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gojoest · 4 months

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the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried our best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

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khaire-traveler · 6 months

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🌊 Subtle Aphrodite Worship 🦪

Make your body wash/shampoo/conditioner rose scented

Have a rose or sweet scented candle that you light (doesn't have to be on an altar)

Create a skin/body care routine

Have perfume/cologne that you dedicate to her

Wear jewelry that reminds you of her

Carry a pocket charm that reminds you of her (dove works well in a Christian household and is a sacred animal of hers)

Keep a small picture of her in your wallet

Have a dove or swan stuffed animal

Have imagery of beaches, seafoam, seashells (especially clams), wings, hearts, swans, pearls, or doves around

Wear a locket with a picture of someone you love or of her

Give compliments to strangers

Drink water regularly and dedicate a glass of it to her

Collect seashells (if possible)

Collect things you simply find pretty

Plan your outfits/wear clothes that make you feel good

Keep a journal of poetry dedicated to Aphrodite and love-related topics; can also be a general positivity journal or diary (maybe a diary in a way of writing letters to her but saying a code name instead of "Aphrodite")

Keep heart-shaped imagery around

Embrace yourself; give yourself love

Forgive yourself of past mistakes

Give yourself compliments; start small if needed; I recommend doing this in a mirror

Pin up pictures of loved ones on a mirror or wall

If possible, burn some incense in honor of her; strawberry always has a great smell to it

Watch a love-focused movie (romantic or platonic)

Listen to or read stories about acts of kindness and love

Paint your nails or wear make-up (if you enjoy those things and are able to)

Listen to music that makes you feel good; dance to it like nobody's watching!

Have a party where you and your friends create drawings, items, or crafts that you can decorate your rooms with c:

Start a flower garden, especially with roses; tend to a plant

Practice compassion, especially towards yourself

Fall asleep/meditate to the sound of ocean waves or singing birds

Listen to/sing love songs!

Spend time with loved ones

Have a friend's night; go out on the town together, watch movies, go camping, etc.

Spend time with your pets

Take a shower/bath, especially with rose petals and candles (SAFELY!!!!)

Visit a nearby ocean or body of water; stand in the water (if safe) and ground yourself there

Write about your crushes

Make a list of qualities you'd like in a partner; make a list of qualities you don't want (like green flags and flags)

Take a walk alongside a beach/body of water

Take care of your personal hygiene

I may add more to this later, but here is my list of subtle ways to worship Aphrodite so far! Worship can absolutely be discreet, and if it needs to be for safety or the like, know that the gods will almost certainly understand. Take care, y'all! 🩷

Link to Subtle Worship Master list

#aphrodite deity #aphrodite worship #helpol #hellenic polytheism #hellenic pagan #deity worship #pagan tips

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star-dust-shark · 4 months

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pjo characters as weird and dumb things me and my friends have said

Percy: what the fuck is cockblocking like I can't block ur cock on Snapchat

Will: UUUUUUUGH MY ASS HURTS- ooh look a butterfly

Leo: I CANT FIND MY PRETTY STICKER- AW FUCK- SHIT- MY VAGINA- OOAOoOoOOooAHAHHAgh

Jason: I can't actually believe I just agreed with you but hey here we are

Reyna: why the fuck am I friends with any of you hoes

Piper: should I...? too late I did it

Will: the best way to rizz someone up is by rizzing them up *turns to friend, winks horribly* hey baby girl

Rachel: one sec getting my anger out *aggressively splatters paint on canvas*

Annabeth: sometimes I'm smart. When I'm smart, I'm smart. *awkward thumbs up and grimace*

Octavian: fuck the gays they should all die ... I mean I could fuck some gays

Hazel: I'll make you tea but not in a sweet way I'll make it so hot in burns your tongue and you can't speak for a week

Frank: hey guys check me out I'm a furry on drugs *WOOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF*

Grover: I love plants :3 specifically magic mushrooms but like

Leo: I mean I would totally fuck you but like respect man

Will: Ugh fuck my life I hate everything *coldplay starts playing* I retract the previous statement I fucking love life

Jason: UGH UR ALL SO DUMB but I'm in

Nico: if u wanna kys clap ur hands *rapidly claps hands*

Piper: *hypnotizes u with my beautiful blue orbs* come over to my house

Hazel: respectfully hope you die <3

Frank: I'm on acid what's it called when a ton of cats jump on each other a dog pile or a cat pile

Reyna: OH THANK GOD- sike I don't believe in that motherfucker hahahha

Annabeth: I'm so smart *holds up the one good test I got in school* see the teacher even gave me an 11/10 because I wrote my name in a cool font

Leo: UUUUUGGGGGHHHH IM SO HORNY- *mom walks in* oh hi mom how are you

Will: we can just... fuck. as friends though no homo.

Rachel: IF I DON'T DRAW SOMETHING IN THE NEXT FEW MINUTES I AM GOING TO MAUL SOMEONE

Octavian: you all suck and I hate you *silence* no wait come back

Someone: haha ur gay

Nico: yeah??? and ur not?? like don't knock it until you try it dick is yummy man

Hazel: someone just told me what smearing is and honestly I kinda wanna die *fix you by coldplay starts playing* LMAO WTF

Frank: you sad ass emo dog just be happy

Percy: I Am OnE wiTh ThE oCeAn AnD HopEfuLLy aLL oF ThE hOt MerPeOpLe In iT

Leo: *talking to literally nobody* hey guys!! gonna go get my top surgery! *shows up at claires*

Reyna: I only wanna die sometimes and that's normal right

RIGHT

Will: *playing guitar* haha look guys I'm fingering A minor *strums violently*

Jason: screw men *eyes widen* I should start taking my own advice ngl

Will: *listening to a playlist that Nico made him* ugh my emo ass boyfriend and his stupid music I hate him *proceeds to write his name over and over again in diary with hearts around it*

Nico: what if I strangle someone with a pair of earbuds

Will: please don't

Leo: *in demonic voice* LeAf *eats it*

Nico: *pulls gay flag out of pocket* omg it's u

Will: *shuffles around in pocket, finds condom* ... it's u, vanilla flavoured

Leo: my name's Leo

Percy: and I like jugs

Nico: I'm mentally ill

Leo: and I'm on drugs :D

Jason: is there anything better than pussy

Piper: I thought you where gay

Jason:

Jason: my boyfriend's trans?

Will: the temptation to fuck an emo boy rn is killing me

Leo: the masculine urge to

Leo:

Leo: I forgor

Will: that's good!

Nico: like me in bed

*silence*

Leo: smash or pass Ryan Gosling

Nico: SMASH

Will: PASS

Solangelo: *glares at each other*

Nico: omg stop with that song

Will: but

Will: but you can take me hot to go :(

Annabeth: yeah

Percy: yeah

Annabeth: *in funny voice* yeah

Percy *hentai moan* yEEEAAAaaH

Leo: *pointing at Nico* EEEEEEWWWW AN EMOOOOOO EWWW

Jason: never ever look up what an eyesha erotica lyric means

Reyna:

Reyna: oh you poor soul *pats back*

Nico: I can't breathe

Will: just

Will: breathe air

Nico: I breathe drugs

Piper: I'm gonna go play basketball

Leo: haha play with my balls

Jason: already do

Leo: *chokes on air*

well that's all sorry for the torture, thanks to @localcosplaymushroom, @crowwolf8, @justagremlinoncaffeine, and @secret-mewtwo for all of the funny convos that went into this

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prythianpages · 10 months

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Stuck on You | Part Two

cassian x reader | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

[series masterlist]

A/N: you finally get to see the line above in this part! I also used writing prompts from @dumplingsjinson to help me with some of the dialogue. you can find the original post here.

Warnings: fluff, some angst, mentions of death

“Y/N?”

You spun around, eyes widening in surprise and recognition. “Cassian,” you whispered, your heart dancing erratically within your chest as you took in the sight of him.

“You remembered my name.” A warm grin spread across his face at the sound of his name coming from your pretty lips.

"How could I ever forget?" you remarked with a gleam in your eye and your words left him blushing, the memory of the night you two spent together surfacing vividly, even after all these years.

His presence was powerful and imposing, just as you remembered. Towering over you, his tall and muscular frame overwhelmed your senses, accompanied by the intoxicating scent of cedar and balsam that clung to him. His warm amber eyes lingered on you, a silent exploration that traced the contours of your figure as if he were undressing you with his eyes before lifting to meet your gaze once more.

You couldn’t shake the disbelief that gripped you. You thought you’d never see him again.

“Cassian?” A small voice interrupted, pulling your gazes away from each other and back to the young girl. “I’ve never met you before.”

Cassian studied her. She could only be a couple of years old, no older than a decade. A fact that set the gears in his mind into motion. Could she be–

“Cassian is–is an old friend of mine.” You swiftly explained to the young girl. “Cassian, this is Seraphine. My sister.”

The blood returned to Cassian’s face as a small wave of relief washed over him. Sister. This little girl was your sister, not his long-lost secret child. There was a glimmer of amusement in your eyes when you caught the look on his face.

“Can you be my friend too?” Seraphine pleaded with her eyes. Her tiny hands grasped onto Cassian’s larger hand and she urged him to take the seat next to her. He looked at you and you could only send him an apologetic look, gesturing with your hands to take a seat as well, mouthing at him that your little sister didn’t have many friends. He felt a tug in his heart at your revelation so with a kind smile, he took the seat next to Seraphine.

“Of course.” Cassian replied. “What is it that you were drawing earlier?”

Seraphine squealed in excitement as she pulled out her notebook, showing him the pegasus she had been drawing. Cassian bit back his laugh as he took in the drawing that had a delightful charm, one only kids can bring to their creations.

You heard your name being called out again and when you turned your head, you saw that one of your tables was in need of more ale. You shifted your weight from one foot to another as you contemplated. The tavern was small enough that even when your sister would sit alone, you could still keep a watchful eye on her. You knew your sister would be in safe company with Cassian, but you could sense that he wanted to talk. Over what you had no clue but you were itching to know too.

“Are you hungry?” You asked and before he could respond, you simply nodded your head as you decided for him. “Let me bring you something to eat as well. I’ll be right back.”

Cassian watched as you disappeared behind a worn counter. You returned to the table but only for a brief moment as you placed a plate of warm food in front of him and then you were running off to attend to other tables, pouring out drinks and smiles with ease.

A smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something off about you. He only knew you for one night but that had been enough to know the spark you carried. Yet, the spark that had drawn him in seemed dimmed now and you carried yourself as if burdened by a weight he couldn’t quite discern.

“You’re staring.”

Cassian startled. He had forgotten all about the young girl beside him. “Sorry.”

Seraphine giggled and she grinned as she looked up at her new friend. “You like my sister.”

His own lips curled up into a shameless grin. “Yes, I do.”

“Will you marry her?”

“Maybe,” Cassian replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

He did like you.

One of his biggest regrets was not asking you to stay with him. After your bodies were spent from the immense amount of pleasure you drew out from one another, he had cuddled you against him with the pretense of keeping you warm but in reality, he just wanted to hold you longer. You had laughed as you plucked a leaf from his hair. The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking and he had already planned to take you out for a nice breakfast in Velaris once the restaurants would open. However, at the break of dawn, you had insisted you had to leave and you were running off before he could ask where to find you again.

He did look for you, though. He begged Azriel to help him find you but he had only been able to track down the friend you had arrived at the bonfire with. She was the one who had given him the unfortunate news that you had left Windhaven with your mother, not knowing where you had gone to.

“Papa liked my mama so he married her.” Seraphine said, her voice growing quiet. He failed to notice the quiver of her lip. “He liked her a lot, said it’s why they had me…but mama got attacked and then he died…y/n won’t get hurt will she? You won’t die, will you?”

Seraphine’s eyes lined with silver and she began to cry.

Cassian frowned and turned to her, his hand wiping away at her tears with an ache in his chest at what her words insinuated. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. No one is going to hurt y/n, not under my watch. And don’t worry about me, munchkin. I plan to live for a long time.”

Your head whipped at the sound of your sister crying. In an instant, you were at the table, dropping to your knees as you brought Seraphine into your embrace. Her tears dampened your shirt but you did not care. Your hand ran through her hair while the other rubbed against her back in a soothing manner, your own eyes brimming with tears and realization dawned on Cassian as to why your spark had dimmed.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me.” Cassian repeated, following after you and helping you pick up the dirty plates scattered along the now empty tables as you prepared to close the tavern.

After Seraphine had settled with the help of some hot cocoa, Cassian had pulled you aside to talk, ignoring the wary look Azriel kept sending his way. They had stayed much longer than they had planned. Rhysand had already worriedly called into their minds, demanding to know why and for them to return. But Cassian refused to leave without knowing more about you and what had happened over the past seven years.

It was then when you explained everything, starting with the night you two spent together and why you had to leave so quickly after. You hadn’t planned to attend the bonfire celebration that night but it was your last night in Windhaven and you gave in to your friend’s request, deciding that you would finally let go and be free, have fun for once. No one would remember you, anyway, or so you had thought.

The very next morning you and your mother moved back to her home camp, Ironcrest, where she married an old friend of hers who promised to take care of not only her but you as well. Your mother had been treated poorly, shunned by Ironcrest, after falling victim to a high fae that had been visiting. She found out she was pregnant shortly after. It was already hard being a female in an Illyrian war camp and even more so being a single mother. The two of you moved from camp to camp, wherever your mother could find a job to sustain the both of you until you were old enough to help. You had only lived in Windhaven during the years of the war, which explained why Cassian had never seen you before the bonfire.

The man your mother had married was nice and kind, a stark contrast among the many Illyrian males at the camps. He was able to take care of her and you well with the help of his tavern and he was elated when he found out your mother was pregnant. He had hoped for a son, as most men do, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when he finally got to meet sweet little Seraphine.

Your family had lived a quiet and peaceful life, doting over Seraphine who had brought you all such joy. That is, until, a drunken Illyrian male, who had remembered your mother from years before you were born, decided to attack her out of spite. Of course, your step-father had intervened. He had not been trained as a warrior like the drunk Illyrian male had but that didn’t deter him from fighting back until his very last breath.

You had been the one to find your murdered mother and step-father. You’d never forget the gruesome sight of their lifeless bodies or the immense anger that had cursed through your veins when the murderer was let go and freed, having convinced the council that he had acted upon honor. You were utterly and completely helpless as your mother’s body was not granted the same respected burial as your step father was.

It had been a couple of months since their deaths and in those months, you focused on taking care of Seraphine. You were grateful your step father had taken you under his wing and taught you about business here and there. It was what helped you run the tavern on your own. That and the false pretense that your step-father’s brother, the only living relative Seraphine had that neither of you have met, was overseeing the business.

You settled the last of the dirty dashes into the bin, deciding that you would take care of them the next morning. You leaned against the counter to face the persistent Illyrian male before you. He took this as his opportunity to approach you, bridging the distance between you.

“I can take care of you and Seraphine.” He was so close and when he leant down, your eyes fluttered shut momentarily at the warmth radiating from him, your body aching for more.

“Was I really that good? To have the Lord of Bloodshed remember me after all this time and offer to take care of me?”

There was humor in your tone and Cassian was smirking at you. So you had also done a little digging at him after your night with him. He caged you in with both his arms and wings. “I think about you and that pretty cunt of yours so often. Sometimes even when I’m with other females.”

“You do?” You breathed in pleasant surprise, you had only meant to tease him. His words went straight to your core and you wanted nothing more than to give in to him, to feel him all over you.

Cassian felt a familiar cool caress–one of Azriel’s shadows–at the back of his neck and then it was yanking on his hair in warning. Reluctantly, he pulled away from you, catching the way you composed yourself. He would’ve loved to tease you about it and if he had time, he would’ve loved to show you the effect you had on him. Even after all these years.

“I’m being serious though. My offer is not driven by lust or any ulterior motive but as a friend.”

“Friend?”

“It’s what you called me earlier.” He replied, a note of gentle reproach in his tone. A wistful smile played on his lips. “And while I would like to be more than a friend, that sounds like a promising starting point.”

“I’m sorry, Cassian, but I don’t think I can.” You frowned, crossing your arms against your chest, as you fought the urge to say yes. “I just–I don’t know.”

While he promised to take care of your little sister too, it wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him, you could tell he meant well and his offer was genuine. Your reservation was heavily based on the variability of it all. This life, as miserable as it was, is all you knew and for the moment, it was keeping both you and your sister safe.

Seraphine squinted up at the towering Illyrian male, who you had left her with while you talked with Cassian. He claimed to be Cassian’s friend. “Azriel,” he had introduced himself and when her curious gaze followed his shadows, he added: “Shadowsinger.”

“You don’t look like a Shadowsinger.”

“I’m a special kind.” Azriel’s lips curved into the ghost of a smile. “What does a Shadowsinger look like to you?”

“I dunno know. A performer maybe?” Seraphine replied with a shrug of her shoulders, giggling when a shadow brushed across her shoulders in a playful manner. She then studied Azriel again, taking in the numerous weapons strapped to his body and the strength he carried.

“Did you ever kill anyone?”

The hint of the smile dropped from Azriel’s face and he cleared his throat. “We’re getting out of subject here.”

“Alright Sera,” you nervously chided as you reappeared, Cassian trailing behind you. You rested one hand on your little sister’s shoulder while the other brushed against her cheek in a soft warning. You had heard snippets from their conversation and you were worried your sister’s curiosity had offended the Shadowsinger. “That’s enough questions.”

“It’s alright.” Azriel said, politely brushing off your concern. He then turned to his friend. “But we do have to go.”

Seraphine followed Azriel’s gaze and her lips curved into a pout. Slipping from your grasp, she ran to Cassian, tapping his leg to capture his attention. Cassian’s attention drifted back to the young girl and he crouched to be eye level with her, a fond smile gracing his lips.

“You’ll come visit us again, right?” Seraphine asked and with a sudden seriousness, she added: “Friends visit friends often. It’s a rule.”

“Sera–” You started.

“Of course I will.”

Cassian’s gaze locked with yours as he rose to his feet. He gave Seraphine a light pat to her head that had her giggling and then he was standing in front of you. You raised your brows in surprise at him. You thought declining his offer would’ve put him off, so you were surprised he still wanted to see you.

His hand reached for yours and without breaking eye contact, he brought it up to his lips. A small gesture that sent warmth flooding through you--a promise that he would visit again.

“Don’t miss me too much, sweetheart.”

You were at a loss for words, your thoughts a tangled mess. A feeble nod was all you could manage before awkwardly clearing your throat, realizing the weight of what you had agreed to. Cassian must’ve sensed your inner turmoil because he was grinning down at you in response.

He would’ve stayed longer, lost in the moment, if it weren’t for Azriel. The Shadowsinger’s gaze bore into Cassian’s back, prompting him to hesitantly release your hand. He must’ve not been moving fast enough because Azriel was pulling him by the cuff of his leathers, sending a nod in farewell to you.

Even as Azriel guided Cassian out the door and you returned your attention to your little sister, Cassian’s gaze was stuck on you.

Cassian, true to his word, returned a couple of days later, bearing gifts. Flowers adorned with vibrant hues for you and a plush pegasus that resembled the strange but endearing drawing Seraphine had shown him the night they first met. Of course, your little sister was over the moon with him, beaming with delight as she ran around the tavern and clutched the pegasus to her chest.

He returned almost every other night, the two of you falling into a weekly routine with ease. There were times where his visits would be delayed but he always told you ahead of time.

On bustling evenings, he would keep Seraphine company at her table, often coloring and drawing with her. During the quieter tavern nights, the three of you would have dinner together. He would flirt with you shamelessly every time he could, keeping it age appropriate whenever Seraphine was within hearing range but on the moments he had you alone, the teasing words slipping from his lips were sinful. Flirting was new territory to him and he loved trying it with you, rejoicing in every reaction he drew from you.

As the nights would wind down and you closed up the tavern, he would walk the both of you home. If Seraphine was sleepy, Cassian would scoop her up in his arms with a gentleness that melted your heart. On more spirited nights, she would ride atop his shoulders, giggles echoing through the dimly lit streets as her tiny wings spread and she pretended she was flying. Always, his free hand sought yours, and sometimes, you would let him intertwine his fingers with yours.

He was patient with you and you knew that if you had told him to stop, he would. Yet, deep down, you found that you didn’t want him to. You found a quiet pleasure in his presence, a sentiment that bloomed into something more just as the flowers he gifted you did with each shared moment.

The tavern was alive with the lively hum of laughter and clinking glasses as Cassian entered. His eyes quickly sought you out. You moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, your stubborn demeanor evident in the way you navigated the bustling tavern. His fists clenched when one of the males got handsy with you, his hand trailing too low on your back as you tended to his table and he fought the urge to teach the male a lesson when he saw your reaction. But then you were forcing a small smile on your face that didn't reach your eyes and laughing at what the male said with such practiced ease, it tore at his heart a little.

Cassian turned his head, unable to bear the sight any longer. If he did, he worried he'd lead his simmering temper take over and disrupt the lively atmosphere of the tavern.

He spotted Seraphine at her usual table. She was too engrossed in coloring one of the drawings before her, her small tongue peeking out and eyebrows furrowed to notice Cassian. Her pegasus plush, which she had named Scrump, was resting beside her coloring book.

When Cassian spotted you behind the bar, he decided to finally approach you. A charming smile playing on his lips as he rested his elbows on the counter and leant in toward you.

“Hello, Sweetheart.”

Your hand trembled slightly, flustered by his presence as you poured him a drink and you were grateful that there was a physical barrier between the two of you. “Why is your face so close?”

Cassian didn’t miss a beat, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that had heat pooling in your stomach and heart fluttering. “Well, do you like it this close?”

When you didn’t respond, Cassian continued. “You know what I just realized?”

“What?” You asked, deciding to entertain him while you handed him his drink.

His fingers brushed against yours, lingering for longer than needed as he took the drink from you. “How utterly adorable it is when you get flustered.”

You shot him a skeptical glance. “You did not just realize it.”

“No,” he grinned, bringing his drink to his lips. “But I wanted an excuse to point it out.”

“Cas Cas!”

Cassian pulled away at the joyous shout of his name and he turned around just in time to catch a beaming Seraphine into his arms. He spun her around playfully, a chuckle escaping him, and your heart felt a twist. As endearing as the gesture was, there was a lingering ache within you. It struck you that your little sister was forming an attachment to the Illyrian male, much like you were, and the uncertainty of it all left you feeling a sense of fear and vulnerability. The two of you had already lost so much.

As the night unfolded, Cassian engaged you in lively banter, sharing stories that drew genuine laughter from you. He learned more about you. Your dreams, your favorite songs and the tales you held close to your heart. The stubborn walls you had built seemed to soften with every visit.

He walked you both home that night. Seraphine had chosen to skip ahead of you two, singing an Illyrian nursery rhyme but his hand like always, was wrapped around yours. When you had reached your doorstep, you unlocked the door for your sister, instructing her to prepare for bed and that you’d be there shortly.

The door was left slightly ajar, in case she needed you, as you leaned against the wooden wall beside it. You opened your mouth to bid Cassian farewell but found yourself at a loss for words as he leaned in. His hand released yours only to cage you into the wall behind you with hands splayed on either side of you. He leaned in, his voice a low whisper. “You know, I’m starting to think, maybe, just maybe, you’re falling for me too.”

A blush tinted your cheeks and you met his gaze. Your playful scoff couldn’t mask the truth in your eyes. There was a softness there that hadn’t been there before. “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought.”

Cassian grinned, the realization of progress sweetening the air. He leant down further, his breath mingling with yours as his gaze flickered to your lips and then back to your eyes. Your eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation but then the warmth grew farther and upon opening your eyes, you found him staring at you.

“What?”

“I just think it’s funny that even on your tiptoes, you still can’t reach me.”

You glared, not realizing that you had, in fact, been standing on your toes to reach his lips. In that charged moment, something sparked within you. Swiftly, you elbowed directly into his gut with ease and on instinct he leaned down with a groan, meeting your level once more. Seizing the opportunity, you captured his lips into a kiss and smiled when you felt him move his mouth against yours.

His tongue swept along your bottom lip and you pulled away, a smug look on your face. “Who’s laughing now?”

“Come here, you,” he said, his voice a breathless whisper as he leant down once more. With the help of his hand on the back of your neck, he guided you close, his lips pressing against yours. This time, when he slid his tongue along your bottom lip, you didn’t pull away, choosing to allow him in instead, tentatively opening your heart to the possibility of love.

Cassian didn’t visit the following day or the day after that. It had been two whole weeks since his last visit, the night you two kissed. You wondered if you had scared him away. Maybe, he realized he didn’t like you after all, reducing all you two shared to nothing but physical attraction.

These thoughts did nothing to soothe you and you couldn’t help it when the pain that had been lingering deep within your chest resurfaced as you noticed Seraphine’s head lift in anticipation every time the door to the tavern was opening only to be met with disappointment.

Finally, almost a whole month later, Cassian appeared. His cheeks were flushed from the cold winter air. Seraphine did a double take, her eyes widening in a mixture of joy and disbelief as she recognized her friend. She ran up to him, the question she had been asking you every night tumbling from her lips. “Cassian, where have you been? I missed you! Scrumps missed you too!”

“I’m sorry, little one.” Cassian frowned, patting the back of her hair as she clung onto his leg. “I missed you, too.”

You approached the two, arms folded across your chest. There was a look in your eyes he couldn’t quite discern–apprehension, perhaps– and it filled him with unease. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads up, Sweetheart. Rhysand sent me on a mission and–”

“It’s okay. You don’t owe us an explanation,” you were interrupting, motioning for him to follow you to the table Seraphine sat at every night. Your voice was quiet, a low murmur, as your next words slipped out of your mouth. “You don’t owe us anything.”

But Cassian heard it–the weight in your words. That unspoken ache. The unease in his chest grew. He didn’t mean to hurt you.

The walls Cassian had once broken down were now back up and he hated the distance that had settled between you.

Since the tavern was quiet and idle, the three of you had dinner together and he dedicated it all to you and your sister, wanting to know what he had missed. He discovered that Seraphine had lost a tooth, chuckling when she eagerly showed him the gap where her front tooth once resided and the amusing whistling sound she could now produce. Relief washed over him when, finally, you smiled at him again over something he had said. It led you back to your usual banter, offering a fleeting but welcomed respite from the awkward tension that had momentarily taken hold.

You gradually allowed him back in, though this time, with a more guarded embrace.

“And what about you, my sweets?” Cassian’s attention was on you, wanting to know what you had been up to the past couple of weeks.

“It’s been quiet here without you.” You admitted, oblivious to the fact you hadn’t quite answered his question.

Cassian’s eyes brightened. “You missed me.”

You choked on your ale, bringing your hand to your chest. “I didn’t say that.”

Cassian turned to Seraphine with a grin. “She just said she missed me, right?”

“Definitely.” Seraphine replied almost instantly, mirroring the curve of his lips with a toothy grin of her own.

“Traitor,” you playfully accused your sister with a roll of your eyes. She stuck her tongue out at you and you chuckled. Not wanting to dwell on your small confession for too long, you shifted to rise from your seat, deciding now was the perfect time to return to your duties.

Cassian’s hand sought out yours, gently halting you. “Hey, since you missed me so much, why don’t you go out with–”

“Cassian, I told you. I can’t. I–” Your voice hushed, gaze flickering to your little sister, who finished her dinner. Grateful that she was engrossed in conversation with Scrumps, her pegasus plush, you added, "I have a lot to deal with right now."

Before you could say anything more, or he could respond, the call from one of your tables beckoned you away. An apology reflected in your eyes as you left, and Cassian watched with a hint of longing as you attended to your duties.

"Don't worry," Seraphine's voice drew his attention away. He turned to the young girl, who munched on her food with an air of amusement in her eyes. "She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know. I read her diary."

“She thinks it's fancy?”

Cassian's hand instinctively reached up toward his hair, currently tied up in a loose bun. Her innocent words stirred a spark of hope within him. Although you were stubborn, he could sense that you wanted--you longed--for him too.

He would not give up on you, refusing to surrender the love that continued to bloom within his heart.

[series masterlist]

tag: @kemillyfreitas

a/n: i watched lilo & stitch while writing this part and Cobra bubbles lowkey gave me Azriel vibes so I couldn't help but incorporate that small scene of Lilo asking him if he ever killed anyone lol. the next part might be posted tomorrow, depending on how far I get along with my studies for the day. i plan to finish this series soon <3

#cassian x reader #cassian imagine #cassian fluff #cassian smut #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian acotar #acotar x reader #acotar imagine #cassian acotar imagine #cassian #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fluff #acotar smut #soy

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lina-lovebug · 2 years

Text

You Are Mine, pt. 2

Background: Reader is Neytiri sister and has mated with Quaritch.

Stuff in italics in the Na'vi language

Warning: sex, mentions of sex, hurtful language

"Miles," I moaned, completely connected to him both spiritually and physically.

He didn't want to connect us in a lab, so he unlocked my chains and carried me out into the forest. But before we could connect, I wanted to feel my home again. My feet beating against the forest floor, my hair howling in the wind - it was home.

He laid me down gently against the grass and kissed me. His mouth ventured past my lips, down my neck to my breasts, and down to where I could not even begin to describe such pleasure.

"I love you," I breathed out, my eyes staring into his as he stretched me out.

"I love you too," and I believed him. The look of complete ecstasy and love in his eyes told me the truth, and I sang his name like it was a chant.

Miles Quaritch couldn't believe that this had happened to him. He never felt like the hateful man he saw in the video diaries and felt a strong pull to every piece of nature in Pandora. He would be lying if he said he didn't believe in Eywa everytime he saw you smile.

"We're mated for life," He said, completely in awe of you and he knew that what he felt was more than love.

"You are stuck with me," I smiled.

"And I would not choose anyone else, sweetheart," He kissed me, his lips molding into my own.

"What do we do now?" I asked, as the sun was on the rise and Spider was still inside.

"Take Spider with us, and go to your people. I want to make amends for what I did-"

"For what Colonel Quaritch did," I stopped him, "not what you did."

"They won't see it that way," He was doubtful. Go to her people and express how he feels like an absolute fucking asshole and how he knows the pain he caused can never be repaired. They might just kill him on the spot.

"We must go to my mother. She is Tsahik, and she will see what I see," I was sure of it.

"But let's get our son first."

"My child!" Mother cried out, enveloping me in a hug. I missed her so dearly, but this mut wait.

"You. . .you are mated," She realized, sensing the difference in me. She pulled away.

"Who is the man who has taken my daughters heart? Have you brought him here?" She questioned.

"I have, mother. But. . .you will recognize him. I trust you with all my being, and I know that you will see that he is a changed man," She was becoming nervous.

"Miles, approach my mother," She stepped back when I spoke English, her nerves wracked by who the man I have chosen might be.

When he emerged from the bushes with Spider, her eyes widened.

And she pulled out her knife.

"Mother!" She ran at him, hatred fueling her motives and luckily, Miles grabbed her hands and kept her from him.

"You demon! You foul monster!" She cried out, tears brimming her eyes.

"Mother, please, he is not the same man! I swear this to you on Eywa!" I pleaded, but she managed to take a swipe at his chest and draw blood.

She licked it.

"You. . .you are different. You are the man who carries this name, but you are not him," She said, still shaken up as her hand clenched around the handle of her dagger.

Miles could see my mothers conflict and got on his knees before her.

"I am Miles Quaritch, and I have the memories of a hateful man who burned your home to the ground. I wished I had never awoken. I wish I could face Colonel Quaritch and kill him myself because this place. . .it's not meant for taking. It's meant for living, for breathing, for loving," He looked at me.

"But I love your daughter. She has shown me the beauty of your home, but if you wish to kill me for my crimes, then I will not stop you," He hated himself. He hated who he was.

"You have mated with my daughter, but I sense no other motives than the love that a noble man has for a woman he respects and treasures," She put her hands on his shoulder, "but my people are wounded. They will want for blood."

"Mother, no," I pleaded.

"Please don't," Spider pleaded, "He's not the same."

"That does not erase the crimes he has committed," She stated.

"I understand," Miles had already accepted his fate.

"You will be responsible for my eldest daughters life. You will bear her every burden and shoulder her every cry. You will be a good mate, and you will take any ounce of pain from her. Miles Quaritch, you will be the best Na'vi man for her, and if you ever give her a reason to doubt you, then I will personally kill you for all to see," She swore to him. She watched her daughter laugh, cry, love, and lose in such a short lifetime.

She will not watch it happen again.

"Your sister is home."

From that moment, I knew that I would have to stick by my heart.

"Hey," Miles grabbed my hand before we could go see Jake, my sister and the children.

"What is it?" I asked.

"If Sully tries to take a swing at me, just let him. He deserves it," He scratched the back of his neck, still uncomfortable in the traditional garments of our people.

"Of course."

As soon as we were in viewing distance, I saw the smile on my sisters face. But as she got closer, and Jake saw him, all hell broke loose.

"Sister, get away from that man!" Neytiri hissed, keeping the children at bay.

"Neytiri, calm," Her face was of utter shock when mother told her to calm down.

"I know who this man is, and I know what he has done, but your sister and him are a mated pair. Eywa have him a second chance at life, and now he has chosen his path," Morher explained to them, and they still looked at him with murderous intent.

"He's lying to you. That's all he does," Jake insisted, "once he's done with you, he won't stay. He doesn't care about you (Y/N)."

"You are not welcome here!" Neytiri hissed at him, her tail flicking wildly.

"Neytiri, I have chosen him," my hand wrapped in his, "He has freed me, but not only that, he has shown me who he truly is. He is not the same man as before, but he has grown to love our home. Jake was once an outcast, and you were meant to bond with Tsu'tey."

Neytiri paused, remembering a time when Jake was just an outsider and not Taruk Makto. That her life would be drastically different if she bonded with Tsu'tey.

"That has not changed what he's done," Jake pointed out.

"It never will, and for that, I'm sorry," Miles spoke up, "I see the memories of who I once was and I do not recognize who that is. All I see is hatred, and all I see is death."

"He will not change, sister! Don't be blinded by his lies!" Neytiri pleaded, but Kiri felt indifferent to all this. Her own aunt, the woman who has sworn to protect her and her siblings since they were born, would not make a rash decision.

Meaning this love between them had to be real.

They met for a reason.

"I want no more hostility between anyone," Mother interrupted, tired of this rage filled tension.

"Get to sleep. We have much to discuss tomorrow."

"My Miles, what are you doing?" My sentence ended in laughter as his hands tickled my stomach and his lips planted kisses along my neck.

"I just wanted to see you smile. You seemed so unhappy after what happened," Miles never wanted to see you unhappy, and it was such a strange feeling to him. He only ever cared about his own feelings, about himself, but now it's like his world has shifted.

All he cared about was you.

"I just pray to Eywa that my sister does not stay mad at me forever," I confessed as his kisses trailed down my neck, giving me small marks as he gently bit me and I let out a soft whimper.

"I don't want to hear you mention anyone that makes you upset. I want to see you smile, or in pure ecstasy right now," And he would do anything to keep it that way. His hand trailed down my body, ghosting my skin as his lips came to mine.

Mother had given us our own space somewhat away from everyone, which secretly made Miles happy because then they could have all the alone time they wanted.

His fingers ghosted me, and I whined into his mouth for any friction. I could feel his smile, his fingers starting to slowly make their way inside of me.

It was slow and agonizing, and I knew he was doing so to get me riled up.

I mated with an absolute tease.

"Miles, please," I breathed out, his two fingers still going in and out of me at a slow pace.

"Please, what? You've got to use your voice, sweetheart," He chuckled, absolutely loving seeing you so hot and bothered. You were so needy for him and it made him so much more needy for you.

"Please touch me," I pleaded. I never felt like this with anyone before. It was like I needed him to breathe, and if anyone was to dare to take him from me, I would have to set the world on fire to bring him back to me.

My back lay against him as his fingers worked faster, my breathing getting quicker as his other hand teased my breasts. His fangs lightly trailed across my neck, sending shivers up my spine.

"Oh great mother," I moaned, my face flushed from the noises I made. It still felt so embarrassing, so say such things, but how else would I express how much I craved him?

"Say my name," He whispered as he gently bit into a sacred spot upon my neck. My head fell back as his thumb started to work my clit.

"Miles," I bit my lip, "I'm so close."

He was amazed at the sight before him. His mate, his (Y/N), completely falling apart at his hands. Her cute moans and mewls, her quiet begging for him to touch her - it was like he was on cloud nine.

"Come for me, my (Y/N)," He whispered in my ear, and to silence my cries, he turned my head towards him and kissed me. I felt so good, coming down from my high, but I wasn't done.

I turned around, my gaze full of lust, and shoved him on his back. I straddled him and said, "my turn."

#avatar the way of water #avatar the way of water imagine #avatar imagine #miles quaritch

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angelmichelangelo · 1 year

Text

the dad diaries for @turrondeluxe ❤️

if anybody doesn’t know, the peepaw and babies au has TOTALLY taken over my brain like. in the best way possible so of course i just had to write a lil fic for it <3 i hope u like this, amigo! i have other little ideas floating around in my head if you’d ever want more fic version of your au :) anyway enough rambling ENJOY!! everybody go check out the au i’m fairly certain everything is archived on @peepawronin for your enjoyment :-)

His coffee, as strong as it may, didn’t deter the headache that was blossoming behind his tired, weary eyes from expanding; creeping across the front of his skull with each steady pulse of his heartbeat.

He takes another sip, steels himself to see if perhaps the magic he knows does not truly exist has worked and…

“Papa!”

There’s the sound of his youngest, voice thick with babyish chub still, carrying across the lair with determination, tallying around inside his squeezing head like a brash drum cymbal.

Before he can push himself up off his stool, it goes off again, shrill and impatient,

“Papa! Papa! I’m telling!”

That was nothing new for Michelangelo these days, that familiar old phrase, minced with saccharine dramatics, he’s blinking his eyes hard to starve off the rest of the headache that threatens him; the kind that travels down the back of his skull and towards his shell and over his spine and makes him feel about a million years old.

He heaves a sigh. He already feels a million years old these days, what with the trophies of his days gone by evident across his aging body, like his trick knee and the ache he gets in his elbow when it perhaps rains a little too hard. It’s one thing to feel it physically, but the added bonus of it being emotional as well weighs just a touch too heavy for his liking.

He comes to a stop in the pit where the sounds are louder and more pitchier, and there’s two little turtles to accompany them, faces all pinched into varying degrees of annoyance.

It’s Odyn who reaches him first, as it often is, he’s a daddy’s boy at heart, little tiny legs carrying him the small distance that separates them, he goes barrelling into the larger, older turtle, face first into his pant leg. He’s gripping the edges of the fabric with three little fingers, giving it a sharp tug when he says with a rush of air,

“Papa, Uno is being mean again!” He whines, pressing his snout into Mikey’s leg. “He keeps calling me names!”

Uno has since joined their fray now, chest heaving with each stuttered breath as if the idea of being accused of such a thing is stunting each draw of air into his lungs.

“No I didn’t!” He retorts, voice all pitchy and nasally. Michelangelo groans softly to himself. “He’s just being a baby! Like he always is!”

Such a spiteful word directed towards their youngest is enough to erupt a hurtful sob from the smaller turtle. He buries his face further into his fathers leg, his voice warbled and muffled from both the tears the the mouth full of pant he has right now, but Mikey is able to carefully decipher it of something along the lines of, (in true irony),

“See! He keeps calling me a baby!”

He pries his son’s iron grip off from his leg, forcing him to look upwards with a tap of his finger beneath his damp chin. Fat tears roll down his cheeks, framing his face almost perfectly, he looks at his child sternly.

“You know not to take it to heart, hm? Do you eat baby food and wear diapers?”

Odyn sniffles, bringing a fist up to scrub away at the snot collected beneath his snout.

“No?”

Mikey hums. “And do you chew on furniture and need papa’s help to feed yourself?”

Odyn shakes his head. “No, papa.”

Michelangelo grins softly. “Then you’re not a baby. You know that, I know that.” He looks pointedly at his other son who is unmovable under his gaze. “Uno knows that. He only says it to get a rise out of you, right?”

Odyn’s bottom lip wobbles dangerously. “Yes,” he says in a rush, “but—”

Michelangelo is swift to cut in. “But I will deal with your brother. Okay?”

Odyn doesn’t seem entirely swayed; Michelangelo thinks that maybe he wanted some sort of permission to perhaps say a bad word directed at his brother, or maybe to have it out in a short scrap and there as kind of emotional compensation that only siblings would believe to be a reliable source of insurance against name calling.

But the smaller turtle eventually heaves a heavy, wet sigh, and nods his head solemnly.

“Good. Go play with your sisters,” Michelangelo instructs him, tapping him gently against the ridge of his shell. “I think they’re coloring. Will you make me something pretty?”

That gets his spirits up, the smile beaming across his face so bright, it might as well evaporate his previous tears left behind on his cheeks.

“Okay!” He calls out with delight as he toddles off to join his other, much quieter siblings on the far side of the room. Mikey watches them as they scoot aside and make space for him, offering up a fresh slice of paper, he’s already making grabby hands for the brightest crayons they own.

“He’s always getting me into trouble.”

That’s Uno’s low, forbidding voice, all full of that way too early angst that he recognises from himself and his brothers in their adolescent years, and when Mikey turns to face him, he’s sullen.

He doesn’t wait to hear whatever wisdom his father might be able to offer, instead, his bottom lip is trembling like it’s heavy with the weight of all the words he wishes to say; all the woes and the hurt that comes with having little brothers, and suddenly, with his face drawn in such an expression and his eyes narrowed and his mouth tight, Michelangelo sees a glimpse of Raphael in this child.

“You know, I was the youngest of my brothers,” Michelangelo explains to him. He motions for him to follow as they leave the pit, letting the soft voices of the other children behind them as they walk back towards the kitchen from which he came. “I pulled the same tricks he pulls from time to time.”

Uno pauses his end of conversation to clamber on top of the barstool that wobbles slightly under his swaying weight. Michelangelo steadies it with a hand until his son is fully situated, and once he is, he’s swiveling around to face the older turtle, still sporting the same, sour expression across his younger face.

“Then why’d you let him get away with it?” He says, words barbed, like this was somehow his fault now. “It’s not fair, papa.”

And Michelangelo chuckles softly. There are the glimpses of Donatello that shine through, like bright sunshine filtering through curtains in the early morning in hues of gold – that sharp intellect that constantly comes with its millions of almost unanswerable questions.

“Because I also know what my older brothers were capable of,” he tells him gently. “They did all they could to push my buttons, to get me in trouble. They knew how to play the game without getting themselves a foul.”

Uno heaves a loaded sigh, his plastron rising and falling, his hardened glare seems to melt away a little as he allows his father’s words to soak in.

“I just hate him,” he says suddenly, words dark and low. “He’s so annoying.”

Michelangelo stiffens at that. And at his father’s physical reaction, Uno shrinks a little, aware of what he’d just said; how loaded his words were.

“You don’t hate him.” Michelangelo tells him, Uno’s gaze gingerly lifts to meet his. “You are annoyed by him, yes, but hate is such a strong word, musko-san.”

Uno’s dark eyes flicker across the room with nerves, caught out, he wrings his hands together, as if trying to rid himself of the nervous energy that this conversation was building within him.

“I’m sorry chichi,” he says in a small voice. “That was mean. I don’t hate Uno.”

Michelangelo hums. “I know.” Then, “You know how I know?”

Uno shakes his head.

“The time you taught him kanji,” he begins to list. “Or when he lost a tooth and you soothed him because he was hurt.” He watches with pride as a small smile ghosts across his child’s face. “Or whenever you read to him before bed, even when it’s the stories you have already heard before.”

Uno rubs tiredly at his eyes; all of these emotions are a lot to bear for such a small boy.

“I know you love your brother, Uno,” Michelangelo tells him, tapping a green finger beneath his chin to gather his focus. “I know because I see so much of your oji in your soul.” He smiles warmly at his son. “Each one of them,” he adds, moving his finger down from his face to rest across his plastron, right over where his heart lies. “Right here, hm?”

Uno shifts in his seat, the old, worn barstool groans under his growing weight, he pitches himself as far forward as he can go without toppling off, looking up at his father with big, round curious eyes.

“Really?” He says, voice clinging to an awed whisper.

“Really.” Mikey tells him with a stern nod. “Now go play,” he says quickly, flapping him away with a dismissive hand.

“Papa hasn’t had enough coffee this morning,” he mutters, pinching his eyes narrowly to try and avoid the impending headache that’s crawling back across his skull. “Try not to have anymore arguments until at least late afternoon, yes?”

Uno hops off his seat, almost tripping in the process, he stands tall when he tells him,

“That’s okay!” He’s smiling now. A sight Mikey is sure he’ll never truly tire of, no matter how many headaches life brings. “Maybe I can ask the others if I can draw too, and we’ll make you something nice to make you feel better, hm?”

Michelangelo reaches across the countertops for his discarded beverage from earlier. Curling his fingers around the mug, he finds with welcomed surprise that it’s still warm. “You better,” he tells him with an entirely serious tone surrounding his words, raising one brow ridge for emphasis. “I didn’t spend hours scavenging those crayons for nothing.”

And with that, Uno is padding off in the direction of where his other children are gathered; straining an ear he can hear their excitable chatter and babble as they continue to work together.

And when their eldest sibling joins in, there doesn’t seem to be any lasting animosity; Odyn shows off what he’s already made, pride and excitement swelling over whatever leftover hurt from their spat, and Michelangelo chuckles to himself as he listens to Uno’s gentle encouragement that floats through front the other room.

He brings the coffee mug to his lips, steam curls itself around his snout, and a smile touches at his face, the slightest of turns. He awards himself with another mouthful, and whilst it doesn’t do much to quell his migraine, it does feel deserved.

And later that night, when he has all four of his children growing heavy in his arms, fighting a battle against fatigue that they are bound to lose against, as it is most nights, he watches his as Uno shuffles in closer to his brother, his pudgy little arm draped across the slope of his shell, and Odyn, his jaw slack, drool dried across his chin, his soft snores only just about disturbing the silence that falls across the room, he seems to curl into his brother’s offered warmth and Michelangelo smiles softly to himself.

Here in his lap are his children – the little turtles that call him papa and rush to him to settle disputes and disagreements, and to kiss scraped knees and to devote each of their wobbly crayon drawings to him that end up covering the fridge and the kitchen walls in a decoration of color and love and he knows that even with coffee, even with the best coffee in the world, all of this is worth a thousand bad headaches. Tomorrow might bring peace and tranquility and ease, or perhaps it shall be Yi and Moja that decide to scrap and fight or maybe all four will fall out of love momentarily, as siblings often do.

Michelangelo should know, he’s been one his entire life, even if his brothers are no longer here to push his buttons or fight him or argue over petty, useless things, he knows with great ease, that despite it all, they always found their way back together, whether it was over something big or small – that was the love between brothers and family.

He presses his sleeping turtles closer to him, curling his arms around them, they melt around his warmth and he knows that much like his group of siblings, these four here, were no exception to the same rules.

He closes his eyes and basks in the moment, acutely aware in the moment of quiet, of the headache that has finally shrunk itself away.

#tmnt idw #tmnt last ronin #tmnt the lost years #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt au

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crepesuzette2023 · 8 months

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Beatles Books as vaguely defined friends and relatives at a party you attend with a new crush, whose name you keep mispronouncing.

The longer you stay, the more trouble you have remembering what the occasion was.

The lights keep changing. Shortly after you arrived, your crush shrunk to the size of a mouse, and scurried away. You’re on your own.

The Beatles (Bob Spitz) greets you, an attractive silver fox who seems to be shunned by most of the others. You wonder why. It’s as easy to imagine him as a crying wreck as it is to imagine him on a golf course. Here, There, and Everywhere (Geoff Emerick) disrupts your musings by pulling tapes from his mouth. Seeing your discomfort, he stops and hands you a photograph of John Lennon and Paul McCartney singing into the same microphone. As he does, his pupils take on the shape of hearts. Someone called George announces his intent to poison him.

Anthology (The Beatles) saunters in, puts eight arms around you, and promises to tell you the whole story. They proceed to speak in tongues, and throw popcorn at you. Stu Sutcliffe jumps from a pendant around their neck, lands on the floor, and scurries after your crush.

“It’s always like this,” says Body Count (Francie Schwartz). “I assume you don’t want to listen to my story about a gifted woman who got locked up for depression? That’s fine, I can also talk about frottage, and a certain man’s curves.”

“Oh, stop it,” says John (Cynthia Lennon). She turns to you. “My advice is: Turn around and run as fast as you can.” She demonstrates what she means by disappearing, leaving behind a purse filled with cheerful letters and drawings of herself getting married and giving birth. Everything smells of olive oil. Francie spots Loving John (May Pang), and rushes to her, greedy for gossip. Loving John (May Pang) is everyone’s favorite, because she doesn’t really know anyone very well, but she knows how to make everyone feel comfortable by saying things that make sense in the moment.

Living the Beatles Legend: The Mal Evans Story (Ken Womack) ends up taking her home; they both live at The Fringes. Her home is a little further than his, which is just this side of Weird whereas she’s all the way in Montauk, but he’ll make sure she gets there safely.

To make up for the disappearance of your crush, Remember (Mike McCartney) cuts your hair. Each snip of the scissors slots a black-and-white picture into your field of vision. Windows in time blow noise and heat in your face, and visions of a screaming band that looks a bit like the young Beatles. Then there’s the quiet heat of summer, towels rippling on the line, and a drain pipe screwed to the wall of a house. He talks about childhood, and you’re almost there, but you never will be, because he won’t let you in. His more verbose twin, The Macs (Mike McCartney), recites letters his brother and John wrote from Hamburg, but you can barely understand what he says, because he stuffed a tissue into his mouth.

“It’s only a story,” says The Lyrics (Paul McCartney). “Pleased to meet you. I’m a storyteller myself.” He sings a love song. “I must have thought about these things when I wrote it,” he muses. “Interesting. What a mind, as Linda used to say.”

He tears a few pages from a diary he kept in Paris in 1961 and hands them to you without comment.

At this point, the party is dissolving. Crocheted furniture floats away and stretches.

“Am I too late?” Skywriting by Word of Mouth (John Lennon) squeezes himself out of the lowest drawer of an antique desk, where, judging from by his crinkly pajamas, he slept. “I’m in pieces. Mend me with glue.”

“I will, I will!” Tune In—All These Years, Vol I (Mark Lewisohn) yells ecstatically. “I’m so glad you could make it Sit down with me and celebrate the heritage of Liverpool.”

Skywriting drapes himself around Tune In, who starts purring and rutting against him.

“Excuse me?” It’s The Fifth Beatle: The Brian Epstein Story (Vivek Tiwary), torero boots clicking on the invisible floor as he strides towards the couch. A spotlight follows him. “I’m managing this show, and I insist on expanding the scene.” Around them, a hotel room forms.

Skywriting lights a cigarette. “Join us in bed, Bri.”

“Yes,” moans Tune In. “I’m so lonely. I’m the oldest of a triplet, or so they say, but the other two haven’t been born yet.”

The Fifth Beatle sits down and observes the unhinged biography losing himself in the friction of rubbing against the shapeshifting Skywriting. Finally, things reach a conclusion.

“And so,” says The Fifth Beatle, “what partially was, finished.”

“Stop repeating lines from a bad movie, Brian," says Skywriting, "you’re better than that.”

As you try to plot ways to escape through the skylight, The McCartney Legacy, Vol 1 (Sinclair & Kozinn) slides out from under the bed, a broad-shouldered lady in a bright red dress. A half-hatched alien with long legs and sunglasses squirms between her breasts, and makes mouth percussion sounds.

“Gentlemen.” The McCartney Legacy retrieves a very, very long rosary from her pocket. “Is anyone interested in an exquisitely crafted, finely wrought chronology?”

At the sound of the word “chronology,” The Beatles (Hunter Davies) crashes through the ceiling.

“Don’t fall for it!” The Beatles snatches the vocalizing baby alien from The McCartney Legacy’s chest, and kills it by wringing its neck. “Time stopped in 1968. The only valid extension are my own salacious additions. Strictly off the record.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that,” says The Fifth Beatle.

You exchange a glance with Skywriting, who is plucking pieces of Tune In from his body like children snatch pieces of dough, and sticking them in his mouth.

A camera clicks.

“Excellent.”

The Eyes of the Storm (Paul McCartney) lowers the camera, and changes into a suntanned, gleaming likeness of George Harrison. Then he changes into a fish.

“Everyone looking at the pictures will think they know,” the fish says. “They’ll have no idea!”

The floor dissolves under you. You fall into a pool, just in time to save your crush from being sucked into the drain, and after a barely audible edit you find yourself back home, with no memories at all, the taste of chewing gum in your mouth, and wearing matching tops saying, I visited Fellini’s Satyricon, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt. (ETA: I can't believe I forgot about Dreaming the Beatles (Rob Sheffield). I guess I'll have to include him in the inevitable sequel to this...thing, as the +1 of John and Paul: A Love Story in Songs (Ian Leslie).)

#Beatle books #the beatles #just me writing #my fic #(sort of)

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distractedducky · 3 months

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So I was thinking about it… why sterek

I’ve shipped a lot in my time. From the classics like spirk and destiel, to the straight vampire diaries nonsense, from murder husbands to buddy to name a very small few. They all hold weird little places in my heart and mind but they fade and as I flow in and out of fandoms I move on to the next hyperfixation. But sterek just keeps sticking around.

It’s an old ship for me. If you go on my ao3 all the way back to 2013 you’ll see my first ever book mark was a sterek fic. That fic is still a comfort fic for me today and is something I read when my anxiety is uncontrollable.

It was something I read late in 2022 when the reality of the pandemic and the last few years hit me hard and got me back into Teen Wolf so hard it actually pushed me out of the supernatural hole the start of the pandemic put me in.

I’ve always been a shipper and I have my ride or dies, my OTPs and Ot3s, and so on and so forth, but fandom has always been weird for me. I started young and witnessed the birth in Tumblr and ao3, as a tween my taste can only be described as pure trash* Affectionate * but as I got older, like most things in life, my taste changed. And though I still love me some hot garbage, I engage with it differently than that little 12-year-old who thought werewolves and vampires were cool no further explanation necessary.

Now I’m an academic, a librarian, who actually studied critical lit analysis, book studies, and religion. Who spent years learning how to dissect prose and poetry to look beyond text in an professional setting. And though I don’t regret it and it has led to some fun changes in the way I engage with fiction it also kinda ruined the fun engagement I had with things back in the day when baby me bookmarked that first fic.

I need more from my characters now, more from my fandoms and it has led me away from and into the arms of content that I never saw coming. (Looking at you Danny phantom phandom) I needed depth or the potential for depth that some shows just didn’t lend themselves to cleanly enough to satisfy me and yet… sterek persisted.

One of my problems is I didn’t really engage with the fandom when the show was airing and only watched a few season sporadically until recently, so I wasn’t there when things were forming organically. It has left me out of step with the primary directions fan content creators have taken with the ship and the directions they took, though fun and interesting, aren’t really my usual thing.

I hate the infantilization of stiles and other teen wolf characters like Isaac. I generally hate infantilization of adults, hyper feminization of certain types of characters and so on and so forth and it has to do with my own gender stuff, but I usually avoid it in fanfiction. I am also not a huge fan of modern werewolf romance erotica. I have a lot of opinions on real supernatural mythology and legends and I don’t like the anthropomorphism that shows up a lot in werewolf stories. Not that I haven’t read some amazing takes on werewolf lore, especially in the Teen Wolf fandom but I’m speaking generally. I’m also not a fan of pack mom stiles (again my own gender stuff) and though I think Scott’s inconsistent character and writing throughout the show lens him to be whatever your fic needs to be (best friend, hype man, wingman, idiot, genius, villain, so on and so forth) I don’t like a lot of the 'Scott sucks just because' fics. I don’t like the hate in the fandom around that. I also don’t like the hypermasculine depictions of Derek in a lot of fics and on and on. I have read a lot of TW and sterek and by all accounts, it should be a fandom I wouldn't personally engage with this much. Yet for all that, I have found there is an exception to every trope I hate, every hard line i draw for myself, because the fic was just so good. For every dozen or so fics that seem to tell me that this isn’t the fandom for me, there is that one amazing thing that says “No! This is exactly where you wanna be”.

Like I said, I need more from my fandoms now a days and most of what that boils down to is plausible deniability. I need enough gaps in the narrative to fill them in myself, but with enough connective pieces that everything can make sense when put together. The fatal flaw of telling without showing, which allows people to extrapolate out what they want from certain things -all the subtext with none of the text - is exactly where my degree comes in handy.

And sterek well… I think what it is for me as a shipper is the inconsistencies. That is kind of why I still ship it so far and for so long. It's the fact of why was Stiles in Derek's dream at the end of 3b? We can talk about all the things with him being his anchor and the grasping at straws that we as shippers all love to do but the narrative fact is they did not spend that much time on screen together or even saying they were doing things off-screen together. That leads us to a lot of whys. Why were they together at the beginning of season two talking about the alpha pack? Why were they in certain situations in season four that ld them to work so well? What happens in all of this dead time? What happens in season six? We see stiles in episode one be like "Oh my God Derek is a mass murderer wanted by the FBI" and at the end of the season, they've apparently driven and or flown back to California together, apparently spent some time together. They're not on the run from the FBI so that got cleared somehow, stiles isn't limping so his foot healed. There's so much dead time like that throughout the show so when scenes happen like the hand on Derek's shoulder after the death of Boyd you're left thinking that's kind of off, we haven't seen any interactions with them that would show that they have that kind of deep solemn relationship where comforting him would make sense.

The show notoriously has a terrible timeline, but all that does is fuel the fact that we don't know how much time any of these characters are really spending off-screen together. We can only assume that it happened in this weird dead time. This is why somehow Derek's view of Stiles in his head is like a calm stable dependable figure who can help him talk through an issue. This is why they always gravitate towards each other in fights. This is why they work so well together in a crisis. Like we have to assume that happened before which is stupid and I know it's so much reaching, but in my little brain, it's the only way that makes all of this random shit fit together- so I gotta ship it. Obviously, the real-world explanation is inconsistent writing plus putting space between them once the writer stopped wanting people to ship it, but because you get all of these disjointed scenes where they're too intense for what we've been previously seeing there is some type of disconnect here -what is that? and if you're looking at the show, not as a work of fiction, but as a narrative, what else are we gonna do then assume that they have spent way more time emotionally connecting than we have seen on the screen.

And for me that’s everything I want in a ship, that ability to play and extrapolate random events and ask, okay now how would these all fit! And that’s what spawns great ideas and stories and art and why I ship it, dispute the fact that it really shouldn't work for me personally.

I think it’s why a lot of people still stop sterek despite the fact that the attitude towards it and the show has shifted a lot and in many different ways in the last decade.

Sorry for the rant, I’ve been thinking about this for days and had to get it out there. I hope I didn’t offend anyone. I truly love the Teen Wolf fandom and everything it’s done and everything it created and I’m so happy to be able to engage with it.

#I have a feeling I’ll be shipping this one till I die #sterek #teen wolf #TW #stiles x derek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek hale #shipping thoughts #life of a shipper

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shininglikeyoursmile · 1 year

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Secret meet up 💟💟💟

Part 1 when I see you smile

Pairing : Lloyd hansen x female reader

Summary : Lloyd sees you for the first time , and damn if he's persistent to not make the only meet up he wishes to make .

Word count: around 400

A/n : This is a little series I am starting ,it is a little snippet from the chapter . LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK LOVELY. ❤ No beta read . All mistakes are my own!

WARNING: shooting ( gun ), fluff and feels , mild public violence , Llyod is a softie but only for his girl . 18+ONLY. More to be added eventually.

Seies Masterlist

Part 2

Part 3

Don't steal, copy, repost without my permission. And no permission for this .

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE Reblogs, comments, feedback are much appreciated!!! ❤❤❤

(Moodboard made by me 💋)

It's like everything moves in slow motion when his gaze falls on you . Time stops and his eyes have their own mindset because they refuse to move to anyone, anything, anywhere but you .

You are all pretty, lost in your own thoughts while mindlessly sipping the Coffee. The headset covers your ears , which makes you more adorable and just oh so innocent. You are mouthing the lyrics of a song you're currently listening to, he notices when his gaze sweeps to your lips. Then you make a face while thinking about something and your lips break into a half smile and then you chuckle lightly and shake your head and he swears he can feel his heart beating so fast , faster than anytime he'd ever felt.

The loud crash breaks his little, and beautiful daydream and the reality hits in. The large floor to ceiling window shatters into pieces at the impact of a gunshot and then everybody is sweeping out hurriedly from the Cafe. Screaming and voices laced with fear across the air and his gaze settles on you , he doesn't know why but he has this earnest craving to protect you .

"Lloyd!" His own name, screamed into the earphone makes him dodge the next shot and next thing you witness is him pulling out a gun and shooting someone in distance and a cry of pain reaches your ear, louder than the music and you stand abruptly and remove the headset .

Your gaze fleets around and then you are running out of the Cafe. Lloyd witnesses it all from the ground he's laying on . He didn't shoot the man , but hopefully he needs to get out of this mess without getting his hands dirty. The Cafe is silent and he stands up when he doesn't detect any danger. Cups of half filled Coffee, fries and Iced tea litter the white marble. A diary catches his attention when he gets to take his fallen gun. It's yours, he remembers, he saw you writing or maybe drawing something in it . It's beautiful just like the owner, he thinks and smiles a little .

You fled out as soon as you came back to reality when the screams of fear and shock startled you . You didn't witness anything but you vaguely remember someone getting shot down , maybe injured. You hope nobody is harmed, with that thought you go your way back to home.

#pearl posts #twinklecrazymind #chris evans #llyod Hansen #Llyod Hansen x female reader #chris evans fanfiction #llyod Hansen fluff #chris evans imagine #llyod Hansen imagines #chris evans fic #chris evans characters #the gray man

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

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fave trope: meeting alternate universe selves (bonus points if one of the universes feels fucked up to the characters of the other one). Alternatively: Stiles&Scott friendship. Like, as the Ultimate Friendship.

Man I would love to read some of these. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi @webetterfly! @kevaaronday made this list for us!

lean on me by thoughtsandthings (21/21 | 34,650 | Teen) This is a ceiling he knows, a sight he woke up to for years and years. This bed, too, is one that swallows his body in a familiar way, and the blankets and sheets smell like home. The room is dark, only the streetlight casting in through the window confirming his fear as he glances around the bedroom— the posters on the walls, the desk piled high with books and papers and homework, the empty spot where his crime wall should be.

He’s woken up in his childhood bedroom.

Stiles slowly rolls his head to the side to find a young, floppy-haired Scott fast asleep beside him, his breathing soft and steady.

A time travel story about friendship - Stiles and Scott haven’t been friends for a decade, not since Scott made the mistake of believing Theo and pushing Stiles out of the pack. Now twenty-seven, they get into an argument and wake up in the past, back to a time when they only had each other.

Diary Of An Overworked Nurse by RoryMarx (1/1 | 4,636 | Gen) “If you have it… we’ll do something,” Scott suddenly said, and then they were hugging. Crystal looked at them, could feel the other adults do the same, and the only word she could describe the hug with was desperate. Scott and Stiles clung to each other like two people afraid to drown. It was heartbreaking. These teenagers loved each other. No matter what the MRI showed today, Crystal knew Stiles wouldn’t just have his dad to count on – he would also have Scott.

OR: Over the years the nurses and doctors of Beacon Hills Memorials watched Stiles and Scott grow up - they saw a lot of tears, hugs, laughter, and grief.

5 Times Scott and Stiles Celebrated Their Humanity + 1 Time There Were Werewolves

Stiles’s Pain In The Ass by Wiccan507 (1/1 | 3,679 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles has a pain in his ass and its only 50% Scott. Suffering from his latest night with Derek, Stiles tries to go about his day as normal. But Scott is not making it easy with his ass jokes and using the pack to convince him to tell Derek.

Hold the Sugar, You’re Sweet Enough by Dani Mahealani (1/1 | 2,846 | Gen | Sterek) Stiles loves his friends, he really does. But as he’s making Derek’s latte, he catches what Scott’s written on Derek’s cup and groans.

“What are you, twelve? You know Derek already has my number. He’s had my number. We text every day,” Stiles says as he works on the latte.

Scott looks over at him from the register with the most innocent grin in the world and shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to make a statement.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You mean adding ‘+ SS’ underneath his name and drawing a heart around it wasn’t enough of a statement?”

“If you’re not going to flirt with him yourself, I’ll just flirt with him for you,” Scott says, shrugging.

or the one where their meddling friends decide it's high time for stiles and derek to get their acts together and date

Handcuffs and beards by Kindred (1/1 | 2,337 | Mature | Sterek) Scott and Derek are arrested and are saved by Stiles... of course

God, You’re Frustrating by royal_propellor (1/1 | 1,167 | Gen) It was late, around one in the morning, when Scott said, “What’s your biggest fear?”

Scott and Stiles had been driving around the Beacon Hills area for a while after eating dinner together. The original plan was to get back to Stiles’ house by midnight and go to sleep - it’s a school night and they have a game tomorrow - but now they’re laying in the grass on a hill somewhere in beacon hills, talking and stargazing. ——

or, scott and stiles have a deep conversation at 1am.

the other half of me by ralf (1/1 | 1.141 | Teen) It starts with a new buzz cut.

There’s Always Hope by Must_Be_Thursday (1/1 | 797 | Gen) “Oh, my God. Have you still not seen Star Wars?”

“I swear, if we make it back alive, I will watch the movie.”

Stiles and Scott have a Star Wars marathon after the events at the Glen Capri Motel. It was supposed to be a fun distraction, but a certain scene in Revenge of the Sith hits a little too close to home for Stiles.

AND

@tkcthatsme suggested this one!

If the ley lines you should follow by forestofbabel

(10/10 I 52,111 I Teen I Sterek)

And Derek just stood there, staring at Stiles like he was a ghost.

“Dude, I know it’s been a while but you don’t have to look at me like you’re that surprised I’m hung over in the woods. It’s practically a tradition at this point.”

“Stiles?” Derek whispered, the name falling from his lips like a punch to the gut. Stiles watched, confused, as Derek took a deep breath in and took a shaky step forward then back again. “You’re not- you can’t be. Who are you?”

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #scott and stiles #scott mccall #fluff

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fruitybashir · 5 months

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hi if youre here just know that this made me light up like a christmas tree at work i was grinning twirling kicking up my feet like an anime girlie like if any of you ever think your comments dont matter, just know every time i get one i reread it like ten times over the course of the next half hour giggling and twirling my hair and writing your user name next to mine in glitter pen into my diary and then i draw a heart around our names and start blushing

#normal reaction.

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raining-tulips · 8 months

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hi! i just found your blog :) love your commonplace book scans! if you don’t mind me asking, could you give a more in-depth explanation of what commonplacing is exactly and what your process is? i’m intrigued and considering getting into it but i wouldn’t even know where to start! thanks a lot xx

Absolutely! So my commonplace is specifically all movies, qoutes, articles, tumblr/Instagram posts, book excerpts, etc. that either resonated with me or I think I'll want to reference later. That is the heart of what common placing is - saving things for later physically rather than digitally.

Some of these just pop up in my feed, and I'll hit the like or save button. If it's an article, it usually first pops up as a preview on my Instagram and I'll open the full article on my desktop than bookmark it in a specific folder for common placing.

Sometimes, when I want to actively find something out (say, about if perfume is really bad for the environment, or I want to look at author interviews because I just loved a book) I will go out and search for that information.

Then, usually once a week I compile everything I'd like to print - i print the sources bc my handwriting is messy - into a word document formatted for two columns. I try and hold off printing until i have a full page worth, or two full page worth.

For images, I have another word document (these are printed in color, and i usually have to jigsaw to fit as many images on the page as possible, so different word document). Same thing, I try and wait until I have a full page to print. Usually x2 a month. I sometimes will print with an HP sprocket but the quality is really bad and the pictures are thick so, it's for when I'm out of printer ink or I think a photo will look okay with a sorta...uneven look.

I use just a Staples brand journal, TruRed. Cheap and easy. I draw a line at the top so I can write the date, and in the future if I want to tag it with a colored sticker or something, I can. My layouts usually include divided space on either the left or right of a page. The article goes in the bigger open space, and then the source (always write your source!!) and any commentary goes in the smaller margins.

Commentary is usually why I wanted to print it, what it reminds me of or makes me think about, etc. What I think the argument was missing, etc. Can be as little or as much as you like. As emotional and deep or as plain-jane as you like. There are no rules!

I trim printed text and images with a 12 inch trimmer bc I've got wobbly hands, but some people just use a little (blanking on the name) exacto knife? Any 12 inch trimmer will do mine is expensive but I also scrapbook so I use it all the time.

I paste things in using a tape runner (again, because I scrapbook and found a tape runner and my mom sells scrapbook supplies they're very accessible to me). Some people use tape, washi tape, glue sticks (liquid glue I've never seen).

And yeah, then I just decorate and play around. It doesn't have to be pretty. It can be really pretty if you want - I'm motivated by aesthetics, so, I like mine to be a little pretty.

If you'd like to see how I actually put it together and why I print certain things, my YouTube channel is the place to go.

Some people tape in movie tickets, receipts from where they shopped or ate, pictures from daily life. Some people mix common-placing and journaling, so including diary entries about their day or about a topic they love, or their thoughts and feelings (I keep mine in a separate journal, explained in this video). Some people mix common-placing with bullet journal or planning. Some combine all three!

At the end I just use a printer scanner (HP Envy 5500, cheap) and post them online that way bc I love the look.

People who have other styles you might try and look at are @petite-gloom (an OG who inspired me and many others) @fakelavender , @teddybearsticker .

#answered #commonplace #commonplace book #commonplace journal #journaling #journaling community #stubyblr

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kosije · 1 year

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Can I request a Hirugami Sachiro fluff wherein the reader accidentally/unintentionally confesses her feelings >^<

I rlly love your writing!! I dont see much hirugami posts so id rlly appreciate it if you wrote this!

a/n: so so so sorry for my absence ^^; thank you for your support and im happy you enjoy my writing! Lightly edited, feel free to lmk any mistakes :)

Spring just might be your favorite season. The cool wind, flower blossoms, and calm days at the park with your best friend, Sachirou, and his pup make it hard for other seasons to compete.

“I’m gonna take her for another lap around, wanna come?” he asks, beckoning the playful Maltese puppy, who’s the same shade as his hair with two taps on his thighs. The only word you can think of to describe him is perfect. The bright blue cloudless sky and green flower-dotted grass seem like they’re only as radiant as the man standing in them in front of you. His smile is dazzling and his white tee tight and khakis show off his physique.

You say you're still short of breath, hoping he couldn’t tell that you were gawking at him.

he nods, turning his focus to the Maltese and grabbing her leash.

Only once he’s out of sight do you smoothen out your floral dress and take a swig of the ice-cold lemonade he had packed in the basket holding the rest of your snacks. It’s one thing to find your best friend attractive. It was a fact that he was gorgeous. Whether it was you two walking through the halls, attending his volleyball games, or going to the park for a picnic, Sachirou always seemed to draw the attention of everyone around him. And just a light brush to his curly hair would have any girl falling for him. But in love?

You can tell you’re pushing it. Even if your diary has his name written on every page with hearts around it, you know he’s not yours. You’re his friend, and friends are only meant to be friendly.

So how come when you see the two run back a few minutes later, your heart skips a beat and you let yourself pretend the two- or three of you are on a date? After hours pass of talking, running, drawing, singing, dancing, and eating, you both decide to wine down at his apartment.

“I just feel that she’d be much better with the side character. I mean, they have way more chemistry.” You say in between snacking on a random bag of chips you grabbed from the basket.

“You’re better than me. If she ends up with the bad boy as a cliche, I might shit myself,” He says, laughing when you scrunch your nose to him and let out an airy laugh. You think you see his cheeks go pink, but before you can ask about it, his dog jumps between you two.

“Hey! Down girl!” He says leaning back to avoid being hit by her tail while you hide your chip bag and move to cuddle her, giggling over how Sachirou shouldn’t be so mean to her.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d believe she’ll to steal you away from me. Am I not cute enough?” He coos with a fake pout. Even if he is teasing, you can still feel your heartbeat spike.

“How could anything be cuter than you, Sachi?” You say subconsciously, still playing with his dog. It’s only after a couple beats of silence that you realize that was definitely not said in your head, and you feel a wave of embarrassment.

“I don’t know why I said that...” You mumble, not daring to look up and see his reaction. No matter how many excuses you tried to think of, none of them negated how obviously unfriendly you meant that.

“Listen I’m so-“

“Do you mean that?” His voice is soft, and against all of your reservations, your head turns up to face him. His lips are slightly parted, and his cheeks are flush.

You can’t find it in yourself to lie to him when he looks at you like that. So against the butterflies threatening to escape along with the chips, you breathlessly say yes.

His dog jumps from your lap, running off to somewhere you can’t bring yourself to focus on because his body is getting impossibly too yours. To the point where your fingertips are ghosting each other.

“How do you feel about me, really?” He asks his face now close enough that you can feel the shakey breath he lets out after the question. His eyes are steady on yours, but only for a beat does it flicker to your lips and you try your best to swallow the lump down your throat.

“I......What I feel for you is stronger than friendship. It has been stronger than that for a while now,” you confess, leaning into him with a rush of courage. “Is that... okay?”

“Is that okay?!” He squeaks, his voice cracking before tackling you down on his couch in a hug that almost knocks the wind out of you.

“Can’t... breathe,” you gasp, making him spring up and apologize profusely.

“A simple ‘yes’ would’ve been good,” you say, not being able to hide the elated grin pulling at your lips.

“It’s more than ‘okay’, stupid. Oh my gosh, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? Being in love with your best friend is a bigger cliche than that movie we were watching.”

If the hug didn’t make your heart skip a beat, his confessing he’s felt the same way as you make your heart feel like it’ll stop right here.

“Tell me about it.” You say, watching his breath hitch before moving his hand to your cheek, pulling you closer to him by his feather-light touch moving to your chin.

Wordlessly, his lips catch yours, and you feel your head spin. His kiss is soft and intoxicating, but so passionate you’re left gripping on his shirt. You both pull back for hair, and his eyes glint like he’s looking at the stars.

“I love you.” The words are easy and flow effortlessly from your lips like they’ve been said countless times before.

“I love you too.” He says, with that same smile that’s always lit everything around him up.

Softly, he pulls you into his chest, reviling in the realization that all of his feelings have led up to (what was) his wildest dreams coming true.

And when you hear his heart hammering against his chest as he presses his lips softly on your forehead, only then is it obvious that there is no better season than spring.

#( ☆ ) haikyuu #( ☆ ) fluff #( ☆ ) sfw #haikyuu headcanons #hirugami sachirou #hirugami x reader #Sachirou x reader #hirugami sachiro fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

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prythianpages · 10 months

Text

Stuck on You | Part One

cassian x reader, series masterlist | Cassian can't seem to forget about you since the night you met seven years ago. he thought he would never see you again but when he does, he's determined to make you his. this time for good.

“Don’t worry. She likes your butt and fancy hair. I know, I read her diary.”

A/N: this was entirely inspired by the scene above from Lilo & Stitch and I thought it was so fitting for Cas. this was also supposed to be a one shot but I decided to incorporate more scenes from the movie and thought it'd be best to split it into 4 parts.

Warnings: some smut, some fluff, mild angst but this part is mainly smut lol (p in v, oral m receiving)

Amidst the Windhaven camp, a bonfire roared to life. The scent of wood smoke mingled with the rich aroma of roasting meat. Warriors, adorned in armor and draped in furs, gathered in a circle around the fire along with their fellow Illyrians, their laughter and cheers echoing through the night.

Cassian was among them, a soothing cup of ale in his hands. Azriel and Rhysand were seated on either side of him. They had chosen to celebrate the end of the War in Windhaven with the warriors they had grown up with and fought beside.

Sparks leapt from the heart of the bonfire, joining the constellation of stars overhead and Cassian’s eyes tracked their movement. The air resonated with the primal beat of drums, setting the rhythm for the celebration that unfolded and when Cassian’s gaze dropped back again, his eyes fell upon you.

He was struck by your beauty–from your hair, your smile, your eyes and the way the red dress you wore clung to your every curve, drawing attention to the perfect swell of your breasts. He could feel desire pooling within him and a sudden urge to get to know you.

He was on his feet in an instant, ignoring Rhysand’s remark of annoyance as the future high lord had been talking to him moments prior. It didn’t matter to him. He had stopped paying attention to his friend the moment his eyes landed on you.

You were laughing at something your friend had said when he approached you. Your back was turned to him but a not so subtle incline of your friend’s head with a devious smile had you turning around.

When you finally turned around, your eyes finally locked with his and a small gasp escaped from you. It was as if time itself paused and he wondered if you could also feel that pull, a magnetic force almost pulsing and pulling him close to you.

“Hello,” he greeted with a devilishly handsome smile, pulling you out of your daze. “Can I offer you a drink?”

He caught the way your gaze had flickered down to your occupied hand and when he had tracked the movement, he cursed himself. It had been awhile since he approached a woman he found interest in and he found himself out of practice. He could hear Rhysand and Azriel snickering behind him, even though they were many feet away. His hands were braced behind his back and he sent his friends a vulgar gesture.

“I have one in my hand right now.” You replied, bringing your cup of ale up to show him. He sensed your gaze lingering on him, a silent exploration that traversed every inch of his form with a subtle hint of admiration and then you were chugging the remnants of the amber liquid until there was nothing left behind. He was both impressed and touched.

Your lips curled up into a sheepish grin. “But I believe it’s time for another.”

Cassian’s smile widened and then he was asking for your name.

Cassian spent most of the night by your side,captivated by you. He learned what made you smile, what made you laugh and found that he enjoyed those reactions out of you more than he had expected. To his pleasant surprise, you did not ask him about the war as many others had earlier in the night, regardless of the siphons and leathers he wore. Instead, you asked him about himself and he found that the two of you had many common interests. He also learned that although you had no wings, you were Illyrian partly from your mother, who had you out of wedlock with a high fae. He had felt a tang of sympathy deep within his chest when you mentioned that due to your half breed and bastard status, you were not perceived well by the camp. He knew that feeling all too well.

“Dance with me?” He asked, taking your hand in his and effortlessly intertwining his fingers with yours. It was a bold move–a smooth attempt to touch you– and it sent your heart fluttering.

You agreed to his offer with a nod, allowing him to pull you up from your seat. Before the two of you joined the other dancing Illyrians, you drained your cups of ale, the alcohol casting a sweet haze over your minds. Your laughter resonated in his ears like a melodic symphony and he marveled at your fiery and spirited demeanor throughout your dance.

As the bonfire came to an end, its dying embers casting a fading glow, a sense of dread settled over him. He didn’t want the night to end. There was still so much more he yearned to discover about you. Such as what you'd sound like, all the noises you'd make, moaning and whimpering for him.

The glimmer in your eyes spoke volumes and he sensed an echo of his own sentiments reflected in your gaze. You shivered and whether it was from Cassian’s sultry gaze or the slight breeze, you were uncertain. Cassian picked up on the subtle movement. “Are you cold?”

“Yes.” You answered coyly, a light blush tinting your cheeks.

His hazel eyes gleamed with a mischievous mirth as he leaned down to be closer to you, his warm breath fanning your face. “I happen to know a few ways I can warm you up.”

That’s how the two of you ended up, deep within the forest of Windhaven, with your back pressed against a tree as his lips captured yours in a hungry and feverish kiss. You reciprocated, your mouth moving against his, hot and desperate. He slid his tongue in your mouth and your fingers wove through the elastic holding up his hair, yanking it and relishing in the way his luscious hair was now free to run your fingers through as he continued to explore your mouth. You sucked on the wet muscle, eliciting a delicious groan from him.

“Let me hear you, too.” He rasped as he pulled away, desperate to taste every inch of you. His lips found your neck, licking and sucking on a spot that had you whimpering and arousal pooling down below.

His hand found the back of your knee and gave a light tap. You complied with his silent request, wrapping one leg around his waist and pressing him further into you. Warmth flooded the both of you as you could feel his hardened length against your clothed core.

Your dress had hiked up your thigh and Cassian pushed it further up, allowing it to pool at your hips. His fingers found the spot you craved him the most and took pleasure in the way you were already dripping for him when he had barely touched you. His fingers were pushing your underwear aside and you let out another whimper as he pressed a thumb against your sensitive clit.

“Louder.” He murmured against your neck and once again, you followed his command, your moans growing louder as he began to thrust his fingers into you.

But you were keen on hearing more of him, too.

Your hands reached for his leathers, palming him before your fingers danced over his clasp. Cassian must’ve sensed your struggle. His movements halted for a brief moment and he helped you. When his cock sprang free, your eyes darkened and mouth watered at the sight of him. He was big, bigger than you had ever taken. You felt your core ache, wondering if he’d even fit in you, and you were suddenly filled with an overwhelming urge to find out. You wanted to touch him, taste him, feel all of him.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his head falling back. Your hand wrapped around his length, barely able to reach around him and his eyes screwed shut as you began to move. “Fuck, just like that, baby.”

Cassian was too lost in the pleasure of your hand. You gave him a hard squeeze that had his hips jerking and when your thumb swept over his tip, he was spilling into your hand and onto your thigh. His eyes were open in an instant, widening in shock. His cheeks tinted in embarrassment. Never in his life had he cum so fast.

“Shit, I’m so sorry–”

“It’s okay.” You reassured him with a gentle giggle.

Amid the pleasure flooding through him, he also felt a wave of relief, seeing no trace of disappointment etched onto your features. Instead, there was a devious spark in your eyes as you brought your hand to your mouth and licked your fingers clean. Cassian’s sensitive cock throbbed at the lewd gesture and when you opened your mouth to speak, you stole the words he had planned to say next right from his mouth:

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Cassian’s hazel eyes clouded with lust as you dropped to your knees before him, taking his throbbing cock into your hand again. He was already half hard. He was used to being the one in control when it came to sex but for just this moment, he decided to allow you to have control, already planning on ways to return the favor.

Your eyes locked with his as you licked a long and slow stripe up the underside of his length. Your tongue curled against his tip, savoring the remnants of his cum with a hum that sent delightful vibrations through him. He was a moaning and whimpering mess when you finally took him into your mouth. His cock was thick and heavy in your hand and you made sure to praise him for it, using your hands to work the rest of his sinful length.

"You look so pretty with my cock down your throat."

Cassian’s hand was gripping your hair, holding you in place as he bucked into you and you swallowed him down greedily. “Oh fuck,” he panted, the muscle in his thighs shifting as he felt his stomach tighten and then he was abruptly pulling you away.

As much as he would love to spill into that lovely mouth of yours, knowing you would eagerly swallow every drop, he refused to come undone again. At least not before he settled the score between you both.

“Get up.” He growled.

When you rose to your feet, he wasted no time in unlacing the back of your dress and stripping you from your undergarments, craving to have you bare before him as he rid himself of his leathers. His eyes raked over your body as he backed you against the tree, pupils flaring when they landed on your breasts. His hand reached out to give one a squeeze before rolling your nipple between his fingers and pinching, while his mouth claimed your other one.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He muttered against your breast, tongue flicking over your nipple.

“Then, fuck me.”

A deep, guttural growl escaped from him at your request. He needed you and he needed you now. His lips curled into a smirk and by the look in his eyes, you knew you would pay for your bossy tone. Your thighs clenched in anticipation.

“Gladly.”

His hands were gripping you firmly as he turned you around, roughly pressing your front against the tree. His leg tapped against your knee, prompting you to arch your back and spread your legs further for him. You were soaked for him, arousal dripping from that pretty cunt of yours. He gripped his aching cock and without warning, thrusted into you, a gasp escaping from both of your lips at the rough intrusion.

Pain and pleasure rippled through your body. You’d never felt so stretched, so full and you wanted more. “Gods,” you breathed, whimpering when he began to slowly pull out only to slam into you again.

Cassian hissed as your walls fluttered around him. He was thrusting into you, fast and hard, filling the air with your slick and wet noises. He took pleasure in the way you had to brace yourself against the tree, the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. He brought one hand up to knead the soft flesh again while the other yanked on your hair, pulling you flush against his warm and sweaty chest.

“So fucking good f’me.” He praised you, panting and grunting into your ear. The hand that gripped your hair was now trailing down, his fingers rubbing against your clit, making your eyes roll back at the immense pleasure building up and tightening in your stomach. “Taking me so well.”

“Cassian.”

“Say my name again.” He pounded into you mercilessly, thrusts growing harder as he found the spot that had your toes curling.

“Cassian.”

“That’s right, baby. I want you to know that only I can fuck you like this. Only I can make you feel this good. You’re going to remember my name forever.”

"Yes, yes, yes."

His words were your undoing and had you clenching around his length with a cry as your orgasm washed over you. His thrusts grew erratic and you knew he was close.

“Where can I cum?” His voice was desperate, carrying an urgent plea.

Your senses were clouded with his kisses against your neck and his breathy noises but you knew what he was asking. You were on the tonic so you arched yourself further and with a shaky voice said: “Inside me.”

“M’ gunna fill you up so good.” He told you as he continued to thrust into you relentlessly, his fingers still toying with your sensitive clit, blurring your vision with tears.

“Please.”

Your legs were trembling and you squeezed around his cock so hard, it had him stilling inside you as another orgasm washed over you. His hips pressed against your ass, hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there’d be bruises as he followed after you. He spilled into you, thick ropes of cum painting your walls with a deep roaring groan. The two of you remained still, your back pressed against his chest for a moment, basking in the aftermath of pleasure.

When he finally pulled out and released his grip on you, he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as your legs gave out. His strong, muscled arms reached out to steady you and guide you to face him once more. He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the way he had fucked you, before he dropped to his knees before you. He splayed a large hand against your abdomen to hold you steady.

You arched a brow at him, your chest heaving as you panted, still recovering from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. "What--what are you--"

“I'm not done with you yet, Sweetheart.” He grinned up at you, wrapping one of your legs around his shoulder. “It’s my turn to have a taste.”

Seven years later…

“And that was the best night of my life.” Cassian said with a sigh as he remembered all the pretty sounds he drew out from you that night.

You were so beautiful, so perfect. He had never felt so much pleasure with someone the way he did with you. He had intended to ruin you for other men but instead, you had ruined him. He wondered if you still thought of him as he did of you, if you still remembered him even.

“Yes, we know.” Azriel replied, his tone carrying a hint of annoyance.

“Should I be offended?” Mor quipped but there was no semblance of hurt or hard feelings in her features.

“We’ve heard this story so many times.” Amren grumbled, her arms crossed against her chest.

“If I had a sip for every time he brought up this female, I think I’d be a lot more tipsy than I am right now.” Rhysand muttered, glaring at the amber liquid in his glass.

"Her name is y/n," Cassian rolled his eyes with an amused grin. “Besides, you guys are the ones that suggested this drinking game.”

“Yes.” Rhysand nodded with an almost regretful tone. It was actually him who had been the one to pick the game of the night. “And the question had been, do you believe in love at first sight?”

“Same thing.” Cassian replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Cover up, will you?” Amren’s sharp voice had Cassian’s eyes widening. She threw a pillow harshly at him before he could even blink. He placed it over the growing tent in his leathers and her nostrils flared. “Gods, I can smell you too, your horny wretch.”

“If she was such a great fuck, I don’t know why you didn’t ask her out.” Rhysand spoke next and Mor nodded her head in agreement.

“She left right after, remember?” Cassian replied, tone laced with exasperation as he dragged a rugged hand down his face. He leaned back on the loveseat, smothering his wings in the process. “And how was I supposed to know she wasn’t from Windhaven?”

“You could’ve simply asked.” Azriel retorted with an amused expression on his face as he brought his glass to his lips.

“Perhaps, we should call it a night.” Rhysand said as he rose from his seat. He then looked at Cassian and Azriel. “Don’t want you two to show up to your assignment tomorrow with a raging hangover anyway.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” Cassian grinned, standing up as well with the pillow still placed over his crotch.

“I need you two to be alert and ready to confront Kallon at Ironcrest.” Rhysand glared but there was amusement flickering within his eyes as he glanced toward the pillow. “So please make sure that is taken care of. I wouldn’t want the war lord’s son to think he gave you a raging boner.”

Azriel chuckled but it was short lived as Cassian hurled the pillow in his grasps at his face, taking delight in the way the pillow met its target precisely.

“Gross.” Mor couldn’t help but laugh.

The quaint tavern nestled within the heart of Ironcrest emanated a strangely and surprisingly inviting warmth. Dimly lit lanterns hung low, casting a soft, amber glow that danced upon the aged wooden beams and worn floorboards. Wooden tables, scarred with the history of countless shared moments, were scattered throughout the room, each surrounded by mismatched chairs worn by the passage of time. The hum of hushed conversations and occasional laughter created a lively ambiance.

Azriel’s shadows dispersed from his limbs and silently scattered across the small tavern keen to relay any important information to their master. Meanwhile, Cassian’s eyes darted around the room as he found an empty table for them to sit at. Their visit with Kallon had been exhausting, to say the least.

Rhysand had sent them to assess the dissent simmering within the camp of Ironcrest. It appeared that the camp-lord’s son was growing mouthy and shamelessly voicing his disdain for Rhysand. They suspected that there was more to the situation at hand so after their meeting with Kallon, they decided to linger around the camp a while longer and when they found the tavern, they were eager to see if they’d pick up on any more details from the villagers.

Cassian’s eyebrows furrowed as he saw a little girl, finding it strange that she was alone in a place like this. He watched as the girl aggressively scribbled onto the notebook in front of her. Her small wings were tucked behind her and her lips were pursed in deep concentration. He couldn’t help but notice a familiarity in her eyes, the curve of her nose and lips but he was sure that he’d never seen this girl in his life before.

And then he saw you.

His breath hitched and he forced himself to blink because surely that wasn’t–couldn’t be you standing in front of the little girl. You were placing a plate of food in front of the little girl with a fond smile, reaching out to brush back a few stray hairs that had fallen from her braid. He took the both of you in, realizing why the little girl had seemed so familiar.

It was because she looked like you.

[series masterlist]

#cassian acotar #cassian #cassian smut #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian fluff #acotar smut #acotar fluff #cassian x you #cassian x y/n

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