples to harvest, Godfrey, but we need to———interrupt me again and I swear to every God and Goddess you can name I will choke you with your ridiculous bolo. I dare you to test me."

You tried not to laugh, pressed your lips together and grabbed Nanna's hand to share the intensity of your amusement. You were both sat in the living room hunched over a puzzle, a relaxing pastime Nanna shared with you when you were stressed. And, oh boy, were you stressed.

It was your sophomore year; you felt awkward and ugly and you had nothing to wear to Homecoming. Plus, although you knew it was stupid, Walter J. Clark had started haunting you for real, and you maybe-sort-of wanted to impress him. Even if you couldn't have sought out, talked to, or acknowledged him in any way.

Ginny's agitated growl brought you back to the present. She tossed the cordless landline phone onto the couch and collapsed beside it, head on the backrest, fingers massaging her temples.

"All good, sister?" Nanna asked with an almost imperceptible upward curve of her lips, her focus on the scattered puzzle pieces in front of her.

Ginny rolled her head to the side to scowl at her, "They're all idiots and I want a new Circle. In fact, I demand it. Who do I bring this up with?"

Nanna's eyes glittered, "I think we'd have to move, if that's the case."

"Oh, hooey, the Rosenbaum's moved a state over and they still have to suffer Godfrey." Ginny glared into the middle distance, gaze fierce, "We should petition to have them replaced."

"Can you do that?" You asked and glanced between Nanna and Ginny. Surely, that'd be too difficult to manage given the short supply of qualified people with connectedness.

Ginny's eyes twitched, "Even if we can't, I will!" She exclaimed, truly frustrated. "Bloody sheep shaggi—"

"And~ we've sorted enough pieces for today," Nanna interrupted, clapped her knees and rose from her chair, encouraging you to follow her, "Let's get started on supper, sweetpea."

"I want steak!" Ginny called after you and Nanna, "With garlic mash! After putting up with that slow-talker, I've earned it!" And then, to herself, "It takes that man a thousand years to get to the point. I'm seventy-nine, for Chrissakes, I don't have time for that."

Nanna sing-songed back, "You'll get what you're given!"

"It's not too early to pass the baton onto you, you know." Ginny threatened through a pleasant smile.

Apparently, dealing with the Ciorcal was a responsibility nobody wanted because Nanna paused briefly, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, released it, "Garlic mash, you said?"

Ginny grinned victoriously.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Xavier was exhausted. Last night had taken it right out of him. Surprisingly, confronting Claire (poorly) and getting her confession had been an emotional cakewalk in comparison to the news that your brother-in-law, Dave, was an attempted murderer.

Add in a medical emergency immediately after learning the truth about Dave, and, yeah, Xavier wasn't holding it together too well.

Ginny had been unresponsive when Abigail and Aurora had gone to rouse her to evacuate the house. Completely unconscious, breathing shallow and rattled, eyes hardly dilating when the paramedics examined her before transport.

You'd texted Xavier about Dave thirty minutes before he got the call from Abigail. She'd asked Xavier to relay a message: that your family had been on the way to the hospital to be with Ginny. Claire had been kind enough to drop Xavier off at the hospital immediately thereafter.

He'd seen Andrew in the Emergency waiting room, head in his hands, haggard and distraught. Apparently, Andrew hadn't even heard about Ginny, his phone dead and charging behind the nurse's station. Xavier had made the poor man's life that much more miserable and still felt terrible about it now.

Xavier hadn't left the hospital until Aurora arrived with you. You and he had snuck away for a moment for you to bring Xavier up to date on everything you knew, plus the ghost's qualms about what other side effects the barrier is causing. Like forced lobotomies, you'd said, it's like they weren't able to feel anything that might be considered retroactive. Negative. Curious. It's weird.

Weird was putting it lightly, Xavier mused mildly. The whole damn thing was fucked up.

Crashed back to the present, "Do you know him?" Ajay asked in an attempt to fill the silence.

"Not really," Xavier said, staring into the middle distance, trying to push to the back of his mind why he was on school property on a Saturday. "He used to work with my mom. Saw him at Family Dinner for the last year, but he never really spoke up much." He scoffed, "Kinda hard to open up when my dad's around."

Ajay gave Xavier a skeptical look, "You're sympathizing with the bad guy?"

"No, just making conversation." Xavier pressed his lips together after and glanced down, struggled to find something to say as he waited for you.

He knew Wally hated his guts, but Ajay was hard to read, and Xavier didn't want to assume he was interested in bonding when he wasn't. Even the fledgling yellow thread connecting him to Ajay didn't make Xavier's awkwardness any less.

As comforting as it was to know there was a connection there at all, he wondered how much of it had to do with your influence. If it was some kind of conspiracy-board-yarn thing and not based on emotional and spiritual chemistry.

"So—"

"We don't...have to." Xavier offered, and couldn't help it, he chuckled. "I'm good with sitting in silence."

Ajay huffed an amused breath in return, smiling, "Yeah. Okay." And then he turned his head to look at Xavier. "I'd like to talk. I just don't know if you'd be comfortable with the questions I want to ask."

"Doesn't hurt to ask," Xavier shrugged, nodded at Ajay to go ahead, and tensed as he prepared for the first question.

"Why'd you cheat on Maddie?"

Not what Xavier was expecting, but alright.

"I don't know." Ajay raised a brow. "I'm serious. I don't know. You don't know me at all, but May can tell you. I'm a lot of things. Most of them kinda fucked, but I'd never...do that." He sat quietly for a moment as he contemplated the past, what had led his dick between Claire's legs. "Contemplate it, maybe, intrusive thoughts make great lyrics. But actually go through with it? I hate to say it," He snorted, self-deprecating, "I'm normally too much of a coward."

Ajay didn't say anything for a long minute. Simply sat with the information and processed, content to make Xavier squirm under judgment he wasn't actually putting out.

"Maybe the barrier is fucking with the living, too," Ajay said, and although it sounded like it was meant to be funny, Xavier could tell Ajay took his words seriously.

"Maybe," Xavier conceded, "I was definitely fascinated by Claire. She and Maddie have a lot in common. Both strong, bossy; in different ways, but still." He chewed his tongue in thought. "But I did...I do actually care about Maddie. Might not seem like it, but that's the truth." He sighed, glanced at Ajay, "I don't know why it happened. It was like a dream. It didn't feel real."

"Dissociation?"

"Could be," Xavier shrugged. "Or maybe it is the barrier fucking everybody's shit up." He leaned back against the wall and stared up at the sky. "Or maybe I have a split personality and my alter-ego is a dick."

"Definitely a dick," A new voice cut the air.

Xavier sat up straight and watched Rhonda approach, that trademark permanent scowl only slightly softer than it had been during the week whenever she and Xavier had crossed paths.

Ajay greeted Rhonda as she took a seat on the grass in front of Ajay and Xavier, sitting back on her hands. Xavier followed the barest yellow thread, hardly detectable, that shimmered like spidersilk between him and Rhonda. Connecting her to Ajay was a much thicker, more established white thread.

All the ghosts were connected by white threads, Xavier had observed. As if their connections were so profound, it was impossible to identify them in earthly terms. Or they all secretly hated each other. But Xavier was inclined to believe the first.

Xavier frowned, watching Rhonda and Ajay's thread. There was a flicker of something in it. There and gone.

Black as ink.

His gaze slid from her chest to her face and he realized she'd been watching him.

"You have a problem, you know that, Jim Stark?"

Xavier didn't know the reference, but assumed it wasn't a compliment. He blushed, bowed his head, and cleared his throat, embarrassed, yet unwilling to reveal what he'd actually been looking at. That black stain, like the one he saw in the thread he shared with his dad, it made Xavier uneasy, and until he spoke to you about it, he didn't want to raise a subject he was totally ignorant in.

"Where's Wally?" Rhonda asked Ajay.

"Greenhouse." Ajay answered simply. "Do not disturb," He added when Rhonda made a move to get to her feet.

"Should've known with Deputy Doofus being here," She sneered, though Xavier recognized the hint of playfulness in her tone. Deep, deep within it. But there. "Tell him to come find me when he's done. I want pancakes, and he's the only one who makes them right."

Ajay chuckled, "Will do."

When Rhonda disappeared, Xavier flashed Ajay a confused look, "Why do ghosts eat? Do you need to eat?" He remembered, "I saw Wally eating hot dogs at the Homecoming Game with Maddie. It's weird."

"We don't need to, but Mr. Martin," Who? Xavier didn't ask, "Encourages us to keep up certain rituals we had when we were alive. He says it helps us from becoming like the loopers. Or worse."

"What's worse than playing trombone twenty-four-seven?" Xavier wondered, hearing the blare of the dead band kids from where he and Ajay sat. God, he missed the days when he couldn't hear metaphysical noise.

"Something Mr. Martin calls fading," Ajay explained. "The next step toward inexistence." At Xavier's confuddled expression, Ajay elaborated, "He says you just thin out. Float aimlessly about, totally unconscious, unengaged, unresponsive." He knocked his knuckles against the side of his head, "The lights are on, but no one's home."

"Jesus," Xavier grimaced, "That sounds fucking terrifying." A lull as Xavier digested the information, and then, "Who's Mr. Martin?"

"He's a teacher who died here in '58." Ajay said, tipped his head back against the wall to take in the sun. "The longest standing ghost here. And the only adult."

"Damn. That kinda sucks."

Ajay hummed, "If he thinks so, he hides it well. Personally, I think he's happy he has us. We might not bond with him the way we do each other, but I don't get the sense that he's lonely."

Another lull. "How does he know?"

"Hm?"

Xavier repeated, "How does Mr. Martin know about fading ghosts? Is there one here?"

Ajay didn't move, didn't speak for a moment, just sat quietly to the point that Xavier thought he was being ignored.

Finally, after several beats, "I don't know." And the way Ajay said it made Xavier's hair stand on end.

"You never asked?"

Xavier recalled what you'd said last night—lobotomies—and felt a shiver run down his spine. This school needed a fucking exorcism. Not of the friendly ghosts (especially not your dead boyfriend. Xavier didn't want to end up on the wrong side of the veil because he'd banished Wally's soul into the fabric of the universe). Just the creepy, sinister energy that seemed to permeate the area.

"I never thought I had to," Ajay admitted quietly, frowning at his lap in deep thought. Whatever he was thinking bothered him. As if he were uncovering more pieces to fit a puzzle he'd been assembling for a while.

"Maybe he heard it from one of her family members?" Xavier suggested. "They all went here. I'm sure someone must've said something."

"Could be," Ajay agreed, though he didn't sound entirely convinced. He didn't say anything else, so Xavier figured that's where that particular conversation ended.

For the next twenty minutes, Xavier and Ajay sat in silence again. Not as awkward as it had been before. Just more troubled.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Wally hummed into your hair, held you close and kissed your temple, cheek; rolled onto his side to cradle your jaw, and soak you in with his eyes.

You were beautiful, cheeks still flushed and eyes still glazed, hair disheveled because he'd grabbed fistfuls of it when he'd kissed you, hard and hungry, while you rode him like a sex goddess.

"I love you, baby," He murmured, backs of his fingers gently stroking your cheek. He pressed his forehead against yours, "God, it's like I've been waiting for you forever. I just didn't know it until now."

You smiled, soft, sweet, and nodded, "I feel it, too."

You and Wally were in the greenhouse, cuddled on the still-made bed he and Simon had put together yesterday. Most of the other things had reset and were gone, back in their places inside the school. Everything except what Simon had brought in and set up. Some of the fairy lights, the bed itself; how the tables were arranged.

The things that mattered for a Saturday morning rendezvous with Wally's perfect, alive, ridiculously sexy girlfriend. He beamed. Even just thinking the term made his heartbeat spike and his belly squirm pleasantly.

"I don't understand why now, though," Wally whispered, rolling you onto your back so he could drape his upper half over you. He leaned down, kissed along your shoulder gently. "After two years. Why did the connection explode to bring us together like this now?"

You remained silent for a moment, apart from pleasured little sighs that shot heat straight to Wally's cock, stirring him all over again.

"Maddie," You said. And it sounded like you'd been giving it some thought before this conversation. "I think it's because of how she ended up in the metaphysical world. It...changed things."

Wally nodded. He'd been thinking the same thing recently.

Something else had been plaguing his mind since the theater. Since learning that Amelia had stolen Christopher's body in order to execute her plan to kill Aiden (and possibly you, though thankfully Christopher—God rest his soul—had put a stop to that).

"Baby..." Wally began, propped himself on a forearm to run his fingers soothingly through your hair, "I—"

"Yeah." You said, clearly understanding where Wally's mind had gone. "I don't want that to be what happened, but we can't exclude it."

After a minute, "We know Mr. South didn't kill Maddie," Wally said, lips twisting as he puzzled things out. "But do you really think he could've hurt her to the point she left her body?"

You shook your head, glancing away from Wally to gather your thoughts. "No. I don't. Mr. South might be a little weird, but he wouldn't hurt anyone." A beat. "At least, not if he was himself."

And there it was. The thing everyone had been dancing around since the theater. No one had wanted to be the one to bring it up, not even Maddie, who was willing to believe anything—including her ex-best-friend might've done something horrible to her—if it meant finding her body.

Yet, they couldn't deny that Amelia's interference was a possibility anymore.

"Why Maddie, then?" You asked aloud, despite it obviously being a question you posed to yourself. "There must be a reason."

"Maybe it has to do with bloodlines," Wally said, tone mockingly spooky. "Amelia told him his bloodline was a problem."

"She also said Aiden was the last loose-end, though," You reminded him, gaze returning to his along with your hand to his jaw, thumb grazing across his lower lip. Like you couldn't help yourself, you had to touch him, and he reveled in it.

Kissing the pad of your thumb, "To snuff out," Wally said. "Mads is alive, right? She's not snuffed out. What if Amelia used Mr. South's body, gave Maddie that tea to drug her, and kidnapped her like she kidnapped you and Aiden."

"Possible," You agreed, albeit reluctant. It made sense, Wally knew that, and he could tell you did, too. "Maybe she's getting ready to do another ritual."

"And she took Maddie's body to use?"

"If it's about bloodlines, maybe there's a specific type of person Amelia needs for the ritual work, right?" You suggested, and Wally could see the wheels turning. "I still haven't been able to find anything about that kind of ritual specifically, but it would fit. Blood is an important component in dark rituals like that."

"Black magic," Wally teased, chuckling when you glared at him. "Evil spells."

"Shut up," You groused, but you were smiling. And then you sighed, clenched your eyes closed, and tried to ground yourself. Wally pressed his lips along your collar, fingers of his free hand trailing, featherlike down your side to your hip. Your voice was breathy when you said, "Alright, let's start looking at things from that angle. I'll try and see if other teenagers have been reported missing..."

"Right now?" Wally murmured, voice dark and heated, moving his fingers to the seam of your hip and thigh, "Or later, baby?"

Fuck, he was hard again, thick and hot and needy for you, barely managing to rein in his control.

"Later," You shivered and hooked a leg over his hip, pressing him against you as you ground your pussy against him. His eyes rolled back, and he moaned before you concluded, "Right now, I want you to show me how much you love me."

Wally smirked, rocking forward, rubbing himself between your wet folds, panting at the sensation of how slick and ready you were for him.

"You weren't paying attention before?" He teased, eyes blown, face flushed, God, he'd never get enough of this. "Rude."

You giggled, so fucking sweet, "I was distracted." And you drew him into a deep, slow kiss by the chain of his necklace, your other hand sliding down his back to squeeze his ass and encourage him to move against you. "Show me again."

Which Wally did for longer than was probably wise given where you and he were.

After, dressed, hands clasped, your steps a little wobbly, Wally escorted you back to Xavier. He grinned, smug, when Xavier cringed at the sight of you, the patches of love bites Wally had worked into your skin, how pouty your lips were because Wally had kissed you senseless. How fucking hot you were after Wally had taken you apart and put you back together again.

He couldn't stop himself, gave Xavier a dark look of satisfaction as he held you to his side with a possessive hand on your hip. She's all mine, Wally thought, and wished he had telepathy just to rub it in Xavier's face.

Xavier didn't notice. Or didn't want to notice, eyes on everything but you as he croaked, "Ready to go?"

You turned, rose on your toes to place a kiss on Wally's jaw, "Love you."

Wally pinned you to him, kissed you deep and dirty, made a show of it for Xavier's sake while Ajay groaned in despair. When he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling.

"Love you, pretty girl."

He hated that you had to leave, but, damn, did he like watching you go.

"Please stop looking like that," Ajay begged, mouth twisted in displeasure. He panned his head and gave Wally a look of such discontent, Wally barked a laugh. "Please."

"Sorry, bro," Wally said, only somewhat apologetic.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

Simon sat quietly in the interview room, Mrs. Grace on the couch beside him on her phone. It had a remarkably different feel to the interrogation room he'd been in too many times by then.

Softer, warmer, more comfortable. Couches and cushioned chairs, wood furniture, plants that Simon suspected were fake, but looked real enough to set the peaceful vibe.

He'd been called in earlier that morning. Something about the deputies needing to ask him questions about Mr. South and Maddie and if Simon had seen anything irregular between the two in the weeks leading up to Maddie's disappearance.

He obviously hadn't, or he would've said something, and Simon was a little perturbed that the deputies didn't know that. Because it meant he was stuck here instead of at the school with Maddie, looking for clues as to how Mr. South was really involved in her case. If he was really involved in her case.

It'd been half an hour since Deputy Hayes had asked him about Dave and if Simon knew him or about his connection to Mr. Anderson. That had been quick and easy since, no, Simon genuinely knew absolutely fuck all about Dave, only having learned he existed last night.

Unlike the last few times Simon had met with Deputy Hayes, she seemed to believe him immediately. Had nodded, sympathized, treated him like the traumatized seventeen-year-old kid he was, and not a suspect in his best friend's Houdini-turned-possible-murder.

"Sorry for the wait," Sheriff Baxter said as he came in, holding a paper cup of something steamy. "Are you comfortable?"

Simon nodded, "Yeah. Thanks."

He watched Sheriff Baxter take a seat across from him and set his cup down on the coffee table between them. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, appearing honestly concerned and willing to listen. He didn't know why, but Simon felt uneasy about the way Sheriff Baxter moved.

"Alright, let's get down to it." Sheriff Baxter said, holding Simon's gaze. Intense. Like he was penetrating Simon's skull to look for the truth. "Did you see anything suspicious the night Maddie went missing?"

Simon shook his head, "No. Nothing. It's like I told you before, everything seemed normal."

As the conversation continued, the steam from Sheriff Baxter's cup wafted toward Simon, and he caught a whiff of it. He stiffened in his seat, swallowed, tasted the notes of fucking soap and perfume, and almost gagged.

He must've made a face because the Sheriff asked, "Are you sure Mr. South wasn't involved in any way with Maddie?"

Simon gave him a disgusted look.

"It doesn't have to mean sexual, Simon. I mean, did they have private conversations? Were they seen alone together before? Did Maddie have a reason to seek Mr. South out by herself?"

Again, Simon shook his head, "If she did, I didn't know about it." Like he hadn't known about Mr. Anderson helping Maddie after Sandra had crashed the car into a tree...

Sheriff Baxter nodded, took a sip of his tea, and then placed it back on the table. Closer to Simon. Hardly a fraction, but now that Simon was paying attention, it seemed odd.

"Has Mr. South ever had private conversations with other students?"

"I'm not sure."

"Has he ever had an altercation with a student?"

"No, I don't think so," Simon said, eyes still on the tea.

Sheriff Baxter tilted his head, "Do you want a cup?"

Immediately, "No. No...thank you," Simon denied, forced a smile to his face, and peeled his eyes up to meet Sheriff Baxter's. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "You drink that stuff a lot?"

"It helps keep me calm," The Sheriff said with a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

"It smells like shit," Simon returned in a snarky tone.

Sheriff Baxter shrugged, "But it works."

The interview continued. Simon answered everything he was asked. Not that he had anything useful to contribute. And throughout the rest of the interview, that tea had moved closer and closer to the middle of the coffee table. Closer to Simon. The Sheriff's eyes boring into him every time, as if watching for his response.

Simon didn't give him one.

In the end, the Sheriff stood when Simon did and held out his hand, "If you think of anything, let me know."

"Sound good," Simon said, already halfway to the door without a backward glance. He needed to get the hell out of that room, the tea-stink somehow denser than it had been in the first minute Simon had been forced to sit in it.

"And Simon," The Sheriff stopped him, his hand fitting over the door handle before Simon could reach for it. He smiled at Simon, something akin to friendly, "Thanks for being there for her last night. I'm glad she has a friend like you." He paused, made a face that Simon couldn't read, but it wasn't nice, "After all, with the way my son's been behaving recently..." He stopped, smiled again, "It's good to know she has someone dependable in her life."

Simon stared at Sheriff Baxter, taken aback by the praise. He felt uncomfortable, blood buzzing, skin prickling. He pulled a smile and nodded.

"Yeah, of course. That's what friends do."

The Sheriff released the handle and stepped back, bobbed his head politely toward Mrs. Grace, then waved to Simon. "Take care of yourself, kid."

Simon thanked him and hurried down the hall, his phone already out, typing frantically.

The police are drinking the cult tea.

💀___________________________

PART SIX - PART EIGHT

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #Sarah Yarkin #Rhonda Rosen #Spencer Macphearson #Xavier Baxter #October Moon #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits #zed necrodopolis #Disney Zombies

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mingus-archives · 2 years ago

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"The Tell-Tale Heart"

Okay so I want to preface this that I have not read much Edgar Allen Poe so I will be missing those layers in my perspective, but anyways something that really struck me in "The Tell-Tale Heart" episode of The Fall of The House of Usher was the moments after Victorine throws the book end at Ali.

Before this, we're presented with this version of Victorine who may be stressed and pressured but ultimately does not actively appear to be amoral. She's just being put in a bad position by her shit father; she wants to do good and develop a life-saving medical device, and she just has to cut corners to stay afloat. It's only Camille who seems convinced Victorine is some awful person.

Then, the bookend. Another cut corner. Instead of talking things out with Ali or being patient, she acts impulsively and immediately to stop the problem. It's just like the first time she dosed the chimpanzee with epinephrine during surgery in a panic when she realized the device wasn't working. She hits Ali in the head and, on realizing the severity of her actions, runs over to her.

Ali is bleeding out on the floor, her body writhing horribly and she lets out these awful choked noises. Victorine goes to her and seems immediately horrified and brokenhearted. Then, the security guard checks in through the door. The guard is concerned over the scuffling noises overheard.

And Victorine fucking says to him, "Have you never heard a woman getting eaten out before?"

Her girlfriend is dying by her hand, and she pretends the sounds of her dying are the noises of sexual pleasure. This to me is the reveal, this is when the audience truly sees that Victorine does not have and never had a heart. The love she's shown, for her passion, her girlfriend, her device, is nothing more than mistaken greed. It's a mechanical heartbeat, it sounds almost like a heartbeat, but it's a pale imitation to anyone who pays attention. And like with Ali's corpse, the mechanical heart of Victorine is just keeping a soulless body alive.

The Fall of the House of Usher structurally represents the family itself: it begins with the announcement of the deaths of all the children. The children are dead from the beginning of the show. And as Annabel points out, the children in the story were dead from the start, killed by greed and wealth. And then we learn that they were literally dead, as Roderick and Madeline had already sold their lives for wealth before they were even born. We're not seeing the family die, we're seeing the final moments of corpses decomposing. We're seeing the dilapidated house finally collapse. The Fall of the House of Usher is not about death, it's about the walking dead, like the visions of Roderick. A family kept alive with a mechanical device just going through the motions.

#the fall of the house of usher #fall of the house of usher #the fall of the house of usher spoilers #the fall of the house of usher meta #tfothou #tfothou spoilers #alessandra ruiz #camille l'espanaye #victorine usher #victorine #the tell tale heart #syds thoughts #my thoughts #syds analysis #my analysis

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serpentwhisperss · 6 days ago

Text

ménage à toi

.ᐟ genre: girlfriend!ellie, smut, threesome, ellie in paris (get it? ha ha ha)

.ᐟ authors note: my first time writing smut… DONT BULLY ME PLEASE

.ᐟ warnings: this piece contains explicit sexual content, including a consensual threesome, hair pulling , spitting, and degradation. please do not read if you’re uncomfortable with these themes.

synopsis: ╰┈➤ paris, a hotel balcony, and the kind of night that only happens once.

the first thing you notice is the way ellie looks under paris light. a little tired, a little foreign, grinning like she doesn’t quite believe she’s here.

you’re on your second day in the city, already a little drunk on espresso and whatever spell the city is casting among you both.

she keeps making fun of the way you pronounce things—“pain au chocolat,” she says in a bad accent, “more like pain in my ass.” you roll your eyes and kiss her in the middle of the bakery.

later, your hands brush under the table at a tiny outdoor café. ellie’s sketching something in her notebook, a crooked version of the view with your profile peeking in from the edge. she’s always drawing you without asking. you pretend not to notice.

you end up in the bar by accident, drawn in by the music and the smell of cigarette smoke curling through alleyways.

that’s where you meet her. her name is camille, or maybe she just says that because it sounds right for the night.

short black hair, quick mouth, sharper smile. she orders you both a drink before you’ve even sat down.

you don’t remember everything you talked about. just the way ellie kept glancing at you, like she was checking you were still okay. still hers.

and you were.

even when camille leaned across the table, lips close to your ear, telling a story that wasn’t even funny but made you laugh anyway.

you end up back at the hotel somehow. all of you stumbling, giggling, flushed. camille presses her hands to the railing of your little balcony like she’s trying to hold the whole city in her palms.

inside, ellie pulls you into her lap without hesitation, like she’s been waiting all night. her palms slide up your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin, slow and possessive. you kiss her hard, tongues brushing, lips slick. there’s heat in it—lazy, open-mouthed heat—and when you glance back, camille’s watching. her cheeks are flushed, lips parted, chest rising fast.

“you sure?” ellie murmurs into your neck, voice rough, already knowing the answer.

you nod, breath catching as her hand slips beneath the hem of your dress.

ellie reaches out, fingers brushing camille’s jaw, then cups her face with a kind of tenderness that’s almost obscene.

she kisses her like she’s done it before—slow, deep, curious—like she’s figuring her out through taste. when they break apart, ellie’s eyes flick to you again. she pulls both of you in, and suddenly there’s no space between anything.

your clothes come off in pieces—tugged, peeled, dropped to the floor. someone laughs, sharp and breathless—it mightve been you.

ellie’s mouth is on your shoulder, your collarbone, dragging teeth as she walks you back. she pushes you out onto the balcony, the cool air licking at your skin, nipples hardening instantly. the stone is cold under your feet, but ellie’s hands are like fire.

camille sinks to her knees in front of you like it’s instinct. her hands grip your hips, pulling you closer, her lips soft as they brush your stomach, lower, lower.

her tongue flicks out, tasting, teasing, and your knees almost give out. ellie moves behind you, bare skin pressing to your back, one arm around your waist to hold you steady, the other slipping between your legs.

her fingers slide through you like she already knows exactly how wet you are—like she expected it.

you gasp, head falling back against her shoulder. camille’s tongue finds your clit, slow and deliberate, while ellie fucks you with her fingers—deep, steady, curling just right.

you’re pinned between them, completely theirs. the city hums beneath you, but you barely notice. all you feel is lips, hands, teeth. the railing digs into your hips. ellie moans against your ear, whispering filth in that low, ragged voice, and camille’s mouth works you until you’re shaking.

you come with a cry, your body jerking, the pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. they don’t stop. ellie keeps you open with her hand while camille licks you through it, like she’s starving. another orgasm builds fast, unbearable, and when it hits, your legs buckle. ellie catches you, pulls you close, kissing the side of your face like she’s proud.

later, the bed is soaked, sheets twisted and bodies slick with sweat. ellie lies beside you, spent but still watching you with that look—possessive, soft, a little smug. camille crawls over you, kisses you slow, deep, her tongue lazy in your mouth like she’s savoring the last taste.

then she’s pulling away. she dresses without a word, without rush. no number. no last name. just a kiss to your shoulder and a half-smile before she slips out the door, gone like smoke.

ellie reaches for you in the silence, dragging you back into her arms.

“still want more?” she asks, voice wrecked.

“that was enough for tonight,” you giggle.

ellie exhales and starts laughing. “what the fuck just happened?”

you nuzzle into her, skin sticky, heart full. “we’re in paris,” you whisper.

she pulls you into her chest. rubs slow circles over your back. “you okay?”

you nod. “you?”

“mm. better than okay.”

in the morning, the air smells like croissants and car exhaust. ellie’s asleep beside you, one arm thrown over your waist, mouth open slightly. you lie there watching her.

paris outside, ellie beside you.

you smile.

you kiss her shoulder.

you don’t want to go back home.

#wrote this while half asleep listening to asmr lolsies #wlw smut #wlw #sapphic #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #the last of us #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams #established relationship #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us

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aklaustaleteller · 7 months ago

Note

Hey so I was wondering i love angst and well I wanted to ask if you could write a one shot or it can be longer if you want to ofc if you like the idea if not then it's totally fine I understand.

So hear me out Y/n Is the original heretic and she's dating Klaus and one day she gets home ( she lives with the Mikealson's) and finds Klaus cheating on her with Camille so she obviously gets mad and as he tries to explain himself she asks for how long she's been cheating on her and he says a few weeks. But as he tries to explain himself again she breaks up with him and snaps his neck with magic not wanting to hear anything then she turn to Camille and uses her magic against her making her feel pain before knocking her out she then leaves the house and goes to a bar and then lucien enters the bar and notices Klaus's girlfriend there. He goes up to her and uses his charm to flirt with her but quickly notices she has been crying and asks what happened. She reluctantly tell him and he feels bad for her since he knows what it's like to go through a heart break ( AURORA) and asks if she would like to stay with him in his penthouse Y/n at firsts says no but then realizes she has no where else to go and agrees. Once they arrived to his house they continued drinking one thing lead to another and well yk what happened, the next morning she wakes up before Lucien realizes what happened but doesn't feel guilty because at least she wasn't in a relationship therefore free to do whatever she wants. As the time goes on, she gets closer to Lucien, and they secretly start dating, and she knew Klaus was looking for her she had heard from Elijah, but no one except Lucien knew where she was staying at. So fast forward to the dinner yk with tristen aurora lucien Elijah Klaus and Freya. Y/n asked lucien to let be a part of his plan. So she pretends that he also kidnaps her along with Camille, so lucien tells Klaus he has both Camille and y/n, who he had, like I said before looking for and obviously gets even more mad. She completely ignores Camille's attempts to say sorry/ explain herself but in the end she ' Helps' her escape and when lucien and Klaus arrive unlike in the show they are still there and we'll I Don't know what else to add but lucien endgame please and she makes sure to make Klaus suffer for cheating on her. Only if you like and are comfy writing this. If not, I completely understand you can change or add whatever makes you comfortable 💖

Down Bad

In the two weeks that Y/n had been gone, Klaus had turned out to be quite an unfaithful man. However, Lucien Castle has been down bad for Y/n since he first met her, in a bar drowning away her sorrows. And he'll do anything for her – even if it meant lending her a helping hand to torture a man.

Warnings - Conspiring, mentions of infidelity, drinking alcohol, some smut ...and yeah!

Word Count - 4.7k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Hi hi hi!! I'm so sorry that I kept you waiting so long. anon, and I truly hope you enjoy reading the fic! Other than that, I didn't include any torture in the fic, simply because it didn't feel quite natural? I don't know, it's kind of an open ending (sorry!) Other than that, one thing you should know about me is that I'm a Klaus girly, so you should also know that writing this was hard for me JSFJAKFSH But for you anon, I wrote Lucien like he should totally belong to you! And once again, I really hope you all enjoy this fic!

It was a breezy morning. Leaves were drifting off of tree branches and smell of melancholy hazed everyone's senses.

Y/n was walking on wet cobblestones, her heels clicking as she walked against the harsh wind that also made her feel a bit alive. She could feel her magic coursing through her body; whether it was in her blood or her bones, she hadn’t yet had the pleasure of finding out and finally getting to that itch in her brain.

She felt giddy, however, when she caught a whiff of the apple cider donuts from the bag she had cradled in the swing of her elbow. Having bought them especially for Klaus, she wouldn't mind too much sharing some with his siblings, who felt like they were hers too.

Turning around the corner, an excited squeak escaped her throat at the sight of all the Mikaelson siblings, except for the one who she loved in a faintly different way, standing just outside their mansion.

Rebekah saw her first and her troubled expression quickly melted into genuine happiness, with her mouth stretching into a full grin and her hands coming out of the coat pockets to welcome Y/n into her arms, who came running into them.

"God, finally the sun's out," Rebekah rasped, tightening her embrace and inhaling deeply. Y/n rubbed her back as she let go, blinking away her tears at the feeling of being someone who someone wanted around.

"Only for you," she sniffled and laughed, ignoring Kol's quick protest to that.

She had been away for two weeks, hosting and attending workshops as a fresh associate professor in the field of Forensic Science. She could still feel the exhaustion which had sunk deep into her bones and yet she up, out and about, because she had missed everyone too much to sleep in for one more hour.

"I was thinking we could go apple picking?" Rebekah suggested with a blinding grin, even though she probably wouldn't budge were Y/n to deny.

"Right now?"

Rebekah nodded furiously, her shoulders bunching up when a cold breeze traced her face.

Y/n looked around, wondering if it was only her who could see the dreary weather and the dark circles underneath her eyes, and checked her wristwatch to confirm that it was legitimately half past ten in the morning.

When no one seemed to have come back to their senses and suggested a later time, Y/n faced her friend reluctantly.

"I guess we could," she began, her body uptight. "But let me see Klaus first," she quipped, her smile no more embarrassed than herself.

Elijah and Freya rolled their eyes, and Rebekah and Kol groaned. The latter duo never shied away from stating their opinion on just about anything.

"I'll be quick I swear," she touched her throat, and smiled sweetly. But no one budged.

Only Kol took away the paperbag from her to peek inside, laughing in delight when he opened it. And with his hand disappearing inside, his mouth took shape in a lopsided grin – "You didn't have to do this darling," he teased her.

Y/n’s face had gone quite grim, and she snatched the bag.

"They aren't for you," she said through her teeth while smiling, and passed a quick pleading look to the blonde Rebekah standing beside her as she began her brisk walk inside after shooting Kol a quick, cautioning glare.

"I'd rather you not go!" Elijah shouted after her, his voice a little croaky from what she assumed was due to its lack of use.

"Just, let it happen," Y/n heard someone murmur.

But she didn't say anything in return, literally running up the stairs, excited to see Klaus' reaction to his favourite sweet treat in the entirety of the world, and ready to beg him to join them on their little adventure.

She took long strides through the hallway, her heels clicking away whilst she unbuttoned her coat with one hand. But it was when she reached Klaus' room that all thoughts flew from her mind, and she was left frozen on her ground, halted.

There he was, standing at the foot of his bed, looking still like what he had on the day Y/n had realised how stupidly she was in love with him. Seeing him after two weeks felt like she'd left her desk and come outside for a walk with a warm coffee clutched in between her palms.

He was looking at her too, just as caught off guard as she felt – by his mere beauty. And it made Y/n feel a certain kind of way; maybe it was the fact that she felt like she hadn’t been forgotten, or the fact that he was looking at her like she had seen him look back at his paintings.

But she also knew this – artists usually looked back at their piece of work with a fistful of critiques and flaws. And Y/n sighed, for she hated coming across her own lack of comparison skills.

A shy smile played on her mouth and it was when she strolled a couple steps further into the room, that she noticed Camille on his bed – in lingerie.

"Camille?" Y/n spoke as softly as a breath in the winter, her voice visible only for a second before it disappeared into thin air.

She looked towards Klaus, who stood still even now. Then she put the bag of donuts on the desk beside her, her mind swarming with thoughts that made her feel too shameful to admit to herself.

"I'd say I'm very glad to see you," she began, her voice a little shaky like it wasn't prepared to utter the words waiting at the back of her throat.

"But I feel like I just interrupted something."

Y/n could suddenly feel her heart, and how heavy it was and how it was hammering against her chest so harshly that she feared it might burst into millions of shreds.

"Is either of you going to say something?" She let out an uneasy laugh, one that tasted quite bitter.

Camille broke out of her stance and instead of speaking to Y/n, she began to scramble for her things, reaching for Klaus' shirt that was lying right beside her on the bed once she was done tying back her hair in a bun.

Y/n felt all of the blood rush to her face, and she ground her teeth, not wanting to say something quite as dirty as she’d been done.

"So we’ve reached this stage, huh," Y/n exclaimed; her eyes wild as she looked at Klaus. "My fucking god –," Y/n started, gasping loudly. “This isn’t the first time, is it?” She asked, sounding a little to glad upon connecting the dots.

"You cheated on me," she stated, her bottom lip quivering having said it out loud.

Klaus wasn’t even looking at her, his eyes taking in his carpet for the first time.

Y/n turned to look at Camille, someone whom she had trusted and whose ears had gone pink and eyes, round, now. Camille cleared her throat under her glare and began to fidget.

"We were just breaking things off," she muttered, eyes set on the mattress.

Y/n took a shuddering breath, trying to calm herself and force her magic back down, something which was ferociously triggered as of now.

She turned around to face the wall, rubbing her face in order to merge the tears that had pooled in her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, flailing her arms once before leaving them by her side – she didn't want to fold them across her chest and look as defensive as she felt.

Y/n wasn't going to lie, she had grown quite fond of Camille. Grateful with how much she had helped Klaus, but right now, as she stood in front of her, Y/n couldn't help but feel betrayal seep into her skin and crawl up her abdomen to clutch her heart.

Instead of a sister that Y/n'd never had, she could now see that Camille was a crook who was caught. She shook her head, unable to stand when she'd been stabbed in the back so brutally.

She had to leave, it was time to go. She'd promised Rebekah that she'd be quick.

Feeling an all too familiar ache spreading throughout her body, Y/n fixed her purse on her shoulder and wiped her nose on the cuff of her cardigan's sleeve. The rash lightly burned her skin, but it felt nothing like the pain she was feeling all over.

She walked out of the room with her head low, her teardrops falling straight on the floor. Once she was out of the room, she ran.

She ran down the stairs, sobs racing out of her throat, and her face crumbling into a million pieces.

And just as she was about to cross over the threshold of the mansion, Klaus' voice boomed from the top of the stairs.

"Y/n! --"

Y/n turned around with a glare, her eyes burning with hatred aimed towards him. Before he could've said anything more, Y/n snapped his neck. She hadn't lifted her hand, hadn’t felt the magic coarse through her being so when he dropped on the floor, she froze for a second before realising what had happened.

He’d wake up soon enough, and Y/n didn’t want to be there when he did. She turned back around just in time Camille came rushing out of the room – which Y/n assumed was because of hearing her old lover’s voice get cut off, followed by a loud thump.

Irritation caused her to grind her teeth and Y/n opened her palm towards her, watching as Camille knelt and writhed in pain. Before she would have snapped her neck too, the blonde fainted on her own.

Scoffing, Y/n walked back outside.

When she saw Rebekah and others standing there, she stole her gaze and used her magic to transport her from the Mansion's ground to three streets down the road, on the one that led to the Mystic grill.

Racing to the bar-cafe using her Vampire speed, she halted just outside. She rubbed her face, tousled and retied her hair – all in hopes that she wouldn’t give away how miserable she was.

Finding herself a seat at the bar, it wasn’t long before Y/n was swirling the last swig of her old-fashioned in the glass. Her eyes kept watering each passing second, and they were beginning to hurt now since she kept rubbing at them.

Realising that the alcohol might just be enhancing her emotions, she decided it’d be better for her to just go home and take a bath. So she gulped the last of her drink, nodded at the bartender out of habit, grabbed her purse and climbed off her chair.

Her breath left her lungs all at once when she walked right into someone who seemed like he was just about to tap her on the shoulder. Flinching away at the strong scent of a vampire, she immediately felt embarrassed to have made eye contact with a stranger while her eyes were probably red due to crying. That too in a bar.

She hated Klaus, and she hated Camille. And she hated herself for feeling this much while the other two were probably in the same bed, forgiving each other for what they did to her.

“Are you alright?” Was the first thing he said to her, and Y/n wanted to bury her face in the ground and never look back up again.

Choosing to look behind him at the exit gate, Y/n nodded, tucking her already neat hair behind her ear. They were standing too close, she realised when he took a step back.

“I am,” she nodded tightly, looking for an opportunity to step past him and end herself.

“How about a drink to drown your sorrows?” He teased her, already gesturing towards the seats behind them.

Y/n turned to look at the bar, then faced him again. “Only if you want a random woman to tell you her sob story,” she chuckled dryly, shrugging as if to say ‘it is what it is.’

Laughing, he walked past her and she caught a whiff of cinnamon, vanilla and cedarwood all at once. It was an addictive smell, so she decided to stick around for a while longer to hopefully exchange the memory of this one with the scent of black pepper and leather that Klaus carried around with him.

He was still standing as she slipped back on her previous seat. He asked her about her preference, and wrinkled his nose when she mentioned old-fashioned.

“What!” She protested defensively, making a face of her own when he ordered himself a neat whiskey.

“Okay, okay,” he grinned, surrendering before he sat down on the stool right next to hers. He leaned back a little, so Y/n rested her head on the bar itself, looking up at him.

“I was promised a story time,” he passed her a faux glare, which made her laugh; and then tear up.

“Y/n,” she stuck out her hand, and laughed with him when he laughed.

“Lucien,” he nodded seriously, shaking her hand.

“So my boyfriend cheated on me with his therapist,” she began, her voice cracking but she chuckled when Lucien’s eyes widened. “I had only been gone for two weeks,” she shrugged.

“Well, he’s not exactly a very far-sighted man, from what I hear?”

Y/n laughed at that, then closed her eyes to stop the wave of tears from crashing through her eyes.

Lucien seemed to notice that because Y/n heard him sigh then.

“If it helps in any way, I’ve also been cheated on once,” he shrugged, and Y/n looked at him with intrigue.

“It was brutal, she’d been the love of my life, and then I found out that she’d been having an affair with Klaus,” the name slipped off his tongue dripping in poison, and Y/n’s mouth twisted as if she’d just tasted it.

“Klaus? …Mikaelson, you mean?”

“Yeah?” He answered her, unsure why she’d picked up on it.

“He’s literally who I've been talking about!”

Lucien’s face contorted. “You’re Klaus’ girlfriend?” He exclaimed, unbelieving.

“Well, was,” Y/n spoke in a small voice.

Neither of them spoke, and Y/n counted as the clock ticked 60 times.

“Well, that’s a… coincidence,” Lucien said in a dry voice.

Y/n hummed in response. She had a feeling that he was going to leave any time now, so she focused on her breathing – specifically on his cologne.

“I should leave now,” Y/n was surprised to find that she was the one who said it first. She passed him a quick smile, and leaned in to press a quick kiss to his cheek before she could’ve thought herself out of it.

When she backed away, she was sure she knew the cologne well enough to be able to create it back at home with her spells. But she’d only been a breath away when Lucien’s hand crept to the back of her head and their mouths connected, settling a fierce hunger in depths of their bones.

She ended up following him inside the taxi, and kissing him in the backseat the whole way back to his place.

“Good god, you’re killing me,” Lucien groaned as his hips slammed in Y/n’s as she laid naked beneath him, panting and moaning his name.

“Harder,” she asked of him and he obliged, driving into her again and again until she was coming undone for the third time, a quivering mess, overstimulated.

He fell beside her then, his chest falling up and down, and sweat lining his forehead. “You don’t regret this, do you?”

“I’d be a fool to,” she said distantly, as if falling asleep. And Lucien let her, bringing up the duvet upon both of them and turning on his side to hold her as he gave into his own urge to sleep, failing to wipe the small smile off his mouth.

—

Y/n hadn’t known – hadn’t been prepared – to feel so ugly upon being cheated. She didn’t want to look anyone in the eyes, had wrapped her red scarf up enough to cover her mouth.

Wearing all black beneath her trench coat and her hair drifting past her as she walked faster than usual to reach her office. But when she turned into the lane, “oh shit,” she cursed under her breath and turned back around.

Klaus was standing outside, a bouquet of red roses in his hand.

Resting her back against a wall, she took a shaky breath while blinking away the water in her eyes. “Do not give in,” she whispered tightly, drawing back her shoulders and walking back on the street.

He saw her, and didn’t draw away his gaze even once until she stood in front of him, the gates to her emotions shut and locked.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/n looked down at the bouquet of white lilies he held out for her.

“Hope you still love them,” he whispered.

Y/n accepted them.

Pursing her lips, she sighed. “Why’d you do it?” Her eyes were beginning to sting as she withled the urge to blink.

“It …it just happened,” he looked away, the tips of his ears a shade of pink Y/n would’ve declared as her favourite had this not been the circumstance.

“And you decided to keep going with it? Makes absolute sense!”

“Look I’m sorry I wasn’t in my right mind! I was stressed and –”

“Didn’t know getting stressed made men cheat on their partners!”

“Just –” Klaus began to protest, then took a deep breath. “Let me explain, please.”

“No way in hell,” Y/n spat. “Why are you explaining yourself anyways? It’s not like I’ll get back with you,” her hand gestures were getting a lot more intense, and she clenched her fists in frustration.

“I know –”’

“Oh? So you’re here because you want to feel good about yourself?” Y/n laughed dryly, then actually. With her head thrown back, she laughed until tears blurred her sight of the grey sky.

“You are a fucking bastard and the most self-centred man I’ve ever had the bad luck of having in my life,” she gritted, swatting away the lone tear that slid down her cheek.

Klaus’s eyes flickered, unable to look into her burning eyes, and unable to look away.

“You just made this a lot worse by showing up today,” she smiled, taking a step closer to him, gazing up in his eyes. “Now you’ll wait and watch like a good pup as I make you regret ever meeting me,” with a new found glimmer in her eyes, she stepped back, looking into Klaus’ shameful and angry eyes.

“That’s my last promise to you,” she winked bitterly, turning back around and walking up the stairs to the college.

She gave the flowers to the librarian, wishing him an early thanksgiving and getting back a loud and well-aware laugh out of him.

—

“Hello?”

“Hello, professor,” she could just hear the cheeky grin on his mouth, and tried to ease the smile on her face.

“Lucien,” she looked at the ground, rolling her lips as she felt giddy.

He cleared his throat, and Y/n put on her serious face.

“So, here’s the plan – I’m coming to pick you up, and then we’re going to sit on the floor of either of our rooms, and chat over some tea.”

Y/n was nothing if not amused, and utterly down for it.

“Alright,” she nodded. “Be here in five or I might just walk off the face of Earth.”

“Oh I won’t let that happen, my lady!” He shouted, sounding panicked to his core. “Cut the call, Y/n, I need to hurry!” He laughed, making a few kissing noises before Y/n decided to finally cut the call.

She was still giggling when she heard a voice from behind.

“He seems better for you.”

Elijah was standing with his hands tucked into his coat pockets.

“Lucien, I mean,” he continued.

Y/n’s eyes watered. Rushing forward, she fell into his arms.

Elijah shushed her, matting her hair while his other hand rubbed her back.

“You’ve broken up with our brother, Y/n. Why are you distancing yourself from the rest of us?” He asked softly, but assertively. “Thought we were brothers and sisters?”

“I’m sorry,” Y/n was quivering in his arms and not wanting to face him.

Silence overtook the both of them. For the six months that Y/n had been in a relationship with Klaus, she’d also found herself another family. Elijah, Finn, Kol, Freya and Rebekah had become so much more to her than just friends. They’d become to her the siblings that she’d never had.

“I’m just so …bad,” she broke down, unable to articulate herself while drowning in her misery. “Klaus cheated on me, but I’m no better, ‘Lijah, I –” she stopped to catch her breath that seemed to be walking two steps ahead of her.

“I went and slept with another man, Lijah,” she sobbed.

“It’s okay, love,” Elijah rasped, still caressing her. Feeling his heart crumble inside his ribs as Y/n couldn’t seem to stop the sobs raking through her body.

“At least you didn’t cheat on him,” he said, holding in his anger. “You guys were already broken up.”

“Please don’t let Klaus know this yet,” she sniffled. “I don’t want him to know anything about me anymore.”

A car pulled up in front of them, and its engine’s roar stuttered to a faint halt.

“Y/n?”

She pulled away from Elijah's chest, and wiped her face.

“Hi,” she whispered, then sniffled.

“Take her home, Lucien. And take care of her,” Elijah nodded, kissing Y/n’s temple as she looked at him longingly while walking away.

“I’ll come over tomorrow, we still haven’t gone apple picking!” She shouted as Lucien opened the passenger side’s seat for her.

“We’ll be waiting,” Elijah smiled, waving goodbye.

Y/n slipped inside, watching as the air stilled where Elijah had once been.

Lucien leaned over to cup her face in both of his cold hands, his thumb caressing her cheeks. He looked into her eyes, unsure whether it was the right time to kiss her.

Y/n seemed to notice that, and she herself leaned in to press her lips on his. Their noses smushing as Lucien reacted right away, still as passionate as he had been the day prior.

She could feel the growing heat between them, and it felt like a faint lantern’s soft glow was flickering inside her chest.

“God, I want to kill him,” Lucien gritted, his eyes shut as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“Me too,” she said, and looked away out of the window with a smile playing on her mouth when he bursted out laughing.

—

By the time Y/n had finished telling Lucien about her feud with Klaus earlier in the day, he’d drunk two big cups of tea and was slipping inside the oven the teacake batter Y/n had prepared.

“I cannot even fathom the embarrassment he must’ve felt but it was well deserved so –” he trailed off, frowning when Y/n swatted at his arm.

“But what’s more significant than that, is how cool and villainy you were! You’ve successfully given me the hots, for sure.”

Y/n laughed, bowing from where she was sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Now you know not to get on my bad side,” she said in a deep voice, flexing and kissing her bicep.

Lucien laughed, and kissed her other bicep.

“But tell me this, do you plan on following up with your threat?”

She looked like he had insulted her.

“Of course, you twit!”

Lucien gasped loudly, drawing himself away from her. “You did not just call me that!”

“I’m sorry!” She drew the word out, until he pursed his lips for her to kiss and she obliged.

“I really want to trouble him,” she started, looking at Lucien who was now serious. “Ruffle up his feathers a bit, you know?”

Lucien hummed.

“So you want to tie him up and do your little witchcraft on him?”

Y/n grinned widely.

“It’s not too late in the day to do that now, is it?” He asked, checking Y/n’s wrist watch by getting close to her face as she read it.

She kissed his forehead, and he melted into her neck. Cooing at him, Y/n laughed, ruffling up the back of his hair.

“Are you serious, Lucien?”

“As serious as you are,” he shrugged. “Also, my basement’s empty.”

“You say like you have a body tied in there all the time,” she looked at him with narrowed eyes, shaking her head when he shrugged again.

“A secret for another day, I see,” she mumbled, causing him to chuckle.

“But how are we going to get him here?” Lucien asked, following her out into the living room.

“Tell him you have me hostage, maybe even Camille, since he might care about her more now,” she shrugged.

Lucien looked at her for a minute, and then pulled out his phone.

He dialled the number as Y/n recited it.

“Klaus,” Lucien growled, glaring at Y/n who slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Who’s this?” He asked impatiently, and Lucien snickered silently.

“I’ve got Y/n with me, tied up and looking all pretty, crying only your name,” he said in a low voice, hissing when Y/n pinched him at his side.

To cover up, he continued. “And have you seen your darling, Camille in a while?” He asked, setting an open trap for Klaus to stroll into.

“You shouldn’t have done this,” Klaus growled and cut the phone.

“What the hell do we do now?” Lucien asked, sliding his phone across the coffee table.

“I’ll cast a desiccation spell on him, tie him up, then remove the spell. He’ll be weak and have no choice but endure the torture as long as tomorrow lasts.”

Lucien’s mouth was hanging open. “Are you naturally this quick at these kind of things or are you a mastermind?” He asked, looking at her in awe.

“Try being an original heretic and you’ll find out,” she smirked, and Lucien nodded.

“Nice one,” he said.

They both waited in silence, causing them to immediately pick up on Klaus’s angry footsteps approaching.

“Lucien, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to,” she said seriously, holding his hand.

“What? Are you kidding?” He shrieked. “I’ve been excited for this since you mentioned the first time!”

Y/n laughed at that, and kissed him twice on the mouth before rushing over to the main door.

Klaus kicked on the door and Y/n held out her arm before it could’ve fallen on her.

“Y/n? What –”

She was already whispering the spell under her breath speedily, the only sound going in Klaus’ ears was similar to that of the fluttering wings of a Goldfinch.

The colour began to sink into his skin before it had completely drowned deep into his bones, and all that was left behind was a shade of grey similar to that of a tombstone.

Before he could’ve hit the ground, Lucien threw a rope around him from behind. Twisting it around his arms down to his ankles, he tightened it enough to leave indentations even on his hardened skin.

“I’m so down bad for you, it’s scary,” Lucien excalimed, tying a knot behind Klaus’ back.

Y/n’s breath came out within a laugh.

“You know, I really like you,” she stated.

Lucien hissed and nodded towards Klaus’ body on the floor. “Not the best timing, I’m afraid,” he said quite regretfully, and accepted Y/n’s kiss on his mouth before stepping back to where Klaus was.

Y/n crouched down then, and slipped the Lapis Lazuli off Klaus’ finger, fondling it in her palm while Lucien dragged Klaus into the basement, where the light of sunrise would pour in just enough the coming morning.

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wetpussyju1ce · 2 months ago

Text

I scream, You scream, Gimme That Ice-Cream!

Jack Mercer x fem!reader w curly hair

2.6k words

tags: Fluff, Humor, Domestic Fluff, Banter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Jack Lives, Evelyn Lives, Not Beta Read, Family Reunions, Canon-Typical Behavior

summary: Bobby, Jack's older brother, takes his gf 'Curly' to go get ice-cream because he's scared she'll get mugged considering she's not from Detroit but NYC where she met Jack. They sort of bond.

a/n: eeeeeeek i did it! I wrote for my handsome boy jackie! I looovvee him, he's so cute!!!! this fic is sort of bobby & reader centric w the focus being Jack throughout the whole time they're outside, until she gets home obvie and jackie is there to welcome her back from her small trip & they mess w bobby hehe.

this is for you my darling @reveluving, i watched it just cuz of garrett and i know he's your husband so this is kinda of a gift for you! I also did a little smthing special w the title, I hope you recognise its origin <3 enjoy!!!! <3

It was July in Detroit and it was warm and pleasant. The snow has melted and the weather seemed to be pretty consistent these past few days, so it was safe to go out in short sleeves and shorts without fearing being rained on. It was also then that the Mercer brothers were back at home for a short break. So Evelyn's house was constantly busy with her sons and their partners.

Evelyn, Jerry, his wife Camille and their daughters were out in the garden, watching the girls play while enjoying the sunshine. Angel and his girlfriend Sofi were in the kitchen doing God knows what, Jack was nowhere in sight and his girlfriend was by the door, applying her lip-balm in front of the mirror on the wall.

Bobby was slumped on the couch, watching TV when she caught his attention, he saw her handbag on her shoulder and frowned, "Where do you think you're going, Curly?"

She turned around, smacking her shiny lips and shoving her lip-balm in her handbag, "To get ice-cream,"

Bobby glared at her, well, maybe he didn't, but he did have a glare permanently stuck to his ugly mug, so it doesn't make that much difference, "Alone?"

"Yeah?"

Bobby stared at her, looked at the cropped t-shirt she was wearing, her little bracelets, her jean shorts, red converse, the sunglasses perched on her head, keeping her curls away from her face and her stupid, pretty face. Maybe not stupid, but she clearly looked like she wasn't from around here and Bobby doesn't want to imagine what sorts of bad things could happen to her out there alone, so he leans forward on the couch and says, "Yeah, no way, JACK!-"

"He's taking a shower!" She says, baffled.

"You're going out alone like that is like asking to be mugged," Bobby scoffed.

"Like what? My clothes are fine??!" She gasps, staring down at herself then back up at Booby. He was just being a jerk for no reason, she'll be fine, the shop is not even 10 minute away on foot! And it was daylight for God-sake!

Bobby tries calling for Jack again so she huffs, turning around and swinging the door open, "I'm going to get ice-cream!"

She steps out, closing the door behind her while Bobby calls after her, telling her how dumb she was being, she wasn't from around here and that she should wait for Jack to be done showering so he can go with her. But she doesn't wait, she's a big girl, she can take care of herself just fine.

Curly holds tight on her handbag as she takes off, quickly walking down the street when she hears the sound of a door slamming and cursing, she turns around and her eyes widen when she sees Bobby running in her direction her. She feels fear lick at her spine and can't help the squeal that leaves her lips when the Michigan Mauler catches up to her and grabs her arm, "Bobby!"

She fully expects him to drag her back home, or throw her over his shoulder like an animal but he doesn't, he just keeps hold of her arm as he drags her closer to his side, "Are you stupid? I told you it was dangerous for you!"

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not, Missy. It don't look like it but these streets are filled with dickbags looking to mug someone, especially when school's closed," Bobby hissed in her face, all condescending asshole and annoying big brother like.

She glares at him, "Are you gonna take me to get ice-cream or not?"

"You're- The things I do for that little shit," Bobby groans and links her arm with his, shoving his hands in his pockets and resuming their walk to the shop, Bobby's strut fast and a little aggressive.

"So you're doing what I want for Jack?" She asked, looking at him as they walked.

"Yes, for Jack," Bobby rolled his eyes. She was about to open her mouth to ask him more questions but chose against it. She tried not to grin but failed. When Bobby noticed, he scrunched his nose, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing,"

As much as Bobby behaves like a downright asshole, he's great deep down. Since the day she met him, she knew that he'd be intense, intimidating and a real character from all the stories Jack has told her. But he wasn't evil. Bobby can be really mean and straight up terrifying when you're asking for it, but as much as he gives her shit about liking Britney Spears, dating his twerp of a baby brother or ganging up on him with Sofi, he's never hurt her or made her feel bad. After all, he has to be nice, for Evelyn, and for his brother Jack, and he loves him a lot, so that means taking care of the girl Jack loves.

When they get to the shop, Bobby opens the door and she goes in first, looking around for the freezer.

"Hello, Bobby!" Samir greets, sitting behind the counter. "Hey," He gives the man a nod and when his eyes land on Curly, looking at some drinks, he smirks, "Have you met my brother's girlfriend, yet?"

Samir looks a little confused, "Sofi?"

"No, Curly get your tiny ass over here-" Bobby grabs her by the arms and drags her to his side, she tries to wiggle away but he holds firm, "Samir, this is Curly, Jack's new sweetheart." Samir smiles awkwardly and waves at the young woman, "Curly, this is Samir, he can hook you up with anything you want,"

"Well, not anything, Bobby," Samir scratches the back of his neck.

"Yeah, right," Bobby winks at the guy and Samir looks baffled, "I'm serious! Don't believe him!" Samir looks at Curly, begging her to believe him, that he's totally innocent and doesn't dabble in whatever Bobby is insinuating.

Curly knows that Bobby is messing with him, so she smiles, "Okay then, do you have ice-cream?"

Samir relaxes then, "Yes, it's right there, behind that shelf,"

"Thank you," Curly smiles, walking over to where he pointed, Bobby following her with his hands in his pockets. "Bobby, get a basket,"

Bobby turns around to go grab one while she slides the freezer's door open, she looks over at the options and picks two chocolate milk and almond magnum ice-creams for herself, then a cookies and cream one for Jack. Bobby comes over with the basket and she throws the three items in there, "Which one do you want?" Instead of answering, Bobby dives in and takes out a Twister with three flavours, putting it in the basket.

"Can you pick some for the rest?" She asks and he goes straight to work, knowing what his brothers, mum, his sister in law, nieces and Sofi like by heart, even though he'd never admit it. Once he's done, he closes the freezer and looks at her, "Are we done?"

"There should be eleven in here, can you check?" She asks him and he frowns, "We're 10 people,"

"I know, I took two," She says and counts herself instead, nodding when it's all there.

"Greedy," He mutters under his breath and she glares at him, "It's my money,"

"It's mY MonEy- Give me the basket," He makes fun of her and snatches the thing when she takes a million years to walk back to the counter with it on her arm. Bobby puts the thing in front of Samir who takes out a bag and gets to work, scanning one item at a time. "That'll be $21.89, please. Cash or card?" Samir looks up at them and Bobby looks at her, "Cash, just give me a minute," She says, opening her bag and digging in, looking for her wallet, when nothing happens in that 20 seconds of her looking inside her bag, Bobby huffs and she finally looks up, "I can't find my wallet! I must've left it in Jack's room!"

"Oh, really? That's okay, we can come back tomorrow," Bobby coos, sarcastic.

"I'm serious, Bobby, I really left it at home," She looks at him with big shiny eyes and his heart does that thing that's called, uhhh, guilt?

He sighs, shoving his hand in his pocket and taking out his wallet, "How much, Samir?"

"$21.89,"

"I'm sorry, Bobby," She whispers as he nods, handing Samir notes and taking back his change.

"It's funny," He takes his receipt and the bag, turning around, "Jack does the exact same thing,"

"What?"

"Bye Bobby, Bye Curly!" Samir calls after them.

"See ya!" Bobby raises his hand and steps outside in the sun. Curly still looks a little guilty, biting her lower lip and clutching her bag with both hands. Bobby looks at her, "Jack comes out with us and always forgets his wallet, but he doesn't just say it, no," He laughs, Jack's stupid face forming in his head clear as day. "He has to act it out, he looks for his wallet, flips his pockets inside out and does that thing where he looks like he's a sad kicked puppy,"

Curly listens, the two standing in front of the shop as a bunch of rowdy kids pass by on their bikes and scooters.

"The both of you, sneaky bastards," He points at her and squints his eyes and she pouts, "But I didn't mean to!"

"I believe you," He doesn't.

Bobby turns around and starts walking back home, "I'll pay you back, I swear!"

The eldest Mercer ignores her and she huffs, running to his side and shoving her hand in the bag. He frowns when she takes out her ice cream, vanilla flavoured, coated in chocolate milk and bits of crunchy almonds. She rips the packaging open, and shoves it back inside the bag, licking her lower lip before taking a bite, the chocolate cracking open to reveal the sweet vanilla flavoured centre.

Curly happily hums by his side, now skipping and chewing on her treat. She then turns to Booby, "Want a bite?"

He's about to decline when he remembers that $21.89 and covers her hand in his, leaning forward and taking the biggest bite ever. Curly screams, scandalised as Bobby tries to chew half of the ice cream in his mouth, too cold and too much at the same time. But he was petty, so he chewed fast and hard while his tongue slowly became numb at the cold.

"What the hell? What are you?! A Camel????" Curly squeals and he snorts, bits of spit flying everywhere and he almost chokes as he tries to swallow, a hand over his mouth, when he swallows half of his mouthful he glares at her, "Shut the fuck up,"

When Curly sees his watering eyes, the bits of vanilla ice cream on the corner of his mouth and full cheeks, she starts to laugh, loudly. Hand on her heart and head thrown back as Bobby struggles to swallow flipping Antarctica.

The whole way back home Curly is giggling and Bobby is coughing. At some point he starts to laugh too, threatening to kick her ass if she tells anyone what happened and Curly sticks out her tongue.

As soon as they open the door and get inside, Curly calls out, "WHO WANTS ICE-CREAM?"

Daniela and Amelia come running first, shouting ice-cream and jumping up and down. They rush to Bobby as he's the one holding the bag. He's grinning, holding the plastic bag above his head, "Alright, calm down," He laughs and makes the girls calm down before he gives them theirs. They jump in excitement, their braids and colourful beads swinging in all directions, "Thank you, uncle Bobby!"

"You're welcome," He chuckles, patting their little heads as they run off.

Evelyn comes in next, smiling at them, "Did you two go get ice-cream for everyone?"

"Yes," Curly nods, and Evelyn pinches her cheek, "How nice of you!"

"I paid!" Bobby adds and Evelyn laughs as she takes her ice cream from his hand, "Of course you did, thank you, Bobby," She grabs his hand and pulls him down so she can plant a kiss to his cheek. He smiles, looking down, trying to act cool, "It's okay, Ma,"

Curly watches him as he walks around his mum and goes straight to the kitchen, hollering for Angel and Jerry to come get theirs.

Jack comes down the stairs, jumping when he gets to the last bottom three steps and engulfs his girlfriend in a big hug. Evelyn shakes her head fondly and goes to the kitchen after Bobby, opening her treat in the way. "Did you go out with Bobby?" Jack asks and she nods, "Yeah, I wanted to buy ice-cream for everyone but I forgot my wallet in your room so Bobby paid,"

"He did?" Jack raised a brow.

"Yeah, and he ate half of my ice cream in one bite and almost choked on the side-walk!" She complained, waving the little wooden stick in the air. Jack laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her into the living room where everyone was, "Is it true, Bobby? Did you almost choke to death after eating ice-cream?"

Bobby immediately whipped his head at Curly, glaring, "You snitch!"

"You should've seen his face! His eyes watered and he turned red!" Curly said, hiding behind Jack's shoulder, still holding his hand as he laughed loudly, Angel joining in and Jerry giving his brother the side-eye. "Aw, Bobby," Angel started, Sofi next to him on the sofa, one leg over his thigh as she enjoyed her pink lemonade Magnum. "Gag reflex too strong?" Angel cooed, making Bobby glare at him.

"Gag reflex? My-" Bobby started, and as soon as he pointed at Jack, him and his girlfriend pounced, not giving him a chance to finish his sentence as they jumped him. They got him on both sides, Jack with his hands wrapped around his throat and Curly around his arm, pulling him down so he'd lose his balance and fall over.

Bobby wheezed, "Let go!"

"Bite his ass, Curly!" Sofi cheered on and Angel cackled when Curly looked up at Bobby, deviously smiling, flashing her pretty white teeth at him and slowly opening her mouth, her breath fanning over his naked bicep.

"Oh, hell nah-" Bobby grunted and managed to wrestle both Jack and Curly off, wrapping his arms around them both and throwing them on the sofa, the two screaming and bouncing off the sofa on impact, landing on the floor instead. "Ouch, you dick!" Curly whined, rubbing her hip as Jack panted by her side, laying on the floor on his back.

Bobby ignored the two, taking out his own ice cream and sitting on the couch, crossing his feet over the coffee table and immediately taking them off when Evelyn came in.

"What are you two doing on the floor?" She asked, sitting down next to Bobby.

"Yoga," Curly answered, lifting herself off the ground when Jack grabbed her hand, "What did you get me?"

"Oh, Cookies & Cream," She said, holding his hand with both hands and pulling him off the floor. When he got to his feet, he planted a kiss on the side of her head and grabbed his from the bag on the coffee table, then sat on the floor, in front of the TV. Curly joined him, crossing her legs and watching the football game going on. She wasn't necessarily into football, but just sitting next to Jack, their legs and thighs touching, with his family surrounding them, made her heart slow down and mind quieten. It was nice, mundane, domestic. And when she started to zone out, Jack leaned close and whispered, "Thank you,"

"You're welcome," She smiled and turned her head to look at him, grinning. It's then that Bobby groans and tells them not to smooch in front of his salad and go upstairs. Jack snatches the little wooden stick from her hand and chucks it at Bobby's head, everyone laughing when Bobby throws his hands in the air, "What the hell?"

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