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all-about-seggs · 3 years

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A pact in blood-

Rating: 18+, Explicit

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Fem! Reader

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Semi-incest (Satoru is your cousin/ distant relative), masturbation, Cunnilingus, fingering, hand job, the relationship is a bit messed up, yandereish undertones.

A/n: This takes place when he's still in the academy.* Image source*

“AA-ahhh! Please don’t- don’t stop…”,

Your broken pleas reverberated through the room as Satoru’s deft fingers worked their way in and out of your sopping wet hole. You gripped the sturdy jacket that covered his shoulders, folding the fabric between your fists was the only thing you could do to maintain the last shred of composure you had.

He was like a passing cloud who offered you momentary relief and was on his way as soon as your were done, the fragments of longings that remained on your body etched deeper after every night.

Position after position, he went from your pussy over his lips to eating you out ass up and face down, all for the pleasure you couldn’t seem to get by yourself. You were now splayed out on his lap, face buried in his neck and one arm draped over him for support. Waves of his sweet scent and the euphoria assaulting your senses at the same time, taking you closer and closer to the edge.

It’s been quite some time now but the memory of your first encounter with your unfairly gorgeous cousin Satoru has been etched into your mind as if it happened just yesterday.

You were in the manor of the esteemed Gojo clan for a family event and even though you didn’t shared the same surname you were related nonetheless and were hence invited. It was a four day and three night celebration where the entire place was abuzz with excitement.

It didn’t really mattered to you, being here with a go with a flow kind of attitude, you just minded your own business until spoken to and not mingling with the faceless crowd of people you didn’t even knew the names of.

Thankfully your room was in the separate building which was a little bit further from where all the riotous events centered around. After just half a day of being in the middle of the chaos you wanted to find a way to unwind and that’s when it happened.

Stark naked and two fingers up your little cunt, there was no explaining or bullshitting your way out of this situation when the heir of the household, Satoru Gojo himself walked in in you. Feeble attempts to cover yourself and half hearted stutterings died in your mouth as soon as the young man opened his.

“ Wrong”, the deadpan reply of his made your already shaken up state worsen. Panic flooding in your system begged you to make excuses or atleast request him to not speak of this to anyone, after all families of high status are nothing if not conservative and you didn’t wanted to cause anyone any trouble.

“ I meant, y/n chan, that you’re doing it wrong”, not paying any mind to your internal conflict he continued speaking form where he stood near the door, “ don’t you know how to masturbate? I thought you were in highschool?”

His genuinely perplexed tone made you reconsider your previous opinions about the heir to the clan. Satoru, a guy who walked in on a relative masturbating, was supposed to show courtesy and leave the second he entered but instead he was rating your technique, which in all honesty may have been lacking indeed but you were desperate to cum and he seemed to pick up on that.

“ Since you’re clearly having trouble getting off”, he loosened the obi of his particularly formal kimono and shifted his uncovered ocean blue eyes towards your form, “Want me to teach you?”, his question made you gulp, then gauge your eyeballs out in disbelief. Sure you weren’t closely related and have only spoken once or twice but you attended all the occasions and holiday celebrations at their place and knew that your relationship was only platonic. His offer to cross that line made you flinch back at first.

Heaving a sigh he closed the door and sat cross legged on the tatami mat next to your futon.

“ Relax, t’s not a big deal”, flashing a toothy grin he leaned forward until your noses touched.

“ Afterall, I AM your big brother”

“ wait- you’re also in highschool!”, You retorted, “ I bet you’re a virgin too. So what CAN you teach me anyway?”, overcoming the initial embarrassment, your mouth started moving in its own accord only getting encouraged by his laid back demeanor.

“ Pfttt- so you get defensive when cornered? How cute!”, he giggled, a smile teasing at his lips at your obvious attempt to hide the shame burning in your core.

“Don’t worry, I know my way around a pussy just fine”, light hearted words fell effortlessly from his mouth and you could swear half of your brain was short circuiting because of his crude way of speaking. For all his regal appearance, he was just like any other highschooler, a year older than you but his stature and delicate features gave him a magestic aura that exceeds that of people decades older than him.

Just by the few encounters from the past, you figured he wasn’t one for following traditions or rules if it didn’t suit him. He was way above the rest, in his own distant world everytime you saw him, the school he went to, the things he had experienced were all different.

Forgetting the other's existence after passing each other by with a few formalities exchanged was all you had done with each. You two were never close or even friends but now the chance presented itself to take your non existent relationship to the extreme end through your bodies.

You wanted this.

To feel good. The hormones of youth pumping your impulsiveness you relax your muscles and lie on your back. You could clearly hear Satoru’s playfully indifferent chuckle from above when you slowly part your legs to show him the sides of yourself that even you have never completely seen.

“Just this once, okay?”

He said he was just teaching you how to masturbate but it wasn’t that simple. The only person to get naked was you and the only person who experienced the mind numbing pleasure, was also you. He only needed his deft fingers and mouth to make you feel better and for a while you didn’t even question.

That one lesson of self pleasure which you both were supposed to forget turned into an entire session as day after day Satoru would show up at your parents house unbeknownst to a soul and you both crossed the same lines of platonic relationship everyday.

The euphoria was endless but with a single rule that you weren’t allowed to touch him in turn and it goes without saying that the two of you never went all the way. It would always start with small talks about the day, even when you’d be talking, all your focus was on what was to come next.

That’s why after a few weeks of the detached pleasure he provided you, it got you thinking what he actually wanted from you. Satoru had already seen, touched and tasted all your body had to offer, never revealing any of his own.

You wondered if he ever felt sexually frustrated by always giving and never asking for anything in return. You knew he was not THAT nice. At least that’s what you believed considering his sadistic streak in bed. He did seem to be enjoying himself when he's messing you up so maybe he didn’t have many sexual urges that he needed to satisfy and was just acting on curiosity or maybe he had someone else, someone older with more experience who he didn’t constantly had a upper hand with and was able to see them as an equal. This thought alone made your chest tight, with an unnatural pain that threatened to break your heart.

You had to catch your darkening train of thought before it reached to the conclusion you were most afraid of. Knowing full well that this was just a fleeting moment that is only supposed to be enjoyed through a lens of carefree thinking, you push the budding feelings of the some very complicated emotions out of your system. The surge of jealousy you felt may have born out of falling in love with a family member but it was wrong on so many levels.

A love that starts with lust never ends well for anyone but as you were laying in his arms, the control over your body handed completely to him, your mind wondered how things would feel vice versa.

“ You seem distracted y/n”, Satoru looked at you, with his glasses off the beautiful azure eyes hidden beneath a delicate layer of white eyelashes filled your vison.

“ I’m obviously not doing it right if you have time to get lost in your thoughts”, putting you down on your bed, he started to move away and for a minute you got your hopes up, thinking your chance to finally have him completely and you cursed yourself for wanting at the same time. But no amount of berating would scrub off the insatiable thirst you had, for its roots had already made their way to your heart.

“Please let me help you too”, these few words took a lot of guts, letting go of all the inhibitions and threads of morality you fix Satoru with an unwavering gaze.

“ That’s okay babygirl, I’M the one who does the teaching here afterall”, you saw what he was trying to do, his airy yet gentle tone didn’t left much room for argument but the gray zone of your relationship was blurring to the point of confusion urged you to give into your clamoring emotions.

Without a second thought you jumped on him with all your might, closing the distance he put within seconds to cover his mouth with yours. You knew how much you weighed but despite your aggressive actions his sturdy form didn’t even deter form his position while catching you. You twirled your tongue over the roof of his mouth, the taste of your juices still lingering in there.

Hoping to have proven your resolve that wasn’t going to settle for getting brushed aside you break the kiss and look expectantly at him. An invisible bond between the two of you taking shape, strengthening the magnetism that attracted you to him.

“ That eager for my cock are you?”, Taking your face in one of his huge hand he makes you look straight at him, “You really want more? More than I'm already giving you?”, just one more push. You thought, with just a bit of coaxing, you were sure Satoru's wishy washy rules would crumble to make way for your upcoming actions.

“ I do. I know exactly what I want but”, steeling your nerves you face him, eye to eye, “ What do YOU want?”. The question was simple but the conflict swirling within Satoru’s eyes was evident and for the first time you realised that maybe this wasn’t just a case of casual hookup for him as well.

“ I want all your firsts. That’s all.” After a short stretch of silence he spoke, ironically the borderline obsessiveness of his glib response, like magic, cleared away the fog was previously clouding your mind. The nonchalance of his smirk should've been the red flag that made you rethink your life choices but the heat of the moment only seemed to ignite your lust.

Not uttering a single word, you quickly work on shedding him off his cloths, he doesn’t make any attempts at stopping you this time around, this knowledge pulling a smile out of you. By the time you reached for his boxers your hands were shaking.

Whether from excitement or nervousness you couldn’t tell but looking down through the veil of his heavy eyelashes, Satoru’s passion was evident.

Eyeing up his exposed body you still for a moment to take it all in. You ran you hands through his sculpted chest and down to his abdomen, your nails scratching the surface of his defined muscles. All of his masculinity contrasted with his oddly sweet scent and velvety pink lips that never failed to lure you in for deep soft kisses.

There’s no doubt girls must be always fawning over him and his perfectly smooth skin was something that even made you jealous. You were so captivated by his looks that you had to shake yourself free from your lovesick stupor .

You feel him up a little, hands running across his toned chest, you drag your nails through the rise and dips of his abdomen down to the contours of his defined V- line before turning your attention to his hardening member. Your breath quickens as your trembling fingers hook beneath his waistband.

Taking out his pulsating member you run your eyes up and down his entire length. He was big, to say at the very least. Bigger than you'd expected and more than you thought you could handle but backing out now would be straight up hypocrisy when your drooling mouth said otherwise.

With your ass right next to his chest, you start licking and sucking his tip with fervour, not wanting to waste even a single drop of his cum that you wanted so bad. You heard him moan lightly behind you, his voice only fuelled the fire that was burning your core. Having never given a blow job to anyone before you struggled in keeping a steady pace and his girthy cock didn’t make it any easier on you.

In just a few minutes you jaw ached and your entire face hurted but Satoru showed no signs of cumming.

In your own world again, you racked up your brain to figure out how to please him when suddenly you felt a hand climbing up your thigh. With the other hand he gripped your hips and pulled your lower half until you were straddling his mouth.

“ It’s a lot better like this don’t you think?”, as he spoke you felt his breath caressing your nether lips and you shivered in delight at the new position.

He snaked his hands in between your thighs and spread open your slit, glistening with your dripping arousal using his thumbs. Every single fold of yours now in display Satoru licked his plush lips before leaving open mouthed kisses on the exposed skin. His lips pulling out a series of appreciative hums as you desperately try to focus on your own actions.

Taking his hard length half in your mouth and half in one of your hand you tried to match the skilful movements of Satoru’s tongue that relentlessly lapped at your clit. After a few minutes of trying and failing to suck him up properly your senses got completely clouded by the heavy onslaught of that familiar release you had gotten used to.

You wanted to ask him to stop so you catch up to him but he the vigor in his actions and your own overwhelming surge of desires made you decide against it, the broken stings of his name died down with you still half choking on his length.

The only thing your lust laden mind could decipher except for pleasure was shame. To you, it was shameful how, being the one who asked to touch him, you were the one tethering near the edge. Before long your convulsing pussy was dripping with your juices, trickling down from his face that was still buried nose deep in your crotch.

Messing you up always filled Satoru with a kind of affection that he didn’t thought he was capable of.

Your cute whines getting muffled by his cock that you could only take half way past your llip sent waves of ecstasy down his spine. The cum that kept on flowing from your aching hole that he was the first to taste and the last as well took him to a high that no amount of pleasure could.

He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be the provider of your everything who had complete control over you or if he just wanted to spend hours into the night, praising every fibre of your being that was so eager to make him feel good. This duality of his thoughts confused him further and in that moment he knew he had to see this to the end.

Your heavy pants was the only thing that could be heard in the otherwise silent room, guilt and pleasure leaving you tongue tied. You move yourself from above him, your quivering body falling like a sac just beside his own.

“ I’m sorry! I couldn’t make you-“, before you could finish your breathy apology he brought up a finger near your frowning lips to quite you down.

“Its okay sugar, it was your first time. Not a big deal.”, the soft notes of his voice took the edge off of the disappointment you felt, “I told you. I’ll teach you everything.”

Those eyes. Two shining orbs of brilliant blue gazed at you in the same way you found yourself staring at him. Watching over you like it was their birthright and oddly enough, the scrutiny made you feel completly at home just like the warmth of his long arms that wrapped themselves around you.

" Realx Y/n, I'll be very thourough with my teaching, afterall,", your heart thumped loudly in your chest in response to his smooth voice, "I don't do things halfway.

The pleasent fatigue that had taken a hold of your body slowly dissipated but the growing haziness of your mind got you wondering if you were falling in deepness of his ocean blue eyes but as soon realization hit you, you were already halfway through blacking out.

That you’d never be forgiven for wanting.

From that moment on, you knew.

Part 2? Idk you tell me(╯︵╰,)

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojou satoru #jjk gojo #smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenario #tw:pseudo-cest #pseudocest #yandereish #my writing

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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me, part 10 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

“If you don’t talk to me, I’m not going to leave you my keys.”

Annabeth looks at Piper from behind the loom, glaring through the threads. “Then you won’t come back to ten bolts of fabric.”

In fairness, it was sort of an empty threat. Piper has all the good stuff: the surger, the embroidery machine, the industrial sewing machines, plus a million sources for fabric that aren’t Annabeth’s stress weaving. Annabeth only has her own shitty sewing machine at home that she’d gotten for Christmas when she was fourteen.

Also, Piper wouldn’t actually lock her out. She needs those fabrics.

“Why don’t you just not go?” Annabeth says. “If you stay, I promise to tell you all the gritty details.” She’s joking, but the second she says it, she’s hit with a strange wave of desperation.

She wants to tell Piper all the gritty details. How she had giggled and smoozed and looked so pretty on Luke’s arm, tattoos and undercut and everything else so carefully concealed. She never wanted to tell Thalia the gritty details. The dirty ones, sure, particularly when the dirty things didn’t involve Thalia’s beloved younger cousin. But she had spent two years, two hard painful years, hiding vast swaths of herself from Thalia.

She thought of the night of the gala, of Thalia telling her family she knew Luke from college. NYU. They’d been actors together.

Annabeth hadn’t been the only one hiding things.

It had stung, in all sorts of ways.

Piper stares, narrowing her eyes. “How dare you tempt me into giving up my creative retreat for gossip.”

Annabeth shrugs. “It’s one or the other.”

The glare at each other, stubborn as all hell.

Piper throws up her hands. “Fine. Just make my fabric and call Leo if you’re having another crisis.”

The truth is, she will tell Piper. Eventually. She knows she will. It will probably be in eight months, when she gets back, when hopefully the shame of her false life and the devastation of losing Percy has lessened, but she will tell her. But eight months is a long time. “I do have other friends, you know.”

“Then call Luke. Or Thalia.”

It takes absolutely everything Annabeth has not to wince at the names.

She would never have told Thalia. Not really. Even things like this, even if it hadn’t involved her. Thalia wasn’t… good at relationship stuff. Not like Piper. And she never knew all of Annabeth’s romantic history--not like Piper did, anyway.

And it wasn’t just romantic relationships.

Annabeth might have been able to share her pain, and share her pain with Thalia, but it had, in many ways, only been a surface level thing. Thalia saw her pain after Annabeth’s mom had rescinded her approval of her life, but she'd taken Annabeth’s silence as the end of the matter, and responded to it by acting out, and arguably drinking too much.

But they never talked about her mother. They never talked about Thalia’s, either, and if there was something Annabeth learned from Hazel’s gala beyond how unfairly handsome Percy was going to look in thirty years, it was that there was a lot going on there.

It is a little hurtful on reflection. Making her feel less close to Thalia, but also less guilty about what she never said. And less willing to accept her reactions.

Her emotions have been all over the place the last few weeks.

Piper notices, because of course Piper notices, but she is an angel, and has known her for a long time, so she doesn’t badger her too much. She also doesn’t mention that Annabeth’s measurements all seem to be off. Not even to say something about beauty at every size or her well publicized efforts for diverse bodies in fashion.

But it was still nice to spend time with her. It felt like the old days, staying up too late making the next thing in fashion, and then passing out together, surrounded by bobbins and bagels, Gossip Girl playing on TV.

It did make Piper’s impending departure that much harder, though.

Two weeks into November, she meets Piper and Leo for dinner, and then sees Piper off to JFK for her eight-month creativity retreat in Oklahoma. “You know, like how you decided you couldn’t have a doorman for creative reasons,” she’d said with a raised eyebrow when Annabeth had questioned the move. Piper likes to treat the last two years of Annabeth’s life like some sort of creative exercise. Her dad had done that too, once, when she bothered to answer his call.

Not that she’s not doing anything other than helping Piper pick stitches, and sewing hemlines Piper is too important to deal with herself. She wishes that earlier estimation had been true.

Since the gala she’s been living on Uber Eats at Piper’s, unless she gets bullied home, in which case it's the same but less varied selection with more meat, so the night out with Piper and Leo the night before Piper’s flight feels like a radical departure from the norm. Even though they just go to dinner.

Which does not stop her from feeling hungover the next morning.

“You had half a glass of wine last night,” Leo points out from the door of her bathroom.

“I remember,” she agrees when it lets up for a moment.

“If you get me sick,” he says, “I’m sending you the doctor's bill.”

“Fair,” she chokes out.

Leo doesn’t hug her goodbye, but he does tell her he hopes she gets better before heading back to Boston.

Annabeth, hugging porcelain, wishes she could go with him.

She was very seriously considering it a few days later. Magnus would take pity on her and Alex was always fun to hang out with. Plus, they’d probably think she was too pathetic to be called on her shit. She only did not make plans to go up to Boston because on Wednesday Luke texted her: Already a shit week, brunch this weekend? And she knew if she ran off to Boston, she wouldn’t leave Magnus and Alex’s guest room until they forced the issue.

But it would be nice to talk to someone in New York City who doesn’t hate her guts, she thought.

So, on Sunday morning, she throws up the wonton soup she’d ordered in for dinner the night before, gurgles some mouthwash, uses the expensive concealer to hide the dark circles, and over does the mascara in hopes that she mostly looks awake.

“You look terrible,” are the first words Luke says to her.

“You have no idea how to talk to women,” she says, slumping down across from him.

“I do,” Luke says, “I just know not to bother with you.” But he frowns at her, taking her in. She’s broken out a Chanel jacket, but she isn’t sure when she last washed these jeans. A real winning combo, her.

“But really,” Luke says, “you look miserable. Is it about what happened on Halloween?”

She shrugs. It isn’t not that. Percy’s words still circle through her head, his sad, defeated face as he bemoaned the, how did he put it? All the rich girls who fucked him to make a point. Made all the worse because she believes them. Probably not the same points as those princesses, but… probably not as different as she would like.

She wonders if Europe is full of very wealthy aristocratic women who are all secretly and shamefully still in love with Percy Jackson. And Frank Zhang.

It makes her feel hollow and nauseous all at once.

But she’s been feeling nauseous for weeks now, so at least it's not a new feeling. If it keeps up, she’s going to have to go to the doctor soon.

She hates going to the doctor. It feels like cheating when she just goes and pays and knows other people can’t. She had once lied to Thalia about getting money for a side gig, and then given her two hundred bucks for a trip to the clinic. Now that Annabeth has spent many hours in his cousin’s apartment, and has heard Nico talk about his yearly income on top of the money his dad gives him, she’s not sure how it came down to her.

“Not really,” Annabeth says, “I mean, I still feel just as terrible, but that’s mostly the problem. I feel sick.”

“It's been three weeks.” Luke looks genuinely concerned. “What’s going on?”

“I’m exhausted and nauseous all the time,” she says, groaning at the thought. She was okay right at this moment, but she knew it could come back at the drop of a hat.

Luke frowned at her. “That’s all?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“I mean…” He looked at her, his eyes gazing lower, to her body. Luke had never really come on to her in any kind of real way. But she’s not sure he’s ever looked at her with less lust than he does right at that moment.

It is calculating. She’s gained some weight, she knows. But if Luke points it out, she’s going to kick him in the nuts with her steel toed boots. Or maybe make him explain himself and his relationship with Thalia.

“Annabeth,” Luke says, his voice lower, a frown on his face, “please don’t freak out.”

She can feel her heart pick up, just a bit. “That’s a terrible place to start.”

“Have you been feeling… emotionally volatile lately? Having a lot of mood swings?”

She frowns. She’d maybe been crying a little more than normal at sentimental hulu ads, but she always has a soft touch for that kind of thing, and she’s going through some stuff. “I don’t think you should ask a woman that.”

“You are really not going to like my next question, then.” He leans close and says, “Are your… breasts tender?”

“You’re right, I don’t like that question,�� Annabeth says, crossing her arms over her chest. Even though they are. “I don’t know why you thought that, and how you knew.”

Luke looks at her with such pity, she feels like she’s suddenly eighteen years old again, and crying on his couch at the end of freshman year about the greatest heartbreak of her life. (It had moved to second place. Lucky it. The boy in that bar had only been theoretical, mostly.)

Luke reaches out, grasping one of her hands, and for a second, Annabeth is sure he is going to tell her that she’s dying.

“Have you considered you might be pregnant?”

She yanks her hand away. “I can’t be pregnant,” she says. “I haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“Have you had your period since then?” Luke asks.

“Not that it's any of your business,” she says, “but I haven’t had one in years.” They do talk about sex sometimes, but periods had long been off the Luke table.

Luke grimaces. “Well, you’ve been sexually active recently…”

“It’s been more than a month!”

“When did you start getting morning sickness?” Luke asks “You were throwing up at Halloween.”

“That wasn’t in the morning,” she snaps, “and I feel fine now.”

“You know morning sickness doesn’t just happen in the morning,” Luke says. “And with the rest of your symptoms, well--”

She shakes her head, glaring at Luke. His judgement would have been better than his patient mansplaining. “You think I don’t use birth control?”

Luke shrugs a little. “I mean… you’re… not great at things like daily medication. That’s what happened last time. And if a condom broke or you didn’t use one…”

Last time. Oh, last time. Last time had been the worst four hours of her life, in between realizing that she hadn’t been remembering her birth control pills every day, that her period was a few days late, and that she’d definitely been having unprotected sex with that boy in Luke’s cohort who was probably too old for her. Last time had been her having a panic attack on Luke’s Cambridge apartment couch while a very reluctant Leo was sent to buy a pregnancy test or twelve, and Piper reassuring her via speaker phone that it would be ok, while Luke rubbed her back and reminded her to breathe.

“I do remember what happened last time,” she says. “That’s why I got an IUD. Which, if you don’t know, from all your girlfriends' pregnancy scares, has the same failure rate as permanent sterilization, less than one percent. So…” So it would be okay. She couldn’t be pregnant. That’s why it had been okay for Percy and Annabeth to start fucking without a condom.

“When was the last time you got a new one?”

“August.” She says, thinking back. She was almost sure. “I remember because it was before the Eta thing--Leo called me to tell me about the ceremony while I was at the gyno.”

“So you were distracted and being a bad patient when they were trying to put it in?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

But she won’t give Luke, of all people, the satisfaction. “They are professionals. They should know what they’re doing, even if I was on the phone.”

Luke gives her his most disappointed dad face. It is worse than Annabeth’s own father. “You’re the one who always tells me I need to not make people’s jobs harder by being a bad client,” he quietly reminds her.

She fucking hates him.

But despite herself, she pulls out her phone, and begins googling misplaced IUDs and pregnancy.

They haven’t even ordered yet, but Luke is already standing up, probably based on the look on her face as she manages to fight through the dyslexia and figure out what it says. “Come on,” he says, helping her out of her chair, even though she’s not an invalid. She just might be pregnant.

She pushes that thought away as she follows Luke into a cab and then up to his apartment. He makes her some tea and hands her a banana while he goes to get her a pregnancy test, because Luke’s not quite shameless enough to have one at home. She waits for him in a living room straight out of American Psycho and reads up on IUD pregnancy complications online. Which she probably should not have done.

By the time Luke gets back, she is crying again. He’s gotten her 3 tests, which is very considerate of him, as she’s going to need them.

Walking into the bathroom, she’s shaking hard enough that she needs to brace herself on the wall. He lets her use the nice one off his bedroom, though it's not like she needs the jacuzzi tub.

When she’s done peeing, she sets a timer on her phone and sits on Luke’s bed. He tries to speak to her several times. She doesn’t respond.

It isn’t the longest ten minutes of her life, because the truth is, she knows.

She already knows.

When the alarm goes off, she shrugs off Luke’s arm and silently walks back into the bathroom.

Luke got a digital readout, because what else was he going to do. And so she looks at the little screen and just barely processes the word pregnant.

She doesn’t need to take the other tests. She doesn’t need confirmation or to be convinced.

She reaches down and pressed on her lower abdomen, lifting her shirt. She had noticed a slight change. But she’d also changed a lot of her daily routine lately, had eaten a lot more ice cream. Right now, she can’t see any kind of bump, not really, but she can see a shift. Something flat gone fuller.

Annabeth is pregnant.

Annabeth is pregnant with Percy’s baby.

Percy’s baby.

She bursts into tears all over again.

An eternity later, there is a knock on the door.

“Annabeth,” Luke calls, “can I come in?”

She manages to choke out a yes.

Luke finds her sitting on the edge of the tub. He looked at the test still sitting on the counter.

“Let me make a call,” he says, sitting next to her, resting a hand on her arm. “I know a doctor. He can get you a pill or maybe even see you if you need it. Probably today or tomorrow. We can get this all taken care of and then I’ll buy you ice cream and we can watch Legally Blonde, and you can complain about how it doesn’t accurately reflect the admissions process.”

Normally Annabeth would pre-complain, and point out that given Elle’s GPA, LSAT, and extracurricular activities, she would have been a shoe in for her program, and the movie was dismissive of her prior academic achievement. But she’s too busy parsing what Luke is saying.

He squeezes her hand in support. “It's going to be okay,” he says, sweetly.

“No.” She says. But not because it won’t be okay. “No, I’m not going to have an abortion.”

“It's okay,” Luke promises. “I would never judge you. And no one else would ever have to know. This isn’t something you have to do.”

“I know that,” Annabeth says. “I don’t have to do anything.” She detangles her hand from Luke’s and rests it on her stomach, where her uterus waits under her skin. “I want to do this.”

Luke looks at her hand. “Poseidon Olympianides’ son?” he asks. “That’s the father?”

She nods.

Blowing out a breath through his teeth, he sighs. “Well, you’ll be able to get some good child support out of him at least. That family is loaded.”

“Don’t say that,” she nearly screams, and Luke actually jerks back a little. “He doesn’t have any money. He’s his dad’s bastard kid,” she says, feeling a little bad about revealing his family history, but knowing that the word would spark something in Luke. “I don’t know if I’m even going to tell him.”

It feels like something cheap and shallow, trapping a man with a lie, then a baby.

She’s still crying and tentatively, Luke reaches out and wraps his arms around her, pulls her to him.

“Come on,” he says, pulling her up. “You still need ice cream and a movie.”

Annabeth cries. And she doesn’t fight him, but it feels so strange. Half way through her Caramel Sutra and the Legally Blonde proshot, she realizes what’s different.

For the first time since Percy walked out of her apartment without a good-bye kiss, Annabeth Chase is happy.

She’s pregnant with Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s going to have Percy Jackson’s baby.

She’s not sure if she’s ever heard anything as wonderful in her entire life.

And if she’s going to be worthy of it, worthy of her baby, then she’s going to have to get her shit together.

#my fic #ballet au #pjo #pjo fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #goooooooooooooooooooood morning all!

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s-oulpunk · 4 years

Note

what if.. what if one day Richie is Particularly annoying and once stan's had absolutely enough, he just rolls his eyes and kisses the nerd right on the mouth; Richie shuts up immediately and goes entirely red, and Stan simply goes back to his book about birds and plants

The only way to truly shut Richie up😔🤘

-----

“Hey, Staniel!”

Richie’s greeted with a shriek, followed by an over exaggerated groan as a flock of birds take to the sky.

“Look what you did,” Stan whines. “They had just settled down too!”

Richie shrugs. “It’s not my fault they’re terrified of everything.”

“Are you kidding me? I would be terrified too if a giant buffoon came into my home and started screaming!”

The insult only makes Richie cackle. He may hate birdwatching, but he would never pass up an opportunity to rile up Stan. He loves seeing the pink that spreads across his cheeks. He loves the way he purses his lips and furrows his eyebrows. Stan’s always been pretty, but he’s even prettier when all his attention is on Richie.

“Is that an invitation?”

Stan wrinkles his nose. “You’re disgusting, I hate you. Are you just gonna stand there the whole time?”

Richie grins and plops himself down beside Stan.

“Tell me, Stanley,” he says, in his worst announcer voice. “What have we seen today?”

“There was a grey partridge here earlier,” Stan says. He places the binoculars back on his face. It makes him look ridiculous, laying flat on his stomach with his hot pink binoculars pressed up against his eyes. Stan complains daily that the color makes them sub-optimal for birdwatching, but he still brings them every time. Richie thinks they’re adorable. Which is exactly why he bought them. “It was cute.”

Richie hums softly. “I saw a turkey on the way over.”

“Yeah, there have been lots of turkeys recently,” Stan says, which is not the answer Richie wants.

“I wonder whose dining room table it’ll end up on,” Richie continues. Then, in the impression of what he assumes a turkey would sound like, “Please, Mister Hunter! I have a family! Three beautiful mini-turkeys. You wouldn’t really leave them fatherless, would you?”

That catches Stan’s attention. He looks up at Richie with an agape mouth and wide eyes.

“That’s horrifying,” he murmurs. “Why would you say that?”

“Oh, come on, it was just a joke,” Richie says with a grin. “Turkey’s don’t actually have families.”

“Turkeys raise their young, Richard! Haven’t you seen all those baby turkeys running around?”

“Wait, so that could be a real scenario?”

“No! You don't eat wild turkeys on Thanksgiving!”

Richie huffs, slumping down in his seat. “Then what’s the point?”

“Just be quiet, Richie,” Stan says with a roll of the eyes. “You’re scaring away all the birds.”

“Maybe that’s my secret master plan,” Richie says. He snatches the binoculars out of Stan’s hands, ignoring the offended squawk he gets in response. “Scare away all the birds, so I can have you all to myself.”

“Rich, c’mon, give those back!”

“Come and get them!” Richie says, holding them far out of Stan’s reach.

“You’re an asshole,” Stan seethes as he makes useless grabs for the binoculars. “I didn’t even ask you to come today.”

“You asked everyone!”

“I should’ve clarified, it was everyone but you.”

Stan finally seems to realize his attempts are futile, and sits back with a pout. Normally, Richie would’ve conceded by this point, driven to guilt by his friend’s pleading eyes. But Stan’s pout is unfairly cute, and it makes all reasonable thought leave Richie’s brain.

“Aww, giving up so fast?” Richie teases. “I would’ve thought-”

Except Stan will never know what Richie thought. Because Stan chooses that moment to grab Richie’s face between his hands and press their lips firmly together.

It makes Richie’s brain short wire. A boy is kissing him. And not just any boy. Stanley Uris is kissing him. Stanley Uris, who Richie’s been head over heels in love with since he knew what love was. Stanley Uris, who Richie spends all his time and effort trying to get the attention of. Stanley Uris, who’s now pulling away with a triumphant smirk on his face and the binoculars in his hand.

He settles back into the grass without another word, binoculars once again pressed against his face. It’s unfairly casual, as if he didn’t just turn Richie’s world upside down.

Richie, for once, can think of nothing to say. All he can think about is how soft Stan’s lips were. How he could feel every inch of himself relax into his friend’s grip. How suddenly his heart was beating fast enough to crack his ribcage.

Cautiously, he lays down next to Stan.

He half expects Stan to laugh, to tell him it was all a big joke. But he doesn’t. He stays perfectly still, eyes trained on something in the far off distance that Richie doesn’t care enough to see.

“Stan,” he whispers. Nothing. “Stanley.” Still nothing. “Staniel.”

Finally, Stan turns to face him. His entire face is tinged pink, though he’s clearly trying so fucking hard to ignore it.

“Are you kidding me?” he huffs. “Even that wouldn’t shut you up?”

Richie doesn’t answer. Instead he asks his own question, “Why’d you do that?”

Stan shrugs. “You wouldn’t shut up.”

“Is that - Is that the only reason?”

Richie tries to shove away the hurt that scrambles to escape his throat. Of course that’s the only reason, it’s not like Stan could actually like him back. He could never be that lucky.

Except, maybe he could be. Because Stan’s cheeks darken, and he ducks his head as he mutters out, “I mean, you’re also really adorable.”

And because Richie can’t ever take anything seriously, he puts on the first accent he can think of and says, “Aww, Staniel, I’m blessed! You think I’m adorable? Little old me?”

Stan wrinkles his nose. “What was that? Southern?”

“It’s a cowboy!”

That punches a laugh out of Stan, and Richie can’t even be mad about it. How can he be mad when Stan’s laughter is the best sound in the world?

“Why are you doing a cowboy voice right now?” Stan cackles.

“I panicked!” Richie whines.

“Okay, okay,” Stan says, eyes still sparkling and full of mirth. “I’m sorry, it was good.”

“You didn't even know what it was!”

“Well, it will be good. Eventually,” Stan says. He turns back to his birds. “I’m sure of it.”

But Richie decides that just won’t do. He can’t lose his attention that quickly. He lays directly on top of Stan, chin resting on his shoulder. “Hey, Stanley?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Stan glances at him over his shoulder. He tries to keep his face neutral, as if Richie’s still a nuisance, but Richie knows he hasn’t truly thought that since the fifth grade. He can see the way his mouth twitches upwards slightly. He can see how Stan’s eyes dip down to Richie’s own lips. He can see how Stan turns slightly, giving him better access to his unfairly soft lips.

“Of course, Rich.”

#stozier #stanley uris #richie tozier #bill denbrough #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #stan uris

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penchanteds · 5 years

Text

gendrya fic recs

a non-comprehensive list of my favorite arya/gendry fics

required reading; or: arya and gendry fall in love today, tomorrow, and probably for the rest of eternity (modern au)

hope will put the colors in the sky by monroeslittle

the most iconic gendrya modern!au. reading this is an intitation into the gendrya fandom. so true to their characters and angsty and will probably hurt you but still so good. after this, you crave more fics where arya goes pub-hopping and gendry buys her cheap beer and they eat greasy pizza together on the floor of his apartment.

we can pretend that they don't know our name by scrubclub

fulfills your wildest richgirl!arya x stableboy!gendry dreams. this fic is an absolute gift, a national literary treasure. please read it for the romance in the countryside aesthetic and the westerosi political intrigue. inspired by this timeless photoset.

re: weapons (and you) by scrubclub

these two are academic nerds who spend all their free time talking to each other about weapons and dating (and unfortunately not doing enough of the actual dating thing). the cutest fic told in a creative epistolary format. it has lots of archaelogical musings and sword euphemisms and absolutely delivers on the will-they-or-won’t-they; the correct answer is they definitely will.

the dating game by scrubclub

arya’s friends set her up on dates and have a terrible taste in men, but that’s okay because there’s good old gendry right around the corner if only both of them would open their eyes. there’s a group project involved and meddling friends and makes you wonder if it will really take an entire village to get these two together.

the waiting game by scrubclub

companion to “the dating game,” equally adorable, guaranteed to make you love gendry more if that was even possible. we love our somewhat clueless, unfairly attractive mechanic who doesn’t think he’s good enough for richgirl!arya.

pascal's triangle, revisited. by pentaghastly

in which arya thinks sansa and gendry are together behind her back, and gendry continues to be the clueless idiot with hearts in his eyes. fluffy and angsty and straight out of a teen romcom, just the way we like it.

insert here - a sentiment re: our golden years by pentaghastly

the fake!dating trope is a privilege and a right.

five times in the bathroom by stutteringpeach

obviously arya and gendry can’t stay away from each other. in different bathrooms. at various family functions. repeatedly.

grrm wishes he wrote this (in-universe au)

arya of the thousand days of by drholland

[work in progress, ~200k words, but a masterpiece that is required reading!! cannot emphasize this enough] this fic is a triumph, a gendrya epic that honors the strength and heart of these two characters. set years post-series, reading this is a journey in and of itself. it is an intimate portrait of how gendry and arya are truly meant to be together, of how their love endures and conquers. brilliantly plotted and emotionally introspective, this is everything the game of thrones tv series wishes it were and grrm could only dream of writing the canon that these two deserve.

all we know is falling by youcallitwinter

a beautiful take on gendry in the post-season two uncertainty.

you made a slow disaster out of me by i-revel-in-chaos

this fic will break you and make you want to curl up and wonder how two people so right for each other seem to have such horrible timing. arya returns from braavos and only gendry is there to hold her together. some days, he’s simply a bastard blacksmith in love with a rich highborn girl; other days, it’s not so simple and he let’s himself forget.

i was looking for a breath of life by i-revel-in-chaos

in this one, arya dies and gendry is a mess in the aftermath. he is heartbroken and struggles to move on in her absence. this is grief told in multiple stages, before it seems to nearly consume gendry whole. it hurts to see a man so broken, but that’s his world without arya.

when next to wild animals -- by arbitrarily

haunting, mesmerizing, dark and twisty; a third person, almost out-of-body narration of a girl and no one.

five times arya stark shared a bed with gendry by vixleonard

it is established canon that arya and gendry slept next to each other and that is of greatest importance; end of message.

gonna make this place your home by argyledpenguin

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

a series of five different au’s that range from arya and gendry growing up on the streets of king’s landing; a gendry stark character swap; and arya as a granddaughter of the lannisters.

a dark world aches (for a splash of the sun) by argyledpenguin

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

a four-part au about prince gendry, heir to the throne, and lady arya, his bethrothed, and the royalty!au we deserve because theirs is the fury (and fury burns).

another in-universe au by argyledpenguin

they are betrothed at an early age and slowly fall in love because of course they do, they always do.

they belong together, again and again and again (other au)

dream until your dreams come true by crossingwinter

softball and dreams and guess what they were soulmates. a soulmates fic where the soulmates don’t communicate and it gets angsty but it’s so obvious they love each other.

misfits au by argyledpenguin

in which arya really is death and there’s superhuman powers and time travel and arya and gendry fall in love in this one too.

the dry season by arbitrarily

a stylistic masterpiece. the starks meets the grapes of wrath. arya finding justice when it bled her dry. gendry on a ranch, leaned against his worn pickup truck.

fixing the hole that season 8 left in us (s8 canon)

the fury by nymja

[work in progress, post-series] just read it. it will help you heal after the ending of season eight, mend some of the heartbreak that left with arya on the ship. the most renowned post-series fix-it fic, and a welcome antidote to the tragedy we were otherwise left with.

sing more absurd by scintillio_coll

this fic has a lot of feelings. gendry learns how to lord and arya sails the seas, and eventually they find their way back to each other. in the years they’re apart, they become rebuilt as people and it’s so gratifying to read their reunion. gendry grows into his lordship in the way he knows best: forging nails to keep his world together.

left for dead by nymja

award for best use of a “still rowing” punchline. bonus points for jon losing his mind over his little sister together with the random blacksmith he once met in a cave.

5 ways jon snow finds out about arya and gendry by vixleonard

another jon snow knows nothing fic because arya and gendry are the exact opposite of subtle.

1,500 miles by nymja

arya and the hound on the road to king’s landing and the comedy writes itself.

approval by nymja

i will read any and all fic where the hound spectates his favorite idiot murder couple.

with the wild wolves around you by lady_lyannarose

post battle-fic that is so soft and tender and aches with beautiful prose: “he’ll love her anywhere she’ll let him.”

quiet birds in circled flight, soft stars that shine at night by Anonymous

arya reflects on surviving the long night and the life that comes after.

originally posted 06/10/2019, last updated 06/30/2019

#gendrya #gendrya fic recs #arya x gendry #arya stark #gendry waters #can you tell how much time i've spent reading fic since season 8 started?#there's a lot of good fic that didn't make it on here so i might update this if more come to mind #when i say required reading i actually mean required reading #i am so obsessed with these two idiots in love it's not healthy anymore #hopefully this sheds some light on the must-reads in the fandom as well as some lesser known hidden gems

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thepartyresponsible · 6 years

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another fill! this one is for @plantgrapes, who asked for a bodyguard and rockstar au with clint and jason. i got a little carried away, so i’m just posting a snippet of it now. i’ll post the rest of it on ao3 later.

“No, come on,” Clint says, horrorstruck, betrayed. “Coulson, please. Come on.”

“You have your assignment.” Coulson doesn’t even blink as he pushes the folder another inch or two across the desk. “I’d focus on packing, Barton. Your flight leaves in an hour.”

Clint hunches forward in his chair, buries his head in the hand that’s not currently wrapped in a brace. Beside him, he can hear Natasha doing that thing she does, where she politely clears her throat instead of laughing in his face.

“Too bad, Barton,” she says. “Maybe you should stop jumping off buildings.”

“Yeah,” Clint mumbles, “or maybe I should aim for the sidewalk instead of the dumpster.”

“We’re all very sorry,” Natasha says, not quite rolling her eyes, “that you have to spend the next four weeks hanging out with rock stars instead of hunting war criminals in Somalia.”

Coulson drops another file on the desk. “Don’t be too sorry,” he says. “You’re going too.”

The smile evaporates from Natasha’s face. “What,” she says, flat, disbelieving. For that one, beautiful moment, this whole clusterfuck is almost worth it, and then Clint remembers: rock stars, tour buses, bodyguard duty, and it’s not worth it at all.

Clint skims the file, but reading while flying always gives him a headache, so he decides, as usual, to let Nat take care of all the complicated interpersonal bullshit. He knows all he needs to know. Someone with money is trying to kill at least two members of The Outlaws, and SHIELD’s involved because someone, somewhere, called in a favor.

Or maybe because someone, somewhere, is holding a grudge. It’s difficult to tell if their primary objective is supposed to be protecting the band or eliminating the hitman. Even Coulson hedged, when Clint asked.

“Well, here’s something redemptive,” Natasha tells him, as Clint fusses with the tray table and considers faking a heart attack. “They’re French history scholars.”

“No,” Clint says, “stop it.”

“Their latest single,” she continues, holding up her phone, “is about guillotines.”

Clint squints at the cover art on the screen. “Is that the president?” he asks. “Is that the president’s head in a basket?”

She nods, mouth curling up. “It’s called ‘Let Them Eat Debt.’”

Clint considers that for a long moment and then nods. “Listen,” he says, “about our suicide pact.”

“We don’t have one,” she says, as she reaches into his hoodie pocket to steal his headphones.

“Yeah,” he says, “that’s what we need to talk about.”

She shakes her head, still smiling, and hands him one of the earbuds. “Calm down,” she advises. “They’re not that terrible.”

“Nat,” he says, as she starts the first track, “I can already tell this is shit. You can’t dance to this.”

“You can’t dance at all,” she reminds him, because she’s cruel, and merciless, and can dance to anything, at any time, no matter how much vodka she’s had or how much blood she’s lost. “Now, stop whining, and listen.”

They aren’t terrible. They’re just young, and pissed off, and loud about it, and Clint has no patience for that kind of thing.

“I was right,” he says, when the song ends. “You can’t dance to that.”

“You can’t,” Natasha repeats, as she scrolls through the available albums. “I’m going to play this the next time we get a raid. The only thing it’s missing is gunfire. And arterial spray.”

Clint is assigned to the lead singer. Nat gets the drummer, a nervy combat vet who voluntarily goes by “Bucky,” has a prototype prosthetic, suspiciously nice hair, and PTSD.

“Can we switch?” the singer asks, hand in the air like they’re in high school. He’s Jason Todd, and, as far as Clint could tell from his file, his hobbies are limited to playing music, being unfairly attractive, and getting into fights with anyone who holds still long enough.

“Depends,” Natasha says, with a shrug. “Why?”

“For symmetry.” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder, toward Barnes, and then nods toward Clint. “They’d look great together. I mean, they even fucked up the same arm.”

“Jesus,” Barnes says, closing his eyes. “Jason, come on.”

“He might as well look good,” Jason says, shrugging. “Because he’s sure as fuck not needed for anything else.”

“Hell, Nat,” Clint says, shoving his good hand in the pocket of his jeans so he won’t be tempted to throttle this guy where he sits. “It’s almost like we’re not wanted here.”

“We were hired to do a job.” Natasha smiles at the singer, flashing teeth. “We are going to do that job,” she says, “and you are going to survive until the end of our contract.”

“You can both look after Bucky,” Jason says. “I’m fine on my own.”

“Jason,” Bucky says, quiet. He’s got that exposed nerve look to him, the listlessness that comes from being burned out, hyperaware for too long. He presses his lips together, gives Jason a look that’s a little too raw, edging toward pleading.

Jason stares back for a long moment. Clint reflects on how it’s going to be a real bitch, explaining to Coulson that he beat up Jason Todd for being mean to his own bandmate. And then Jason sighs, deflates, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Alright,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Clint. “But if you fall in love with me, I’m not singing you any Goddamn Whitney Houston songs.”

“Yeah,” Clint says, rolling his eyes. “That’s really not going to be a problem.”

Jason, somehow, gets to introduce them to the band. Allegedly, they’re undercover because there’s a chance some member of the crew is responsible for the murder attempts. Clint thinks it probably has more to do with Jason not being ready to admit that he can’t fight the whole world by himself.

“This is Natalie,” Jason says, pointing at Nat. “She’s a photojournalist. She’s working with Bucky. And Artemis, for the record, I already asked, and she’s in a committed relationship, so we’re preemptively enforcing the three-foot rule.”

Artemis looks up from her laptop. She eyes Natasha thoughtfully for a moment and then refocuses on her screen. “The three-foot rule is only for Harper,” she says. “About you.”

“Bullshit,” the last bandmate says, dragging himself off the couch. He’s Roy Harper, redheaded, gangly, and allegedly in recovery, although Clint hasn’t seen a sober man wear a backwards trucker hat since the early 2000s. “Jay loves it when I get handsy with him. The three-foot rule was about you and the paparazzi. And also those girls who followed Bucky into a bathroom once.”

“Into a bathroom?” Clint tips his head, feigns contemplation. “It sounds like you guys need some kind of security team.”

“What for?” Roy asks, blinking. “We’ve got Jay.”

Jason gives Clint an absolutely insufferable smirk and then says, “This is Clint. He’s, I dunno. My assistant, I guess.”

Roy assesses Clint, and his eyes stall out on the brace around his wrist. “Shit, what happened to your hand?”

What happened is Clint broke his wrist after he dropped from a three-story building and had a disagreement with the fire escape on the way down. What happened is Natasha was in the street, vulnerable, and he drew fire from two separate helicopters armed with machine guns.

What happened is classified.

Clint opens his mouth to give some kind of bland, believable lie, and then Jason starts talking.

“He’s, just.” Jason waves his hand, dismissive at first and then oddly graphic at the end of it. “He’s really bad at jerking off.”

There’s a long, pregnant pause. Clint spends most of it fantasizing about punching Jason in the back of the head. Bucky levels a glare Jason’s direction that suggests he’s having similar thoughts.

“Wow,” Roy whispers, staring at Clint. A curious, considering look crosses his face, and then he runs his tongue over his lip and gives him a weird little wave. “Well,” he says, “if you need any coaching--”

“Three-foot rule,” Jason says, immediately. “Jesus Christ, Roy.”

“I can just talk him through it,” Roy says, wide-eyed and earnest. He looks at Clint, and, somehow, he’s just sincere enough that it’s impossible to take offense. “From however many feet away you want,” he says. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thanks,” Clint says, nonplussed.

“Don’t give up on your dreams,” Roy tells him.

“Okay,” Jason says. “We’re done.”

“I’m sorry about Roy,” Jason tells him, later, in a tone that implies he’s sure as hell not sorry about Roy, and, also, Clint can go fuck himself if he has a problem. “He’s not always—it’s been awhile since he had to talk to strangers when he wasn’t high out of his fucking mind, so. He’s not great at it. Sometimes.”

Clint’s faintly surprised that Jason made it all the way through that explanation. He’s seen people spit out teeth with more grace and good cheer. “Honestly,” he says, “Harper’s fine. You’re a bit of an asshole, but I don’t have a problem with Roy.”

“Good,” Jason says. He squints at him, chin ducked, jaw tight. Clint keeps his hands open and relaxed at his sides, can’t for the life of him figure out if this guy wants to fight him or not. “He’s my best friend,” Jason says. “I mean, there’s Bucky and Artemis. Who are also my best friends.”

“Sure,” Clint says. “Look, I just told you. I don’t have a problem with any of them. You’re the only one who’s pissing me off.”

Jason stares at him for a beat, and then another, and then, finally, he relaxes. “Fine,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck what you think about me.”

The fact that he cares what Clint thinks about the others is the first thing about Jason Todd that Clint’s actually liked. Other than his jawline, and how tight he wears his jeans.

“Good talk,” Clint says. “Now let’s talk about those unlicensed firearms I found in your tour bus.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about those. They won’t trace back to any of us.” Jason raises his eyebrows at Clint’s expression and seems to think further explanation is required. “I stole them,” he says, “from a bunch of drug dealers in Gotham.”

Usually, when Clint accuses someone of illegal activity, they have the decency to deny it once or twice. He’s caught, wrong-footed, because he hadn’t actually found any guns, hasn’t had any opportunity to search the tour bus, and what the hell did he mean he stole from them drug dealers in Gotham.

“Shit,” Jason says, narrowing his eyes. “You aren’t law enforcement, are you?”

“You know,” Clint says, philosophically, “the hardest part of being a bodyguard is protecting the client from themselves.”

“Oh, suck it up, Costner,” Jason says, rolling his eyes. “At least you didn’t work for any of those dealers.”

#writing #fic #fill #band au

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actionjaxkol · 6 years

Text

Crystal #?? - Interview with Jaxkol

“Alright, Interview... whatever number this is. Trixie Spinwhistle with the Gift of Gob --”

“Wait -- wait so how does this work?”

“I ask you questions and you answer ‘em, babe. S’not rocket surgery.”

“Oh. So what is --”

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid, save the brainpower for the answers.”

BASICS

► Name ➔ “Jaxkol Dawnsedge. Previously Shadowriot. Previously-Previously Shadowfel” ► Are you single ➔ “Nope! Some beautiful weirdo had a terrible lapse in judgement that I am not letting them weasel out of.” ► Are you happy ➔ “I actually don’t remember being this happy before. It’s... nice.” ► Are you angry ➔ “Weirdly, I get angry easier than I used to. Only when people are treating others unfairly though.” ► Are your parents still married ➔ “As far as I know. They’re Nobles, ‘divorce’ isn’t a thing they do. I think my mom has a consort though.”

NINE FACTS

► Birth Place ➔ “Silvermoon City” ► Hair Color ➔ “White blond naturally, the illusion makes it grey-black.” ► Eye Color ➔ “Green naturally, blue with illusion. Sometimes I wonder what color they’d be if they didn’t glow. I’m kinda jealous of humans and dwarves and stuff, their eyes can be all different colors.” “Focus, kid.” ► Birthday ➔ “May nineteenth.” ► Mood ➔ “Restless, anxious, eager but shy. Lonely, but the temporary type. At odds with myself” ► Gender ➔ “I’m a guy, but I’m also an elf and on the small side, so I get mistaken for a girl like, once an month. Not as much in Stormwind though, but it’s happened. It’s amusing.” ► Summer or winter ➔ “I dunno. Living on the streets, both suck, but it was easier to cool down than it was to warm up when you’re skinny. I have a home now, so I’m curious to see what winters are like. ...and now I’m thinking of Pryn as a snow bunny. Yeah I definitely want to see Winter.” ► Morning or afternoon ➔ “Afternoons. That’s when everyone is starting to wind down and relax. But lately I’ve had to get up super early for Argent training and watching the sun rise over the harbor is just... spiritual or somethin’.”

EIGHT THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

► Are you in love ➔ “I keep... trying to tell myself ‘no’, that I’m being stupid but... yes. I absolutely am.” ► Do you believe in love at first sight ➔ “So, it kinda works opposite for me. If I fancy someone right off the bat, it’s gonna end bad. If my first thought is like ‘who the fuck do you think you are?’ then we’ll probably be friends forever. Or mortal enemies. Like, Noah and I fought when we first met, but we were friends until.... Anyhow. Jiang and I hit it off immediately, but fucker was married. I hated Vyn when we first met, but... I trust him with my life now, he’s my brother. Totegar I was smitten with from the start and he.. Yeah. Let’s not talk about him. I didn’t know what to make of Pryn at first, I thought she was my exact opposite and that we’d be at odds but she’s my best friend. Oh shit, and Izzy! I was fucking scared shitless of him when we met and now he’s my baby brother!” “Yes or no would’a sufficed, kid.” ► Who ended your last relationship ➔ “Totegar was afraid to come to terms with being gay, so he kinda settled for me. I was safe and harmless and non-threatening. When he figured out that sleeping with another guy wouldn’t bring about the next Cataclysm, he dropped me like a bad habit and went after someone better. Like. The very next morning. ...It’s whatever.” ► Have you ever broken someone’s heart ➔ “I wanna say ‘no’ but, I mean, maybe? I know I really hurt Jiang’s wife, Yue, when I told her but... I didn’t know so I couldn’t stop it. I might have broken Red’s heart by telling him no. Over and over and over again. And probably a few more times to come...” ► Are you afraid of commitments ➔ “I’m not afraid to throw myself body and (what’s left of my) soul into things, but I’m terrified that I’m going to let people down...” ► Have you hugged someone within the last week? ➔ “Yeah! I used to be really afraid of contact, anytime anyone touched me it was ya know. Never for good stuff. Vyn started making a point to hug and touch me just in a friendly way. And then I get to the Keg and people aren’t afraid to hug me and it’s.. Nice.” “Man, you are a talker...” “Sorry...” “Nah, this is good.” ► Have you ever had a secret admirer ➔ “I don’t... think so? I’m just amazed I have not-secret admirers.” ► Have you ever broken your own heart? ➔ “Yeah... a lot. Like... daily. Wait is that not normal?” “...No, kid.”

SIX CHOICES

► Love or lust ➔ “Love. I mean, I think you need some lust in a relationship, but you need that love first. Otherwise it’s just... meaningless.” ► Cats or Dogs ➔ “So my sister Jaelys used to have a cat, and she loved that damn thing. In Silvermoon, cats are everywhere, right? But this one used to like, ride on her shoulder and sleep in her lap while she studied. She even got it this pretty collar and like... we didn’t have spending money so I don’t know how she got it. Anyhow, my brother I guess didn’t like it as much, cuz when he was rising into the Fel arts, he used the cat for a ritual. I’ve never seen my sister cry, but... I did see something die in her eyes when he brought her the little body...” “...Kid?” “...Hmm? Oh! ...Dogs. I like dogs.” ► A few best friends or many regular friends ➔ “I get... really attached to people fast. Like, if I’m going to get close to someone at all, I’m in for everything. So... probably a few best friends. But I’m friends with everyone until they give me a reason not to be! Hey, like a dog I guess!” ► Wild night out or romantic night in ➔ “It’s hard to say. I really like going out and getting that energy out, but being alone with someone special, just... watching them do those little, meaningless, private things that make up their secret world... It’s so beautiful I never want to leave it.” ► Day or night ➔ “Day is hot and involves a lot of running. Night.”

FIVE HAVE YOU EVERS

► Been caught sneaking out ➔ “Growing up it never crossed my mind to disobey. If had to leave the apartment for any reason, I got permission from either Mother, or Father or failing that one of my two eldest siblings. Jaelys and I always had to have escorts. When I was living with Vyn for a while, I’d sneak out if... my brain started eating itself, I guess. He always found me though. So. Yes?” ► Fallen down/up the stairs ➔ “Yeah my feet and I don’t always communicate correctly. I’ve tripped over my own shadow.” ► Wanted something/someone so badly it hurt? ➔ “Yes... But it’s this weird, beautiful pain. I like being close to her because when she’s not there, I can’t believe that I have someone so amazing in my life. If I told her that she’s just call me stupid and whack me with her tail though.” ► Wanted to disappear ➔ “...yes... I have disappeared a few times. I can’t... seem to make it stick though. I guess for the best.”

FOUR PREFERENCES

► Smile or eyes ➔ “I like a smile that takes up the entire face. I mean the kind that makes the eyes bright like the stars. I like it when the mouth and the eyes agree with eachother. Izzy has an amazing smile that just lights up everything. Vyn’s is strong, protective, kinda like Ash’s. Jiira’s has secrets. Pryn’s has light that like... changes colors. Vali’s is hard and cold, but there’s fire beneath it. Drex’s is mischief. Kae is fire, white hot or smouldering embers, rarely anything in between. Aida... Aida is made of chocolate and cheesecake and -- oh shit chocolate cheesecake that’s a great idea.” “What about mine?” “...Sharp. Your smile is a blade and your eyes cut through people...” ► Shorter or Taller ➔ “I got a thing for people bigger than me. Which I guess isn’t hard.” ► Intelligence or Attraction ➔ “Humor. I’m not smart, so everyone is more intelligent than me. And I don’t.. really get attracted to people’s outside the same way other people do I guess. I don’t go ‘DAMN that dude has a nice ass, I must pursue him’ it’s more like... ‘your personality is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, I need to see every angle of it, good or bad’. Fuck, I would probably fall for a blighted murlock if we got along well enough.” ► Hook-up or Relationship ➔ “I’ve done the hookup thing, it doesn’t... it just... makes that void worse. Like drinking saltwater.”

FAMILY

► Do you and your family get along ➔ “No.” “...what that’s it? Kid you’ve rambled on ‘cat versus dog’ and that’s all I get?” “I... failed. I’ll pay for it when my luck runs out, but.. No. Three sisters, two brothers, and my parents - no we don’t get along.” ► Would you say you have a “messed up life” ➔ “I really don’t think so, but I’ve been told otherwise. I think everyone goes through their awful shit, just cuz mine is more colorfully explosive, doesn’t mean it’s any more messed up than anyone elses’.” ► Have you ever ran away from home ➔ “Not before the Incident, and after that, I didn’t exactly have a home to run away from. I ran away from Vyn when I was supposed to be staying with him and got overwhelmed, but I don’t think that’s the same thing.” ► Have you ever gotten kicked out ➔ “Yeah.” “...is that all you’re gonna say on that?” “Yeah.”

FRIENDS

► Do you secretly hate one of your friends ➔ “What?? No that’s fucked up. We might not get along, but I don’t hate anyone.” ► Do you consider all of your friends good friends ➔ “I mean, some are better or closer than others, but I think everyone is exactly how they need to be.” ► Who is your best friend ➔ “Ah shit, hard question. I don’t have just one ‘best’ friend, they’re all amazing in their own ways. Sera is pretty awesome, I love Izzy. Kae is amazing and strong and I envy her. Pryn knows me probably better than Vyn at this point. Aida is adorable...I can’t... really answer this. Though now I’m curious if I’m anyone’s best friend.” ► Who knows everything about you ➔ “Pryn or Vynlluthein.”

(Art by @attractive-zombies Big ole stack of art here. )

Tagging: @attractive-zombies @wests-wow-gang @rouilleandcompany @lemmeaxeyousomething

#jax crystal #i just can't do anything easy can i #wra rp #warcraft rp #people to follow

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cherrystreet · 7 years

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Hello precious. I was wondering today ... how would TOW Harry Louis and Link enjoy these first days of autumn? xx

It’s the kind of weather Louis hates. In the morning when he takes Link out into the backyard, he stands with his arms wrapped around his body, goosebumps covering every inch of skin, breath coming out in puffs. He layers himself in a t-shirt, then a sweater, then a coat, and heads off to work with the heat blasting in the car. By by noon, he’s stripping out of said layers, kicking them aside and under his desk, cursing the whole time. His car feels like a sauna by the time he climbs into it at the end of the day, the late afternoon heat trapped with no escape, and even with the AC blasting the entire way home, he pulls into the driveway with a red face and a sweaty back.

“I hate fall,” he declares Tuesday night after work, letting the door slam behind him. “I hate this shitty ass weather.”

“It’s beautiful out today,” Harry counters from his position on the couch. “Be quiet.”

“No. It’s too hot. The leaves are dying and so am I.”

“Remember when he was at work and the house was quiet? That was nice.”

“Who are you talking to.”

“Link,” Harry replies, like it’s obvious.

Louis ignores him. “Did you see the forecast for next week? Upper 80’s! Again! My classroom doesn’t have central air. We’re all going to kill each other.”

“Oh my God, the drama. Light a pumpkin candle and relax.”

He snorts, kicking off his shoes and takes a seat beside Harry. “Do you solve every issue by lighting candles?”

“Usually.” He puts his hand on Louis’ thigh and squeezes. “You look rather stunning today. I like what your hair is doing.”

“Thanks, I used the sweat as a makeshift hair gel.”

Harry laughs and rolls his eyes. “Imagine a world where you weren’t complaining.”

“Positive thoughts Louis is not the man you fell in love with. You knew what you were getting into with me.”

He smirks. “I’m not sure I did, actually.”

“So does that mean the verdict is still out on whether or not you want to keep me?”

“Exactly.”

Louis closes his eyes, pets Link behind the ears when he feels him place his head on Louis’ knee, drool and all. “It’s nice in here.”

“I turned the air off hours ago. I figured you’d say something when you got home.”

He shrugs, eyes still slipped shut. It feels like too much work to open them, especially once Harry starts playing with his hair, threading it through his fingers. He could let Harry do this all night. Sometimes, he does. “Still feels nice.”

Harry hums from beside him. “I concur.”

Two weeks later, Louis finds himself in the passenger seat of the Jeep, trunk packed with bags, Link and Mia safe at Harry’s mom’s house. The sun doesn’t feel as hot today, he thinks, as he makes himself comfortable, fiddling with the crank for the window. It feels like a waste of a gorgeous day to sit in the car, but he doesn’t tell Harry that.

“When are you going to cave and tell me where we’re going?”

“I won’t cave,” Harry protests, backing out of the driveway. “Stop asking.”

“You’re terrible at secrets.”

“No, you’re just obnoxious and bug me so much that I eventually tell you to get you to shut up.”

“Exactly. Terrible at secrets.”

Harry rolls his eyes and turns the volume up, almost as high as it can go. “Sorry,” he shouts, “can’t hear you.”

It takes them a few hours to reach the secret destination of upstate New York, one that Harry managed to keep hidden the entire duration of the ride. He looks smug as he pulls up to their cabin in the woods.

“Styles, did you take me here to kill me?”

“That would have been the better option, now that you mention it.” He cuts the engine and looks over at Louis. “Home away from home for the next 48 hours. What do you think?”

Louis squints at the house through the windshield. “I think no one will be able to hear my screams.”

Harry laughs, then pinches Louis’ thigh. “Come on. Get out.”

It’s not unlike Harry to surprise Louis; he often comes home from work to find strange purchases from Amazon or the book store or that eclectic home furnishings place downtown. Louis will make a face and ask what it is, and Harry will start off on some winded tangent about why it made him think of Louis, and half the time, his explanations don’t make any sense, leaving Louis more confused than ever. But then Harry tilts his head to the side, dimple threatening to break out, and he’ll murmur, “Do you like it?” Louis has never lied once when he replies, “So much.”

And this cabin is no exception.

Harry points out the details that Louis would have never noticed on his own, like the sliver of a lake in the distance barely visible through the living room windows, and the skylight in the hallway that shows off the rather impressive foliage. He tells Louis about the cheesy fall festival happening in the town square that occurs just one weekend a year, shows him their bedroom, their bathroom, the Goddamn floor boards, for fuck’s sake, and it’s obvious how much time Harry put into researching this for them. For Louis.

Louis cuts off Harry’s speech about the Oak trees outside by resting his head against Harry’s chest. Harry’s arms wrap around him instinctively, his voice fading to nothing. “This was a good surprise,” Louis says, voice coming out muffled.”

He can feel Harry exhale as he drags his hands between Louis’ shoulder blades. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

They end up attending that cheesy, once a year fall festival, and it’s stupidly fun. They indulge in caramel apples, pumpkin donuts, and Louis begs Harry to get his face painted. He sports a fall leaf on his right cheek for the rest of the afternoon, smudging when Louis drags his thumb through it while they kiss.

They hike, and at the top of the mountain is a view of the most stunning sea of reds and yellows and oranges. Neither of them talk, just stare, breathless. Louis slips his hand into Harry’s back pocket, leaves it there, just wants to touch, to be closer. They take some pictures before they make their descent back down, but the photos don’t do the views justice. It cheapens it.

The weather is unfairly perfect. All weekend, Louis keeps his sweatshirt on over his t-shirt, warm and comfortable, and when the sun goes down for the day, they sit behind a campfire, eating grilled cheese and soup. The flames are hot and make Louis’ face itch.

The moon shines through their bedroom window, and in the otherwise blackened room, Louis can make out the curve of Harry’s jaw, his bare shoulders, his back, his thighs. They move together slowly, then much faster, and right before Louis lets go, Harry makes a terrible joke about how he hopes Louis was right in saying no one would be able to hear his screams from here. Louis chokes out a laugh, hates Harry so much, loves him impossibly more.

He needs to fall asleep, his body is begging him to, but Harry won’t stop whispering to him, dragging his mouth across Louis’ collarbones. Louis sighs and takes it, keeping his fingers twisted in Harry’s hair. They keep at it until the sun starts to brighten their pretend home.

“Harry,” he whispers, almost sure Harry’s already asleep. “Guess what.”

“Mmm,” Harry answers, lips vibrating against Louis’ arm.

“Did you know I love fall? Like, favorite season, by far.”

He can feel Harry’s grin. “Even though I forgot to bring my pumpkin candle?”

He nods, sliding down further under the covers. He’s cold, but Harry’s warm. “Yeah, even though you forgot it.”

#you left me no choice YOU KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOING #also can we sense a trend #that I hate being hot #tug of war #my drabble #drabble request #littlechilllarrie

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writerlydays · 7 years

Text

candi smiles

Sophie is just trying to buy a pie for her nephew, but when she runs into an old friend at the grocery store, she’ll have to deal with feelings she thought were long gone.

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Faceclaims: Sophie Marrow | Aranesa Turner Candice Lowe | Katie Leclerc

The grocery store is, predictably, packed. Every aisle is jammed with carts full of orange and black decorations and screaming toddlers. Toppled displays lay in the floor like fallen soldiers, spilled glitter and autumn garlands like guts.

Sophie can see her target in the distance, the table display with the last of the pumpkin pies. It sits there, lonesome and waiting, calling to her. She needs to get to it before someone else does, and fast. Out of the corner of her eye she can see someone else headed toward it, a lady with a soccer-mom haircut and a sullen teen at her side. No way is she getting that pie.

“Move, please!” Sophie growls, using her cart as a battering ram to get her through the crowd. She’d feel worse about pushing people if someone hadn’t actually pushed her down to get to a candy display earlier.

The Soccer Mom is closer to the table, sure to get there first, when a gaggle of women with similar haircuts call out to Soccer Mom, and she pauses.

Sophie surges forward, calling on a burst of energy she thought she’d long since used up, and reaches the table. She grabs the pie just as Soccer Mom extracts herself from the other ladies, and Sophie holds the pie up in triumph.

“I got it!” She tells the elderly woman behind her, who fixes her with a disapproving frown.

“I got it!” She says again, uncaring, “Hell yeah.”

Getting out of the crowd is easier said than done, but Sophie does it with a spring in her step, having accomplished what she came here to do. She’s a little surprised she made it out unscathed, to be honest. She’s seen people maimed at Taipon County Halloween sales before.

She’s almost to the row of registers when someone else’s cart slams into the side of hers, sending them both sliding into the giant cardboard ghost that sits in the middle of the floor.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” Says the reckless driver, “It was too heavy, I lost control! I’m really really sorry, are you hurt? I didn’t hit you, did I?”

The voice is familiar, and as soon as Sophie looks up she recognizes the speaker. She’d recognize her anywhere. It’s been about ten years, the woman has grown her hair out, lost a little weight, and gained a few lines around her eyes.

“Oh my god, Candi?”

Candice Lowe blinks, taken aback for a moment before recognition sets in. “Sophie! Holy shit, I didn’t even recognize you! Oh my god, you look so good!”

“Thanks,” Sophie shakes her head, “This is so weird. I thought you moved to Florida or something.”

“I did, yeah. I moved to Tampa after graduation, but I’m back now. What are you doing nowadays? We should catch up!”

Sophie moves quickly to procure a place in line at the checkout and Candi follows behind her.

“I’d love to, yeah! You don’t have facebook, do you? I could never find it.”

Candi shakes her head and her curly, strawberry-blonde mane shakes with her. The movement mesmerizes Sophie, who always used to fantasize about having hair like that when she was kid, long and soft. These days she’s happy with the natural beauty of her own wiry hair, but Candi’s has always been something else.

“Not my thing.” Says Candi, bringing Sophie out of her hair-induced hypnosis, “My business is my business, you know?”

“I get that, but it does make it harder to keep in touch.”

Candi’s face scrunches in a thoughtful motion, “I know. And I pretty much just up and left with no warning, barely told anyone where I was going. I lost touch with just about everyone.” She gives a humorless laugh as Sophie reaches the conveyor and starts to put her groceries on.

“What happened?” Sophie wonders, “You were so popular in highschool.”

“Not really. I mean, people liked me, but I never really felt like I had any friends. You were pretty much it. It all felt so… shallow, you know? None of it seemed important. So, I turned eighteen and I hitched to Florida.”

“As you do.” Sophie teases.

“Right?” Candi’s things are one conveyor now, and Sophie feels the need to wait for her at the end of the register. It doesn’t feel quite right to leave, even though she’s in a bit of a hurry. This doesn’t seem like the end of the conversation, and she’s not sure she can live with this tugging in her chest if she goes without finishing it. She can feel the universe pulling her in one direction, even though she needs to be going in the other.

Candi finishes paying for her own items and Sophie finally registers the amount of apple pie in her old friend’s cart, which is fairly ridiculous.

“What’s with the pies?”

Candi looks down at the monstrous pile of pastry in her cart. She seems to have forgotten it was there. “Oh, I’m taking these to the 7th street children’s shelter. I thought it might be nice.”

Something stirs in the pit of Sophie’s stomach, a wonder so familiar that it seems like deja vu. A pride, a longing.

“I’ve gotta go.” Says Sophie.

“Oh,” Candi looks unfairly disappointed, “Well, let me give you my number and we’ll catch up, yeah? I’m sure a lot has changed since I’ve been gone.”

“Yeah, absolutely!”

Sophie drives home in a daze. It feels like she’s dreaming, but it’s a dream she’s had before. Her feelings for Candi are age-old, and she’s never quite forgotten them. Candi was always too big for this little town, and everyone knew it. They all knew she’d leave eventually, but Sophie, at least, never thought she’d go without even saying goodbye. They’d been friends, once, and Candi’s disappearance had felt like a betrayal at best. It’s a wound that never really healed, just tickled at the back of her mind from time to time when she thought it was finally gone. There’s a part of her that’s been angry, even. Now though, now she’s back, and Sophie can’t be angry when she looks at Candi. It’s just not possible.

She pulls up her sister’s driveway with a frown playing on her mouth and it doesn’t go away until she opens the front door to find her nephew crouched in the entryway.

“Hey, Caden.”

“Hi Aunti So.” The four-year-old doesn’t lift his gaze.

“What’cha doin’, bud?”

“Watchin’ the ants.” He points at where, sure enough, a trail of ants goes from the window across the floor.

“Are they doing anything interesting?”

“Just collaborating.”

Sophie laughs and steps around him toward the kitchen. “Well I have your pie.” Caden doesn’t answer, and Sophie knows he won’t until he’s done watching the ants. It could be a while, so she sets to making chicken salad while she waits, watching the street outside from the little window above the counter. The air smells of fallen leaves and changing weather, and Sophie closes her eyes for a moment to savor this feeling, whatever it might be called.

“This isn’t pumpkin.” Says an accusatory voice from behind her. She turns and finds Caden has climbed up onto a chair to look at the pie on the island counter.

“Sure it is.” Says Sophie, she distinctly remembers grabbing the last of the pumpkin pies.

“Nope.” Says Caden.

Despite being sure that she grabbed pumpkin, she knows before she even goes to the island. Sure enough, right there on the top, it says Apple.

“Oh goddamn- darn. Goddarn it. I freaking grabbed pumpkin, I swear.”

“What’s with the not-swearing?” Says a new voice from the doorway, where Sophie’s older sister Anita stands with her eyebrows raised.

“I grabbed pumpkin pie.” Sophie insists, “I swear to god I did. But now I’ve got apple.”

Anita frowns and looks down at Caden, who has his eyes narrowed at the interloping pie. “You know he won’t eat apple.” She says, voice lowered.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Is there any way you could go back?”

“That was the last pumpkin. I was about to have to fight a bitch- ah, a lady- I was about to have to fight a lady for it.”

“Oh boy.” Anita sighs, “This… won’t go well.”

“I know, I know! Look, i’ll figure this out- wait!” She remembers, all of Candi’s pies on the conveyer behind hers, close enough to get mixed, “I think I know who has my pie!”

On the front porch, Sophie agonizes over the phone call she has to make. She has to call Candi, there’s real nothing else to do about it. Caden wants his pumpkin pie, and there’s a good chance that Candi has it. On one hand, most of Sophie yearns to call Candi, the want aches in her chest. On the other, she’s terrified. Terrified of embarrassing herself; terrified of seeming desperate; terrified of what might happen if Candi guesses her feelings.

She takes a deep breath and presses call before she can lose her nerves, brushing her hair out of the way to press her phone to her ear. It’s only moments before Candi picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hey! Hi- uh, it’s Sophie. I’m just- um, I’m calling because- because, ah-”

“It’s okay,” Candi laughs, “Take your time.”

“Yeah, ha, sorry to call you so soon. It’s just- I think you might have grabbed my pie by accident, and I think I grabbed one of yours. And I was wondering if there’s any way we could exchange?”

There’s a long silence before Candi answers, “Oh my god, I am so sorry. I probably did grab your pie. But, uh, the thing is, I already dropped those pies off at the shelter. I’m really sorry, Sophie!”

“No, it’s alright.” Sophie rubs at her temple, already trying to figure out what to do next, “I got so caught up talking to you I guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I get it. It was really good, talking to you. I barely remember driving home, I was thinking about the times we had in high school.”

“Those were not good times, Candi.”

Candi laughs again, “I guess not. So, do you hate apple pie or something?”

“No, no. The pumpkin pie was for my nephew. Halloween scares him so we try to do things to distract him. He wanted pumpkin pie this year, so…”

“Oh my god, I can’t be responsible for ruining a child’s Halloween! Look, tell you what, I’ll make you one.”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll bake you one! I have the stuff for pumpkin, I made some and dropped them at the shelter yesterday, I only had to go to the store for apple.”

“You really don’t have to do that, it’s not that big a deal.” “Won’t your nephew be upset?”

“…I mean, yeah.”

“Can’t let that happen. I’m making you a pie. Can I come over.”

“Yes! Yeah, absolutely. I’m at my sister’s house, you remember Anita?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“We’re at 312 Oakland, over by the Simmons Car Wash.”

“Alright, I’ll bring my stuff. I’ll be right over!”

Sophie only has to wait about fifteen minutes, but it’s a horrible, nerve wracking fifteen. When Candi pulls up in her little purple Corolla, Sophie’s heart leaps into her chest. As Candi climbs out of her car, Sophie can feel her palms getting clammy.

It’s like she’s back in high school, thrust into a teenage head space against her will. All those stupid hormones and feelings rearing their heads once again. High school… hadn’t been easy for Sophie.

“Hey, Soph!” Candi waves, a cardboard box under her arm. She’s grinning wide, her smile is like a crescent moon.

“Hey, Candi.”

“I hope this isn’t too weird, me coming over. I just thought maybe we could catch up while I was cooking?”

“No, yeah! That sounds great. I actually- you know, really wanted to talk to you.”

Candi beams, “Great!”

They set Candi’s things in the kitchen, and she sweeps her long red hair up into a messy bun. This way, she looks serious, with strands escaping to frame her face. She’s rolling out the dough when Caden pokes his curly head into the kitchen. He takes one look at Candi and disappears again.

“Caden!” Sophie calls to him, “It’s okay, it’s just Aunti So’s friend Candi. You want to come and say hi?”

His head appears slowly, and he eyes their visiter with obvious suspicion. Sophie doesn’t think he’s going to come in when, finally, he spots the pie crust.

“What’s that?”

“I’m making a pumpkin pie,” Candi tells him, “you want to help?”

Caden does nothing for several long seconds, and then, a nod. Sophie is surprised, but maybe Caden is having a good day. He climbs up onto a nearby chair and watches Candi with his unwavering gaze. He’s watching her hands intensely, like he’ll remember how to do it himself next time. Of course, knowing Caden, that could well be.

“So, you’re not a fan of Halloween?” Candi asks Caden.

Caden frowns and shakes his head.

“Why not?”

“Too scary.”

“What, you don’t like ghosts?” Candi asks, spreading the pumpkin mixture inside the crust.

“Um, no.” Caden says firmly. His views on ghosts are clear.

“But you like pumpkin pie?”

“I love pumpkin pie.”

“Well we’re gonna get some pumpkin pie into you, little dude.”

Caden grins and moves one chair closer.

Candi’s baking prowess impresses both Caden and Sophie, as well as Anita who shows up briefly to pour herself a glass of wine and disappear again. Sophie is also impressed by how good Candi is with Caden. She’s patient, she’s kind, and she answers his myriad questions happily. When they’re done, the three of them retire to the living room with their respective pieces of pie to watch My Neighbor Totoro, which is Caden’s current obsession.

“I love that you let your hair go natural.” Candi says, reaching out to tug gently on a lock of Sophie’s curly hair. She usually hates it when people touch her hair, but in this case she can’t really bring herself to mind. She leans her head back against the couch and lets Candi wind the curl around her finger.

“Yeah, I kinda fuck- uh, messed it up in high school, didn’t I?”

“I mean, it was cute, but you used a lot of product.”

“Yeah, I actually used so much relaxer that I just ended up shaving it all off a few years ago, it was so brittle.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I missed seeing you bald!” Candi gasps, “I bet you looked so cute!”

“I actually did look very cool.”

“I knew it.”

“Oh, stop it. Yours looks great, by the way.”

“Took me forever to grow it out, it’s a pain in the ass but at least it looks pretty.”

Sophie laughs, “I think that’s what they said about you in high school.”

Candi gasps in mock offence and smacks Sophie lightly on the arm. “Don’t point out my flaws, lady! It’s impolite.”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve gotten cheeky in your old age, haven’t you?”

“Old what? I’m not even thirty!”

“Okay old-timer.”

“Wow.”

The night feels… good. It feels like old times, but they never had old times like this before. It’s easy to talk to Candi, she’s just as funny and even more down to earth than she used to be. Growing up has made her even softer, even kinder than she was. To her dismay, Sophie finds herself growing more and more enamored as the night goes on. She should have never agreed to have Candi come here, not when a crush was so inevitable.

She can’t help it, she’s never been able to stop herself from falling.

She walks Candi to her car much later, because she’s a sap and she can already feel her heart aching with this new want. She doesn’t want Candi to go home, she wants her to stay. She wants to hear Candi laugh more, wants to cook with her more and see what she looks like in soft pajamas.

“Thanks for letting me stay so long.”Candi says, grinning and leaning back against the side of her car. Her hair is loose now, falling down around her shoulders in soft red waves. The smells of warm sugar and pumpkin still cling to her skin, and she could be a siren, as drawn to her as Sophie is.

“It was good.” Sophie says, immediately cursing herself. Why can’t she be more elegant, better with words? She should think of something insightful or flirty, or both, but she comes up blank.

“It was so good. I can’t believe I went so long without talking to you.” Candi reaches out and wraps her fingers around Sophie’s wrist, giving her a little tug, “I really missed you, you know?”

“Yeah,” Sophie sighs, “I missed you too. You just… left.”

“I know. That was so shitty, and I’m sorry. But i’m never going to be able to make up for that.”

“Just promise, if you leave again, you’ll let me know.”

“Yeah, of course.” Candi gives Sophie’s wrist a little squeeze, “I’m not eighteen anymore, I like to think I’m not that selfish anymore either.”

“I don’t think you are. I’m just glad you’re back.”

“Me too. I want to hang out with you more.”

Sophie’s stomach flips, and she has to fight to keep from fidgeting. “You want to, um, get lunch with me sometime this week or something?”

“Sophie, I would love to get some lunch with you.”

Sophie’s heart feels warm, her stomach full of butterflies. She’s suddenly thankful for the darkness, and that Candi can’t see her cheeks flush in the dim light.

“I’ll text you.” She says.

“You’d better!” Says Candi, and then, very suddenly, leans forward to press a kiss to Sophie’s cheek. It might be completely platonic, but it still sends Sophie’s head spinning. Just one chaste kiss and she’s a mess. An adult, and getting flustered over a kiss on the cheek.

So flustered, in fact, that she keeps thinking about it long after Candi is gone. Long after her thoughts should have turned elsewhere, she’s still dreaming of Candi’s smile.

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aurumacadicus · 7 years

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Ooh what would Yony and Natasha's porn tape be? Ballet students 'stretching'???

Mostly I’m just laughing about Natasha turning to look at Tony one day while they’re watching Tron and saying “Hey, have you ever made a porno?”

And Tony actually has to think about it before asking, “Do sex tapes count?”

And Natasha actually hast to think about that before replying “I think they have to have an actual plot to be a porno.”

“Then no, I’ve never made a porno.” This is discussed as if it’s the weather. Tony doesn’t even think it might have been leading up to anything.

Boy oh boy you’re going to be so disappointed because I’mma bring out Nerdtasha again.

Tony walks in from work one night and Natasha is sitting on the bed, holding up a gold bikini. “…You don’t have the skin tone for that,” he says after a moment.

Natasha nods once, shortly, agreeing. “No. But you do.” She gives him an intense stare. “Leia.”

“OHohoh okay but no???”

“You’re wearing the bikini, Stark.”

And Tony is terrified. “Does that–does that mean you’re–”

“Han Solo,” she answers immediately. She isn’t going to be Jabba. She’s had a Han Solo outfit forever. (One time she convinced Clint to go as Leia to a con with her but had conceded to let Clint wear a more modest outfit, mostly because he complained about not being able to hide weapons in a bikini.)

“Oh,” Tony says, relieved enough that he is okay with the bikini. “…Is it going to fit?”

“I am very intimate with your body,” she points out, then sighs when he gives her a very pointed stare. “JARVIS helped.”

Tony looks unfairly beautiful in his bikini and skirt. Natasha would feel jealous except Tony sees her in her Han Solo outfit and immediately blushes, mouth dropping open in surprise. She’s about to go over the scene she has in mind when Tony drops to his knees and crawls–fucking prowls–toward her, eyelids lowered sensually, and in the back of her mind she’s mad because Tony isn’t even getting tripped up on the stupid skirt but in the front of her mind she’s just going, “HNG.”

“You’re late,” Tony says as he comes to a stop in front of her, winding his arms around Natasha’s thighs, hands cupping her ass. “Not that I needed you to save my ass or anything, of course.”

“Of course,” Natasha agrees.

“Not that I wanted you to see me in chains or anything,” Tony continues, because he’s a snot and next time Natasha’s gonna chain him up, she’s sorry she didn’t do it this time– “But I guess I can thank you for the ride off of this stupid planet,” Tony finishes, and then presses his face into her crotch, drags his tongue over the fabric of her pants.

“I guess you can,” Natasha answers helplessly, because this wasn’t quite the scene she imagined but oh God is this doing it for her.

And Tony eats her out like that, standing in the middle of the room, holding her up by her hips like she weighs nothing when her knees buckle and she clutches at his hair. (Natasha doesn’t know why she’s surprised. She saw him and Dum-E move a car engine the other day.)

Tony smiles up at her smugly after she orgasms, licking his lips as he helps her tug her pants back up because her fingers are shaking. “So where are we going now, fly-girl?”

“HNG,” Natasha’s brain goes again. It takes everything she has not to grab Tony by the hair. Han Solo wouldn’t do that. (Han Solo would do that if Leia was a little shit like Tony was though. Probably.)

“It’ll be a while before we get to our destination,” Natasha says after a moment. “Chewie’s got the wheel.”

“Oh?” Tony says, walking his fingers up her thigh coyly. “And are you suggesting I spend that while with you?”

“Well I’m not not saying it,” Natasha replies, still a little stupid from her orgasm and also a little distracted by the thought that she needs Tony in this outfit all the time.

“Well,” Tony sighs, looking her up and down as he sits down on the bed, skirt clinging to his legs attractively. “There are worse people I could spend my time with.”

Natasha crowds between his legs, hands landing on his shoulders. “Worse things you could be doing, too.”

“Worse people I could be doing,” Tony corrects her, before letting out a startled noise when she shoves him backward so he’s lying down. “Oh!”

Natasha rides him so hard and fast that all Tony can do is clutch her waist and gasp for air, her name dropping from his lips like prayers. When he comes he manages to stutter out, “I see how you could make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs,” and if he didn’t know what that was going to do to her, he learned almost immediately.

He had no idea he needed a female Han Solo with a strap-on to fuck him until he screamed himself hoarse and then sit on his face to get eaten out again but he sure enjoys learning this about himself.

(”We could make so much money posting this,” Tony says, staring up at the ceiling, still a little ashamed of how good the sex was.

Natasha stares up at the ceiling as well, stone-faced. They would. There are people out there that would love seeing a female Han Solo ride and the peg a male Gold Bikini Leia, would pay big money for it. They’re a little sad that they’ll never be able to post a video of this.

“Did you just find the tightest pants possible or what?” Tony complains.

Natasha scoffs. “Like that’s the last time you’re going to be wearing that fucking bikini.”)

#aurumacadicus answers #anon #lemon #tony makes a porno #ironwidow #tony stark #natasha romanoff #anonymous

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elizabethrobertajones · 7 years

Note

Has no one noticed the description of season 1 episode 13???? "Dean is contacted by his first love, Cassie!" CASSIE, CAS, OMFG! This is canon and I choose to believe! Coincidence? I believe it's foreshadowing!

I stumbled over to my askbox first thing after waking up and squinted at this like, oh, hon, don’t believe everything you read on the internet, until my eyes adjusted and put “season” and “episode” in the right order

But yeah, there’s a beautiful wealth of literature about Cassie and Dean, who are the only reason to watch that episode.

(It helps, if you’re going to watch, to pretend that bit where Cassie, brilliant local reporter and apparently extremely smart cookie, who has gathered mountains of information on this case and has extensive personal ties to it, before she called in the Winchesters like an extermination service, has to sit there and watch Dean suddenly figure out her whole case for her, instead actually gets that win herself, at which point at least all the agency in dealing with the case goes back into the black woman’s hands, and Sam and Dean are just hired muscle and a fun hook up for our real hero. :P I figure that weird choice was an attempt to not make Sam and Dean pretty much passive observers through the first ¾ of the episode out of some misguided feeling the show had to be about them ALL the time, but in some cases you should prooobably stand back a little and wonder if that was not maybe the one choice you could make if you had to do EVERYTHING else the same to salvage the episode out of total infamy, and all it costs you is making your smart and interesting original character continue to live up to the most important character trait we know about her, aka that she is a good journalist, and not have that all unfairly robbed from her so the white guys can look smart and she’s reduced to a love interest with an infuriating deliberate passivity in the story)

Anyway my entire tag for the episode is either complaining about the rest of it or talking about Cassie and Dean and this parallel

I think even if Cassie was called ANYTHING else it would still be an absolutely fascinating case study in Dean’s early emotional history, the way Sam teases him about it, the suspiciously similar lines in their argument to the way Dean and Cas talk (sadly without hooking up immediately after :P) and it just happens to be that way. I doubt it was more than a coincidence - this is in season 1, Buckleming, only episode more maligned by the show in its own text when being self-referential is Bugs etc etc - and this IS the show that in 3x06, a mere 10 episodes before Cas showed up, had Sam using a summoning spell that invoked the names of several angels, Castiel among them. Also the same show Jeremy Carver accidentally-deliberately (?) named three separate wives and girlfriends “Amelia” and even used the same career for the husband in 2 of those instances. I’m sure if Sam stuck around and married HIS Amelia he would have started selling ad time for radio whatever the heck that is.

Brains work in weird patterns and no one checks this stuff as far as I can tell :P

Anywho if it was Buckleming writing 4x01 (*shudder*) I’d maybe think picking “Castiel” was at least a sort of influenced decision, but as far as I can tell the show’s been so desperate to bury The Racist Truck Episode, Cassie has never been mentioned again and in general the writers clearly know not to go mining the episode for material to reuse :P The decision to use “Castiel” was because he was the angel of Thursday and that’s the day the show aired on at the time, and of course he was never originally intended too be a love interest and convincing arguments to explain narrative roles and at least why we CAN read him that way earlier aside, not strictly written as one until season 7 or 8.

But now sitting over here with all that hindsight, it is a pretty excellent thing :3 I like to think of it as the way the show just runs to many loops around itself it’s not even always intentional, and tbh the fact it is basically a storytelling uroboros, the snake eating its own tail, is hardwired into the show’s DNA as the kind of narrative style used since the early days, but the way details come around again and again often feels almost like it’s unconscious and after a point certain things get absorbed into the back of the writers’ minds - lines of dialogue, characters, quirks they like to include and there’s only a chance they know they’ve done it before… I think season 12 serves as a good example of how the show looks once the writers are told to be AWARE of doing it and ENCOURAGED to go pilfer from anywhere in canon they like, taking advantage that the “we’ve been down this road so many times” mantra has left them free to use mirrored moments that can reflect 8 different episodes in 8 different seasons in like one line of dialogue, only now it feels like every episode and every moment was intentionally tuned to be doing that in a self-aware, meta way instead of how you suspect earlier iterations were just the same train rolling through the same town on its route like we were commuters along certain threads of the story. :P

(Sorry this has turned into a treatise on why I love Dabb era so much) Anyway long story short if Cassie HAD been introduced in 13x01 the “omg I see what you did there” would be way more intentional, but as it is Cas just sort of FITS into one of these already established grooves in Dean’s character, right along with his issues with angels and faith that with hindsight make 1x12 and 2x13 look as if the writers somehow just KNEW it was about Destiel, and I’m not talking the “well yeah they were/probably were setting up for him to have an angel love interest all along, only it would have been Anna” type speculation, I’m talking about 1x12 and Roy LeGrange using dialogue 4x01 would nick and put in Cas’s mouth…

Maybe my next ridiculous diagram should be “why everything before season 4 proves Destiel is real even though none of it was written intentionally to do this” :P

#Asks #1x13 #destiel #parallels #I also acknowledge I just made this entire post about the interesting black female character as a love interest #and at that just a parallel to serve my white dudes ship #still thinking about that post from last night that meta writers look so callous about the characters they use as mirrors #so I would like to state that when I actually watch 1x13 of course I'm rooting for Cassie and think the episode is all about her #and she's awesome and deserved better and so on #but for the sake of having a normal conversation about other stuff of which she's an incidental part #I can't include a second paragraph of disclaimer about how I'm not just reducing her to a Destiel mirror #and in other circumstances when I would write about her and not Destiel I have a deeper appreciation for her as a character #which doesn't disappear to use her like this >.>

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