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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

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Carnivals.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse.

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy and Y/N meet for the first time at a carnival... or maybe it's the second time.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! This is a Defending Jacob AU where Andy has one more kid, a 5-year-old boy called Liam. enjoy!

---

Andy stared at his son with a disappointed look on his face as the tiny 5-year-old threw a tantrum. "Are you done?" he deadpanned, which caused his son to cry harder. Taking out his wallet, Andy showed it to his son, again, saying, "Look, I'm outta cash right now! We spent it all on other snacks and games! I can't buy you the lollipop, bub." His son wouldn't hear it.

Andy was out at a carnival with his 5 year old son, Liam. Who was currently wailing at the top of his lungs since Andy was not buying him the very big lollipop they were currently staring at. After everything that happened with Jacob, Andy and his ex-wife Laurie had... fallen apart.

They decided that a divorce was the only best option so here he was now, single and had full custody of Liam. Laurie had chosen Jacob. "Liam, stop crying, come on..." Andy insisted with a soft sigh, kneeling next to his kid. "Dada! I want the lolly!" Liam sobbed, curling up against his father.

"I told you already, we spent all our money. If I go to get some more, it'll be too late. Just forget the candy, Liam, we have sweets at home," he tried. "No!" Andy pinched the bridge of his nose. "Excuse me." His head snapped up at the feminine voice and his eyes met Y/E/C. The woman had a soft smile on her face, and she was holding the hand of her own daughter.

The daughter was older than Liam, maybe 10-11 years old. "Hi there," he said with a smile of his own, standing up with Liam in his arms. He had momentarily stopped crying, also staring at the lady and her daughter. Andy really thought he had seen her somewhere, but couldn't put a finger on it. Where have I seen her?

"Can I ask you something, sweetie?" the lady addressed his son. Liam nodded. "Do you want that?" She pointed to the lollipop and Liam's eyes twinkled as he nodded once again, this time with excitement. "What a coincidence! My daughter wants one too, how about I buy one for both of you?" Andy's eyes went wide.

"You really don't have to, ma'am," he refused but she shook her head, a winsome smile that had Andy's heart melting gracing her lips. "I don't have to. I want to. Please. Your son wants it really bad, doesn't he?" Andy chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. "He does, been throwing a tantrum for the past 20 minutes."

Y/N immediately bought two of the big lollipops, handing one to Liam and the other to her daughter. "Camila, come on baby, introduce yourself," Y/N smiled. The daughter gave Andy and Liam a winning smile. "Hi! I'm Camila Y/L/N, nice to meet you!" Andy smiled back at her.

"Hi bub, I'm Andy Barber and this is my son, Liam." Liam wiggled in his father's arms and he put him down. "Let's go check out the merry-go-round!" Liam squealed as he took Camila's hand, leading her away from both the parents. "He's so cute!" Camila called out cheekily and Andy laughed. "Don't stray far, both of you!" Y/N shouted after them.

"Okay, ma!"

Once both kids were gone, Andy and Y/N moved to a nearby bench. "Do you remember me, Mr Barber?" she asked him all of a sudden and he froze. Shit shit shit, where have I seen her before? I knew it! "I, um, I don't seem to..." he stammered but Y/N shook her head, giving him a soft smile. "It's fine, I didn't expect you to. We met a long time ago."

"Where, may I ask?"

"Well, um, I was one of your clients, actually. You were my lawyer when I got a divorce from my ex-husband." Memories flashed in his head as he remembered her. "Y/N Y/L/N! Yes! Now I remember, it's very good to see you again!" Both of them laughed a bit. "It's been a nice few years."

"Camila has grown a lot, last time I saw her she was a baby," Andy smiled but it quickly faded as he thought of her ex-husband. He was a cruel man; abused his wife, took her for granted. Y/N was only 21 or 22 then, which made her around 30 now. Andy had seen her wounds a few times; she once had a swollen eye. "Mr Barber?" He snapped out of his thoughts.

"Right, um, sorry," he cleared his throat and looked away, running a hand through his hair again. "You went very quiet all of a sudden, all okay?" Y/N frowned. "Just thinking about that ex of yours. He hasn't reached out to you in any way, has he? Because if he has, that motherfucking asshole—" Y/N cut him off by laughing.

"He hasn't, don't worry. Camila and I are doing very well." He glanced at her. "No new boyfriend?" Y/N bit her lip shyly and shook her head. "Not really. It's a bit difficult to date when you're a divorcée and have a ten year old daughter. No one wants the package," she huffed. Andy took his time observing her. Gorgeous.

She visibly looked different. Her style had changed, her hair had grown... far from the young lady he met around a decade ago. She looked beautiful then, but ethereal now. Her smile was still the same, as were her kind eyes that made him warm inside even after all these years. Sure, back then, he treated her simply like a client, a friend maybe.

But now?

Something felt different.

When she smiled at him, a shiver ran down his spine. "So, how are Jacob and Laurie? Are they doing well?" Y/N asked him and he involuntarily tensed. Truth was, it had been a year since he last saw them. He had cut off all ties with them, starting a new life— just him and Liam. "I, uh... I don't know," he muttered truthfully.

"You don't...?" Y/N blinked at him. "Laurie and I, we... we got a divorce too, after everything that happened with Jacob." Y/N had heard of that, how the lawyer's own son got accused of murder. He ended up not guilty, but the damage had been done. "I'm so sorry, Mr Barber," she whispered apologetically and he shook his head. "Not your fault. And call me Andy, please."

She gave him another smile. "Andy." And butterflies flitted around in his stomach as his name fell from her lips. He liked the sound of that. "So, what was the deal with Liam? Were you not getting him the lolly on purpose or...?" He laughed and shook his head. "No no, I was ready to get him that, I just ran outta money. Spent it all on other snacks and the rides."

Y/N laughed along. "Kids, am I right?" Both of them fondly shook their heads and turned to where Camila and Liam were playing alone on the merry-go-round. The carnival was about to close, so not many people were left. Y/N stole a glance at Andy. When she had first met him, she had immediately taken a liking to him.

But it wasn't like she could do anything about it; he had a wife and a child— Jacob was only 6 years old then. Now, though... "Are you seeing anyone?" she blurted out and Andy turned to her, visibly surprised at the question. Mortified, Y/N turned away from as she bit her lip again. "Sorry, uhm, ignore me, I just, I—"

"No, I'm not seeing anyone," he answered and she looked at him. He had a soft smile on his face. "Dada! Dada, can we go home?!" Liam and Camila soon made their way over to them. "I'm also tired, ma," Camila yawned and plopped down on Y/N's lap. She chuckled and kissed her on the side of her head. "Let's go home."

"Dada, will I meet Camila again?" Liam pouted at his father. Andy and Y/N looked at each other, a deep blush gracing his cheeks as Y/N looked away from him with pursed lips and a small, embarrassed smile. "If Y/N wants," he answered finally. "I'd like that very much, Andy." Camila and Liam cheered. "Yay! Can she come over to our house?"

"Sure thing, bud. Come on, say goodbye now," Andy stood up with Liam in his arms. Camila hopped off Y/N's lap and held her mother's hand, waving at Liam. "Bye Y/N, by Cami," Liam murmured sleepily, already clinging to his father as he buried his face in his neck. "Bye, sweetheart," Y/N laughed, exchanging numbers with Andy.

"I'll text you later, yeah?"

"Sure thing, Andy."

---

"Cami!"

"Liam!"

Y/N and Andy grinned as the two kids ran towards each other, hugging each other tightly. "Let's go to my room!" Liam insisted and the two took off, running up the stairs. Y/N, who was still standing outside the front door, shook her head. "Fast friends, aren't they?" Andy called her in and she stepped into the house, taking off her overcoat. Andy took it from her. "Yep."

Y/N also took off her shoes and kept them near the door as she walked in. "You have a nice house," she complimented and he blushed again. He had thoroughly cleaned it out in the morning just because he knew Y/N and Camila were going to visit in the afternoon. "Thank you so much. Can I get you anything? Some water?"

"That would be amazing, thank you."

Soon, the two settled down on the couchs, a glass of water in Y/N's hand. "So, are you still at your old job?" Conversation flowed easily between them as they sat there, occasional squeals and giggles coming from Liam's room upstairs. "It's great how you're looking after Liam and managing being a DA at the same time."

Andy chuckled bashfully. "It gets lonely sometimes, you know? Liam asks for his mother sometimes. I know it's been a few years, he was a baby then, doesn't even remember her properly but that doesn't stop him. I have no idea what to say to him," he admitted. "Same case with Camila," Y/N grimaced.

"Sucks, doesn't it? Kids need both parents," Andy breathed out. "Sure does. My own parents got one when I was 16. I desperately hoped my marriage wouldn't end up like that but... well, it did." Andy frowned at her. "And don't you dare blame yourself for it. It wasn't you. You are the most perfect person ever, it was your stupid ex who didn't deserve you and treated you like shit."

Y/N smiled softly at his words. "I am the most perfect person ever, huh?" she teased and Andy realized what he had blurted out. But he didn't back down. "You are. You always have been. Kind, polite, caring, intelligent... a great mother, by the way... you are awesome. I may not have noticed it then but now I have."

"Can I tell you something?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart." Y/N gave him another shy smile. "I've always thought you were handsome. Also intelligent, wise... just overall amazing, ya know? But then, I meant it in the form of respect, a fleeting crush. Now, though..." Andy's gaze darkened as he watched Y/N, who looked away from him while biting her lip.

He shifted closer to her. "Now what, Y/N? How do you mean it now?" he whispered, tilting her head in his direction. Y/N shakily let out a breath and Andy smirked, catching her lips in a searing kiss. "Now I mean it in a completely different way," she whispered when they pulled away to breathe. "Glad to hear it, darling," he smirked.

"What about you, Mr Barber?"

"I like you," he blurted out, "Really, I do. Maybe you can stay for dinner tonight?" Y/N gave him a huge smile. "I'd love to stay for dinner, Andy!" He grinned at her and both of them turned to the TV. Andy leaned against the couch, Y/N snuggling into his side as he switched the TV on, settling on a Disney movie playing on one channel.

He put an arm around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest. Just as they relaxed, two people came tumbling down the stairs. "We thought we heard Coco!" Camila squealed before freezing at the position Andy and Y/N were sitting in. Y/N threw her daughter a nervous smile, which soon turned into a horrified expression as the younger Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"I'm sure they're about to change the channel, Li, why don't we go back upstairs?" Liam pouted at Camila, seemingly unaffected by Andy and Y/N. The two adults glanced at each other, eyes wide. "But I wanna watch Coco," Liam whined. Camila whispered something in his ear.

Liam then looked over at Andy and Y/N, a disgusted look on his face. "Ew! You two are gross!" he blurted out before running back up the stairs. "What did you tell him, little miss?" Andy huffed out a laugh. "Just that you two have been kissing," Camila smirked, "Enjoy your date!"

She went back upstairs as well. Y/N and Andy continued staring at each other before promptly bursting into a fit of giggles. "Ah, kids," Y/N wheezed, wiping away a few tears of mirth. Andy pressed a quick kiss to her temple and they settled down in front of the television again.

---

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months and months into years.

Time flew by, only strengthening Andy and Y/N's relationship.

"Y/N! Honey!" Y/N's head shot up at the sound of whimpers and her husband's shouts as she walked out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Andy was carrying a crying Liam into the house, a cut visible on his knee and a few scratches on his arm. Camila soon followed in with Liam's bicycle.

"He fell," Andy sighed as he placed the 11 year old boy on the couch. "Aw, honey, hang on, I'll bring the first aid kit. Andy, can you take care of the food for me?" He readily agreed and went to the kitchen, a 16 year old Camila in tow as Y/N fetched the first aid kit. "Can I tell you something?" Liam muttered as she cleaned his wound.

"Anything," she smiled at him. "You're the best mom ever. I know you're not my biological mom but... but I... I met her once and I have decided that— that I like you better. Th-Thank you for being there and marrying dad. He's the happiest he's ever been, all because of you." Y/N teared up at his words.

"Liam, oh my God," she whispered and the boy pulled her in for a hug. "I love you," he whispered and Y/N cried harder. "I love you too, I love you so much," she sniffled, smiling as Liam wiped her tears off. "Dinner is sort— Y/N? Why are you crying sweetheart?" She felt a hand on her shoulder and pulled away from Liam.

"Nothing," she sighed, giving Andy a soft smile. He blinked and looked at Liam, who was desperately trying to convince all of them that his tears were because of his wounds. "Okay," Andy drawled, "Well, dinner is ready. Why don't we all eat? You'll feel better afterwards." A pause. "We can even have ice-cream."

At the mention of ice-cream Liam sat up straight, eyes twinkling. "You promise, dad?" Andy nodded. Liam cheered and got up, waddling towards the dining table where Camila already sat, busy texting on her phone. Andy and Y/N shared a laugh as Liam flicked her on the forehead, getting a slap on the back in return.

Once both the kids were busy, Andy turned to Y/N. "Why were you crying, sweetie? You know I hate to see you cry," he murmured. Y/N sighed and rested her forehead on his chest as his arms went around her waist. "Liam told me I was the best mom ever," she breathed, "And how happy he was to have me in yours and his life."

Andy rubbed her back, a huge smile blooming on his face. "He was right. I am one lucky man, you know? To have someone as gorgeous and wonderful as you. Still can't believe you said yes when I proposed," he teased, laughing when Y/N lightly slapped his bicep.

"It didn't work out well for both of us the first time, did it?" Y/N hummed. "No, not really. But now I'm not letting this family go," Andy spoke firmly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Y/N smiled and he instinctively reached down to kiss her lips, his hands sliding down to her butt. "How about another addition to the family, Mrs Barber?"

Y/N squealed. "Andy! The kids are in the next room!" Andy grinned. "Come on—"

"Mom! Dad! Are you done canoodling?! We're hungry!"

"Oh my— we're coming, just two minutes!"

Andy laughed loudly as Y/N hurriedly stepped out of his arms, face flushed as she entered the kitchen. He then crossed his arms and stood there for a second more; life gave him a second chance and he was, for sure, not going to mess it up this time.

---

A/N: I just realized Laurie might have come off as a bit of a... bad character in this one and for that I apologize, I'm sure she's very nice in the series. Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

#andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female reader #andrew barber #andy barber fluff #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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vslattae · 3 years

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ALL I COULD EVER WANT

ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇᴅ ʙᴄ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴋᴘᴏᴘ ɪᴅᴏʟ...ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪs ɢʀᴏᴜᴘᴍᴀᴛᴇs ᴘᴀʏᴇᴅ ᴀᴛᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ..

Paring: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: ...tae kisses y/n but then something happens.., slight fluff, a little angst, taehyung finally isn’t a dick for a phat second,...and yeahhh new character yes.

ᴀʟʟ ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ᴠsʟᴀᴛᴛᴀᴇ

UNEDITED. i just wanted to throw a curve ball :)

Chapter 3. Well now what..

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you’ve been in the car for a little over an hour or two...Jk took over driving while jin and haru made themselves comfortable in the middle row of jins mini van rented by the company. Which left you and Tae in the very back.

You of course were struggling to sleep and even attempting to get comfortable laying your head against the window and thinking about the messages between you and haru before you left. See...you telling taehyung your feelings is like letting him win. Sure he was heavily a dumbass but you as time flew by you noticed how much he payed attention to you..it’s like he can read your mind half of the time.

Behind all those snarky remarks and dreading the times taehyung flirted with you, it was drastically easy for everyone else to notice how much you really didn’t hate Tae.

Taehyung noticed how uncomfortable you were only because you kept mumbling and tossing and turning in your sleep. So common curiosity he carefully picked your head up off the window and placed it on his shoulder so you could peacefully fall asleep.

“thank you tae” you whispered. He was shocked that you weren’t actually sleeping yet. He of all people other than your brother and Haru knew you were a deep sleeper among everyone else. See...sometimes Taehyung wished you spent more time with him so this lovely 5-6 hour drive in the middle of the night was the closest he ever got to you.

“ of course y/n, sleep you need it” he placed his cheek on the top of your head and finally drifted to sleep too until...jungkook pulled over behind namjoons car because everyone needed a bathroom break and jimin was hungry.

The lights came on and you arose from the short nap...only to find your head on Taes lap his arm around your small petite body and of course he was still sleeping. The company must have overworked him for the last comeback.

Glancing as his sleeping figure, you finally noticed how undoubtedly attractive he was. His long lashes, soft lips that were partially opened and his soft curly brown hair that almost overflowed his face, the quiet snores that came from him. Flawless was the only word you could think of...until he woke up stretching his arms up and yawning then to look down to catch you starry eyed looking at him.

“ is there something on my face? Am I drooling?” he jolted and then in return you chuckled. “ No..i Just thought you had something in your hair” you lied smoothingly more than you had hoped.

He gave you that boxy smile as everyone hopped out to stretch there legs. “ Oh my god it’s freezing” you shivered running to the warm body that stood in front of you which just so happened to be tae. It was about 10 pm and you were close to the water so you guess that made the weather change.

Everyone walked around taking pictures of the moon and the stars but you and tae were the only ones closed in by the cars. Then that was when you knew...you promised haru that you’d tell tae how you felt and now was the time to do it. sure it seemed rushed but...if you didn’t tell him now you were probably never gonna let it out.

Focusing back on the subject and focusing your eyes on the only person around you he just stood still staring at your lips... “ Tae why are you staring at me like that” you questioned him “pretty” was the only word that came from his mouth as he walked towards you pulling you in. His lips ghosted yours like he was hesitating whether or not this was good idea but then again his lips swooped down and mashed against yours.

Magical. You swear on your life no one has ever kissed you like Tae did..he was so soft and gently barely using any tongue just him and you pushed against each other kissing gently. Until his phone rang. Disconnecting from the kiss made you a little woozy but he pulled his phone out answered the call and pressed it to his ear.

“ oh shit..” he hung up both of you spinning around to only find...Ryujii. Taehyung ex...and his first love. He was so whipped for this girl when you first met but of course she was just an occasional girl that hung out with the boys but now she was back..

Everyone now turning back to get in the cars and now seeing this girl that taehyung used to mess with. You of course told yourself that you should have known better...so as always you ran to hug your brother and stand by yoongi.

“ oh hey everyone...my uh friends left me here and like i need to a ride to the closest town.” she smiled hooking her arm around taes. “ it’s okay if we drop her off right hyung?” Tae glanced at jin and of course he nodded.

Haru noted how quiet you were. you should have been laughing and cracking jokes but you just stood there emotionless. “ Excuse me guys i think y/n is sick give me a moment” haru chuckled and pulled you away from the crowd.

“ what’s wrong what happened?” her eyes widening.. “ are you sick? or like what happened to y/n is she possessed hellooooo” she waved her hand in front of your face. “....we kissed” you spit out. “ but now haru came back and you know how she is and i can’t keeping playing this stupid game haru...i wanna be like you and jin but obviously that’s never gonna happen because guys that Tae don’t go after girls like me.” you stood there fighting the feeling not to cry.

“ y/n hold up. you guys kissed like actually kissed kissed?” Her eyes frantically scanning your face. “ yeah..( you wiped your face a little )...yeah we kissed but it meant nothing and this is stupid..i just want to get to where we’re going and have a nice time with my brother.” you managed to get out laughing a little. “ okayy...i’m gonna ask if jimin if the car is open for you to ride in there okay? I don’t wanna have to pull you out of a police car.” She laughed as you nodded.

Jungkook came looking for you and haru hoping you two didn’t get kidnapped. “ my gosh y/n...are you alright? what’s going on.” he asked tilting his head to the side. “ oh nothing y/n is gonna ride with joon and them she wants to actually sleep but you know how loud jin snores..” haru covering for you as you nodded frantically. “Jins car is weird and i usually ride with yoongi and them” you spat out walking back to the others.

“ so joon..is okay if y/n rides with you guys?” haru looked at namjoon. “ yeah yeah of course she’s gonna have to sit in between yoongi and jhope. you know how jimin is” he laughed. “ wait why isn’t y/n riding with us?” Tae asked puzzled. “ because we’re taking ryujii and there’s no room.” haru looked at tae trying so hard not to smash his face through the window.

Finally back on the road jimin and everyone else started to question you. “ so you wanna tell us the REAL reason why you decided to ride with us? I thought you and tae sorted shit out?” Jimin asked. “ hahaha that’s what i thought to until his ex girlfriend came out of nowhere. He kissed me out of nowhere and bam just my luck..shit” you covered your mouth and now everyone’s eyes were on you. You covered your face in yoongis shoulder.

“ YOU GUYS KISSED?” Jimin screamed making namjoon swerve a little he apologized and sank back down. “ yeah... i mean we all knew you had a thing for taehyung but we didn’t think it get that far after you shut him out every time.” Namjoon snickers.

“ Can you guys please not be a dick for one second..i’m going through a crisis and i’d like to throw tae out of a window god i’m so stupid.” you manage to get out but as always everyone comforted you. “y/n relax...everything is gonna be fine you know she cheated on tae and he’s never gonna go back to her.” jhope stated. “ oh but you guys don’t remember her like a month ago sneaking out at like 4 in morning?” Jimin questioned. “ what the fuck..guys i think i have to go to the hospital..i might have to get checked for stds.” you chuckled out.

“ chill taehyung clean as far as we know but anyways he kissed you? like in a rough dom kind of way orrr” jimin poked your cheek and smiled. “ ew gross no he kissed me like i was the last thing on earth and now i’m confused and like at this point i’m throwing away my feelings for tae because i obviously can’t handle this type of shit” you poked jimins cheek and pouted.

“ you’ll be fine everything is gonna clear up and you’ll have your chance with tae...hopefully” yoongi inputted. “ yes but for nowwww we’re gonna use y/n as our pillow and sleeeep night everyone” jhope layed his head on your shoulder and you layed your head on yoongis and finally drifted to sleep forgetting everything that happened in the last hour and half.

———————————————————————

an: welp. taes kind of fucked up and bam you got drama now so yay :) btw...you know that, that kiss meant everything to y/n and she’s hurt but she’s bottling it up cause she’s bad like that :) Until next chapter flowers 🌸

BTW lmk if you wanna be in the taglist :)

TAGLIST :

@hantaev @strawverryxmilktae

#taehyung smut #oop taehyung a softie?#bts taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung fake social media #taehyung fic #taehyung is kinda of a weird person #drama is here finally.#bts smut

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leejeongz · 3 years

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nsfw a-z BX (cix)

🔅requested by: @bruisedbananas thanks 👀a whole lot👀 for requesting this hehe🔅

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

super fucking snuggly and happy. he takes great care when cleaning everywhere not to neglect you too, so he often innocently showers with you (even if it’s annoying that you can’t both get water at the same time) and takes the sheets off the bed when you’re doing your night routine. he thinks sharing water is a romantic activity (in a jokey but also not jokey kind of way) so that’s always a thing too.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

on you, he likes your jawline and ears (is this just me being hopeful?) did you guys see that dance video thingy where he went straight for seunghun’s ear to kiss it 👀🤚🏼. this man loveeessss kissing and biting your ears and seeing the effect it has on you.

on him, he loves his eyes/eyebrows. they’re so expressive and let you know EXACTLY what he wants. he might get a little shy telling you, but he knows that you know just from looking into his eyes. he loves that they have that effect on everyone xo.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

anything that will make a mess. doesn’t really want to finish inside you unless you fully agree to it and you’ve spoken about it. he feels it’s much safer and a lot more satisfying to cum on your face or on your back. he likes that way it looks, when he looks at it, it’s a reminder of how he felt and usually makes him wanna go for another round straight after.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

he prefers getting head to actual vaginal or anal sex. not that he’s selfish, he will always pleasure you. he just prefers the way it feels, the way you look, the eye contact brings him closer to the edge than eye contact during “actual” sex. god he just loves wet sloppy head and fucking your pretty little face until you ✨cry✨.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i think he’s had 1 or 2 partners but he’s not all that experienced. like he maybe did it once with each one. but he receives head every week because he can- he knows what to do when you suck him off lol.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he likes doggy but nothing will ever, EVER beat good old missionary. he likes “accidentally” leaving his chain on and watching it hit you as he fucks you. wow he’s so kind. in this position, he can also give you as much attention as you wish and has easy access to all of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i wouldn’t say humorous but definitely smiley. he loves you, he loves doing naughty things with you, he loves making you his, of course he’s gonna be happy.

when he’s in one of his super horny moods though… an expression change is very unlikely, let alone a positive, happy, smiley one.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

tends to just leave it and just go natural. sometimes he’ll shave completely but he doesn’t really like it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

it depends entirely on his mood. most sex is sloppy and sleepy but romantic and soft, with lots of praise and “i love you”s thrown around.

some sex is distant, with very little care for romance or softness. this is quite rare, but when it happens it’s very intense and unforgettable.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

probably does this quite frequently to relieve stress and just idk escape? usually does it at night when everyone else is asleep because he can get a little 🤫groany🤫 but like… in a good way.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

bdsm- knife play- i explained this a little more in the “risk” part but he lovesss the vulnerability this creates. the trust you’ve given him to do this makes him feel more connected to you romantically too. i mention this in the “volume” part but he likes to say nothing during knife play, behaving a little crazy just for your fantasy.

praise (giving)- when he’s in one of his soft moods, he loves to tell you how good you’re making him feel. his favourite thing to tell you is “there’s no one better at x than you”. he wants to make you feel like it’s all worth it and that he’s never going to leave you because you’re so good (but not in a manipulative way, like he’s serious about it).

gagging 👅- he gets off to you gagging on his dick because it really brings it home that he’s THAT big. he also likes makes you suck on his fingers, especially while he’s fucking you, so sometimes they accidentally (on purpose) go a little too far down and would you look at that, you’re gagging again.

maybe also daddy kink 👉🏼👈🏼 but he doesn’t wanna be basic so he never lets on.

urophilia- ok don’t hate me bc i wrote this (bc we do not kink shame in this house) but i do think 😳 he’d be more than down for showering you in his piss. of course this has to be something you’re into and comes into play only when you’ve discussed it a whole bunch and when you’re both in the mood to do it. he’s not just gonna piss on you for funsies.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

at the dorms in his shared ;) room. maybe you’ll get caught, maybe you won’t 🤷🏻‍♀️. he likes both of you being comfortable too so somewhere like his bed is preferable (he won’t use their beds tho that’s not his style)

also likes public toilets but only clean ones lol bc dirty ones can really dampen the mood. restaurant toilets 👀👀 after you’ve put your hand on his crotch 👀👀 after HE put his hand on your thigh when he knew you were horny even before you left the house 👀👀

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

pretty much everything. you could do something completely innocent and he’d be like “what are you doing? are you doing that on purpose?” and ur like no i’m just ?? washing the dishes. but he’s too turned on by this point to care about your response anyway. most likely in these instances, if you’re not up for it, he can contain himself or takes it elsewhere to deal with it alone

when you lick your lips or bite them… that’s the thing that gets him going the most. in that moment, he just wants to feel your lips wrapped around him until he busts all over your face.

he also gets really turned on when you laugh and smile at him but he’s yet to work out if that’s a sexual thing or not

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i said he likes gagging you with his dick and his fingers but he would never take is as far as making you throw up. a real big turn off, even if he’s never experienced it he knows he doesn’t like it. of course he’d help clean up if it did happen (if he could stomach it) but he’d never do it on purpose and all sexual activity would stop there for the time being.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

as i said before he likes nothing more than being sucked off. he likes putting his hand under your chin or the back of your head and forcing your head down further. he’s quite verbal when his dick is getting sucked but he’s sick of telling you to look at him so he makes you look at him by putting his hands on either side of your head and tilting it up occasionally.

his skills with his tongue are no fucking joke. he could be down there for just 30 seconds sometimes and you’ve already cum over his face. it makes him super happy when you get giggly and excited when he goes to eat you out.

he understands that some people don’t really like to receive, so he’ll only do it if you want him to, but after he’s finished you’ll be wanting him to go back down on you again and again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

i think he would be quite sloppy ngl. so he doesn’t really have a set pace, just a happy medium for himself. he can get quite rough when he’s not tired, especially when he’s about to cum.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

he likes the risk factor of a quickie in say public toilets for example, but the quickie itself doesn’t really do much for him. unless of course, you’ve teased him enough to only last those few minutes (but the teasing is more likely to be the other way around wink wink)

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

with the right person, yes. he doesn’t want you to feel obligated to accept whatever he wants to do so he doesn’t experiment that much, but he’d like to. i think he’d like to bring bdsm into the bedroom but only if you’re 100% okay with it.

talking to eve makes me think he likes knives YOU SEE WHAT YOUVE DONE TO ME?! like he’d love to show you the blunt knife, blindfold you, and then gently drag it across your skin. of course this would take a lot of practice to perfect but he thinks it would be worth it for you if you get stimulated by knives.

he kinda likes the idea of getting caught too. like if it actually happened he’d probably be mortified but the possibility of one of the other members walking in on him fucking you ugh he loves it. kinda thinks he could teach people how to fuck you right if they ever caught you too but is NOT prepared for that to happen lmao. also not prepared to share you either :)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

2 rounds. he gets turned on thinking back on what just happened and wants it again almost immediately. byounggon sex god me thinks. like no other man hehe.

although he doesn’t last too long the second time. his stamina is probably cut by 5 minutes and there is far less foreplay involved.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

not really a fan of toys. would much rather see you get off to him and him alone. i lowkey think he would get jealous if you used a toy lol. would go to the extent of hiding all your toys and acting oblivious when you couldn’t find them. “oh well, i’ll guess you’ll just have to use this instead”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

a whole lot. A WHOLE LOT. and he realises it. like i said, his eyes do all the talking, even if he is teasing you, you know what’s about to happen anyway. he’s probably gonna toy with you and tease you even before foreplay, just so you beg for even the slightest touch. he’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but it’s only fair since you have him wrapped around your little finger.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s actually not too loud, except for when he cums. at that point, he’s groaning and almost whimpering. sometimes he does it as a warning to make you stop sucking his dick because he doesn’t wanna drag your head away when your mouth feels so good.

during intense sessions, he’s silent during sex. both you and him agree that it adds to this “crazy guy” persona that he takes on and it stimulates you both a lot. you being the only one moaning can make you feel a little insecure, a little vulnerable, and it’s something you both enjoy in the moment.

for less intense sessions, he will sprinkle a little bit of dirty talk and praise because ur doing good and he wants you to know that he likes what you’re doing.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

he leaned down a little, his length naturally coming out of your mouth.

“kiss me” he growled. you sat up a little, lips meeting his for the nth time that night. he pulled away abruptly and replaced his lips with his dick once again.

“open” he pried your mouth open with the tip and looked down at you in admiration. “how much are you gonna take this time?” he asked, smirking.

“all of it” you managed to muffle out.

you felt his hand come to your chin, firmly grabbing it and forcing your head down further. he always tells you he’s going to be gentle, but the only gentle thing you can feel in his thumb stroking your cheek absentmindedly. you’re afraid to mention it in case it stops.

“i’d like to see you try” he responded between subtle groans.

you’d been trying for a few minutes, yet you could only take half, and by now he could see it wasn’t working, time for a new method. he pulled away from your mouth and hinted that you should lie on the bed, which you did so immediately.

“turn over” he demanded “and have your head over this side” you patted the edge of the bed. you lay on your back, head dangling over the side, waiting for him.

“you might cry” he warned, before attempting to put the entirety of his dick down your throat. you gagged and he backed away, pleased with himself.

“again” he warned, repeating the action. “you’re taking my cock so well”. he’d done it, you’d taken it all, multiple times. he quickened his pace, your throat already feeling sore.

soon, he completely forgot about warning you, you were too dazed to register it anyway. there was spit all over your face, all over the bed surrounding you, all over him, who was a few seconds away from cumming. he managed to pull away from your mouth in time, releasing his cum all over your naked upper half.

“look at the mess here” he groaned “you’re such a naughty little girl” he said while making his way around the bed, getting ready to give you the best treatment you’d ever receive.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

👀 okay so first of all he’s in cix soooo we all know that they’re ALL blessed.

i think he’d be just a little over average length but girthy as FUCK. he likes using the phrase “stretch you out” because he knows his dick is phat lol.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

when he’s with you, his brain doesn’t immediately go to sex, but he is constantly horny (like most people let’s be real). he’s down to do it when ever you are, it’s less about when he wants it and more about when he can have it (do u get me i feel like that was v broad lol)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he REALLY wants to stay awake and cuddle with you but he’s tired. like super tired. as soon as his head hits the pillow he’s out like a light.

i'd just like to clarify that i think he can switch between hard dom and soft dom, that’s why there’s not one real heavy focus in this (not that there always has to be roles anyway ofc). but either way he’s definitely a dom and he’s almost always one for dom/sub sex (wth is the phrase for that omfg)

#cix #bx #bx smut #cix imagines #cix smut #cix imagine #byounggon #byounggon smut #smut

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high-functioning-lokipath · 3 years

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SH - Sherlock & Mycroft Friendship/Brotherly Bonding - Prompt: Holmes brothers as kids, Myc being a good brother, playing the deduction game. - Words: 1,715

WARNING: MYCROFT IS A BIT NOT GOOD AT THE BEGINNING. THIS IS NOT MYCROFT HATE THO! ALSO, DEVIL CHILDREN WHO DON'T LIKE SHERLOCK MAKE AN APPEARANCE. IT DOES END WELL THOUGH.

That being said, I guess I should add a Trigger Warning for bullying.

I do hope you enjoy the story! Let us know!

"You simply are not trying hard enough, Sherlock! It's quite obvious!" Mycroft yelled. The Holmes brothers were standing in the living room in 221B. Mycroft had decided to pay his brother an in-person visit rather than just turning on the security camera he'd installed. Sherlock had decided to ask Mycroft to play the deduction game with him over a cup of tea. Sherlock was rarely so cordial with Mycroft thus Mycroft was, not that he'd admit it, concerned that something was wrong. He realized he'd miscalculated greatly (again, he'd never admit that) when, only an hour later, a shouting match had ensued.

"Really? Obvious? You're bloody insane, Mycroft! That solution is simply not possible!" Sherlock yelled, dressing gown swishing dramatically as he waved about.

"Look at the facts little brother. We've eliminated the rest. And what do we say about what remains?" Mycroft attempted to bring his voice back down to it's normal, placating, patronizing tones.

"Must be the truth," Sherlock replied, hanging his head low as he finally came to rest on the couch. Mycroft briefly, and rather guiltily, pictured Sherlock as a whipped puppy tucking its tail between its legs. He hadn't intended to hurt his brother so, but the damage was done.

'Nothing worse than past fights,' Mycroft thought. 'He'll recover in a few hours.' He decided not to reconcile at the moment as that could quite easily be taken as caring. 'Sherlock knows I care about him, I just don't want to appear too soft,' Mycroft justified mentally.

"Very good, Sherlock," He said aloud. "I understand you couldn't see it my way today. Perhaps one day you'll be able to think clearly about things." Mycroft turned to walk away. "Perhaps once your brain recovers from your last overdose. Maybe then it will return to acceptable functionality."

'Why did I tack that last jab on?' Mycroft wondered. 'Perhaps I really am becoming too calloused.' He shrugged off the thoughts for the moment as he got in his usual black limousine for the ride home.

Back in 221B, Sherlock sat crying on the sofa for some time. Soft whimpers of "Myc" fell from his lips occasionally. Eventually, he fell asleep, although not a restful one.

"William! Come outside! It's a perfect day to explore!" Sherlock's mind palace had conjured up the memory he was trying so hard to forget. He saw everything so clearly though. Mycroft, still as proper as ever, yet this Mycroft was more free, more innocent. About 14 years old and just under 5' 7", Mycroft had already adopted most of the personality that would stick with him for the rest of his life. Sherlock was seeing his memory as though it was a movie he could walk through. He didn't see it from his 7 year old point of view. Rather, he watched on the sidelines. He looked around and found himself in the backyard of their childhood home. Mycroft was examining a particularly bright patch of flowers by the corner of the house. Some of them had been crushed, others torn up.

'The old tabby cat,' Sherlock remembered fondly. 'Mrs. O'Malley did always let that cat wander too much.'

"I'm coming, Mycie!" Sherlock heard behind him. Turning about he saw himself, right at 4' tall, running out of the house to join his brother.

"Tell me, William," Mycroft said. "How do you think these flowers were destroyed?"

"The old tabby cat, Mycie! That's easy! Find me something harder!" His 7 year old self exclaimed. Mycroft smiled approvingly and patted little Sherlock's shoulder.

'I can't seem to recall why he ever stopped calling me William,' Sherlock thought. Shaking his head in his dream, he chuckled silently. He knew he would remember, but his mind was attempting to fool him.

"Timothy Lexington," Mycroft called out, tossing a frisbee to young Sherlock. He caught it absently, brows drawn together in thought.

"Blond and blue, 19, 5' 9", science class, held back a year," Sherlock replied, throwing the disk back with a smug grin.

'The original deduction game!' Sherlock thought with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia. Sitting on the grass, he settled in to watch.

Mycroft had gotten into the habit of having Sherlock deduce his classmates to the nth degree.

"Why was he held back?" Mycroft quizzed, returning the frisbee.

"Cheating," Sherlock replied, about to throw it back. "Wait," he paused. "Cheating and skipping class." With every throw, Mycroft would ask a question or name a person, and with every catch, Sherlock would answer.

"Samantha Hanshaw."

"Red and green, 17, 5' 5", fairly intelligent. Moved ahead 2 levels over the summer." Mycroft was just about to catch the returning disc when Sherlock added, "And she has a crush on you. She likes your intellect." Mycroft completely froze. The frisbee hit him squarely on the forehead, snapping him out of his trance. "Mycroft! Are you ok?" Sherlock yelled, all deductions forgotten.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mycroft assured him. "Let's go up front." The two Holmes children ran around to the front yard and Sherlock hurried to catch up. As he was about the round the corner, he noticed a group of boys, about his younger self's age, bicycling down the road.

'Oh,' Sherlock remembered. 'This was it.'

"William! Want to come and play with us?" One boy yelled, coming to a stop in front of the house.

"Can I, Myc? Please?" The younger Holmes asked. Sherlock could see the love and care in Mycroft's eyes. But also the sadness.

"They're no good for you, Will," He whispered, kneeling down to his brother's level. The younger's face dropped, tears welling up in his eyes. Mycroft hesitated briefly, hoping with all his heart he was making the right decision and that his initial readings of those boys were false, and added, "But if you want so badly, I suppose an hour or so wouldn't hurt." Sherlock lit up and hugged his brother around the neck.

"Thanks, Mycie! I'll be good! I'll be back in 1 hour!" Sherlock then ran across their large front yard to the road to meet up with the other boys. Mycroft began to walk into the house when he heard yelling.

"Where's your bodyguard now, William? Think you can just use your brain to get out of this, William?" Mycroft's heart sank. Those scumbags were holding Sherlock down on the pavement, kicking him. "Freak! Weirdo!"

"Leave him alone!" Mycroft bellowed. Sherlock had been struggling, trying to get away from them, but there had simply been too many. The bullies quickly scattered, grabbing their bikes and running off. Mycroft pulled Sherlock onto the grass immediately.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock whimpered.

"No, no, William. You don't have to be-"

"Don't call me that!" He yelled. "Never again! If I'm to be a freak, I'll be named as such. Never call me by that name again. Call me Sherlock from now on." Sherlock's face had turned adamant, a preview of his future personality.

"But-"

"Please?" Sherlock begged, face softening once again. Mycroft silently nodded and pulled Sherlock in for a hug.

"Come on inside. Let's get you washed up and have some cake together, hm? Sounds good, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, the name feeling strange on his tongue. He certainly did not think the name sounded freakish, nor was his brother a freak, but he would, at least for now, make his brother happy.

"Yes, please."

"And Sherlock?" Mycroft continued, pausing his steps. "I'll always love you and I'll always take care of you. I will never hurt you. Never forget that."

Sherlock woke up with a start, gasping and still sobbing a little. His face was sticky with half-dry tears.

"I will never hurt you." Those words echoed in Sherlock's mind. It seemed that these days all Mycroft had done was hurt Sherlock.

'Not that it was really his fault,' Sherlock thought. 'I'm really the cause of it all. Maybe if I could find a triple homicide I could finally make him proud.' Sherlock shook his head. He'd already solved those types of cases. He really didn't know what to do to make his brother happy. Turning over on the sofa, he looked to the abandoned mugs on the coffee table. No doubt, the contents were far past cold so Sherlock got up and took them to the sink. Hearing the door lock click, he readied himself for an intruder since no one else he knew should be coming in at this time of day.

"Sherlock?" He heard a voice call out.

'Mycroft?' Sherlock wondered. 'Why is he here?' Slowly, Sherlock walked out of the kitchen.

"What do you want?" He spat, unintentionally angry.

"I wanted to apologise. I'm sorry," Mycroft said, absolute sincerity showing on his face. Sherlock was surprised beyond words. Mycroft quickly took in his brother's appearance and realized he was responsible for it. Mycroft sighed lightly before continuing, "Lately all we've done is fight. That's not right for brothers. Even arch-nemesis brothers," He said with a smirk. Even Sherlock chuckled at that. Turning serious once again, Mycroft continued, "Please believe me when I say I'm sorry. I-" He paused for a moment, deciding he may not have another chance like this for a while. "I'll always love you, little brother, and I'll always take care of you. I will never intentionally hurt you. Never forget that. I may be harsh sometimes and say things I don't mean when I'm especially frustrated but I'll try to say 'I'm sorry' a bit more."

"I love you too, Mycie," Sherlock replied, hugging his brother tightly. Mycroft smiled fondly at the man who, at the moment, was burying his face in Mycroft's suit jacket. Mycroft hugged Sherlock back.

"I'll always care, William," His brother's name finally felt right again after all these years. "You're never a disadvantage."

"Neither are you, Myc," Sherlock replied with a smile. "But you know you're not allowed to call me that around anyone else. Not even Mummy and Daddy." Mycroft nodded. "Good. Now why don't we stop this emotional madness and finish what we started," Sherlock commanded. To the average person, it would seem Sherlock had gone back to normal. But Mycroft saw the glint in his eyes. "Chocolate cake with whipped icing?" Sherlock offered.

"Of course," Mycroft smiled, taking the plate and sitting again in the living room. "Cluedo?"

Sherlock BBC Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

@ladylulu143

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #sherlock imagine #sherlock fanfic #sherlock oneshot #mycroft holmes #mycroft & sherlock #young!mycroft #teen!mycroft #young!sherlock #kid!sherlock #tw: bullying

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thatweeboverthereisthirsty · 4 years

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Hi, I hope your doing okay😊, Could you write sfw and nsfw headcanons whole team natsu in a relationship with a fem s/o? Thank you!

Hi there! Sorry this one took me so long I had a hard time with the SFW headcanons. The NSFW ones are a bit longer hope you don’t mind. Also like my last poly team natsu post this one sort of left out wendy just cause she’s a kid.

SFW:

- So you never once thought that you would be able to manage getting one partner not to mention 4! Yes honey that's correct, 4! Gray, Natsu, Erza, and Lucy. And dear Celestial King did you love them.

- You go on all together dates, then sometimes threesome dates or just one on ones. But you were all together and very happy!

- All 5 of you being in a relationship sometimes made things just a little more complex. For instance anniversaries. You all had one anniversary together and then a one on one anniversary. Your individual anniversaries usually happened on days where something special happened in your bond with each other.

- When you went on dates with all 4 of them they might take you to see fireworks or on a picnic or to do something as a group. When you just went with one or two of them it ranged depending on who it was picking the activity.

- Lucy liked calm dates to a coffee shop or on a walk around the city to shop. She was into lowkey things because her chaotic life in Fairytail left her very little time to be chill. You guys would often read together or cook and eat a homemeal. If you wanted quiet time she was the person to go to (although Natsu regularly interrupted your fun).

- Erza was somewhat laid back with her approaches of dating. She had these visions of what a perfect romantic day would consist of almost like a little girl dreaming of her future. You found it adorable… until she started beating up people for ruining her picnic. She often took you to dinner at fancy restaurants and to festivals in town where she would buy way too much stuff. If you guys stayed home you would probably try on her armor cause she insisted you looked amazing in it. Training dates too where she would teach you to use all sorts of swords.

- Gray wasn’t really the ‘take you out on a date’ type he was more of a ‘spontaneous hang out’ person. He’d probably show up in your apartment claiming he was bored and no one else was around and play a board game with you. Sometimes he would be waiting for you outside so you could walk to the guild together. He wasn’t interested in setting up a time and getting all dressed up just to see someone who you’ve already seen in sweats and a stained t-shirt a thousand times. But occasionally on special occasions like individual anniversary days he would take you dancing in a nice setting or to a fancy dinner where he bought you a dress the day before hand and slipped a bracelet on your wrist when you arrived.

- Natsu was the most adventurous with dates so far. He wanted to go on a job as a date then get dinner at some crazy all you can eat buffet afterwards. Or you guys would climb a mountain to find some crazy creature just so he could fight it. He took you out to eat a lot but it was mostly a lot of him stuffing his face and you talking about whatever you're interested in. He was a surprisingly good listener when he eats. Sometimes dates would be chill and calm like when he and Happy go fishing while you lean on his back and fall asleep. Speaking of Happy, the little blue cat usually accompanied you guys on your dates but when you went home he flew off to spend time with Carla or Lucy. At home you guys would probably talk, sleep, he would make a mess and be his general upbeat self.

- You weren’t the strongest wizard alive and you certainly couldn’t beat your lovers but you could usually hold your own in a fight. Not that your baes would want you in a fight. The four of them happen to be extremely protective, with you and each other. So expect to get very little action time. They’re just so scared to lose you or that you’ll get hurt. Sometimes it's kinda funny but at the same time you don’t want to be treated like just some kid that can’t defend themselves so at the very least they could let you fight your own battles. They agree that you should be able to fight for yourself and even offer to help you train. It’s been a while since that ridiculous protective mode kicked in for any of them (and you) but if you or one of them were to get hurt then it would be the end of times for whoever caused it. (ok not really but there would be repercussions).

Spicy time ;)

NSFW:

- Sometimes a fivesome is a bit too much to deal with so you often break off into groups of two or three.

- When having sex with Natsu he likes to make it fun and often likes to singe your sheets a bit, liking how the smell of smoke mixes with your own. His heightened sense of smell makes it all the more fun since he can literally smell when you like something and just how much. He’s always gonna find the sweetest spots on your body and it’s a guarantee that you’re going to cum more than once. He wants to exhaust you. Natsu loves the afterglow and finds that lying with you afterwards completely at ease is his favorite part of the whole experience.

- Kink wise he’s probably into praising you as you ‘take control’. Natsu’s not really the type to be into harsher play, he’s seen his friends hurt enough and wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was the one to seriously hurt them. An exception would probably be bruises in the shapes of his hands right around your hips. Instead of being extra rough and kinky he switches things up a bit by letting you take the reins. Although if you tease him too much or he gets the feeling that you're forgetting who's really in charge he’ll quickly flip things around and remind you that he’s the top in the relationship.

- Grey is different in the way that he doesn’t mind if you get mouthy or tease him a little. He finds it entertaining when you're on top since you're so submissive like when you're out of bed and he could easily take control. So he has no problem laying back and letting you ride or suck him and chase your own pleasure however you please. But his favorite way to have you is with you on your hands and knees as he fucks you fast and hard.

- For gray’s kinks I imagine that he’d be pretty kinky, but only for some things. Gray would probably be into being tied up and trying to break free. He would also love it if you choked on his dick and it would especially turn him on when there are tears of pleasure and overstimulation in your eyes. He likes to be edged and edge you for hours till either of you finally get your release.

- Erza is actually soft when it comes to sex which she prefers to call it making love. She believes that it’s an opportunity to be intimate and close, to be vulnerable and expose yourself to another. It’s a high form of respect and she wants to treat you with respect. Slow sensual kissing, comforting massages that turn into more, slow grinds and hands everywhere. Having sex with Erza isn’t about kinks or doing a quickie, it’s all about you. Erza wants to worship you in every way possible and occasionally she’ll let you worship her too.

- Lucy on the other hand can go either way. Sex can be calm and sweet and meaningful, or it can be fast and rough and simply about pleasure. She can be a top or a bottom depending on the situation. With slow sex she likes to top because it really gives her a chance to show how much she loves you. When it’s rough though she could top but really actually likes being a bottom.

- This girl is kinky af! She’s into just about everything with some probably obvious exceptions. Bondage? Absolutely! Tie her up, bend her into different positions, overstimulate her to the point of tears. Public? Sure. Although she probably wouldn’t do it on a stage, a quick closet session where you’d have to hold your hands over your mouths to keep quiet would be thrilling. Toys? Yes! She will wear a collar for you and she will also sit at the guild all day with a toy in her. Her favorite kink though? Degradation/dirty talk. Pretty sure that has a bit of voice kink mixed in but it doesn’t really matter since she’s crying out as she cums anyway. She wants to be called a dirty slut as you pull her hair and finger her. She wants you to whisper all the things you’ll do to her in her ear. She can’t help but love the fierceness in your tone and the fake hardness in your eyes.

- All together sex is usually more fun but also super overstimulating since your all receiving several people's attention at once. You can’t bring yourself to mind however as you always feel satisfied in the end. When it’s all five of you together it’s usually just vanilla sex but occasionally some dirty stuff slips under the radar. You usually act as a bottom/switch in these occasions only ever really conscious enough to find pleasure for yourself. The rest is just a haze of bliss that comes then takes forever to leave when you're done (not that you mind however).

- Aftercare is very important to all of them and is crucial for all types of sex. They simply won’t allow you to sleep on sticky sheets or covered in cum. Most of the time you’re to out of it to really care but once they come to they move you to the (large enough to fit 5 people *wink* *wink*) bathtub for a nice relaxing bath while they change the sheets. They then often join you and cuddle until drying off and making your way back to the fresh bed.

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

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Now or never

(Hayffie ff ❤️. I initially shied away from this prompt because I didn’t think I could write it in a way that felt interesting. But I ended up having a great time with it, so much fun that this became one of my longest one-shots. — I make no apologies for the length of my posts in the feed or in the tags. I don’t apologize for any aspect of my free expression. For personal reasons, I write on my phone using the tumblr app, and the limitations are what they are. Like the limitations of my disabled body are what they are. For prompts, I reblog the prompt along with the link to my fic in case anyone wishes to reblog something shorter. — I write for myself, for my love of the characters and the process. When people comment on, like, or reblog my posts, I view those interactions as unexpected gifts. I have such love for writing that I’d do it old-school like Anne Frank, without any audience beyond my journal itself. This blog has been that for me for over 5 years, my space for coming of age and processing intensities in a strained and oppressive midlife. — I’m inspired now by prompts much more than I have been in past fanfiction efforts. So, thank you to everyone who offers them. And when people are willing to slog through my long fics and other posts, that is fabulous devotion to the characters/issues that are important to me, and I feel good to know I’m not caring alone. — 💛 Kim)

***

His facial hair was rough against her lips. The sensation triggered fantasy which played out more readily if she didn’t have to look at him. So she kissed him with her eyes closed whenever they fucked around. He was the same height as Haymitch. When she wore 5-inch heels, those added to the feeling of intimacy. It wasn’t entirely real, but it felt better than loneliness.

Their relationship was discrete, of course. Mutual discretion was a condition she established before getting involved with anyone, especially someone as high-profile as Seneca Crane.

As far as Capitol society was concerned, their connection was primarily professional, with occasional dinners at expensive restaurants. It was an image they’d been comfortable projecting, and it wasn’t far from the truth.

In moments that weren’t overly physical, she enjoyed his eyes. Blueish-grey with a streak of emotion, they were familiar enough to help her pretend. That’s why she’d first invited Seneca up to her apartment in the fall — to have sex with Haymitch in fantasy.

The sex was good enough. He was gifted with his hands, though he smelled too much like her. She wondered if he wore the same cologne as she did. And his body frame was smaller than the one she actually wanted intimacy with. By November, they’d become a regular *good enough* thing.

A dozen years earlier, they’d been schoolmates at the Academy. He graduated two years before her. She was softer then but already a force to reckon with. He was shorter in those days, sharp, obsessed with tech design. Ambition was an attribute they shared, perhaps the only one.

By 30, he’d become one of the youngest Head Gamemakers in history. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline he experienced when executing the Games, and he relished the opportunity for artistry. The thrill and beauty he saw in death made Effie uncomfortable, but she viewed it as part of the job. He carried out the president’s wishes, though he confided in her that he didn’t fully agree with the way Snow ruled Panem.

On an evening in late December, they walked along a garden path covered in trellises draped with strands of fairy lights. Effie kept her hands warm in her pockets. It had been a long day, and she was ready to be home in bed, asleep, alone.

“What do you think about marriage?” he asked. The question was slightly more inspiring than if he’d asked her what she thought about the weather.

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she answered honestly, leaving out her occasional ludicrous fantasies about having babies with tiny purple wigs and predispositions for alcoholism.

“A union could be advantageous for both our careers. The publicity could improve your chances of promotion to escort for an inlying district.”

“And what do you stand to gain from a *union*?”

“You’re iconic, Effie. You represent the Capitol with style and positivity, and you execute your work flawlessly. You’re in good favor with the president. You could be a wonderful ally for me,” You could be a buffer for me, he didn’t say.

“Is there anything more?”

“Like what?”

“Really, Seneca, is THIS how you’re proposing??”

“Well, our families would support us. And there’s the matter of sentiment.”

“Sentiment?”

“I like you. I care for you, of course.”

She thought of Haymitch’s words from last summer, the night they almost... but didn’t.

‘I like you too much,’ he’d said, ‘I can’t fuck around with you and pretend it’s nothing. And that’s how it would have to be. That’s the only way it could be.”

Venia and Octavia insisted Haymitch loved her, but she believed that was still a pipe dream. She could keep waiting in vain, or she could choose a more sensible path.

“And there’s this...” From his coat pocket, Seneca pulled a black velvet box and flipped it open. Effie’s jaw dropped. The diamond was huge. It was far and away the loveliest ring she’d seen. She looked in those blueish-grey eyes that reminded her a bit of everything she wanted that wasn’t accessible to her.

Seneca pressed, “Say yes, and the wedding can be one of the biggest events of the year, rivaling even the Games.”

She imagined what her dress would look like. He was saying the right words to tempt her. They didn’t love each other, but maybe she could look past that inconvenient reality. Sometimes people married for other reasons.

“The press would go crazy,” he continued, “There would be red carpet interviews. We could invite everyone who’s anyone: stylists, victors, even Snow.”

Victors... Would he show up to watch me get married? 6 months ago, Haymitch had asked her what she wanted. He’d unzipped her dress and touched her body. He’d taken off his shirt and shown her his scars. Then he effectively told her a relationship between them was never going to happen, and he held her hand as she fell asleep.

Damn him.

She took her left hand out of her pocket. “Let’s see how it fits.”

Seneca had investigated her ring size, so the fit was perfect.

“Let’s show him,” she said.

“Show who?”

“Them. Let’s show them all.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes. Let’s get married. ...This spring.” She could plan a wedding in 5 months, no problem. Isn’t this the time couples usually cry and leap into one another’s arms? Shouldn’t this occasion call for a show of passion?

“This spring it shall be then.” When Seneca kissed her, she closed her eyes and embraced the same fantasy as usual.

***

Haymitch rarely received mail beyond his compensatory income from the government. In March, when the post delivered an envelope addressed to him in gold ink, he almost tossed the thing straight into the trash, recognizing it as an invitation to a Capitol party. Then he saw the name “Trinket” and the return address of Effie’s family home.

What’s this? He opened it right there on the porch with uneasiness gnawing at his stomach.

“You are cordially invited to celebrate the marriage of

Euphemia Rosalind Trinket -and-

Seneca Lucius Crane

Saturday, the first of May

At 3 O’Clock in the afternoon

Palazzo Annaeus”

What the hell is THIS! His stomach churned, and he vomited up a pint of white liquor on the ground beside the porch.

Memories flooded in... tracing up the seams of her stockings, unhooking her garters, feeling her body without a corset, running his fingers through her hair as she curled up in bed, so soft. So damn soft. Fear had screamed warnings about getting attached to her. Fear was always screaming.

When those Games were done, he’d left the Capitol with a strained sadness between them, like a rubber band stretched too long. Today it snapped and smacked him in the face. He felt the sting of annoyance and regret.

Damn her.

He couldn’t fix this. The only thing left to do was decide whether or not he was willing to watch it happen. He would have burned the invitation in the fireplace if not for the P.S. in her obnoxiously perfect handwriting.

***

Seneca had been right about one thing. Effie’s parents were thrilled that she’d decided to marry one of *the Crane boys,* especially the Head Gamemaker. Historically the Cranes had been part of the old guard of the wealthy from the Capitol, and they’d successfully diversified their financial interests in the years following the Dark Days.

Her parents spared no expense for *the wedding of the decade.* Effie spent the winter so caught up in the comfort of validation and the thrill of event planning that most of the time she evaded the sense of dread that nagged her when she startled awake in the mornings.

When she’d addressed the invitations, she considered adding a postscript to Haymitch’s, either “Fuck you” or “I love you.” Both feelings were nonsensical and nonetheless true. In the end she’d written,

“H — Please come. — E”

She checked the mail each day for his response card among hundreds, but it never showed up. Figures. He probably threw it away.

She didn’t need anyone to *rescue* her from the fate she’d chosen. If she wanted to call off the wedding, she’d simply come up with a logical explanation to save face; she’d apologize to Seneca and her parents; she’d put a stop to all plans, and that would be that.

The phrase “Mayday mayday mayday” was a distress signal used by Capitol troops during the Dark Days. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d subconsciously scheduled her wedding on the first of May because, apart from the fine details, opulence, and attention, her heart wasn’t in this.

***

“We’re here at Pallazo Annaeus,” Claudius reported from the red carpet which had been rolled out along the walkway to the galleria of the Crane family mansion. “Just a short time from now, fashion icon and District 12 escort, Effie Trinket, will wed two-time Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane.”

“Isn’t this exciting!!” Caesar was in typical form. “The air is positively electric!”

“So much so that my hair is standing on end!”

“As is mine!! Thank goodness for hair products.”

“And wigs! We’re seeing all of the ABOVE as the guests arrive. What a crowd!”

Their interviews with attendees were concise, asking which stylists designed their gowns and suits, and if they had particular wishes to share with the couple.

“Now here comes... Is that?... It is! Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the second Quarter Quell.”

“How touching. One advisor for District 12 supporting the other on her special day.”

“I LOVE it!! Haymitch, do you have any words for the happy couple?”

Haymitch stomped past them without pause. He hadn’t entirely sobered up from the bottle of whiskey he drank on the train, and he didn’t even try to resist flipping Caesar off when asked the question.

“A man of few words,” Claudius covered for a shocked Caesar. “We never know what to expect from that one.”

“He certainly does keep us on our toes.”

“Well, it’s a good thing we have stylish shoes!”

“Indeed!” Each of them spun around on tiptoe, and the cameras zoomed in on their footwear as a distraction from Haymitch’s persistent middle finger.

Just beyond the entryway, the galleria was packed already. Guests were dressed in yards of fabric and large hats. Floral arrangements lined marble walls covered with paintings, some of which were probably older than Panem itself. Haymitch slipped into the first empty chair he spotted, ignoring the usher who asked him, “Are you here for the bride or the groom?”

The question pestered. The bride. Shit. I’m here for the bride.

***

With every detail attended to, Effie curled her fingers around her father’s arm in the vestibule. Flower girls and bridesmaids entered the galleria first, then it would be her turn.

“My princess is getting married in a palace.” Her father kissed her cheek.

“Daddy! Careful of my makeup. Photos aren’t being taken until afterward.”

“Of course. It’s YOUR perfect day.”

Effie had certainly made everything perfect, except for this unrelenting nausea and desire to run away. She forced herself to breathe slowly. The last thing she needed right now was to throw up, ruin her white gown, and have the press start a false rumor about pregnancy. She had no desire to have children with Seneca. She’d made that clear, and he agreed.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

Her father calling her “sweetheart” made every discomfort worse. Clearly she thought of Haymitch.

“I’m trying to be alright... but I don’t know,” she confessed.

Her father wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s almost time to walk down the aisle. Is that what you want to do?”

He asked it like she had a choice, but it was too late for choices.

“Let’s go pay the piper!” As Effie started down the aisle on her father’s arm, she didn’t notice the splendor and fullness of the room, nor the oohs and aahs from standing friends and family. She didn’t notice the rose petals on the floor, nor her fiancé sweating like a pig about to be roasted alive with an apple in its mouth.

All she saw was Haymitch.

He stood at the edge of the aisle, in the middle of the room. In the years that she’d known him, he’d been clear about his disdain for Capitol events, yet here he was, no RSVP and very much himself in his regular clothes from District 12. She’d probably be irritated if she hadn’t missed him so much. He was standing right here, and she was still missing him. It took every ounce of restraint to not tell him so.

“Great dress, sweetheart.” He offered a subdued smile as she passed.

She looked back at him once, and her eyes felt like old glass, holding tears too hardened to fall. Then there was nothing to do but look forward.

***

Fear was screaming different words now at Haymitch. Stop this. This wedding. Stop this!

As she walked away from him, he could see that her dress had an open back from her waist to the top of her shoulder blades. The gap was bordered in ornate jewels, stitching, and fancy shit. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her skin, and he couldn’t stop thinking about touching her.

She glanced at him again as she handed her bouquet to a bridesmaid. Her eyes were pleading. He knew the look because of all the times he’d tried to ignore her feelings for him ...and his feelings for her.

The officiant addressed the audience, “We are gathered here today to join Effie and Seneca in matrimony. Family, friends, and honored guests, do you support this union and affirm that these two should be married today?”

Haymitch looked around as the audience responded in unison, "We do."

I don’t.

The officiant continued, “Will you surround this couple in love, offering them the joys of your friendship? Will you support this couple in their relationship? At times of conflict will you offer them the strength of your wisest counsel and the comfort of your thoughtful concern? At times of joy, will you celebrate with them, nourishing their love for one another?”

The automatons responded together again, "We will.”

Like hell I will.

“If any of you has a reason why these two should not be married, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Haymitch sighed and shook his head. Someday he’d be the death of her, or she’d be the death of him. Maybe today was that day.

This felt like now or never. The bit of whiskey still in his veins helped it be now. He stood up and moved quickly down the aisle to the sound of gasps and murmurs all around him.

***

“What are you doing?” Effie was stunned as he gripped her wrist.

“Excuse us,” Haymitch said directly to Seneca, then he pulled Effie out of the room down a long hallway.

She went willingly, chastising him in hushed tones along the way. “Haymitch! This is highly inappropriate!”

“More inappropriate than us having this conversation in front of the entire Capitol?”

“What conversation?”

He pulled her into a room down the hall.

“Not so tight!”

He loosened his grasp on her wrist but didn’t let go.

“What are you doing, Effie?”

“Do I need to state the obvious?”

“Marriage?? Why are you even WITH him?”

“I don’t owe you explanations — or anything else for that matter.”

She was right. She owed him nothing. His edge softened, and he stroked her wrist with his thumb. “Why are you marrying somebody you didn’t even look at as you walked down that aisle?”

“I LOOKED at him.”

“For about five seconds, and what did you see?”

She hesitated, “He’s wearing a tie, not an ascot. We had a dispute about it this week, and I insisted he wear the tie.”

“That’s what you’re thinking about on your wedding day when you see the man you’re about to marry — a goddamn tie?”

“Why are YOU giving ME the third degree! What are YOU thinking about on my wedding day?”

“I’m thinking about how much I hate Seneca Crane. I don’t want him marrying you. I don’t want you fucking him.”

“Well, that ship sailed! We’ve been having sex for months, not that it’s any of your business!”

“Not my business?”

“Absolutely not!”

He was burning with a mix of emotions: anger, jealousy, frustration, confusion, desire, fear. “If it’s not my business, then why did you ask me to ‘please come’ today? What am I doing here? ...If it’s not my business, then why did reading your wedding invitation make me puke. Why can’t I stop thinking about you? ...If it’s not my business, then why do I want to be the one to take this dress off you. I keep holding your wrist because if I let go, I’m gonna touch you, and what would your *fiancé* think about that? What would YOU think about that?”

He’d never confessed so much to her all at once, and she was in a mild state of shock about it. “Last summer you told me if we ‘fucked around’ then you’d have to pretend it means nothing. You told me you can’t pretend that, so where does that leave us?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“I think you do. ...Let go of my wrist.”

“I told you what’s gonna happen if I let go.”

“Then let it happen.”

In a duality of reluctance and eagerness, he let go of her wrist and caressed her through the open back of her dress. She shivered and leaned into him. He wrapped his arms around her, touching every inch of skin he could reach.

The wig she wore resembled her actual hair color, light golden, like wheat before harvest. In this moment, she was an angel. He’d kiss her if she’d just shut up, but she had things to say too.

“If it’s not your business, then why am I still here with you instead of out there marrying Seneca?” Her tone softened. “Why do I close my eyes and picture you every time I kiss him and every time we have sex? ....If it’s not your business, then why do I miss you so much?”

“Jesus, Effie. What are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“I think you do.”

***

From the doorway, Seneca cleared his throat. He’d been listening awhile. Effie tried to pull away from Haymitch, but first he had to untangle himself from the back of her dress.

“This isn’t quite what it looks like,” Effie laughed nervously.

“It looks like unfinished business,” Seneca said.

“Then it IS what it looks like,” Haymitch told him.

“Will you please excuse us?” Seneca asked, proper as fuck. “Effie and I have some things to discuss.”

“I’m not leaving.” Fear and desire for her wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll handle this,” she insisted. “Please wait in the hall.”

This was the Gamemaker’s house, his wedding, and his girl for god sake. What else could Haymitch do? Pull out his knife and slit the guy’s throat?? This was Effie’s world, not his. Without another word, he stepped out of the room, and he hated that she closed the door behind him.

Seneca confronted her, “I’ll say this quickly because our guests have already waited long enough. A marriage of convenience is prudent when the motivations for such a union are stronger than the desire for love. I’ve realized that’s not the case here. For me, and apparently not for you either.”

“Are you in love with someone else?”

“Someone my family regards as unsuitable. I’m sorry I didn’t speak about it sooner. I was afraid you wouldn’t understand.” He glanced at the door, “But I see that you do. Frankly, this interruption is an enormous relief.”

Effie was slightly miffed to realize that Seneca would not be pining for her, but the interruption did lift her feeling of dread. “I apologize as well. I haven’t been forthcoming with you, or with myself. What do we do now? The Capitol is expecting a wedding.”

“The Capitol is expecting a show, and they’re getting that. Let’s walk out there together and announce that we’ve decided to cancel the nuptials and move straight to the reception. It can still be the party of the year.”

“But my parents...”

“I’ll reimburse your father for his investment in this. It’s the right thing to do. I do care for you, Effie, but I should never have discussed marriage as a hypothetical, let alone proposed and let it get this far.”

He held out his hand. “Shall we? Before any more time passes.”

She threaded her fingers with his in solidarity.

When the door opened, Haymitch was still there in the hall, fuming now at the sight of them holding hands.

“Seneca, give me another minute,” she said.

He let go of her and took several steps away.

She touched Haymitch’s arm and spoke into his ear, “The wedding is off. But we need time to appease our families and everyone else. Meet me at 9 o’clock at The Popina on 6th St. Do you know the place?”

He’d never been there, but it was a good call. He doubted the press would look for him at a swanky wine bar. “I know the one.”

She whispered, “I said I don’t owe you anything, and you don’t owe me anything either. Regardless, this feeling between us isn’t going away.”

Seneca told him, “Keep following this hallway as it bends to the right. You’ll eventually reach a side door you can take out of here if you want...”

Haymitch didn’t trust him and didn’t want to leave.

“...Unless you’d prefer a walk back down the red carpet with the other guests.”

I don’t.

Effie urged him to go. “I need to set this right. Please don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”

“I don’t wanna run out in the middle of a pile of shit.”

“Language! This wedding is not a pile of anything. It’s an event we need to finish differently than expected. Will you trust me?”

“Fine.” He answered without conviction, turning away so he wouldn’t have to watch them link hands again. Holding the handle of the knife in his pocket, he followed the hallway to the side door and left all that nonsense behind him. Did he trust her?? If she walked into that bar tonight without a rock on her finger, then maybe he just might.

***

Afterward, the red carpet commentary indeed made for a more interesting show.

“The only thing more exciting than a wedding,” said Caesar, “Is a kiss at the altar between the bride and groom after they’ve CALLED OFF the ceremony!”

“You may now kiss the woman in white who is no longer your bride!”

“Oh, Claudius, you’re so cheeky!”

“I can honestly say I’ve never seen a couple more happy to be NOT married.”

“Did somebody bring the sun INSIDE the palace? Because they were positively glowing.”

“The reception is still on, and did you hear their words about it?”

“Caesar, I was on the edge of my seat, and I couldn’t miss them, but say them again.”

“Seneca began, ‘May 1st, May Day, is not just one of folktales. Mayday was a cry of distress during war, terrible war. The Capitol responded and transformed that distress into peace.’

“Then...”

“Then Effie continued, ‘Instead of celebrating a wedding, we’ve decided to transform the reception we’d planned into a festival honoring the glory of the Capitol. Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.’”

“Don’t you just love that?”

“I DO! I absolutely do!”

“Well, that’s the only ‘I do’ that we’ll be hearing this afternoon!”

Hysterical laughter ensued between the two.

“Claudius, the question on everyone’s mind revolves around the influence of a certain mentor from District 12.”

“Yes. Haymitch Abernathy interrupted the ceremony.”

“He pulled Effie away, and Seneca followed. When the couple returned hand-in-hand, they called off the wedding. The mystery is, what happened in between?”

“As you said earlier, we never know what to expect from Haymitch. That one is a wildcard.”

“We’ve been waiting for him to emerge from the palace so we can ask him, but as we noted before, he is a man of few words.”

“Maybe we’ll catch him at the reception.”

“The festival!”

“The festival, of course!”

***

By 10 o’clock, Haymitch had read the sign on the wall a hundred times. “Hedone says, ‘You can drink here for one; if you give two, you will drink better; if you give four, you will drink Falernian.”

‘Hedone’ he recognized as the Roman goddess of pleasure. He thought pleasure would be a fine devotion if it wasn’t pursued at the cost of other people’s lives or pursued to chase away demons. He was already chasing one bottle of Falernian with another. “Damn Capitol wine doesn’t get you drunk unless you chug two bottles. And this is the best they’ve got?”

He’d been there a couple of hours. During that time, his attention was divided between that sign reflecting on hedonism and the screen showing footage of Effie’s non-wedding reception.

They were *saving face* alright. Haymitch had rarely seen Effie kiss anyone, and tonight he’d watched her kiss her *former* fiancé every time someone clinked a glass. The kisses were pecks mostly, a game they were probably playing to host a fun party and show the Capitol there were no hard feelings between them. But as the kisses added up, Haymitch’s dislike for Seneca Crane became more palpable.

“Slide a bit,” she said, showing up beside him. She was hiding in a simple dress and a light layer of makeup. Her hair was pulled back beneath a scarf instead of a wig.

He scooted over, making room for her at his booth in back. “You’re late, sweetheart. Did Crane kiss all that makeup off your face?”

“And you’re drunk.” She caressed the back of his neck, content to be with him right now, drunk or not.

“Wasn’t drunk an hour ago after the first bottle of this Falernian shit. But the more you drink, the better it tastes.”

She drank from his glass, and he didn’t object. From his perspective right now, she could drink straight from his mouth or off his body.

He encircled her waist, pulling her as close as the setting allowed. He was relieved to see that she wasn’t married. His inhibitions were reduced, so she could do just about anything to him right now, and he wouldn’t object. He tried not to think about her having that kind of power.

She stroked his arm wrapped around her. “There’s a rumor circulating about you.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?” He kissed her neck after each question. “Do they think I’m fucking you?”

She giggled because the hair on his face tickled her skin and because she was anticipating his response. “Not quite, honey.”

“What then?”

“They think you’re fucking Seneca.”

“What the hell?!!”

“Caesar and Claudius predicted ‘the mentor from District 12 is having a torrid affair with the Head Gamemaker,’ and you pulled me away from the wedding in the hopes of taking my place at the altar.”

“They’re lunatics.”

“It’s a risky move breaking up a wedding. Who knows what people will say.”

“What do YOU say?”

“I say you look at my breasts far too often for you to be interested in Seneca Crane,” she chuckled.

“And what do you say about me breaking up your wedding?”

As she looked into his eyes, there was no approximation, no almost. It was a relief to not have to *pretend* that he was the one she wanted, but to just KNOW it. “I say, thank you. ...Sweetheart.”

What fantasies and real desires would be accessible with him? She’d know more in time.

#hayffie #hayffie fanfiction #effie x haymitch #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #seneca crane #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games #hunger games #claudius templesmith #caesar flickerman #the capitol #pre-74th hunger games #may day #mayday #slide a bit nancy lee #HayffieFics

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supergay-supergirl · 4 years

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why supergirl season 5 was actually good: sort of an essay

This has been sitting in my sticky notes for months and I figured now that I have a Supergirl blog, I can actually post it.

People love hating on Supergirl Season 5. And I get it. I admit that it had a lot of problems. But I did like the season overall, and there's enough out there about Season 5’s problems, so here is a post about some things that were great about Season 5!

1. Lena’s Arc

Apparently everyone hates how this was executed, but I really liked it. I like how 5A allows her to scheme and lie and altogether explore the darker (Luthor) side of herself, because only after experiencing what she’s been afraid of becoming can she fully come to know herself. I like how in 5x07, she gets to scream and cry, to express to Supergirl how much she’s hurting, and how betrayed she feels. I like how in 5x13, Kara finally accepts that Lena joining Lex was not her fault, and that she didn’t deserve to be manipulated (“From now on, you’re accountable for your own actions.”). I like Lena’s growing obsession with erasing human pain through 5B and the fact that we know exactly where her motivations come from, and we feel for her because we’ve seen how much pain she’s in herself -- but at the same time, we can still oppose her ultimately villainous actions, which leads us to hope for her redemption. (A lot of this is due to Katie McGrath’s stellar acting as well.)

I love how the season shows just how much Lex’s continual abuse and manipulation affects her, and shows her standing up to him at the end. I wish they had focused more on Lena instead of pushing her aside in favor of Lex in 5B, but overall I liked how they expanded on the Luthor sibling relationship from Season 4, even if it was missing some of the complexity of the previous season. And finally, I love the way Lena fights so hard to regain Kara’s trust in 5x19 (and succeeds!). It felt like there was more of a balance between the two starting from 5x13, where previously it had always been Kara apologizing and trying to gain Lena’s trust.

2. Supergirl’s New Look

PANTS. PANTS. PANTS. PANTS.

For Season 4, Kara the Reporter got a more professional wardrobe as she began to mentor Nia, and the switch to pants feels like the same thing for Supergirl. It completes the transition from “young adult” to just “adult.” It may have been reasonable to call Kara a “girl” in Season 1, but by now, she is an adult woman, and I’m glad that her wardrobe reflects that.

I was opposed to Kara’s bangs at the beginning of the season, but they have definitely grown on me. Like the pants, I think they mark an important change in Supergirl’s character, one that is better appreciated by the audience than the characters. Now, when I rewatch previous seasons, I think, “Wow, Kara looks so different now.” I didn’t think that when I rewatched episodes after Season 4. The bangs are a way to identify Adult Kara as having changed a lot from how she was at the beginning, and like the pants, I feel like they complete her transition into adulthood.

(But are the writers expecting us to believe that nobody who knows Kara would be suspicious that Kara and Supergirl got bangs on the exact same day? Seriously.)

3. Eve Teschmacher

In Season 4, Eve Teschmacher was a brilliant, eager-to-please young woman who (whoops) turned out to be evil. And she was great. But I was dissatisfied with her betrayal because it came so out of the blue, and it was a complete 180 without much buildup at all. Season 5 gave her the humanity that she was lacking, first with her mom, then with her desperation not to have to kill. Not to mention, some pretty badass fight scenes.

4. J’onn’s Swagger

J’onn’s storyline in Season 5 is not nearly as deep as in Season 4, and I see that as a good thing. Season 4 J’onn was wonderful and necessary, but in a season that has a lot of strong development for Kara and Lena, it was nice to have a relatively static character who’s at a good place in his life. Season 4 let J’onn discover the man he wanted to be, and David Harewood brings a new confidence to Season 5 as a result of that. It’s fun to watch him strut around in his supersuit and say normal things as if they’re great proclamations. It’s nice to see the happy, healthy adult relationship between him and M’gann. The easy trust they have with each other causes them to act more like they’re married than dating, as opposed to the younger characters who are often caught up in relationship drama.

5. Kelly Therapy Face

All the characters need a therapist, and they finally got one! Well, Kelly is technically a psychologist, which I believe means she could be a therapist but is not necessarily? I don’t know things. Anyway, it’s nice to have a calm, supportive presence in the group, and this effect is helped by Kelly Therapy Face. Kelly Therapy Face is the face Kelly makes when she’s listening to you talk about your problems. Kelly Therapy Face and her generally calm presence bring down the interpersonal drama of the group and solidify the idea that all these people are growing into full adults, with adult relationships and adult responses to issues. Their emotions are stabilizing, they’re building stronger support systems, and they’re gaining a better understanding of how the world works and their places in it.

This is more of a Season 4 thing -- this season really didn’t give Kelly the screentime she deserved -- but I also love how even though Kelly acts as a source of support for others, her own fear and trauma are rarely glossed over (see: the end of 5x05). This gives Kelly a humanity and realistic quality that many emotional-support characters don’t get. It also shows the key difference between Dansen and Sanvers: whenever Alex and Maggie had conflict, they swept it aside rather than working through it, leading to their eventual breakup, but when Alex and Kelly have conflict, they listen to each other and try to fix it. In accordance with their adult-ness, Alex and Kelly also seem to be in agreement that it’s okay to have conflict in their relationship (“And I might not know every little detail about you yet, but I know you,” 5x02).

6. Reality Bytes

Calling attention to violence against trans folk, exploring Dreamer’s dark side, and showing the strength of Kara and Nia’s mentor-student relationship in one episode? Just. Yes. Either Nicole Maines was projecting a lot or she’s a really good actor (probably both), but either way, as a trans person, I felt this episode on a personal level: the anger, fear, and frustration at knowing that your community is being targeted and the people you’re supposed to trust (i.e. the police) are probably not going to do anything about it. Additionally, Kara and Nia’s conflict in 5x15, and the fact that Kara compares Nia’s experience to her own, is a great marker of how far Kara has come. In Season 1, Supergirl felt a similar anger and hurt when villains sought her out, but by now, she’s more at peace and can offer Dreamer reassurance and comfort.

7. Brainy’s Plot

Brainy’s storyline in Season 5 is nice because it manages to remain stable as an important, but secondary, plot. It enhances the sense that there’s more going on than we realize and gives us a view into the scheming of the villains, while not taking over too much screentime or audience brainspace.

8. Jon Cryer

As annoying as it is that the writers gave up a lot of Lena’s screentime to Lex, Jon Cryer’s performance in Season 5 is just wonderful. He can go from acting totally in control to screaming in a matter of seconds. Lex Luthor is witty, assured, and charming in a weird way. On the other side of his personality, he is a madman who cares about no one’s interests but his own. Jon Cryer’s acting manages to package all this great but conflicting writing into a brilliant, awful, occasionally sympathetic villain who has more than his share of awesome (and terrifying) scenes.

9. Alex’s Grief

I like that Alex gets to let go of her emotions a little this season and express herself. Especially when Jeremiah dies before 5x16, Alex has a really tough time (and a mention of her possibly drinking problem! Expand, please!). She tries to escape from the pain of real life through virtual reality, but eventually realizes that she has to face her pain rather than avoid it, which is a major theme of the season. What’s great about 5x16 and the next couple episodes is that the other characters allow her to grieve. They could have told her to get over it and see all the happiness in the real world — it would have fit with the theme — but instead, they support Alex as she grieves. They listen without judgement when she expresses her anger that Jeremiah left and forced her to take care of Kara. Kara and Kelly are (mostly) understanding when Alex doesn’t want to go to Jeremiah’s funeral, and when Alex arrives late at the end of the episode, Kara lets her know how much she appreciates that Alex came at all. Throughout her life, Alex hasn’t had much opportunity to be herself and express her emotions, an idea that’s repeated over and over again starting from her coming-out arc in Season 2 or even earlier. Now that Kara can for the most part take care of herself and Alex has a good support system, she finally gets the opportunity to be vulnerable.

10. Andrea Rojas’s Moral Ambiguity

Is Andrea good or bad? Neither. She’s a person who wants love, success, and money, who does sketchy things to promote her company but also fights fiercely for her father and cares about the safety of her technology. Before Andrea, Lena was the main morally ambiguous character, and she could be categorized as “playing for her own team.” However, Andrea goes a step further, crossing into a territory I would call “not playing a game at all.” She’s just a human being trying to have a good life, and that causes her to do good things, bad things, and everything in between. In a show that often accentuates the difference between heroes and villains (“Don’t let them down by stooping to his level,” 5x15), Andrea is a reminder that most people aren’t good or bad -- they’re just living their lives.

TL;DR: They’re all adults now and Lena needs a hug.

#supergirl #supergirl season 5 #kara danvers #lena luthor #j'onn j'onzz #kelly olsen #dansen #nia nal #dreamer #brainiac 5 #alex danvers #andrea rojas

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consumedkings-archive · 4 years

Text

ancient names, pt. vi

A John Seed/Original Female Character Fanfic

Ancient Names, pt vi: dark, and drenched in longing

Masterlink Post

Word Count: ~4.7k

Rating: M for now, rating will change in later chapters as things develop.

Warnings: Language, some “light” religious blasphemy (it’s Far Cry 5). Strong canon deviance from here on out. Mentions of blood/carnage, the frantic energy of people who both hate and are attracted to each other. Also, for this chapter in particular, the forced use of psychotropic drugs (also canon-typical?? I guess). John being himself. Per usual.

Notes: Hi! I'm going to keep these short and sweet because, basically, I have nothing to say for myself. I hope you guys enjoy! I mean it when I say every interaction makes my day. I swear I'm just as awkward in a real conversation as I sound in these notes and I'm not scary at all, so please feel free to come and say hi!

As always, thank you again to everyone who reads! I am so happy to be back in a writing groove with these two idiots again.

Theirs was a strange sort of allyship.

Tentative, to be sure, and certainly strained. But if four days ago you’d told John that he’d be sitting in a van with Junior Deputy Elliot Honeysett driving him straight to his brother, the man she'd slapped cuffs on and tried to arrest at the behest of a U.S. marshal, he’d have laughed in your face. The idea was ridiculous. Expansively, endlessly, incredibly ridiculous.

And yet, if John ignored the clink of the cuffs binding them together, and the knowledge that this van belonged to a strange, traveling band of cultists, he almost felt like he had been tricked into some kind of fucked-up romcom. As soon as they hit the highway, Elliot turned the radio on to the resistance’s repaired music channels, smoked her cigarette down, and leaned back against her seat as though she had not been viciously threatening to kill him just days ago.

Did she still think that? Did he care? John felt his brows furrow and he turned his head away, watching the treeline. He didn’t think he cared. He would say, so what if Elliot still wants to kill me? She needed him, and that was more than he’d gotten out of her in the whole time that she’d been under his thumb.

He didn’t care if she still wanted to kill him, and the thought that maybe she might did not thrill him, and he was not distracted by the stretch of her midriff when she shifted in her seat, and—

—And these were all things that he didn’t struggle with, certainly, because if asked, John would say that yes, he supposed that Elliot Honeysett could be considered conventionally attractive , but only when she wasn’t baring her teeth like a wild animal, only when she didn’t have a gun in her hands, only when she wasn’t making you say please to save the life of someone you didn’t even know the name of.

So, yes, he supposed, she was pretty: and John did not know why in particular he had to leap through those loops to get to that point silently, by himself, but, here he was.

“Oh, I love this song,” Elliot announced suddenly, turning the volume up and startling John out of the reverie he’d plunged himself into. His eyes narrowed when he recognized the song; the very typical back-water-town radio station playing Guns’N’Roses was not beyond his comprehension, and yet he found himself displeased nonetheless.

“Really, deputy?” John asked, staring at her across the console. “You love this song?”

Elliot dropped her glasses— my glasses, John reminded himself irritably—down the bridge of her nose so she could stare at him over the top of them. “It’s a classic, John.”

The radio blared the chorus of Welcome To The Jungle , and John said, “I cannot take you seriously with this music.”

She laughed, apparently pleased by his disdain, cranked the volume higher. Over the sound of aggressive guitar riffs sliding up and down and Boomer barking excitedly in the back, John shouted, “Why don’t we just alert everyone of where we are, hm?”

“Oh, you’re spoiling the fun.” She turned the volume back down, tsking her tongue, and John rolled his eyes. It was so very typical Elliot, to want to enjoy herself at the exact moment that he was trying to remind himself of all the reasons that he disliked her.

A period of silence stretched between them; tranquil, blissful, just for one moment, before John’s gaze slid back to her. She did look peaceful, at that moment, her ponytail smooth and adjusted, her brows relaxed, coughing occasionally into the crook of her elbow but otherwise breathing fine. Relaxed. At ease—with him, of all people. Wouldn't she be furious to know it?

John’s fingers itched. Soft, he thought, reminded of Joseph’s words; you have to love them, John. It wasn’t his style, not particularly, more suited to persuasion rather than fostering mercy as Joseph did.

He kept his voice light and casual when he asked, “Where did you get your scars, deputy?”

He watched—and watched and watched —to catch her reaction. He couldn’t see her eyes through the reflective shades she wore, but he did see the way her fingers tightened on the wheel, saw the push and pull of her jaw muscle as her teeth worked in her mouth, grinding, perhaps crushing the words she wanted to say between them. He braced himself for the vitriol; it would certainly be something along the lines of, I got them from Go Fuck Yourself USA, John, I’m the goddamn mayor or any suitable string of expletives.

Instead, Elliot prompted, “Who’s asking?”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon?”

“I said, who’s asking?” she reiterated, not once looking at him. “Is this John Seed, or John Duncan?” Hearing her say the name like this—as though John Duncan were at all comparable to the man that John Seed was—made his chest prickle, anger and disdain welling up inside of him.

“That’s not my name,” John bit out. “Don’t play games with me, deputy—”

“I know your fucking cult psycho-bombing tactics, Seed,” Elliot replied, her voice sharp and quick as a whip. John opened his mouth to protest, but she went on, “You might think you’re being clever, waiting until I crack a smile to ask me an invasive question, but you’re not. First, you ask me where my scars come from, and when I open up about my past traumas—”

“So it’s a trauma,” John insisted, but Elliot was already railroading on; any footing he felt he’d was gone.

“—then you say some stupid shit like, have you ever really felt at home with your family, Deputy Honeysett? I could give you a home, Deputy Honeysett, which you would say, because for some reason you don’t understand the concept of someone being a Junior Deputy or having a first name—”

“It was just a question, Elliot ,” John interrupted, effectively ending her barrage. “I was only trying to make small talk with you. I noticed them back at the ranch, and since we’re in a car for several hours together, I thought…”

Elliot’s lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s your first mistake, then. You tried to form a cohesive train of thought.” Her voice dripped with a honeyed, pitiful timbre, “I know how hard that is for you.”

“Alright, thank you for this stimulating conversation, you literal child,” John snipped out. “And you’re still wearing my fucking glasses, by the way.”

“Take them back, then.”

John stared at her. The idea of putting his hand close to Elliot’s face was not only a dangerous one because it was in close proximity to her teeth—proven by her many run-ins with his acolytes before to be suitable weapons in a pinch—but because he worried.

He worried that the willingness for soft contact would make him soft, the way it had felt when Elliot tucked herself against his chest to combat the chilly Montana evening. He worried that getting familiar and comfortable with a feral and untamed creature like Elliot Honeysett would change him, and to be changed by someone like her —

“Consider them a gift.” He kept his voice clipped. “From me to you. They’re Gucci, you know.”

“Oh, very generous of you, Herald. What, little old me, nobody Elliot from Hope County, Nowhere-Montana, with her first pair of Gucci shades? Why, I’d never .” A little bit of a sweet Southern-belle drawl slipped in there, and John didn’t know if it was because of the dramatics or if it was an accent she’d mostly lost and only occasionally regained.

But his stomach twisted a little when she used his title, the patronizing drip of her tone going straight to the headache blooming behind his eyes. “You know, deputy—”

Instinctively, he paused; he waited for her timely interjection, as she was so comfortable doing, but yet again the moment he anticipated it she remained silent. Elliot arched a dark-honey eyebrow and waited. John cleared his throat.

“I think I’ve never met a more troubled woman than you,” he continued casually. “To suspect me of such foul intentions when I only want to know my driving companion better, I’m genuinely wounded.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Elliot acquiesced, and for a moment—just one teeny-tiny moment—John thought she meant it; and then she said, “But I’d prefer we not get too friendly, as you were just considering drowning me in a river filled with drugs just a few days ago, and...”

The blonde’s words trailed off. The van rolled to a crawl, and when he looked forward, he saw the remains of the fire assault that they had just escaped a day ago; two Eden’s Gate trucks, and flimsy barricades that had been pushed off of the road. No bodies in sight.

It was almost a relief, if he was being honest—he wasn’t sure how many more flower-stuffed corpses he could see before he finally decided to rip his own eyeballs out.

Any playful heat had died out of Elliot’s expression. She was somber now, the lines of her expression harder than before. In the back of the van, Boomer whined, and John could hear the swishing of his tail against the floor.

“I don’t like that they took the bodies,” she said after a moment.

“Me either.”

The next thirty minutes of the drive passed in strange, awkward silence. Elliot looked like she wanted to say something and wouldn’t; he could feel her gaze dipping over to him on occasion, but each time he thought her mouth was opening to let out what was on her mind, she’d just exhale. By the time they’d cleared the field where the tracks from their last ride had dug in and left the barricade far behind them, dark, heavy storm clouds had rolled in; he rolled his window down and felt the heady pre-storm humidity like a slap in the face.

No good, John thought, a few drops hitting his hand before he rolled up the window. He felt the thunder rumble deep in the marrow of his bones. The rain went from a drizzle to a steady silver sheet, and then to a torrential downpour by the time they’d been driving for just under an hour, and eventually Elliot pulled to the side of the road.

“We have to pull in somewhere,” she announced. “This van is great for toting cults around, but it’s not great for avoiding hydroplaning off of the road.”

“Well, isn’t off-roading your specialty?” John quipped. She shot him a glare, pushing his sunglasses up onto her head and nestling them into her hair.

“Yes, actually, now that you mention it,” Elliot replied tartly, “but not when I can’t see where I’m fucking going.”

“We’re only an hour and a half or so away from Joseph,” John insisted. “You really don’t think you can make it there?”

Elliot heaved a sigh. Her fingers fluttered over her forehead and the bridge of her nose like she had a headache that was a twin to his own, and every time he spoke, he was exacerbating it. That was probably true—and John was happier for it because the times when Elliot had been most compliant were when she was the most genuinely inhibited.

“I don’t like not being able to see who’s behind us or coming around the corner,” she insisted after a moment. “It doesn’t matter how close or far Joseph is. What matters is that there’s a group of nutjobs out there who apparently have insurmountable resources to take over a whole county in a single day, and I will not —”

She stopped, as though to calm herself, and John waited; impatient, but silent.

“I will not,” Elliot finished, “get kidnapped by one more fucking cult, John Seed.”

Lightning crackled in the distance, and the rain pelted the windshield violently. Another rumble of thunder went spiraling above them; Boomer whined, his ears flat against his skull. John could see Elliot’s fingers gripping the steering wheel until they went bone-white, but each time her grip loosened to let the circulation back in through her fingers, they trembled.

“Fine,” John said. “Pull off into the trees up there, then. We’ll take a break and pick up again when the rain lets up.”

“Thank you,” Elliot said, pulling down from the side of the road and winding her way out of sight of any traffic that might be coming; no venom laced her voice, only relief, and there was no follow-up jab, either. Under the shelter of the trees, the rain felt less violent, and already John felt the tension fleeing his own shoulders.

As soon as Elliot turned the van off, the motor ticking absently, John rumbled, “I think that’s the nicest you’ve ever been to me, deputy.”

She got up out of the seat, shimmying her way past the console and into the back where Boomer had been enjoying the right, pulling hard enough to yank John’s arm and force him to shimmy back with her. The gesture was awkward, and he only complied because he didn’t want to be sitting in the front seat with their arms slung at the angle to allow her back there.

“It’s incredible what a little decency can get you,” she deadpanned. She opened the back door of the van to let Boomer out, the dog taking off happily into the brush. Stretching out her legs in the more spacious, empty back of the van, Elliot wiped some rain from her face and made herself comfortable. John settled against the wall of the car, absently pulling at the cuff still locked around his wrist.

“I can be plenty decent,” he replied, almost sly, a little grin ticking the corner of his mouth upward. “But you already knew that.”

Elliot groaned. “You’re still on about the fact that one time in a bar like, three years ago, you hit on me when I was drunk and you might have had a chance?”

“I think we both know there’s a little more to it than that.”

She rolled her eyes. She could not have, perhaps, been more dramatic than she was in that moment, although John reminded himself that he had often considered Elliot could not be more of many things—impatient, infuriating, prone to violence—than she already was, and she had proved him wrong many times before.

“All I’m saying is,” John continued, “somewhere, deep down in that teeny-tiny heart of yours, deputy—”

“One time,” Elliot interrupted, holding up a finger to accentuate the number. “One time, many moons ago, I thought a man named John in a bar was objectively attractive. This was before I knew what your personality was like.”

John laughed. “You don’t need to like someone’s personality to fuck them, deputy,” he said and basked in the way her expression scrunched up, as though a particularly sour flavor had just seeped into her mouth.

“I do,” Elliot replied, “and every day, I thank God that Joey Hudson had the good sense to keep me on the straight and narrow.”

“Amen.”

Her gaze flashed with something that might have been amusement. She coughed into her elbow, turning her face away from him to glance out the window at the trees, their branches and leaves swaying in the wind but becoming more and more still the deeper into the woods they went.

“So you think I’m attractive, then.”

“Please stop talking,” Elliot groaned, head lolling against the back of the driver’s seat. “John, if I tell you that I think you’re handsome when your mouth is closed, will you shut the fuck up?”

John’s mouth curved in a half-grin, his chest welling pleasantly at her words. It may have been more than a little petty, to like the words coming out of her mouth—Elliot Honeysett, who would probably strangle him to death with her bare hands if given the opportunity, admitting that he was handsome.

“I might be more inclined,” he offered, sly. She rolled her eyes.

“I’m closing my eyes,” she announced, kicking her legs out and nudging his foot out of the way.

Absolutely childish, John thought absently and without much fervor, compliantly moving his foot out of the way for her. “Just use your words, deputy.”

“Certainly, anything for you,” Elliot purred. “I want you to shut up.”

He flashed her a grin, leaning his head back against the window. Rain pattered against the glass, and somewhere out in the distance, he heard Boomer’s happy bark as he did whatever it was that dogs did in the woods; hunt smaller things, perhaps.

“It’s nice to want things, isn’t it?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Elliot did not know how long she had been asleep when she finally woke up.

She knew that she had been allowed to sleep uninterrupted, which was the first red flag—there was no way that John would just let her sleep and sleep and let the day tick them by. As she slowly came to, through the corner of her eye she could see that he’d fallen asleep, too, shifting restlessly against the window.

The second thing she realized was that the rain hadn’t stopped, and the reason that she became immediately aware of it was that the back doors of the van were open. She hadn’t done it, obviously, and she couldn’t fathom why in the world John would leave the back doors of the van open, so then the question in her foggy mind persisted; who?

And then someone grabbed her ankle and pulled.

The back of her head hit the metal floor of the van with a heavy thud , the world spinning in her vision as she was pulled closer to the outside world, even as her legs kicked. Panic rose in her throat, violent and hot, and instantly her hand went to reach for John, his name spilling out of her mouth in a desperate attempt to wake him up.

His eyes fluttered open. Groggily, he said, “Elliot?” and as she was yanked violently down he got pulled, too, slammed forward face-first into the floor of the van, biting out a swear that only barely registered in her mind as she struggled to wake up.

She twisted to look at her attacker—a tall redhead with a nasty scar dragging his lip in a permanent sneer. Elliot recognized him as the same red-head that had been handling Faith for the woman from before, the same man who’d nearly rammed his van into hers on the road just a day ago.

His hand fisted in the front of her shirt; he drawled in his thick, round accent, “Go back to sleep, little one,” and slammed her head back against the floor with purpose, her vision going sticky, staticky black on the edges.

She felt the heavy pain blooming behind her eyes. The weight of it dragged her eyelids down; she swam in inky black, only vaguely aware of the sound of raised voices, the feeling of a damp cloth being draped over her mouth, the sensation of floating, as though she were drifting underwater with everyone else shouting above her; all of these things began to fade, slipping through her fingers like sand until there was nothing left except for the empty, hollow black filling her up.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Elliot?”

It was John’s voice, she thought, or maybe not; it was hard to tell. Hands pressed to the tops of her shoulders, the pressure a welcoming comfort. Her chin was tucked against her chest, and she lifted her head—not without significant effort—and opened her eyes.

The world pulsed around her, colors bleeding brightly and violently against her irises. She was in a field—

(I’m in a field? But the floor—)

—and John was kneeling in front of her, his hands coming up to take her face. There was no smugness, no venom in his expression; only concern.

“I was so worried,” John said. “I was so worried about you, Elliot.”

“John,” Elliot said, and when she said his name it felt like the letters were spilling out of her mouth, choking her on the way out. A warm breeze tickled the edges of her vision, and the sunlight hemorrhaged into the grass, into the ground, oscillating in time with her heartbeat. A strange, sticky feeling wound up inside of her.

John said her name again. When she looked at him, his eye sockets were blooming, beautiful purple blooms pouring out of them, brushing his cheekbones like eyelashes. The feeling in her chest deepened; grief, she thought, with desperation, agony, hollowing her out, dread , filling her back up again, nothing but a vessel for the deepest emotions to be carried in.

“I was so worried about you,” John said again. Soft petals tumbled out of his mouth when he spoke. He gripped the sides of her face and pressed their foreheads together, and she started to cry, shaking her head. “My Elliot,” he said, over the sound of her crying, his thumbs brushing the tears from her face, “my Elliot.”

She thought that her skin must be burning, from the inside out, everywhere his hands touched; sliding down her throat, along the slope of her collarbone, gripping her shoulders. Hungry, and burning, lighting her on fire as he murmured, “My Elliot.”

His hands skimmed her face. They felt different, then softer and more slender; she closed her eyes tightly, willing the horror of it to go away, for the clammy terror to slip off of her skin.

“Open your eyes, mor. Did the visions scare you? ” a soft voice asked, the words slinking across her skin, serpentine and cold. She did as she was told, even when she thought, I don’t want to open my eyes, her body operating obediently.

Soft, dark eyes. Wisps of dirty-blonde hair that curtained Elliot’s face. Her head was in the woman’s lap and the night sky stretched, cloudy and endless, above them. Ase smiled at her dreamily.

“I saw your color the minute I laid eyes on you,” Ase whispered. She said the words like they were meant to be treasured, kept between them, only them. Elliot’s eyes fluttered and she tried to will herself to move. Her body was non-compliant, heavy as lead, and the warmth of a tear moving haltingly down her cheek made her skin prickle with goosebumps.

With the touch of a doting mother, Ase wiped the tear from her cheek, the pad of her thumb sliding along the slope of Elliot’s cheekbone, and then brushed the hair from her face. Now, Elliot could see more clearly the way her pupils were blown wide, swallowing up the color of her irises, crushing it in the event horizon of her eyes. She murmured, reverently, “I saw your color, mor, I saw you. Have you ever felt seen? We waited for you, for so long.”

Elliot moaned, misery stinging in the sound. Her lip trembled. She thought, I don’t want to be seen, the way Ase reiterated it making her vulnerable. I don’t want to be seen, I don’t want this. But she couldn’t make the words come out, her jaw hanging slack when she opened her mouth, the knowledge that they had done something to her flickering only briefly through her mind before it was swallowed up by something else.

“I’ll let you go.” Ase’s voice remained silken, spinning around her, weaving a cocoon. “I’ll let you go, mor , but only because I know that you will always come back to us.” She skimmed her fingers lovingly across Elliot’s forehead and whispered into her skin, “Now go back to sleep.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

John found her curled up, her fingers sinking into the earth like she was afraid she was going to float away, and sobbing.

His head was pounding; he felt disoriented, and panicked, the same kind of strange, distant panic that happened when he fell asleep during the day and woke up to it being night. He could only remember the sound of Elliot saying his name jerking him out of his sleep in the van, the sensation of getting pulled forward violently, and the feeling of someone slamming his head into the side of the van.

And then, waking up in a field, in the dark, alone.

He had struggled to his feet when he awoke. He had thought, the handcuffs are off . He had thought, I have to find Elliot. And then he’d started walking, saying her name, until he heard the sound of her crying and found her.

“Elliot,” he said urgently. His mouth felt incredibly dry; he was worried that if he spoke too much, his skin would split. He reached for her when she turned to look at him, and when she saw him she moaned, the sound that came out of her the same kind of sound an animal with its leg caught in a trap would make.

A slur of protests came out of her. A line of no’s that all blurred together, but when brought her to a sitting position she only shrunk away from him a little. He took the sides of her face in his hands and searched her for any sign of wounds or harm that might have come to her: but there was nothing. She was, it appeared, physically untouched.

“Hey,” John managed out. “It’s me, Elliot. I’ve got you.”

She blinked blearily at him. Her face was flushed, puffy, and tears dotted and darkened her lower lashes. Her pupils nearly ate up the entirety of those baby blues; clearly, she’d been drugged. She said, “John?” and he nodded.

“Yes, Rook. It’s me.”

“They did something to me,” Elliot said, her voice rising in her distress. “John—”

“They’re gone,” he said, without confirming her fears. “We have to move, though. Can you stand?”

The blonde hesitated for a moment and then nodded—he supposed she would have to fight through the remains of whatever they had put in her. He stood, taking her hands and helping her as she wobbled to a stand as well. It was hard to figure out exactly where they were, with no road in sight, but the haze of his sleep—which he now thought must also be medically induced—was still weighing on him.

“We have to move,” he said again, Elliot’s fingers clutching his hands so tight it almost hurt. He scanned the horizon of the field, touching on the dip of a hill, a river, and then a treeline. His eyes strained. He thought he might have seen headlights through the dim of them, but it was hard to tell.

It was also all he had to go on.

“Come on,” John said, her hands still locked around his like he was anchoring her to the earth. Unable to guess what they’d drugged her with, he imagined it probably felt like that.

“John,” Elliot said, her voice impossibly small as they began to walk, her steps halting and uneasy, “They did something to me.”

His jaw tightened. He hated this; he hated Elliot like this, emotionally wounded and voice wobbling, because all of a sudden he thought that this was not the Elliot he knew, not his Elliot at all. Where was the venom? The steel? Where had she gone?

Buried, he supposed, under psychotropic drugs, of which he knew not the origin nor the duration.

The rain clouds had moved along; the earth smelled wet, and fresh, the scent of it welling up inside of them, and as they walked his mind felt clearer and clearer. With clarity came the knowledge that they had been trapped; the cultists had had them, and had chosen to leave them alive. For what?

“I know,” John said again, his voice rough with his forcefully-induced sleep. Elliot’s fingers dug into his arm where they clutched, the feverish pitch of her body heat seeping through his clothes from how close she lingered. “You’re fine, deputy, I’ve got you.”

He tried not to think too hard about the voice that echoed in his head, for now.

#far cry 5 #john seed #fc5 #john seed/oc #john seed/deputy #enemies to lovers #what can i say these two psychos were made for each other #this chapter features: elliot being an absolute mess #per usual #she just wants to hang out w her dog ok #leave her alone #ch: john seed #ch: elliot honeysett #otp: death keep off; i am your enemy #fic: ancient names #my writing #john seed/ofc

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capricornus-rex · 4 years

Text

A Legacy Begun (5)

gif not mine. found and saved in pinterest

Chapter 5: The Child | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt + their follow-up prompt & fic idea

A/N: Don’t worry, no one died of sadness after giving birth.

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 | Previous: Part 4 | Next: Part 6 | Masterlist

5 of ?

The months flew by, it only felt like yesterday when you told the news and now you’re currently in the ninth month. Any day now, the baby would be due. But you haven’t felt the signs yet.

The feeling of not holding a lightsaber and seeing action for a while was perhaps the biggest adjustment you’ve ever made; recalling the years where you’ve kept yourself low from the Imperials’ radar and having to limit the times you held your saber, this was far different than that.

To pass the time, you and Cal often strolled together just to keep yourself active. The Mantis continued its travels from time to time, but it would always find itself home in Cerinda and would occasionally return to Bogano for old time’s sake. The two of you stopped by the stream that branched out of the lake, something about that part of the forest became like a magnet to the both of you. Even in your expectant state, you were still the same sprightly girl who would dip her toes into the cold water at any given chance.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. Beaming brightly and excitedly as you spoke, “I want to have our baby in this one planet that my master and I used to go to for a campaign.”

“Oh?” Cal propped his cheek against his fist, dreamily gazing at you while you pluck flowers by the shoreline and set them floating into the gentle current.

“The planet, Ilaro,” you craned your head to him. “It’s a neutral planet by the Outer Rim, but it’s very peaceful there. No Imperials, no fighting,”

He heard you sigh as you daydream about the planet in your mind. He kept smiling as he listened.

“If only you’ve seen it, Cal—oceans clear and bright blue like the sky that they almost conjoin, the city that Master and I went to was so extravagant yet quaint, much like Reema here but a bit bigger,” you trail off, and then smiled as the last, finishing thought entered your mind and turned to your husband. “And oh, I know the perfect place for us: by the hillside north of the city. There’s another town there, it’s small but I think it’ll do for us,”

He hummed in reply, enamored by your idea but mostly at your radiance. You couldn’t stay mad at him for only half-listening. You’re endeared by his droopy, dreamy eyes and the smile that still stood out even through his stubble that he personally kept to a certain thinness of his liking.

“What is it?” you giggled.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he cooed. “I just can’t help but stare even while you talk, I’m sorry.”

You caress his scruffy jaw, he willingly inches to you as he comes in for a kiss. You secretly chuckled when his stubble tickled you and you liked it when he did.

“I can’t stay mad, darling,”

That afternoon, you tended to the plants in the terrarium, shearing the weeds and other overgrowth that crowded the soil bed. It sooner became half a flower garden and a half a medicinal herb garden, you and Merrin shared sides of the terrarium respectively; Greez was cooking up some lunch while Cere continued her favorite pastime of splicing and hacking Imperial communications, but also found out about how to trace long-range frequencies as far as two to three parsecs.

“Have you ever thought if they’re a boy or a girl, [y/n]?”

“I have, but my mind changes every now and then—one day I’ll think it’s a boy, and then the next it’s a girl,” you chuckled. “Cal and I have been debating the same thing.”

“You’re at your ninth month, anyway. I’m sure it’ll come soon,”

“Yes, soon,” you trailed off echoing the Nightsister’s words.

Later, Cal came back with game that he had hunted in the forest’s inner meadows. One of Cerinda’s fauna that you’ve found a taste for was the Chorcap—a medium-sized, horned quadrupedal animal, it was slightly shorter than a Nerf in height and less hairy too, but it was stocky in build, making it prized for their meat. Merchants in Reema would buy for the horns, butchers would get portioned cuts, and Cal would haggle with those butchers for the portions.

“I’m back,” Cal chirped as he entered the ship. “Got some extra Chorcap on the road.”

“Oh finally! I thought this stew would never be done if it weren’t for you,” Greez grunted.

“Relax, Greez, here—the seasonings you asked for,”

Cal tossed a pouch to Greez to which the captain expertly caught with his bottom right arm and continued to stir the pot. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek as you tended the little indoor garden and seated himself by the dining table.

“That smells good!” your husband exclaimed.

“Without these spices, my stew would be as bland as unfermented Merenzane Gold!”

From time to time, you’d conceal your expressions whenever your belly contracted. You’ve pretty much anticipated the baby’s due, but it was the pain that you tried to hide—not wanting to disturb everyone at your expense.

Minutes later, Greez called everybody for lunch, you helped in setting the table and serving out the helpings for each plate. The aroma of the stew wafted around the Mantis, making all the stomachs rumble, and come running towards the table. Lunch became more animated as conversations and topics volleyed here and there. You turned to BD-1 perched over the rim of the table between the lounge.

“Say, BD, do you still have the scan of the Binog?”

“What for?”

“Oh, you’ll see, hon,” you ended it with a smile.

After lunch and helping with the dishes, you retreated to the bedroom with BD-1 perched over your shoulder. You seated yourself by the workbench, producing spools of thread, buttons, filler cotton, and fabrics of different colors—all coming from the business district in Reema. You produced a holodisk and held it close to the droid

“Can you transfer the Binog’s hologram scan here, BD?”

“Wooo!” the little droid whirred out its splicer and connected itself to the holodisk’s port. Seconds later, the hologram of the great creature of Bogano flickered above the holodisk’s projector.

“Thank you, BD,” you rewarded the droid with head pats before starting with your work.

You drew patterns for each part of the animal and then sheared them piece by piece. Holding them together with pins, you started sewing the main body first—leaving an opening for the stuffing later—and then moved on to the legs and tail. Your slender fingers gracefully twisted, curled, and threaded with the stitches as you went on—pushing the needle and then pulling the thread—until it was starting to take shape. Glancing at the projection every once in a while to check if you’re getting the likeness correctly.

“Booo!”

“That’s right, BD, I’m making the Binog—though a smaller version, for the small one,” you cooed.

When the limbs and tail have joined the body and head, the next step was to sew in the fins that lined its spine all the way to the tail and its ears. You had the patterned fabrics at the ready, you just needed to stitch them. Cal walked in to the bedroom, finding you sitting back relaxed while sewing together a toy Binog.

“That’s actually pretty cute,” he beamed.

“Thank you, but it’s not finished yet,”

The finishing touches were the button eyes. A pair of solid black buttons were secured in an X-like stitch on its head. Two tiny white triangles were sewn along the mouth for its fangs that peeked out even with the actual creature’s mouth closed. Finally, BD-1 helped you stuff the toy with the cotton since his little claws could fit the openings you left for each body part.

“Thanks for your help, BD,” you sealed the filler openings and held it in your hand. “There we go!”

“That’s adorable,” your husband commented.

Even if it was never your intention to worry everybody—your husband, especially—you just couldn’t control the instance where your knees buckle and your muscles felt like tightening with a great force. As you struggled to stand up, everybody in the ship was alarmed by your cry of pain. All of a sudden, the swirling in your stomach started to tense up.

“The baby’s coming…!” you struggled to calmly breathe.

“Cere! Merrin!” Cal cried, scooping you up from your seat at the workbench and carefully settling you down on the bed.

“Whoa, whoa, what’s happening!?” Greez was infected with the same panic and alarm as the two ladies. The captain definitely heard your cries, he just didn’t think the baby was coming now.

Your ankles jerked as your toes curled tightly, your hand gripped the sheets as you tried to fight off the contraction pains. Cal ignored the hard grip that’s crumpling his sleeve as you broke down sobbing in pain.

“I know a place!” Cere exclaimed. “Captain, set a course to Polis Massa! Grid coordinates K-20, NOW!”

“It’s two parsecs away via jump to hyperspace!” Greez argued.

“Captain, just do it!” the woman snapped back.

“You’re gonna be okay, [y/n], do you hear me?” Cal’s voice cracked while squeezing back your free hand.

“[y/n], breathe,” Merrin calmly chanted, it became her mantra to you as the minutes went on.

The jump to lightspeed felt like an eternity as you battled the excruciating pain. Your body tossed and turned, finding a position where the cramping hurt less. Your legs thrashed, your vision blackened around the edges as you struggled to breathe in a slow pace—it only lessened the cramping to an extent but you don’t know for how long you could hold it.

Cere came barging in the bedroom.

“We’re near our destination. How is she holding up?”

“She’s trying to breathe calmly, I strongly object in using my magick on her,” the Nightsister reported.

“My head is burning!”

Cal pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, “She’s having a fever! How much farther until we reach Polis Massa?”

Before Cere could reply, the feedback of Greez’s microphone crackled through the speakers.

“Hold on, folks! It’s gonna be a bumpy ride!” the Lateron announced.

Cere sprang back to the cockpit, swerving and catching her balance as the ship rumbled. The turbulence didn’t help much, but you kept holding onto Cal’s hand.

“Cere, you didn’t tell me that we’re running into an asteroid field!”

“Because Polis Massa is on the asteroid field!”

“And this is a medical station we’re talking about!”

Greez steered closer to the largest asteroid until he found a cluster of silver infrastructures sticking out on the largest rock in the field. Cere had no further qualms about that, she turned and tapped the buttons and knobs on her communication station in the ship to send the urgent transmission.

“This is Jedi Cere Junda, we are in need of urgent medical assistance! A crew member has gone into labor and is about to give birth, please!”

“Transmission verified, you are allowed to dock. We’ll have a ward and medical droids ready for her,”

The medical droids stationed there were on full alert, a couple of the wardens came out of the building with a gurney prepared for you as they anticipated your arrival. The ship maneuvered and hovered carefully by the landing pad.

“We’re here,” Cal whispered to you, hoping to console you.

“Where are we?” you murmured.

“Polis Massa,” he scooped you up from the bed, carried you all the way out of the Mantis and then laying you down on the gurney waiting for you.

The female wardens briskly pushed your gurney towards the medical bay and then to the available ward that was ready for you. The human nurses cooed and whispered to you in comforting, melodic voices; coaxing you and telling you everything down to the littlest detail.

“We’re going to carry you to the next bed, alright?”

“Okay…” you replied, your eyes were too heavy to direct your vision to whichever nurse was speaking to you.

The nurses traded diagnoses with one another and then relayed them to the medical droids, reflecting your vital signs onto their computers and holographs.

“Vitals are fine, no remarkable findings,”

“Blood pressure is stable,”

The nurses helped you lift up your knees as a midwife droid hovered slowly towards you. The entire crew watched through the glass wall of your room, they all leaned against the opposite wall but it was your husband who eagerly stayed behind the glass.

“Is she going to be alright?” he asked the one nurse who exited your room.

“Yes, it’s good that you’ve brought her here on such short notice,”

“We were only two parsecs away from here,” Cere added.

The nurse had allowed Cal to enter the ward—for only one non-patient was permitted to accompany the patient—he sat by your side, close to your head. He stroked your hair as you take deep breaths before pushing.

Cal watched the red fill your cheeks as you tried to push, following the pace of the midwife droid that’s coaxing you. He ignored your screeching cries, he wiped away the tears that rolled away from your eyes as you breathed through clenched teeth, preparing for the next.

An infant cry filled the room, Cal’s head instantly turned to the end of the bed where the midwife droid held your newborn—he watched the droid clean the infant on the spot and swaddle it in a soft, white sheet. He stood up and held the tiniest human being he’s ever seen in his entire life. A tinge of orange strands adorned the little one’s head.

“It’s a girl,” he gasped.

He approached you with your daughter in his arms, he held her close to you so you may look at her crumpled, crying little face.

“Cassidy,” you whispered.

Cal heard you utter the name. You traded glances and he smiled. A teardrop glimmered at the edge of his eye.

“Cassidy.” He echoed. The baby’s tiny hand hooked around his finger and he could’ve sworn he felt his heart burst out of his ribs, “My little Cassidy.”

He held his baby daughter right in front of him. Dark, round, shining eyes blinked back at him as Cassidy’s stubby arms squirmed, lightly hitting his cheeks and jaw with smooth, soft hands.

“She has your eyes,” Cal choked.

“She has your hair,” you manage a chuckle.

“You did great, darling,” he sat down, level to you and planted a kiss on your forehead while the Mantis crew watched the little family have their greatest moment yet.

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