#[Deep Sea dive

[randomshyperson]

Best (Girl)Friends - Wanda Maximoff x Rogers!Reader

Summary: Wanda sympathizes with your willpower. 70 years on ice is a long time to wait for an intimate touch. And being the good friend that she is, Wanda offers you some help.

Warnings: (+18), some vague plot, smut with virginity loss, Rogers!Reader following all Wanda’s wishes, power bottom!Wanda, kissing, friends to lovers, mutual pining, explicit consent but Wanda being a tease and a bit possessive. | Words: 4.893k

A/-N-> I’m pretty sure this was a request, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. 

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Shield acted as if they won the lottery.

In a way, it felt like that. Two Rogers siblings found on the same day would probably yield some promotions within the teams responsible, and a nice image bonus with the US government. 

But while Captain America was found in a negative temperature on the other side of the planet, his sister destroyed an entire building with her sudden appearance inside a blue explosion a few hours later.

In your defense, you had no idea what was about to happen. 

One minute, you were inside a Howard Stark-designed marine suit at the bottom of the ocean. But in Shield's defense, you were disobeying the orders of your director, that is, Margaret Carter on the phone, who five minutes earlier insisted that she would not risk losing another Rogers and that reaching the cube was not worth the risk to your safety, but you still put on the prototype underwater suit and dived in search of the item, which, to you, was the key to finding your brother.

You were right, in a way. Touching the cube with the determined idea that you would like to see Steve again really worked. The problem was how it happened. 

The explosion was all around you, and you saw nothing but the beam of blue light that forced you to close your eyes. One moment you were deep in the sea, and the next you were in the middle of one of the Shield Secret Bases, a thousand of bricks flying around with the force of the explosion.

Your presence in the secret room of Project PEGASUS caused Shield to be on high alert, and a dozen rifles to be pointed in your face.

But it was all cleared up in no time and ended with your figure handcuffed on the seat of a government Jet on its way to New York.

Unlike Steve, you were awake. And not the least bit in the mood to follow Nick Fury's theatrical demands.

"That's to avoid shock, Miss Rogers-"

"Absolutely not, Nicholas." You cut him off impatiently, your hands-free since Shield had clarified exactly who you were. "The first thing I'm saying to my brother won't be a lie."

Nick sighed. "I understand it's a delicate situation, Miss, but Captain Rogers has been frozen for too long. An innocent fantasy is meant to lessen the shock of the truth."

You skirted Nick without caring about the speech. "There's no way to lighten news like this one. We're both in the future, for Chris’s sake! That it's absurd enough. No more lies, and let me see my brother for once. You have no idea how long I've been waiting for that." 

Fury didn't have the heart to insist, not only because he had another supersoldier getting him out of the way, but because of the emotion in your voice. He waved in dismissal to any soldier more curious about your determined walk, and no one interfered as you made your way to the room where they placed your brother.

Shield had begun to create a scenario around him that made you chuckle in irony. You dismissed the agent posing as a nurse with a look, and Nick allowed you to be alone in the room, and without wasting any time, you made your way to the bed.

Steve looked the same as he did the day he disappeared, and you felt a sob break in your throat. Maybe the sound woke him up.

He opened confused eyes at you, and unlike him, you had aged a lot since the last time he had seen you when you were still a child. 

"Hey, Stevie." Your greeting came hoarsely, laden with emotion. Steve took a moment to recognize you.

"Y/N?" He asked, tense and startled. You could almost see the gears of his brain working, the way he tried to recognize his surroundings as well. "God, how long have I...?"

"Longer than you can imagine, big brother. Much longer." You replied before hugging him tightly. 

This must have been the last entirely friendly interaction you had with your brother, a reunion bittersweet for its peculiarities that was unable to conciliate years of differences between the two of you. Nor did the ice erase your hurt over Steve sending you away from the war when your parents passed away, or make you forget the years of training and working for Shield in search of him once you were back in Brooklyn. Nor did it change Steve's view of how he wanted to protect and keep out of trouble - which included superhero work - his younger sister who he had vowed to take care of.

But it was indeed an undeniable amusement to the rest of the team that the personalities of the Rogers siblings were so blatantly different, and it caused some apprehension every time Steve had to witness you leaving the tower in some sports car borrowed from Tony Stark while dressed in leather jackets borrowed from Natasha Romanoff.

The apex that you were entirely corrupted for all that he expected from a proper 1950s girl came in the addition of a certain angry witch to the team a while later.

Of course, the close age - if one ignores the years between the time jump and your arrival - you and Wanda had made your friendship an inevitability. But this doesn't mean that witnessing your clear crush on the new Avenger wasn't giving your older brother a headache.

Natasha thinks he deserved some credit. Considering he was a white man from the 1950s who was frozen before appearing in a new century, Steve was pretty open-minded. She was pretty sure this was due to the closet years of keeping a secret crush on his best friend, but she wouldn't be mean enough to torment Steve with that. 

And besides this, you were also getting used to the new century. And with the possibility of being able to have feelings for Wanda in an open and free way, so different from the world you lived in before.

The witch, on the other hand, had the greatest of fun tormenting you as much as she could while she waited for you to be ready.

And these teases came at every opportunity Wanda could take, from summer days at the tower pool where she had an excuse to wear bikinis around you and make a complete mess of you with the "friendly cuddling" which is how she came to justify the fact that your room was hers now and that there was nothing more platonical than sleeping cuddled up to your best friend.

With each passing moment, you grew comfortable and certain in your own feelings, parallel to which you became more confident in your powers and Wanda began to feel that the tables were turning on her every time a tickle war ended with you using your super-strength to pin her to the bed or you could effortlessly carry her away from a training session or conflict.

It didn't take long for the situation to become unbearable - Wanda was sure she would combust in the next cuddling session if she felt your body against hers again without that leading to what she really wanted, so now she had to take drastic action.

Communication was always the key to everything.

"Have you ever had sex?"

Your cell phone fell hard on your face. Wanda giggled at the mirror reflection: she was on her back brushing her hair and stealing glances at your figure lying on the bed, still learning to use the current technology but definitely loving the whole thing.

Snorting in embarrassment, you pushed the electronic device down onto the mattress and massaged your sore face. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy seeing me like this."

"What do you mean?" She asks innocently, turning her attention to the ring drawer. 

"Disconcerted."

Wanda chuckles mischievously, running her fingers through the options and trying to decide between the items as you stare at the ceiling. "I know you're like 100 years old, but won’t you tell me that it never happened? Not even when you became a hottie super soldier?"

You grunted in shame, covering your face with your arm. Wanda giggled again, this time putting on one of the silver rings. You were too far away to notice how her fingers were slightly trembling, giving away how she was equally affected by the conversation. But unlike you, Wanda knew how to keep it cool very well.

"Wandaaa." You grumbled, and she almost dropped the subject when you added. "No."

"No, what?"

With a sigh, you removed your arm from in front of your face but didn't risk looking at her. "Back then...I just, I didn't have the courage I guess. You know, girls were supposed to be virgins to marry, in theory. And well, I wasn't going to marry anyone because I was too busy working. And when I got into the army, the vast majority of the guys I knew started looking at me with contempt and indignation, and then came the serum I just...didn't know how to handle the attention."

Wanda spun the stool she was sitting on toward you, listening closely to your words. 

You sighed shyly. "I mean I had opportunities, but I just didn't feel comfortable following them. I wanted... to be with someone who liked me. Not the super serum, you know? Most people were only talking to me because of it. They hoped to gain some kind of benefit from meeting the American Soldier. I don't know, maybe it's just me trying not to sound so... cowardly."

Wanda stood up with a sigh, and you swallowed dryly, keeping your gaze on the ceiling until her face appear in your field of vision.

"Detka, you are literally the bravest person I know." Reminded the witch, bringing a small smile to you. "And there's nothing wrong with not being ready, or waiting for the right person. Sex is intimate, it makes sense that you want it to happen with someone you like and who likes you back."

"Thank you for being understanding." You muttered, swallowing dryly when instead of returning to her previous activities, Wanda sat down on the bed next to you. With a sigh and shifting your gaze to the ceiling again, you ventured, "Have you?"

Wanda's teasing giggle brought a deep color to your face. "Have I what?"

Snorting, you retorted, "Come on, you're the one who brought this up."

Wanda pinched you gently on the belly, smiling at your complaint. “A few times, actually.'"

It made no sense at all to feel jealous of a time you didn't even know her, and that you were somehow in the past, but still, a bitter burn filled your stomach. Wanda, the telepath that she was, seemed to know exactly what you were thinking, and without caring whether it would make your heart stop or not, approached you to use your torso as her personal pillow. With two legs on which side of your hips, she stared down at you.

"But it was nothing outstanding." She began, using her fingertips to wander all the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders through your pajamas and having the best time in the world in watching every single hair of you shiver. "I kept making the same mistake in settling down for mediocre sex. No real feelings, no passion, much less love. Always end up frustrated and having to finish the job alone."

You frowned in confusion. "Alone...?" But it only took one look from Wanda for you to understand what she meant and choke, your face pink again. The younger girl giggled, leaning her elbow on you to rest her chin on her own hand and take a closer look. 

"Eyes on me, baby." She asked, hoping you would overcome your own shyness to do so. When you follow her request, Wanda was ready to risk everything. "You know I love you, don't you?"

You sighed, nodding. "I love you too, Wanda." Your confession was huskier than hers, and she had to ignore the sincerity of what that really meant in order to stay focused on that afternoon's goal. "Kind of the essential thing on the best friend package, isn't it?"

Wanda chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

Of course, you would make a joke to lessen the intensity of the moment, if she was nervous in all her confident glory, she could have sympathy for you, who was literally having to deal with your long-time crush practicing lying over you.

"Friends help each other, don't they? Especially best friends." She retorted, and you frowned in confusion.

"Yeah, I guess… why, did something happen?" Before your confusion could turn to worry entirely and you could finish the movement of getting up, Wanda pressed her hands on your shoulders and pushed you back on the mattress.  "Hey." You chuckled puzzledly, but the laughter died into an affected sigh when Wanda simply shifted in your lap completely, in a very non-platonic way.  "Right, whatever makes you comfortable." You mutter, very aware of the heat radiating from the girl's body on top of you, who just chuckled mischievously at your shyness.

"Relax, dorogoya." Wanda reasserted in a low, dangerously seductive voice. Her hands were on your shoulders still, rubbing your loose pajamas and somehow pushing them down to the limits, exposing as much skin as Wanda could manage. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to...but I also need you to tell me exactly what you wanna do and how ready for me you are."

Your throat went dry, and Wanda's dilated pupils were not helping the words to form. She bit her lip, seeming to have the best time with your clumsiness.

"I-I... god, Wanda..." You gasped and she leaned in completely until her breath was hitting your cheek.

"How about a kiss? Don't tell me you never got one?" She mocked and you had to chuckle dryly.

"You can be quite an ass, Maximoff." You murmured with your eyes closed, risking moving your hands to her thighs around your hips, the action making you both hold your breaths for a second. "I've kissed before."

"Hmm, I see." She hits back, deviating from the original path and letting her mouth tease your jaw, feeling your hands squeeze her thighs gently with every kiss across your skin. What Wanda wouldn't do to see you lose control...

"I like kissing." You confess hoarsely, mostly because she’s making you so nervous that the words are simply spilling. You kept your eyes closed and your neck stretched to give her more room to don’t stop. Aware of your words, Wanda hums again as she keeps depositing chaste kisses on your collarbone. "I like...kissing girls."

It should be a heartfelt confession, one that Wanda theoretically knew about but that you've never put into words before. But suddenly, Wanda bit down on you, hard enough for you to grunt in pain, opening your eyes. She grabs your cheeks with one hand, a hot fury in her eyes that makes you shudder.

"Rule number one, don't talk about other girls when you have one on top of you."

You open your mouth like a fish, babbling nonsense for enough time for Wanda to make a motion of leaving. But that makes you react. "I didn't mean to upset you!" You try quickly, hands moving on an instinct to hold her by the waist on top of you. Wanda has to bite her lips hard to keep from letting out a much more submissive sound than she would like when you just squeeze her firmly to keep her there. "Wanda, please forgive me! I-you caught me off guard, alright? I’m nervous… We’re friends and suddenly… you’re so close and I’m talking nonsense! Please, just… tell me what you want to hear.”

She huffs impatiently, crossing her arms and turning her face away as you sigh in defeat. Wanda wants to be annoyed, but you're so lovely when you lean your face into her, trying to ease her anger with chaste kisses on her cheeks and neck until you manage to get from her a stubborn smile. She has no choice but to uncross her arms to slide her hands up your shoulders, wrapping herself around your body again. 

She feels you smile and relax completely, the kisses getting firmer on her neck until they tickle and elicit a husky giggle from her. Still, Wanda settles a hand in your hair, and the slight tug to bring your faces close together again draws a deep sigh from you.

"I don't want to hear about other girls, detka. This is your last warning." She says seriously with eyes glowing red for a moment. Wanda had hoped to have a direct effect, but to her surprise, a teasing smirk began to form on your lips.

"Wow, you're totally jealous." You accused and she grimaced, trying to pull away once more. But that only made you burst out into a teasing giggle, while your strong arms wrapped around her torso, bringing her back to you effortlessly while keeping her locked into you. Wanda was clearly aware of how shaky her legs were with the motion, and trying to walk away again would only result in her falling to the ground. "Wanda, darling, the girls I kissed must be a hundred years old by now."

Reluctantly and with a rosy tinge in her cheeks, she mutters, "Honestly, I was hoping to be your first."  Her confession makes you rise your eyebrows in surprise, only to smile fondly next. Your hands moved again, caressing her back in an attempt to relax her as well. 

"Hey, look at me." You call out gently, waiting for the girl's stubbornness to subside with the help of your caresses. Wanda has a stronger color on her face when she finally raises her eyes to you again. "I didn't imagine this was anything of relevance to you. But I haven't lied before, I've never been with someone intimately. If you still want to, you can be my first... everything else."

She twitches her nose softly. "You’re making it sound like it’s a favor for me. I only want to... if you do too." She retorts with a certain determination in her gaze, and though you feel your cheeks burn with the ultimatum, you nod foolishly before breaking the distance.

It catches Wanda by surprise, the sudden kiss, and you're despairing when she doesn't respond immediately, pulling away at the same speed you approached. "Sorry." You say mortified and breathless, your lips tingling. "I like you, Wan. I really do. I just thought you should know before..."

She places a finger over yours, shushing your nervous anticipation. Her free hand goes to your cheek and Wanda pulls you close again, her eyes darkening in a way that makes you shiver entirely.

"Like I said before, just relax, baby. Stop overthinking." She whispers before she firms her mouth over yours. It's a sensual, intense kiss unlike any you've ever received. Wanda seems determined to drive you to complete insanity. She kisses you unhurried, waiting for permission to slide her tongue into yours, and giving you no room to breathe properly, head spinning with those new yet so familiar needy feelings. She kisses and kisses you until you're restless beneath her, your body burning and your hands curious testing limits that she doesn’t impose, only encourages you to break. Her taste and smell intoxicate your every sense, the feel of her body molded to yours, teasing your reactions and almost making you lose control of your strength. The tight squeeze you give her when she sucks your tongue earns a whimper from her that sticks and echoes in your mind, making you dizzy with lust. When she finally breaks the kiss to breathe, her lips are swollen like yours, and her pupils are so dilated that there is no green left in them. Your face burns for the matching fire you find in her gaze.

You are unable to find any words to describe this moment, so you only stare at her, blushing over the smirk that starts to form on her lips once she catches the adoring look you’re giving her.

Licking your lips to try to gain some focus, you dare to ask: “Was it…good?” You would have added “Did you like” or “Was I enough” if Wanda didn't break into a giggle that shut you entirely, your cheeks burning. Before the shame could surface, she grabbed your cheeks again. “You’re too cute, darling.” She says, kissing you again more quickly than before. Her hands move to yours then, intertwining your fingers together to drag them on her thighs, down, and then back up, this time under her skirt. Your heart stopped, and Wanda turned her dark eyes back to yours, her voice so low you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close. “Don’t be shy, see for yourself how much I like kissing you.” She whispers darkly.

When she kisses you again, her hands guide you under her skirt until you're in her front. The mere contact of your fingers with the wet spot on her panties makes you groan and break the kiss, needing a moment to just take a breath and calm your nerves. Wanda doesn't wait long, releasing your hands to move hers to your shoulders, needing firm support now that you're so close to where she needs it so badly. She gasps in surprise when your hand gives a quick tug that rips her panties off at once, a wave of new wetness running down her thighs in the same second.

You don't say anything about it, just turns your face to kiss her again, the same way she did before, and somehow even dirtier and more sexual, drawing gasps with every flick of your tongue against hers.

Because Wanda's your best friend, she wants to taunt you - tease you about being better at this than you let on, but all the words fall away at once when your fingers fill her in one go. All Wanda can do is moan, choking on the kiss as she feels you slide into her with such ease. 

"Fuck, detka." She moans with her eyes tightly closed, just as she pulls away to breathe. Your response is to just continue your movements, in and out of her without haste, feeling every mention of her warm walls squeezing your fingers. Wanda is burning on top of you and the sound of her drenched pleasure echoes low. You hum contentedly, nipping at her neck as she can no longer match the kiss, so close to her own climax. Your hand adjusts, increasing its reach, and when your thumb gives her clit the attention it needs, Wanda lets out an affected squeal. "W-wanna cum, baby. Please!"

You bite back a smile, surprised and impressed by the question hidden in the statement. You adjust to face her and wait for Wanda to feel the change to look at you too. The dark, lust-filled pupils leave you breathless.

"You can cum, sweetheart, you don't even have to ask." You assure her softly, never stopping your movements inside her. "I'm here to please you." You whisper, and it's enough for Wanda to break into an affected moan, hips thrusting helplessly against your hand until she arches her back and lets out the longest, dirtiest moan you've ever heard. 

Her eyes flutter shut as she rides her high on your soaked hand, until she finally opens scarlet pupils for you, a long groan leaving her lips as the last sensations of the best orgasm she ever had fade away.

Wanda turns her full attention to you in the next second, stealing quick but intense kisses until a husky giggle leaves her lips and tickles yours.

"You're too good at this for your own good." She prompts, and the compliment takes a heartfelt giggle from you. You try to relax under her gaze but Wanda's dilated eyes have a different twinkle as she holds your cheeks more firmly. "I think I want to keep you all to myself. Without sharing with anybody else. What do you say, baby?"

You swallow dry, suddenly quite vulnerable "H-hm, like... dating?" You retort in a weak tone of voice because you need to confirm and well the idea that someone as unbelievably awesome as Wanda Maximoff is actually asking for exclusivity with you seems too freaking surreal not to confirm. As many times as necessary.

Wanda giggles mischievously, settling herself on top of your fingers that never left her and sighing as she feels you even deeper than before. "Yeah, just like that." She moans, and you're not sure if she's answering your question or guiding you through the motions, but you get the impression that the answer goes both ways. 

It's not like you will contradict your new girlfriend any further.

Before Wanda could indulge in the sensation again, however, she stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist. Raising curious eyes to the breathless flushed girl on top of you, your first reaction was to check if you had done something wrong, and by god, hurt her. But Wanda bit back a smile, her other hand going down to your belt.

"We're overdressed, honey." She whispered against your lips, red sparkles playing with the edge of your shirts, teasing them upward. " Strip."

Moaning low against her mouth, Wanda almost didn't let you pull away. In record time, your clothes were off and so were hers, between stolen panting kisses you fell to the mattress again, curious hands urging together.

Wanda pinned you beneath her with no effort despite your super strength, and feeling her naked against your skin drove you to the brink of insanity. She swallowed each moan with her mouth, appreciating the increasingly needy sounds as she fit against your hips, and began to move hers.

Soon, the friction became unbearably arousing and you had to clutch at the sheet, and the headboard. A hot, tight knot at the tip of your stomach left you breathless, every movement of Wanda's hips into yours, the perfect fit between your cunts was enough to make you choke. 

You practically meowed when she got the rhythm right. "O-oh god Wanda! T-there's something... fuck, I can't-"

"I know baby, just let go for me." She panted, her hands clenching the sheet on either side of your head, her hips frantic against yours. "Fuck, you feel amazing" She moans a confession, smiling satisfied at your expression of pure bliss beneath her.

Suddenly the knot bursts, and you're blinded by the pleasure of your first orgasm for a full moment. The headboard snaps in your left hand and Wanda cums in a loud, animalistic moan, spilling herself down on you before collapsing heavily onto your torso, your panting breaths mingling like your juices.

You try to recover together from the intensity of the climax, your hand finding her back on instinct to stroke her as Wanda nestles closer against you, an exhausted, satisfied smile on her lips.

She barely had a chance to lift her face to kiss you when the bedroom door suddenly opened.

"Kid, is everything all right in here I heard something breaking-'" 

You nearly knocked Wanda off the bed in an attempt to cover the two of you with the comforter - and the mattress lost a few springs in the process.

The two Avengers who'd entered the room covered their faces with their hands, but unlike your brother, Natasha was holding back her laughter.

"I'm sorry. We... I... you-"

"Come on Captain, we're leaving." Natasha cut Steve off with a pat on the shoulder, leading the way backward. "Sorry girls, lock the door next time. And well, use protection!" She burst out laughing, ignoring the embarrassed grumbles from you and Wanda, and closing the door.

With the safety of a locked door, you hid your face in your pillow.

"Great, the best day of my life might be ruined because my brother is going to have a stroke."  You grumbled, getting a hearty laugh from the other.

Wanda adjusted herself, stroking your hair until you looked at her again. "Best day of your life, huh? I'm flattered." She teases, smiling at the red that appears on your cheeks.

"As if you weren't cocky enough." You retort in the same tone, adjusting to hold her by the waist and pull her to you, getting on top now. Wanda sighs softly, even warmer with the addition of the blanket now, she finds it kind of hard to concentrate, much more talk. "Thank you, Wands."

Your line surprises her. "For what?"

"For being my first time." You clarify with a shrug, though your gaze was intense. "I've always wanted it to be with someone special, someone I like and trust. And there's no one I love more than you."

Wanda kisses you because she doesn't want to be the type to cry during sex, and she's pretty sure she would. You don't mind, she transmits the feeling through action and well, there are other things you're dying to do other than talk.

There will be time for confessions later.

[danhoneyyysblog]

hihihihi!! hope ur having a good day!!!

could.. I request Scar with a reader who’s mainly centered around a jellyfish? like, their movements are always smooth, and they kinda resemble a humanoid jellyfish!!

thanks for your time :3

author note: hey, i’ve been having an amazing day so far! I FINALLY GOT JIYAN AT 68 PITY!!! hope you are doing great! and this idea is SO CUTE! Scar being the silly, crazy guy he is with a reader who acts so similar to a jellyfish, i absolutely love that!

❝GOODNESS! YOU’RE SO CUTE. I MAY AS WELL MAKE YOU INTO A JELLO-FISH TO EAT UP!❞

CHARACTERS MENTIONED: Scar x Gender-Neutral! Reader, Rover, Phrolova.

WARNING, MAY CONTAIN: may be slight ooc — as game recently released, simple information on each character. if you don’t enjoy ooc, don’t suggest! (reader) in third person (they/them/their), an accidental kiss - supposed to be CPR, mentions of petnames (jello-fish), mentions of being taught without having a clue on what’s going on, mentions of kissing.

Days pass by in Jinzhou - one of Huanglong's six major cities. To add onto that, the only city in the Outer Huanglong, as it is one of the recent cities established in Huanglong and could be addressed to 'the throat of Huanglong'. It appears to be nestled within a great lake, embraced by the waters and cradled by the mountains. Jinzhou may be beautiful, but it doesn't stop the fact how dangerous the outside of those walls dug deep down into the waters, making contact with the sand. What lurks behind those enormous walls? Tacet discords, abbreviated as 'TD's, creatures that have the ability to mimic shapes and behaviors of others.

As the people who feared to become one of these beasts stay within the walls. A certain male roams behind them, arms raised up with his hands behind his head as he whistled a tune to himself, having to be sure not to get caught, otherwise he'd get thrown into jail. Who would this individual be? None other than Scar. To put more in his name, he can be known as one of the Overseer members for the Fractsidus - an organization whose ideals are currently to accelerate the next Lament. To bring more into that, another desire of theirs is to capture somebody by the name of 'Rover'.

Back to what was currently happening... Scar strolled around, waiting for Rover to come out of Jinzhou, to make another one of his many dramatic entrances. From the corner of Scar's eye, he is able to see a sort of bioluminescence light coming from within the waters, resting by the walls. That's odd... He could have sworn it was never there. Scar glances around, seeing nobody around, he bursts into sinister chuckles. "This is interesting. Let's see what lurks beneath this lake," Scar speaks out, rotating his body towards the edge and dives in with no hesitation.

Swimming further down until he floats in front of the spot that glowed so brightly. It appeared there was an opening, but it was pitch-black, unable to see what stays in there, but Scar went in, anyways - typical Scar. The deeper he went, the darker it was getting for him. At one point, he reached his hand out, wondering if there was anything resting in front of him. Through his gloved hand, he felt an odd, rough texture. With no fear of what it may be, he ripped it out of where it stayed, bringing it as close as possible to his face until he was able to detect what it may be. It was a... coral.

Hold on. Aren't coral supposed to appear more colorful? It looked completely lifeless. But at the same time, coral tend to look bleached when dead, no? Let's not forget, algae could surround it. This doesn't make any sense... If it's not alive, but it's not dead. Then what was it? Could this coral be a tacet discord?! No... not a possible. For what Scar knew, no tacet discord lives within the waters. Next thing Scar saw, shocked him. The suspected 'dead'-coral lit up in a marvelous shade of blue. The coral was bioluminescent! Within the sight of Scar, all of the organisms such as coral, algae, sea stars, fish, and a bunch of others lit up in the same hue of blue.

It was all bioluminescent! Who would have known the Jinzhou kept a secret like this! Yet for some odd reason, Scar could have sworn his breathe was being taken away from the sight... Wait... HIS BREATHE WAS BEING BEING TAKEN AWAY. Scar's eyes shot wide open, attempting to swim up, but due to feeling his own breathe disappearing, it was causing him to lose energy. Oh, well. Scar will always find his way back up! As he began to lose his consciousness, a silhouette of a person swam towards him, as reminiscent as a... jellyfish. Though he simply assumed it was the afterlife coming to retrieve his soul...

What do you know! Scar's consciousness was coming back to him. As his eyes slowly flickered open, greeting by blurriness. Within Scar's vision, it looked like the same silhouette as before. The moment Scar snapped back into reality is when the figure leaned in towards him, pressing their lips against his - attempting to do CPR, but it appeared they weren't doing it correctly, an accidental kiss. Though Scar didn't bother to move a muscle, seeming to find what was happening, hilarious. Once the person moved back, letting out a gentle sigh out of their lips and opening their eyes to glance down at Scar, who they assumed was still passed out,

WAS LITERALLY SMIRKING UP AT THEM, alongside a snigger. Terrified by the fact he was literally greeted in the wrong way in the best way, they burst into screams - sounding as if it was music. Scar immediately sat up, slapping his gloved hand onto the person's skin that oddly glowed. Taking a couple of glances around, taking notice on how he appeared to be resting on the shore, far away from Jinzhou. Slowly moving his covered hand away from their hand, brushing against their lips.

Scar crossed his legs, pressing his elbow on his knee as he rested his cheek onto his knuckles. He took this opportunity to observe the individual - seeing how their skin had a sort of gentle shine to it, with clothing resembling a jellyfish. To put more detail into that, they appeared to swim like a jellyfish when coming in to save Scar. Scar's smirk grew wider, releasing a chuckle from his mouth. "I'm guessing you're the pretty stranger who saved me?" Scar questioned. Only to receive a confused expression from the person - dotted-eyes, with a gentle head tilt, as if they were fragile. Afraid to properly move.

"Hm, best guess: You can't understand me. Can you?" Scar asked. He gained no response, as expected. He had no issues with this whatsoever. Carefully, the stranger rose from the ground, having sand attached to any exposed skin as they turned around, planning to head back into the waters. Scar watched their movements - arms swinging at a perfect pace, as well as the movement of the hips. As if anything this secretive person did was as smooth as butter. Scar was about to catch sight of something familiar, leaning his head forward, taking notice of a small tacet mark resting on their nape. This person was a resonator?!

Unconsciously, Scar arose and chased after this person, grabbing onto their wrist, pulling them back until they slammed their back onto Scar. Forcing the confused person to turn their head around, carrying the look of curiosity that Scar found funny. Scar leaned in, having his infamous smirk. "Maybe it's best to teach you a few things. Don't you think, 'jello-fish'?"

“This is who you were referring to by… ‘jello-fish’?” Scar’s sister, Phrolova, questioned. “Yes! Aren’t they adorable?” Scar asked. Here he currently was — lying down on the ground, on his front with his hands cupping his face and legs gently kicking back and forth. Silly Scar… What was he exactly doing? To put it in simple terms, training AND tutoring the clueless humanoid, who he figured was mainly centred around a jellyfish.

By listening to Scar’s demands such as to swim around in the waters — doing tricks such as jumping out of the waters, twirling in them as they swam around in a perfect pace. All movements made by me were fascinatingly smooth, and Scar didn’t seem to get bored of it. He wanted to flex off what he had been teaching the curious person to his sister.

“Speaking of which, I taught them another thing. Trust me, it’s really impressive.” Scar spoke out. Scar quickly adjusted his position — sitting on his bum, legs crossed as he snapped his fingers as loud as he could — managing to gain the attention of the person reminiscent to a jellyfish. They turned the direction of where they were swimming towards, elegantly making their way towards Scar and as soon as they were at a perfect spot, they leaped out of the waters and jumped onto Scar, who caught them as he fell on his back from the pressure.

“Did you see that?! Tell me that was adorable! They’re able to do that, like a dolphin!” Scar excitedly spoke out, a gleeful laughter mixed in with his words. “…Despite being similar towards a jellyfish.” Phrolova mumbled. She observed on how Scar seemed to be enjoying the person’s actions, where they were gently tracing the outline of Scar’s marks, while letting out a soft coo full of fascination.

Scar’s hands made it onto their hips, causing the person to softly hum out of confusion, which Scar giggled from — as if he was a boy who just got a sweet treat from the store. “Come on, jello-fish. Right here.” said Scar, pointing towards his cheek. Phrolova noticed how clueless the humanoid looked, about to speak up, but was shocked when they actually learned in and brushed their lips against Scar’s check — giving him a kiss.

“Ohoho~! Good, good! I’m so proud of you, jello-fish. Now then, another one here.” Scar praised, now pointing towards the tip of his nose. Once again, they leaned in and pressed a soft kiss onto Scar’s nose. What made this more hilarious for Scar was that this person had no clue what they were doing! “Now… over here.” Scar spoke out, his tone proving how smug he was. Where was he pointing? Towards his lips.

“Scar. Quit that.” Phrolova demanded, though Scar didn’t seem to listen. “Aw, come on! Don’t you want to see what they do—?” before Scar could even finish… they brought their lips against Scar’s lips, shocking Scar, only because he was caught off-guard. Phrolova let out a soft groan, turning around to give the two privacy as the person and Scar’s lips remained pressed onto one another.

“It’s unfortunate they’re unaware of what they’re doing, assuming it’s harmless…” Phrolova mumbled. They separated after a bit, thanks to Scar who wanted to keep the kiss longer. Within a second, he started squealing as if he was a little girl and tackling the individual into a tight embrace. “GOODNESS! You’re so cute. I may as well make you into a jello-fish to eat up!” Scar excitedly exclaimed.

Shockingly, they shot their eyes wide open, moving their head to stare into Scar’s eyes. That’s when Scar realized… “You can understand me for that, but not all of the other stuff I said?!” Scar shouted, not believing it. Scar’s loud voice accidentally terrified me, causing me to rise from what I was and rush back towards the waters, diving in. “Come back!” Scar whined. “Not only you scared them by saying you’ll eat them, but by yelling, too. I’m not surprised…” Phrolova said. “You’re not helping.” Scar argued.

author note: sorry if this isn’t what you necessarily wanted! if it is, i’m glad and i worked on this for a little while so i hope it does do well, truly.

taglist: @eroqista

[notiddygxthgf]

❛ Talk to me, baby. I'm goin' blind from this sweet, sweet craving, whoa-oh. Let's lose our minds and go fucking crazy. I-I-I-I-I-I keep on hoping we'll eat cake by the ocean. ❜

★ pairings: choso kamo x f!reader

★ synopsis: you and choso find a way to beat the heat.

★ c.w.: sexual tension, PWP, porn without plot, happy ending! au?, idk everyone's happy lol, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, cowgirl in the backseat, creampie, blowjobs, choso has mommy issues lowkey, and the reader caters to them lowkey. dom/sub undertones, choso doesnt know how to deal with his horniness lol, old fashioned, nasty ass sex, just read it you'll love it.

★ a/n: hi baby girls!! I have been holding onto this one for a MINUTE bc I wanted to make sure it's perfect. im doin a lil bit of a kinktober, so send those requests in! I hope u all love it as much as I do. bitchz w mommy issues wya???🗣️🗣️

★ w.c.; 8.6k

masterlist

CHOSO LOVED THE BEACH. Not for the reason one might normally proclaim such affection for an otherwise family-friendly pastime, but it was a valid reason nevertheless. He used to hate it, actually, especially when Getou and Mahito would drag him out there on the hottest day of the summer for their stupid villain conventions. He was quite comfortable at home in all of his layers. But there was something about the beach these days, something that had him reconsidering his bias. 

Call him classless, call him perverted. Whatever it was, there was this strange pull towards the beach that had him in a chokehold. He just couldn’t quite place it.

“You’re staring,” Megumi remarked.

Choso’s brow quirked. Letting his head loll to the side, teetering just off the edge of his beach chair, he offered the following words to his brother’s friend. “No, I wasn’t.”

He totally was. The way his sun glasses slid down the bridge of his nose as you walked past the two was a dead giveaway. But, shit, you looked too good to be true. You were this pretty little thing, strutting around in a pretty pink bikini, soaking in the rays of sunlight, and you were bringing a drink to your friend, Maki. Looked like a lemonade. Also looked like booze. It could have been anything, in all honesty, he wasn’t looking there. 

If there was a god out there, he hoped they would forgive him for his ravenous gaze. He had always had a little thing for you, if you will, but the moment you had walked onto the beach today he found himself completely enamored by you.

As you bent down to set the drink in the sand, the bottom of your small pink bikini slipped inward, revealing the smooth, sand-dusted skin of your plump little butt. Then you plopped down on the beach towel next to your friend and popped open the bottle of sunscreen.

Choso watched – rather shamelessly – as you sprayed some of it onto you arm, rubbing it in. You held the canister towards your chest at arms length and released some more of the sheer spray onto the skin there. It trickled down, catching the light of the sun, dripping down between your breasts–

A pair of hairy, pale legs obstructed the view. 

“Found a sand dollar,” Spoke none other than the world’s quirkiest little brother, Yuuji Itadori. In a rather fitting slow-pan up to his face, Choso took note of the dorky goggles that he had popped over his eyes. He was shirtless. You would think that the man would have learned that you don’t need to go deep sea diving at the beach by now. “You guys coming?”

Megumi took the words right out of Choso’s mouth. Or, actually, ‘word’ might be more fitting. 

“No.”

“I’ll pass,” Choso sighed, repositioning his sunglasses over his eyes. Silently, of course, he cursed his brother for putting on such a show in front of – what was he talking about? Choso Kamo… letting his desires cloud his love for his brother? He usually wasn’t this bad. “I thought I threw those out on you?”

“I bought new ones,” Yuuji muttered. He practically tore the goggles from his face, sending locks of pink hair standing up in the air. Tossing them to the side, he plopped between Megumi and Choso on the picnic blanket.

“Of course you did,” Megumi, who had, for a brief – but beautiful – moment been alluded into believing his friend had decided to keep his remarkable lack of social awareness to himself, reached into the cooler they had filled earlier that day and produced a much needed refreshment. 

“Hi!”

Choso, Yuuji and Megumi all turned their heads toward the sound.

It was you. His ‘crush’, as Yuuji had embarrassingly called it. And, shit, you looked even prettier up close. Your hair looked so soft. So did your–

He shook the thoughts away. 

“Sorry to bother ‘ya,” You lowered your head apologetically. You extended your arm out towards the three men. Clutched in your small hand was the bottle of sunscreen you had been using before Yuuji had caught Choso’s attention. “My friend is out cold. Could you just get my back for me?”

Choso felt his face grow red at the mere prospect of being so close to you. He had never had the courage to actually reach out and touch you. He felt as if, for some odd reason he didn’t quite understand, his touch would have killed you. You had always been so sweet to him, offering him small talk, refreshments, and friendly jokes when it was just the two of you away from the group.

“Not a problem, Sensei,” Yuuji replied rather quickly. 

He reached for the bottle. Before he could grab it, Megumi jabbed his elbow harshly into the back of Yuuji’s neck.

“Bitch, ow,” He hissed.

The glare Megumi shot him could have been heard from ten miles away. Choso sighed, refraining from shaking his head.

“I think he’s sick. I’ll bring him to the infirmary,” Megumi added quietly, standing up rather abruptly and taking Yuuji with him. 

Yuuji babbled mindlessly the whole way back.

Highschoolers.

Choso looked back to you. Just you. Alone. He felt his hands get all clammy again. He blamed it on the sun. You were holding the bottle expectantly. 

“Uh… I can… I can help, if you’re okay with that,” He looked away, internally kicking himself for fumbling so hard. 

You only tilted your head at him. Your eyes were so pretty, wide open as they lingered over his body, his eyes, his nose. Your gaze was a wildfire spreading over the expanse of his face.

It was then that he realized he was very, very shirtless.

“‘Kay, thanks,” you smiled softly.

As you laid down on the beach blanket, Choso felt his heart race even faster. He could hardly believe this was all happening – hell, part of him wondered if he had overstepped by offering his services to you. The sun beat down on your skin, his head, the sand – he blamed the warmth flooding his face on the weather. 

You were laid on your stomach only a few inches away, completely oblivious to his moral dilemma. 

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself while he reached for the bottle of sunscreen you had set onto the blanket beside you. With hands that trembled ever-so-slightly, he uncapped the bottle and squeezed a small amount onto his palm. The sunscreen was cool to the touch – so, not wanting to cause you even the slightest bit of discomfort, he warmed it up between his hands.

He then hesitantly placed his hands on the smooth valley of your upper back. 

You gasped, twitching beneath his palms. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asked quickly, withdrawing his hands.

“No, sorry,” You sighed, shifting on the blanket and then relaxing once more. “Your hands are cold ‘s all.”

Choso felt the blush coming on all over again. He hoped you wouldn’t turn your head back around and see him like this. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, averting his gaze. 

“You’re all good, hot stuff,” You offered. “You can keep going.”

His face burned like hell at your compliment. He knew you were that way with everyone, dropping little ‘babe’s and ‘honey’s to your friends and fellow sorcerers. He wasn’t anything special, anyway. Surely, you weren’t talking to him.

He replaced his hands on your back, touch delicate like your skin would crack if he pressed too hard. He started with broad strokes, making sure to spread the sunscreen across your skin evenly. His fingers splayed out over your warm, soft skin, moving in circles. He massaged the sunscreen into your back with a tenderness that surprised even himself.

He wasn’t sure what this stuff actually did. He had seen some of Yuuji’s Jujutsu friends slather some on earlier. Judging by the name, he assumed it protected them from the sun. From what, though? Could the sun hurt some humans? He didn’t really understand.

“You’re wondering something,” You asked, seemingly sensing his pensiveness by the way his hands slowed. “Ask away.”

Choso bit the skin on the inside of his lip, “This lotion…” he asked, “What does it do?”

“Sunscreen?” You hummed. “It forms a layer over your skin so you don’t get sunburnt.”

“Sunburnt…” He reiterated. 

“Yeah, that shit hurts,” You added. “I’m guessing Itadori never gave you the run-up on beach necessities…?”

“I guess not,” He remarked quietly.

“I can show you how to apply yours if you want,” You said.

Choso’s heart felt like it would burst. “Okay,” he said, pausing slightly. “I’d like that, thanks.”

Then he was back to his job. His hands smoothed over your back, dipping down a little lower until his thumb brushed against the strap of your bikini. He felt suddenly aware of how soft and warm you felt beneath his touch. 

He was dangerously close to the knot in the string that held your whole getup together. He worried for a moment that the dainty bow would come undone – by some strange, supernatural turn of events – despite him making a great effort to move around it. 

Choso’s breath hitched when his finger caught on the string, making the knot snap against your skin. He froze up, heart pounding in his chest, perfectly still over your body. The string felt like a fragile barrier between your warm skin and his cold touch, between your body and the thoughts that raced through his mind.

He wondered if you found him weird and off-putting. His gaze flickered up to your face, leaning over slightly, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. 

But when he looked into your eyes, he found you were looking at him with the same curiosity. You smiled at him, pretty lips forming a reassuring expression, wordlessly encouraging him to keep going. 

Slowly, unsurely, Choso continued his ministrations. He trailed two digits down your spine, stopping at the string. He felt a knot beneath the skin there. He knew sorcerers put themselves through rigorous training. He didn’t doubt that you were feeling sore from the mission you had just come back from a few days ago.

“You’re tense here,” He said quietly.

You turned your head to look at him, “Yeah?” 

“Right here,” He pinpointed the exact area with his knuckles, pressing deep into the tissue. 

In response, you moaned quietly, back shifting beneath his touch. His shorts seemed to get just a little bit tighter. 

Calm down.

“You got magic hands, Choso,” You quipped, though your voice was strained as he passed over the knot a second time. “You could be a masseuse.”

He felt his nerves subside only slightly, though he felt flustered by your words.

You got magic hands.

You could be a masseuse.

Unbeknownst to him, the sensation of his touch created a pleasant tingling beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, letting him take the reins.

Choso continued to work his fingers over your back, feeling the tension slowly melt away beneath his touch. He had used up the last of the sunscreen to cover your lower back, the skin just above your bottom, and he realized his job was done.

“I think that should do it,” He said softly, voice tinged with reluctance as he removed his hands from your back.

You sat up, stretching, turning towards him, eyes sparkling, “Thanks, Cho, you’re a lifesaver.”

You’re a lifesaver.

A shy smile tugged at his lips, “Of course.”

Then, to his surprise, you asked. “You’re sweet. Mind if I sit with you?”

Choso felt his heart skip more than one beat. His eyes widened. He looked at the sand, the shoreline, anything but you. “Sure,” he said.

Smooth, dumbass.

You grinned and pushed yourself up, saying, “I’ll be right back.”

Choso took a moment to collect his thoughts as you left. He was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead of himself. Stll, you had chosen to spend more time with him. You wanted to sit with him. 

Conveniently, only a brief moment after you had stepped away, Megumi returned with Yuuji in tow. Choso quirked a brow at the speed of their return.

“That was quick,” he remarked.

Megumi shrugged, “Took him to get ice cream on the boardwalk instead.”

“You get her number?” Yuuji asked.

“I was doing her a favor,” Choso’s calm facade broke. With wide eyes, he hissed, “Pervert.”

“Dumbass,” Yuuji sucked his teeth.. “Look, tonight’s the night to make a move. When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

And before Choso could respond, you came back, holding a speaker in one hand. “I brought snacks!” You smiled.

Some time around sundown, sometime after Getou had summoned up one of his low-grade curses to start a fire, the beach day transformed itself into a fireside chat. It was a picturesque scene. The sky was a canvas of blue, with hues of pink and orange painted over the horizon. It was mostly empty there, now. The waves lapped calmly at the shore, a quiet noise that seemed to accompany the quiet chatter of friends gathered around a fire.

There was laughter, groups of people indulged in conversations. Everyone seemed so calm, so happy, it almost seemed to good to be true.

Megumi and Itadori were caught in a cock-off with Maki. Nobara stargazing on her and Maki’s beach blanket. Gojo and Getou were talking in his direction, but not necessarily at him.

“I just think you have an unfair drinking advantage because you’re a man,” You were saying just off to Choso’s side.

The mood was light. Everyone seemed to be content. 

Choso, however, couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. The warm, fading sunlight seemed to caress your features from the side, highlighting your pretty smile and making your eyes shimmer. He found himself completely and utterly enamored by you.

You and Getou had cracked open a bottle of Tequila about an hour ago. Getou’s boyfriend long-term-long-distance-low-commitment-casual-boyfriend, Satoru Gojo was red in the face, slouched against the bare chest revealed by Getou’s unbuttoned floral shirt. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Gojo chuckled, letting Getou top off his fourth shot of the night.

Getou denied any relationship with Gojo. Their eyes betrayed them, though. The connection was evident in the loving glances they exchanged. 

You had a faint flush of your own, though you had only taken two shots so far.

He tried two of his own, only because you didn’t want to do them alone. He had never been big on drinking. He just didn’t want to seem like a pussy.

“Why don’t you pour me one so we can test that theory?” Nobara nudged you in the side.

Choso watched the scene unfold with mild interest.

“Because you’re a minor,” You said.

Nobara pouted, leaning back onto her blanket. “Not like I’ve never drank before.”

Maki chimed in over her shoulder, “Got vomit stains on my carpet to prove it.”

“Shut up,” She bit back. 

You handled the situation effortlessly. “I don’t condone teen drinking,” You began, your voice softening as you continued, “But. I know the four you will probably go hit up one of those beachside bars tonight with your fake IDs anyway.”

“Fake IDs?” Gojo looked at Megumi out of the corner of his eye. Megumi did not look back.

You clapped. Choso’s ears perked up at the sound.

“That being said!” You raised your voice a bit. “I would rather you drink something less potent. Under adult supervision.”

You turned to Getou and Gojo, who exchanged knowing glances before nodding their approval. Choso couldn’t help but be impressed.

“So who wants a Malibu rum spritzer?” You clasped your hands together.

Excitement rippled through the group, and all of the kids, yes all of the kids, Including Yuuji, eagerly raised their hands. 

Choso shot his brother a disapproving glare, one that dissipated the moment you leaned in, laying your head on his shoulder. Your voice, soft and smooth like your skin, enticed him as you sing-songed, “Let the kid live a little.”

It was rather remarkable, actually, how quickly his defenses melted at your gentle persuasion. He sighed in resignation. “Alright.”

You grinned up at him, effortlessly stealing his breath away. 

“Great,” you said, getting up from your spot without another word. “I’ll go get them from my car. Don’t wait up for me, I walk real slow.”

Turning your attention back to Choso, you looked at him with a warmth behind your gaze he couldn’t quite place. “Choso, sweetie, could you help me carry the cooler?”

His heart soared at your request – at the prospect of you wanting his assistance. He got to his feet quickly, eager to help. 

The sand felt cool beneath his feet as he followed your lead. 

The moon hung low in the sky as you and Choso strolled through the parking lot, searching for your jeep. The temperature had dropped quite a few notches from earlier, cold breeze rustling through Choso’s hair. 

When you spotted your ride, you said, “There it is!”

Choso followed wordlessly behind you. He was still quite nervous that – for the second time today – it was just you and him… alone. Yuuji’s words echoed through his mind.

“When else would you find yourself alone with her like this?”

You popped the door to the backseat open, sitting on the floor – your truck was raised a bit off the ground, so it didn’t put you too far below him. 

“My legs are so fucking sore,” You sighed. You dusted your leg off with the backside of your bare foot. When you peered up at him through those long, dense lashes of yours, he felt himself fall for you a second time. 

You asked him, “Mind if we take a little break?”

Choso nodded along like the dumb little dog he was for you.

You pushed yourself up and away from the truck, gesturing for him to get inside. It didn’t take much at all for him to step into it and take a seat. You settled in right next to him – perhaps a little closer to Choso than was strictly necessary. He couldn’nt help the pleasant shiver that went down his spine at the feeling of you sitting next to him; so warm, so soft, so perfect.

You let out a contented sigh and leaned your head on his shoulder once more. “I got tired of bein’ social,” You confessed.

He tried hard not to quirk a brow at the admission. Am I an exception?

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” He asked sincerely. He tried even harder to ignore the warm weight of your small head on his shoulder.

So close.

“No,” You hummed quietly. The interior light faded away, gently submerging the two of you in darkness. He could still see your face, your eyes – the way they seemed to sparkle as they looked up at him. “You’re different.”

Choso’s heart took the liberty of skipping one, two, three beats. 

You continued without allowing him time to come up with an adequate response. “Can I be honest with you, Choso?”

His cheeks flushed. Still, curiosity piqued, he muttered, “Of course.”

Your voice was soft and vulnerable when you replied, “I think you’re really hot.”

If his face wasn’t hot, it sure was now. He turned away even though he knew you couldn’t see him blushing. 

She thinks I’m hot?

Does that mean she likes me?

You had nothing but sincerity in your eyes while you gazed up at him. “You feel the same way, don’t you?”

He bit his tongue, answering honestly, “I do.”

He hated how calm and collected he sounded. On the outside, he was the image of composure. On the inside, he was dying a hundred times over. 

You grinned at his admission. “Can I ask you something else, then?”

His lips suddenly felt very dry. He tried his best to focus on the street outside, counting landmarks and objects like his life depended on it – two seagulls, five wooden posts, two dim street lights.

“Sure,” he said.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

And, dammit, when you asked him like that – he could practically feel the last of his resolve crumble beneath your gaze, beneath the weight of your head on his shoulder, beneath your gentle touch on his knee that he hadn’t noticed until now.

You were so close. So close that if he turned his head, angled it down just slightly, your noses would touch. He felt your breath, warm and steady against his neck – a calming symphony that contrasted the trembling mess he had become,

Yuuji’s words played on repeat again. Tonight’s the night to make a move.

He was such a fool for you. Still, he considered himself to be a man of restraint.

His voice was small and scarce, hardly above a whisper when he breathed out, “Yeah.”

Time seemed to slow down as your request hung out in the air. He could feel the anticipation building, buzzing. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a mallet to a gong. He had spent months wondering what would happen if you – by some odd, small chance – returned his affections, and now, with your vulnerability laid bare, he couldn’t resist any longer.

He considered himself to be a man of restraint, that was, until he peered into your wide, longingful eyes. 

With a barely noticeable nod, Choso turned his head just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours. Just as he had anticipated, your noses brushed together – he could feel the warmth of your breath on his lips. 

You were magnetic.

And in that final, heart-pounding moment, your lips met in the middle – in a gentle, tender union. Choso’s hand seemed to find its own way to your cheek, touch soft as he cupped your cheek. He felt for some odd reason that you might vanish altogether if he let you go.

He wasn’t entirely sure if it had been you or him who deepened the kiss. Either way, he felt himself melt into the seat. The world outside seemed to fade away, ceasing to exist in your presence. None of it mattered – not the empty, public street, not the group of friends waiting on the beach for his return.

Yuuji. 

Choso pulled away with a shuddering gasp, pressing his forehead against yours. He licked his lips, panting, “The drinks… We– we should probably– uh… get those.”

He feared that if his heart beat any faster he would explode.

You made no effort to put any distance between you and him. In fact, you put your hands on his shoulders, moving yourself so that you were situated comfortably in his lap. 

“There’s no rush,” You hummed. “Getou and Gojo are probably off sucking face somewhere, and those kids have been keeping themselves entertained just fine. Who would notice?”

His eyes were everywhere but your face. For a half-curse, he found himself to be no better than a man, hungry eyes wandering over your body – your eyes, your lips, the subtle curve of your waist, the fabric of your bikini that seemed like it was hugging you just right.

You seemed to have caught him in the act. 

“Do you wanna touch me, Choso?” You asked, and it sounded like an invitation.

Still, he worried he was reading too deeply into things. Doing his best to refrain from making you feel any sort of discomfort, he swallowed, “I…”

He was about to fucking explode – both metaphorically and physically, judging by the way his shorts began to tighten again at your words.

“You think I didn’t see you staring today?” You continued, letting your fingers slip into his hair. 

He wanted to freeze up, wanted to feel some form of remorse, but when you were massaging his scalp so gently, so lovingly…

“I’m  sorry,” he lied.

“Don’t be,” You giggled, and he felt his stomach do a fucking flip at the sound of it. You leaned in close to him, close to his ear, and whispered into it, “I was staring, too.”

He felt like such a virgin, thighs tensing up at your admission. He thought of you on the beach again – sneaking sideways glances at him, at his body, at him…

He felt his resolve break when you pressed a soft kiss to the shell of his ear. 

“Kiss– Kiss me again,” he breathed, feeling slightly lightheaded from all of the attention you were giving him. You placed another kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Please… kiss me again.”

You pulled away, pressing your nose right up against his again. Your breaths were shallow and ragged now – strange. “You want me, baby boy?”

Baby boy. Baby boy, fuck.

He licked his lips, “Please.”

And then your lips were on his without so much as another word. You ate him up like a starved woman, teeth nipping at his lower lip for entry.

The last of his restraint flew out the window.

The kiss was electrifying, sent sparks shooting through his veins, fingertips tingling as they found their way to your hips. It was a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. He could taste you – the sweetness of your lipgloss as it smeared messily over the lower half of his face, the beat of your heart thrumming beneath his touch, the scent of sunscreen that lingered on your skin.

He found himself getting lost in the moment.

He deepened the kiss further, gripping your hips, your lower back with a bit more confidence. For a moment, he could forget about his responsibilities, his past. It didn’t matter; not now, not when he could feel your body pressed up against him, hot and soft and compliant.

His face burned when he felt that familiar tingling feeling – he knew he was getting hard beneath you, he could feel the way your hips lifted when you adjusted yourself over the tent in his shorts. 

However, to his surprise, you didn’t pull away. Instead, you pressed into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing yourself even closer. He felt dizzy, sliding his tongue across your wet lips, exploring your mouth. You tangled your fingers in his touseled black locks, rolling your hips against his slowly, hesitantly, like you were testing the waters. 

The jolt of electricity he felt from that small movement had him pulling away. Even in the midst of the fervor, Choso was acutely aware of his own impulses. He feared he was getting too far ahead of himself; if you kept rubbing yourself against him like that, he was gonna cream his fucking pants like a middle schooler.

“Wait, wait– ah–” He grunted, leaning back against the seat.

“Hmm?” You hummed – still, you only slowed down a little bit.

His mouth hung open. It felt so good, the friction, the feeling of your warmth rolling up and down the thin layer of fabric separating the two of you. Fuck — why did he tell you to stop, again?

He fought hard to regain his composure. “I– I’ve never done this before,” he stammered.

“Really?” You asked, teasingly, almost, like you knew the effect you had on him. You rutted up against him again, a little harder. “You’re a natural.”

He could feel you – the thin cloth covering your nether regions left little to the imagination. You felt so warm, so welcoming. He ached to pull the thin fabric to the side and sink into you.

Fuck. Stop. He turned his head away, at war with his impulses.

Again, for a half-curse, he felt like nothing more than a man. A weak man, and it was all your fault.

The whine that left his mouth felt anything but natural. “Won’t– What if someone sees us?”

You said nothing. When he looked back at you, you were undoing the knot behind your head – the one holding your bikini together.

His eyes went wide. If his attraction to you were any more obvious, his jaw would have been on the floor. 

“Let them watch,” You grinned. Then you let your top fall over, breasts spilling out like something out of a porno. 

He was in awe. You were perfect. There were little bits of sand stuck to the skin where your bikini lay only seconds prior, faint tanlines already forming over your skin. He felt his mouth water.

“You can touch them, if you want,” You answered his unasked question.

And he wasted no time, gently cupping one of your tits with his large, warm palm. He gave it an experimental squeeze. Then another. Then his thumb wandered down to your nipple, giving the bud a gentle flick.

You whind, hand sliding up the back of his head. 

She likes that, he noted.

So, deciding to take his experiment a step further – and for the sake of conserving time, he began peppering kisses to your hot skin, to the valley between your soft, plush mounds. He held both in his hands, rolling his thumb over the hardened buds to compensate for the lack of attention.

He wanted nothing more than to take his sweet, precious time with you – committing every curve and valley of your body to memory. But, alas, he knew you were on a time crunch. Any minute now, someone could find the two of you here, like this.

He kissed his way back over to his hands. Then, finally, he wrapped his lips around that place he knew made you feel good. 

Sure enough, you arched into him, pink, swollen lips parting to release a pant of his name, “Choso, baby.”

He flattened his tongue over the tip of your nipple, rolling over it in slow circles – then quicker ones, until he felt the spit gathering between his lips and your skin. You responded in kind by rutting against him a little faster. He had never felt a burn quite so delightful in his life.

He can’t quite help himself from letting out a little whine when you tug on his hair. The flavor of sunscreen and salt lingered on your skin. He felt hot– you were hot, oh so hot.

Before he could return the favor on the other nipple, you pushed him away. You looked disheveled, pupils blown wide, hair frizzed up.

“Y’feel so big,” You gasped, still humping his hard cock like a dog in heat. You stopped, but only to sink into the space between his legs and the back of the driver’s seat. Splaying your fingers over his thighs, his shorts, you panted, “Wanna taste. Can I?”

He could only blink up at you. This isn’t real.

“Of course, baby,” He replied, throwing the nickname from earlier back at you, already reaching for the strings of his swim trunks when you batted his hands away. Your enthusiasm made his head spin.

He let you take the reigns – watching with hungry, lustful eyes as you undid the bow yourself. You reached for the waistband of his shorts, tugging them down and letting his dick spring free. 

It nearly hit you in the face, how big the thing was. He had never actually thought about it that way, at least, not until now, when you were gazing up at it with wide eyes and wet, parted lips. 

Your eyes were on his tip, glistening with a bead of precum, then wandering down the shaft as the two of you watched it drip.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

You didn’t bother pulling his pants the rest of the way down, or even acknowledging his comment. No, the moment the waistband was out of the way, you were swallowing him whole.

Choso exhaled sharply, nearly doubling over at the sensation of your warm mouth closing in around him. He felt the muscles in his abdomen tense with the strain of it – he thought he could cum like this, with your lips stretched around him, and he didn’t really think he would mind testing that theory.

His skin was hot. He burned for you.

You pulled up. Sucking him back into your mouth, you hollowed your cheeks. Then you throated him again, right up until your nose brushed his navel. He felt himself throb in your mouth.

“Fuck, ‘s good,” He heard himself whimper weakly, tangling a trembling hand in your hair while you picked up the pace.

And you went at it like you were made for it. Up and down, up and down, fitting him all the way in until the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. Over and over again, until his vision blurred a bit at the edges, mind a little hazy with lust.

You were sucking and slurping on him so lewdly – fuck, he could die like this. 

You didn’t show any signs of stopping, either.

He moaned – much to his embarrassment – actually moaned. You were working him rather quickly up to what he knew would be an earth shattering (albeit poorly timed) orgasm. 

You made a noise in response, though it was broken up by the nasty, dirty sound you made every time you gagged on his dick. You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes, through long, wispy lashes, leaving a trail of saliva running down his thighs that he didn’t even mind.

Choso caressed the side of your face, biting his lip. “Mmh,” he panted, “You do it so well.”

In response, you put a hand over his. You directed his gentle touch to the top of your head, instructing him to push down. Hesitantly, gently, he began to guide your head, bobbing you back and forth on his length while you sat back and let him use you. 

He noticed that you were struggling to fit the whole thing in your mouth. He saw that there were tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but he knew you were determined. He used his thumb to wipe your tears away, tucking your hair behind your ears to keep it out of your face.

With a shudder and a whine, he pushed your head down a little further. You gagged on it again, swallowing him down, tightening your throat around him like you were made to suck dick.

If this was to be his last night alive, he would die a happy man.

His legs felt weak, as did his arms. You took over, gently assisting him in fucking your mouth. 

“Ah– nnh, you’re–” He licked his lips, guiding your head while allowing you to continue setting your own pace. You were making him feel so good, so hot.

You pulled back for a moment to slurp unceremoniously on his tip, letting spit drip down his shaft. You wrapped your hands around him, working what you couldn’t fit into your mouth while your tongue did tricks on his tip – circles, shapes, letters, he didn’t even know anymore.

He felt like he was going dumb.

Just as he leaned his head back into the seat, you pulled off, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Got carried away,” You giggled breathlessly. “Sorry.”

Then you were climbing right back into his lap, bracing your hands on his shoulders, kissing him with a ravenous hunger. 

“I’m not gonna blue ball you, don’t worry,” You licked your lips. Reaching down, you slipped the fabric of your bikini thong to the side. “I want you.”

“H–...” He trailed off, fighting to catch his breath – better yet, to regain his surroundings. “How do you want me?”

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel you sink down onto him, to feel your warmth envelop him entirely. He wanted you to ride him past the point of hypersensitivity. He wanted you to use him until you were satisfied – like some sort of fuck toy.

He didn’t care anymore. He had left his inhibitions at the door. 

“Wanna fuck you right here, like this,” You muttered against his lips, licking a stripe from his chin all the way to his cupid’s bow. You guided the head of his dick between your folds, smearing your slick all over him in a way that made him arch up. “Wanna drain that pretty cock of yours, wanna cum all over it– can you do that for me?”

You were so nasty… so dirty that he found himself a red, blushing mess at your words. But, still…

For you?

Anything.

“Yes,” he groaned. He felt like he was going to melt if he waited another moment longer. “Fuck, please, use me until you’re satisfied.”

He hadn’t even thought about saying it. It had slipped out.

You paused, blinking down at him with wide, lustful eyes. Finally, you said, “you’re such a good puppy, you know that?”

He would be whatever the hell you wanted him to be.

“G’nna let me ride you, pretty boy?” You cooed, sliding your hands up his torso, up his bare chest, up his shoulders while you hovered over him. 

This was moving quickly. Not like he had any objections to that, of course. Clearly, you didn’t either. As you positioned the tip in line with your dripping cunt, sinking down onto him, he felt his eyes roll back into his head.

He gasped, letting his eyelids fall shut. He didn’t even care that he was losing his virginity in the backseat of his coworker’s truck like some cheap whore. He would let you take it, take more, take everything you wanted from him.

You lifted your hips and then sank down on him again, eliciting a strangled grunt of your name from him. The filthy squelching sound your cunt made as it squeezed him in threw him for a loop.

He leaned forward, shivering, burning his head in your neck. “S’too tight,” he panted, though he let you continue working on him with a remarkable amount of ease – sliding back and forth in a way that had the both of you panting for more. “Fucking– shit, ah–”

“Chosooo– ‘S so big,” You moaned his name like it was made of honey, fucking yourself down onto his dick, letting all of the sinful noises flow from your lips. “Fuck, feel it in my guts.”

He would have thought you were lying to him if it weren’t for your spectacle earlier.

“You’re fucking perfect,” he breathed. When he looked up at you again, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. You were the image of pornographic beauty – sinful, beautiful, sultry. Your brows were scrunched together with concentration, legs trembling around him as you slowed down to savor the way he worked you open.

“Pretty baby,” He mused, running his hands over your stomach, your hips. “You keep goin’ like that ‘n– fuck– I won’t– Last long.”

“Mmh,” you giggled.

Then you picked up the speed a bit, like you hadn’t even heard what he had just said. You were rising and sinking on his dick with newfound purpose, chasing after the promise of paradise like a wild animal.

“Look at me,” he begged, eyes half-lidded and desperate, tongue running across his lower lip. “Fu-uck– please, ‘M...”

You obeyed, meeting his gaze with such a fiery passion that he almost wished he hadn’t asked you – feeling that coil in his gut grow a little tighter when your hazy eyes were on him. You bounced obediently on his cock, up and down, up and down until you were a grunting, groaning mess. 

“Mm… fuckkk,” You sighed, hips faltering a bit. “Feels good, Choso.”

Choso felt his hips twitch beneath you, hands tensing on your backside. Then, slowly, he began to meet your thrusts midway. His ass lifted off of the seat, legs spreading a bit further apart while he used his strength to continue fucking you senseless.

He was mesmerized by you, by the way you clenched and squeezed him, by the way your mouth lolled open to make way for broken cries of his name, by the way your tits bounced in his face whenever he thrusted up into you.

He worried for a moment that he was being too harsh with you. 

“Harder– please!” You gasped, clawing at his shoulders, at his chest.

Still, he obeyed. He fucked you dumb, hips snapping up against your ass with such strength that the whole car lurched forward. Your head came dangerously close to the ceiling.

But he didn’t have the guts to stop. Not when you were screaming for him, repeating his name like some sort of mantra. He was as weak for you as he had always been.

“Choso– Choso–”

The feeling of your warm, wet walls massaging the head of his cock had him whimpering into the crook of your neck. It was a hot, gummy abyss he wouldn’t mind getting sucked into for the remainder of his life. 

“You like that?” He asked you, spare hand sliding up from your hips, past your breasts, to your neck. 

He knew now that you liked it rough. He could provide that. 

So, with no further warning, he gripped your hip roughly, sliding into you at full force. You cried out his name again, fingernails digging into his skin. 

The car bounced every time he pounded up into you. Faster, faster. 

It felt like you were squeezing him for dear life. 

Choso cried out, a broken whine as he slowed his thrusts for a minute to a much slower pace. Feeling your perfect pussy clenching around him, he nearly doubled over from the sudden pleasure. “Please,” he gasped, laying his head back. “Fuck, that’s good.”

You bit your lip, sliding up until it was just the tip left inside of you, and then slamming back down onto him at full force. You repeated this action a few more times, lips parted to make way for the sinful… sultry moans that passed from between them. Clearly, you were relishing in the way he squirmed and gasped beneath you.

He couldn’t blame you. He knew that he, too was doing everything he could to commit this scene to memory, wild eyes raking over your body, over the junction where you met him. The way you were riding him… shit, he didn’t know he would be able to make the walk back. 

You looked so obscene like this, all fucked out, dumb on his dick.

Throwing your head back, you groaned.

He was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Fuck, he knew that– cursed strength and all. But he couldn’t bring himself to slow down.

“So f-fucking good,” he stammered. He sought out your lips again, snapping his hips up against your ass mercilessly. For someone who had been so concerned about being discovered a little while ago, his quiet grunts and gasps turned into moans and whimpers against your sore lips. Louder and louder.

Admittedly, though, he was more focused on the noises coming out of your own mouth. You were practically screaming for him.

He had no idea that sex could even feel so mind-numbingly good. For him, especially, but for you…?

You froze up rather suddenly, hips spasming wildly, toes curling up on either side of his thighs while you gasped brokenly. 

“FUCK!”

There it was.

He felt his face burn. You cried his name again, bouncing up and down on it, wildly chasing after that high. “Choso– m’close–”

“You gonna cum, pretty girl?” He hummed, once again throwing your nickname back at you. He grinned, knowing full and well that he had cracked the code. So he kept that same speed, same pace, same everything while his fingers dropped from your neck to the mess you had made between the two of you.

He knew what to do now – surprisingly enough. He had done some… internet research after his brother had broken the meaning of his feelings down to him (along with what Choso was to do when his crush came to fruition). 

What? Curses didn’t make love. Sex was transactional.

He was curious about how sex was on the human side of things.

He ran his tongue over his thumb, reaching between the steamy, sweaty union of your bodies to find your clit. He pressed down, rolling over the nub in quick, expert circles. 

One look up at you, and he knew you were close to your breaking point. You looked like you were about to pass out, letting yourself be thrown around on his wild hips like a ragdoll. You were too weak to move, so you sat there and took his dick like a good girl, eyes glazed over with pleasure while he fucked you dumb.

You looked like you were in love.

Choso sped his ministrations over your clit up a little faster, feeling the knot in his own stomach begin to grow faster than he wanted. He was in another world, out of this plane, hypnotized. 

All he could see in that moment was your angelic face above him, face scrunched up in pleasure – and partially in pain, as he bullied his cock into your cervix – sweat rolling down your neck, your breasts, your voluptuous body.

“Mine–” You gasped out, clawing at his shoulder blades while your back arched. “Oh– fuck! Th’s dick ‘s mine, mmh?”

It was.

He nodded. But, clearly, that wasn’t good enough. Your hand shot out to grip him by the neck, painted fingernails digging into his throat. 

“‘S yours,” He gasped back into your mouth. “All yours, I swear– ah–”

You were so hot. It made him feel things– feel like he was dying over and over again in the best way possible.

That along with the way your hand gripped his throat – using your small thumb to cut off his blood supply for a few seconds too long before loosening your grip, letting him gasp for air as the blood came rushing back – he felt lightheaded.

The way your pussy was spasming around him certainly didn’t do anything to help. He knew you were close, shit, but could you hold on a minute?

You were gonna make him cum too fast.

“You’re mine, yeah?” You asked again, keeping your grip strong on his neck. “All mine?”

“M’yours,” The cursed womb grunted against your neck. His brows were furrowed in concentration. His teeth nipped at the sensitive skin, careful not to leave marks. “All yours.”

He meant it. Even though he would have said anything you asked him to at this point, he really meant it. He hoped you knew that.

Judging by the way you came a moment later with a stutter of your hips and a strangled cry of, “Cho–”, he assumed you understood. 

Your cunt was a warm, wet, death trap, walls milking his cock for all it was worth. 

Shit, he thought. You really weren’t lying about that.

His dark eyes were burning into yours, burning with a desire so intense he felt he might burst at the seams if he kept looking a moment longer. 

“Want you to cum inside of me,” You commanded him, holding his head in your trembling hands. “Fill me up, please, I need it.”

His eyes widened, blinking down at the white ring you had made around the base of his dick. His eyes flitted back up to you, pleading with you to let him go. Pleading for you to give the soul that you stole from him back,

“I can’t–” he released a trembling breath.  

He thought of himself as a father raising a child. Right now, it didn’t seem so bad.

“Please, ‘m on the pill,” you begged him, gazing into his eyes like you knew he wasn’t strong enough to refuse. “Wanna feel it dripping out of me. Think about it– what– ah– what would they think? … If they knew–”

You gasped when he delivered a harsh smack to your ass, slowing his strokes so that he could savor the way you sucked him in. “If they knew we snuck off to fuck? That– that I had your cum dripping out of me while they ask what took us so long?”

“Fuckk,” Choso groaned, hips trembling beneath you. His dark hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, cheeks burning. His breaths – and yours – had fogged the windows up.

You squeezed around him one more time, placing a tender kiss to his lips. You muttered into his mouth, “Do it f’me… please, Choso.”

“Mmh–!” And that was all it took. Choso rolled his hips up into you one more time, twitching, whining, feeling your warmth spasm around him as he spilled into you. He drove as deep up into you as he could – holding onto you for dear life while the coil snap, and he came so hard that his legs gave out. Lots of it. 

So much that he felt it drip out.

You sought another kiss from him, sealing your lips together. When you pulled away, you giggled, “Good boy. Good puppy.”

“God,” he shuddered, falling back against the headrest once his orgasm subsided. You fell against his chest, snuggling up to him.

And Choso, not knowing what else to do, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. To his surprise, you didn’t immediately leave him in the dust. Instead, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, basking in the warmth of your post-coital bliss. 

You broke the silence after a minute or two. 

“So…” You began, trailing a finger up his bare chest. “Help me carry that cooler back to the beach?”

And Choso, breathless, felt himself begin to laugh.

The two of you came back onto the beach. Choso was carting the cooler behind while you walked ahead, waving your friends down. 

As you approached, Itadori remarked with crossed arms, “The hell have you guys been?” His hair was done up into two, pink, little pigtails. It was clear as day that Nobara had a hand in his current hairstyle.

“Oh!” You had grinned rather awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “We– Well, we realized we didn’t have as many spritzers as I thought. Had to make a run to the liquor store.”

Itadori raised a brow. Still, if he noticed something, he didn’t say anything about it. “Uh huh.”

Choso bent down to set the cooler onto the ground, back turned to the group.

Getou peeped up from his paperback novel, lips twitching at the sight of Choso’s back. He nudged his counterpart, Gojo.

Who nearly spat out his drink.

You sat on the beach blanket nearest to Gojo and Getou. The moment your butt hit the sand, you practically collapsed into the ground. 

You could feel eyes on you. So, begrudgingly, you rolled over, throwing Satoru a weak glare. “What?”

He only nodded towards Choso.

You turned around, following his gaze. It settled over his back. He bent down, picking a few spritzers out of the ice. It was then that you noticed the harsh red claw marks on his shoulderblades. 

Subconsciously, your gaze drifted down to your hips, to the skin where purple imprints of Choso’s fingertips stood out as clear as day.

You gasped, then, clamping a hand over your mouth.

“So,” Gojo began casually, handing you a shot. He leaned in, ocean blue eyes twinkling as he teased you, “Was he gentle? He seems like he would give it rough.”

You turned to his not-boyfriend, brows furrowed. “Suguruuu…”

It was with no great amount of satisfaction that Getou looked up from his novel. “Satoru,” he sighed languidly. “Not in front of ths kids.”

Gojo ignored his not-boyfriend’s remark. “Was it big?”

You sank back into the blanket, feeling the heat of your embarrassment burn your cheeks as your words from earlier came back to bite you in the ass.

Who would notice?

a/n: hello there my precious little sugarplums! I hope u enjoyed the first installment of my kinktober writings ( which will prob continue throughout the fall bc I started hella late ). send in requests! there's no part two to this, but I would write one if enough ppl requested it. yk the drill though, comment ur thoughts/wishes below! I love reading them. reblogs are alway always always appreciated bc my reach is ass on Tumblr...

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

credits: cover artist(s) unknown??, dividers: @bpdier, @cafekitsune

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @mindurownbussines , @hearts4sid , @simplefools , @ynjimenez

wanna join the taglist? | like this story? read more! | requests open!

[genshin-obsessed]

It's nice to meet a fellow simp of Monsieur Neuvilette.

Could I request his s/o going swimming with the leisurely otters and when he asks what they were doing, they say that they're playing with their children?

Omg those otters are so cuteee! I can't help but stop and play with them every time haha Word count: 557

Parent of the Otters~

"Where could they be...?" Neuvillette muttered to himself as he stepped outside Palais Mermonia. Where in Fontaine could you possibly be? The chief justice began walking, slowly going down the steps and waving to anyone who greeted him. Today was an early day for him so he decided to go and find you. As expected, he'd been a bit busy the last few days so he wanted to make it up to you by dedicating the rest of the day to you,

Having some idea, he followed his instincts to the water. You loved swimming so much, Neuvillette wondered if you weren't half fish because of it. Even the first time the two of you met, you were swimming. You were quite the oddball but your love for the sea was undeniable and unmatched by anyone he knew. It was one of your charming quirks that he couldn't help but love.

Thankfully, you weren't too far, choosing to swim around Salacia Plain, right near the small hill. Neuvillette was able to spot you as he was exiting the Court of Fontaine. The chief justice felt a rare smile tug at his lips when he saw you giggling, floating on your back. You were kicking your legs slowly to propel yourself around before dipping into the water and popping back out after a moment or so.

He made his way down to you, watching as you swam around like the fish that you were. Even though he was nearby, you seemed to be lost in your world, not noticing him at all until he spoke.

"You are here." His comment made you look toward him and your smile brightened immediately.

"Neuvillette! Hi! Look!" You said as you raised your arm high and flicked your wrist twice. Two otters jumped out of the water and over you, diving into the water only a foot behind you.

"You've taught the otters tricks now, huh?" He asked with a small shake of his head. Of course you did. You loved swimming with the otters and he always saw at least three around you. You had even named one of them Neuvillette, claiming they looked like one another- but he didn't understand that.

"They're my children now. They're so cute and they're always following me like I'm their parent so I've officially chosen to adopt them!" You giggled as three of them poked their heads out of the water.

"Our children apparently." He muttered to himself as he got closer to the shore. "They're certainly fond of you." He crouched by the shore and reached out his gloved fingers grazing the water. With just a simple flick of his wrist, a wave formed behind you and your subsequent children. It got bigger before moving back toward him. You squealed as you were whisked away to shore, bringing you to your husband. You gasped as you felt the sand below you, making you look up at him with wide eyes. You were right in front of him, his face only inches away from yours, his icy blue eyes gazing deep into yours.

"N-Neuvillette?"

"Sorry, you were too far and you seemed to be a bit distracted." He said as he leaned in before kissing your lips. Your eyes fluttered shut as you wrapped your arms around him, returning the sweet and loving kiss.

[naffeclipse]

Little Chicks

Penguin!Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I'm so excited to share this fic! The lovely @pluck-heartstrings requested a continuation of Cardinal Instincts with a mix of fluff and typical Orca Eclipse with some angst/backstory for the harpy reader! I also enjoy writing baby sirens Sun and Moon as well <3

Content Warning for mentions of death and angst.

———

Tiny flukes flip along the ocean’s surface. You watch the siren young closely, perched on the edge of the ice with your winged arms folded tightly against you. Though you’ve grown used to how the orca siren tests the babes’ abilities, your heart flutters nonetheless whenever one sinks a little too deep below the surface without acquiring a deep enough breath and you must swallow back a squawk of fear when the other gives anxious, tired chirps after swimming for a moment too long.

But Eclipse is there, scooping the little ones into his hands, and if they refuse to calm, he presses them into your lap and allows the familiar, comforting touch of your plumage to soothe them.

Your siren young, you remember. Emotion thickens in your throat as Sun flips his tail, flashing cream and golden colors. The orca siren child struggles across the shallow water in the half-submerged alcove. Moon’s teeth gnash together as he whines. Eclipse chirrs gently, encouraging the children as if they were of his own blood. It still surprises you that they are not, with their eyes each containing at least one yellow or scarlet hue. The brothers share a blue color to their gaze, however, and confirm that they are twins.

The icy alcove sheltering them from the harsher, direct light outside is comfortable. Though it’s far from your natural habitat of flat icy plains with plenty of diving holes into the water, you’ve dared to settle into this home.

Eclipse courts you still, and though you both share the work of caring for the siren young, he makes it clear with a flash of his hungry eyes that you are the only mate for him. The only one who will raise Sun and Moon with him.

You watch him now, while the boys occupy his attention. His sleek, black and white form dipped in deep red and dark orange is lethal in every capacity. He is the apex predator of the seas. His body is lithe with toned, sleek muscle. His jaws split wide into a maw full of shark-like teeth. Yet, his claws curl carefully over Moon while he lifts him back to the surface, and the soft sounds of the babe’s sputtering pull your muscles taut, insisting you dive after the babe. 

An instinct within understands how easily Eclipse’s natural weapons can turn on you, could rip you apart to feed his young, but then Sun is squeaking in anger. Eclipse turns to him quickly. He rumbles a soothing hum while holding Moon in the crook of his arm and gathering Sun in his other hand. His gentleness is always at the ready for his adoptive children. Your heart softens.

The siren lifts his eyes to you. In the light that refracts from the ocean surface and icy walls, his gaze glows brighter, hungrier. A shiver falls down your spine. How naturally your body remembers your place in the food chain. He closes the distance. His dorsal fin arches high behind him while strong, smooth motions of his tail push him until he’s looming over you on the shelf of ice you reside on.

A pulse starts in your throat. You gaze up at him, small and easily devoured, but he leans closer to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. The thick feathers covering your body ruffle under his persistent touch. A soft squawk escapes your mouth at the graze of his teeth over your sensitive, vulnerable throat.

“Sun and Moon must be getting hungry,” you breathe, fighting the heat that longs to stain your fluffy cheeks.

“They’ve worked up an appetite,” he agrees over the sharp squeaks and chirps of their demands. “They’re getting stronger.”

And hungrier, you note. Eclipse has been a provider, killing and retrieving meals of squid and other soft meat for the boys to tear apart with their nubby teeth. Eclipse explained to you once that these milk teeth will fall out once the boys have grown enough and will be replaced by sharper, more capable incisors. 

It might have scared other harpies like yourself to know these children who depend on you for food and warmth will soon become as capable and dangerous as Eclipse, but only a swell of pride fills you with the thought. They will become strong. They will thrive and no one will ever harm them. A gentle need to watch them flourish propels you to open your arms.

“When will you hunt for food?” you ask softly. Your dainty clawed fingers brush gently against the squirming, wet forms of Sun and Moon held in the crook of Eclipse’s arms.

A low grumble, deep and chilling, rolls through the orca siren and into you. You still when this jaws nears your lips. The press of his forceful kiss pushes you back slightly, and you give an indignant squeak under his mouth, tasting you like he may or may not sample the flesh hidden under your feathers.

“I’ll go now, birdie,” he murmurs. “I won’t keep Sun and Moon hungry. Wait here for me.”

He draws back to capture your gaze with his own. The intensity of his eyes, one red, one yellow, pierces you with the strength of the sun. A desire to look away, to shrink from underneath his power nearly takes you, but he growls softly.

“Be good, birdie.”

“I will,” you answer, then immediately flush. 

He nods smugly then presses a kiss to your cheek. You close your eyes though you are no less attuned to the sharp squeaks of protest of being slightly squashed between yours and his exchanges of fondness.

“Eclipse,” you mumble against his mouth, “The babies.”

A chortle escapes from his wicked jaws as he parts from you. At least, he eases Moon then Sun into your arms. The most natural embrace overtakes you as you cradle the precious siren young, though they are steadily growing, becoming just a little bigger for your arms than a regular chick might have been. It doesn’t matter to you. They are slick, warm, and safe.

Sun chirps soften into babbling chatter, his wide eyes beautiful and bright. On your other arm, Moon turns against your chest. His little nubby fingers grasp your feathers, clenching and unclenching, as his mouth roams for milk he will not find here.

“It’s alright, little chicks,” you coo at your children. “Your bellies will be filled shortly.”

You spare a glance at Eclipse, prodding him with a look but he lingers on the edge of the ice shelf. You lift your head, curious.

“They’re hungry,” you remind.

“I know, birdie.” His gaze slips into something like snowmelt as if he finds you simply adorable. “You’re beautiful. I simply had to admire how you take care of them.”

Your mouth opens but silence tumbles out. 

He flashes a wicked grin to your dismay. Pushing off of the ice shelf, the orca siren dives out of the alcove and leaves you simmering with pink heat. Your words fail on your tongue, but there is little you can say to the orca siren who has decided to make you his.

You are unable to resist sinking softly in the after waves of his boldness and courting gestures. A small pile of beautiful stones and gems has piled in the far corner of the ice shelf. Tokens of his love. Each beautiful pebble made you believe he couldn’t find a better one, and each time, he has proven you wrong. 

Pebbles are for building nests for a chick. To accept a pebble is to build towards a future, to prepare for the young that will come once two penguin harpies agree to be mates.

You press the memory of a small nest and a tiny, new life away from your thoughts. A nibble along your fingers draws your attention. Gazing down at Moon gnawing his nubby teeth along your hand, you smile. You gently free your fingers and stroke his head, sliding along the deep midnight blue appendage that falls down his head. The small bulb at the end is frilly and yellow. 

“Oh, my darling,” you murmur in a soft voice. You slip back along the ice shelf, waddling carefully to not slip with the babes in your arms before gently rearranging them to rest in your lap. Wrapping your winged arms around them, they will stay warm.

A sharp squeak turns your head towards Sun. Hunger rips through him loud and clear. You laugh gently as he begins wiggling, impatiently and restlessly. His sharp, golden, and white gold fins crowning his head twist importantly with the jerks of his head.

“I know, my love, I know,” you softly cup his cheek and pull him closer to your chest, holding him to keep him from slipping away. “Your father is getting you squid. Patience, Sun.”

The high-pitched demanding chirp that falls from him squeezes your heart. He is far too loud, too excited, and you laugh. Softly taking Moon against you as well, you lean back against the alcove wall and try to hum. They adore when Eclipse sings to them, but his vocal cords are powerful and entwined with magic. Yours are too strained and, in a word, unfit for a lullaby. The best you can give them is your warmth and protection. 

Your adoptive children.

Your mind drifts to a distant echo of sharp chirps. Insistent, hungry, and then, silent. 

A slow collapse shuts away your throat. Your hum cuts short.

The memory takes you like an ocean wave, pushing you down, deeper and deeper until you can no longer breathe.

Your chick was so small. He was beautiful. He chirped fiercely. Then he did not make a sound at all.

Shoulders heaving, your breath becomes ragged. It scrapes out of your throat. Your chest tightens. Tiny bodies squirm in your arms, little fingers sinking into your plumage and grip tightly, demanding attention, but your vision is far, far away, lost on an empty ice plain dusted in snow.

You held your little chick in your arms. He didn’t move. Your mate told you to let him go.

You couldn’t. You didn’t, not until your mate pried him from your hands and forced you to leave him, to let the snow bury him and the ice creep over him until he was cradled in the Antarctic cold forever. He has to be warm. You were keeping him warm.

What did you do wrong?

No one answered. 

A splash echoes in the distance. Wiggling bodies attempt to crawl away from you, eager chirps filling the air, but your vision is blurred over ice and water. A deep, abysmal voice calls out. You don’t answer.

You hold tighter to Sun and Moon, clinging to them. Their tiny voices grow louder as they fill with hunger. 

Another wash of water echoes throughout the alcove, and then a shadow looms over you. Something wet splats just a few inches onto the ice shelf. Then, a low rumble and claws crack the ice, dragging over the uneven terrain.

A hand falls on your shoulder. Claws threaten to sink into your flesh.

“Birdie, what’s wrong?”

A gasp wretches from you. You blink, staring up at the looming orca siren. His eyes blaze, searching for threats and wounds, but only finding you unlocking your fierce grip from Sun and Moon. The babies gleefully slip away from you. Their wiggling tails flip and flap, and Eclipse watches them carefully before pinning you with his stare again.

“What happened? Are you hurt?” he demands, growling with an abysmal darkness.

“No,” you gasp, “No, the babies—they need to eat.”

Eclipse hovers. When did he pull himself onto the ice? His tail sweeps along the cold terrain, his flukes curling to form a barrier between you and the water. You want to shrink. You want to bow your head and swim away—it wouldn’t be so different from when the colony decided you couldn’t stay any longer. 

A mush pile of chomped squid lies near Eclipse’s side fin. The siren young cry out. Slowly, Eclipse takes Moon, then Sun, setting them down by the food so they can begin tearing the soft flesh apart in their young moths. Securing them in the bow of his tail, he turns back to you.

“Birdie, tell me what is going on. I will make it right.” His clawed hands cup your face. You want to fall back, push him away until you can escape.

You can’t leave. Even wandering, you were trapped with what you’ve done.

Fear and shame form into a fine, frozen layer within you. You can’t look at Eclipse. His hand insists, pushing you by the chin until you're locked under his gaze again. 

“Be good, birdie. Tell me so I might rip apart whatever is causing you such pain,” he insists, snarling just under his breath. You tremble and touch his arm.

“I,” you gasp and it wheezes through you. Your throat closes up. You look once to Sun and Moon devouring their meal, unaware of their harpy parent dissolving into sea foam. “I was driven from my colony.” 

Something snaps within you. A great and terrible acceptance. A truth so ugly and rotten, you have no hope of holding its broken bones.

Eclipse’s jaw slackens. Teeth no longer bared, he slowly tilts his head.

“Why?” his eyes narrow.

He’ll know now you are unfit. He won’t have you raising his babies. You won’t hold Sun and Moon again.

You close your eyes and whisper, “I tried to steal another’s chick.”

Eclipse’s thumb slowly brushes along the fluff covering your cheek. 

“Go on,” he says in a shockingly gentle and low voice, as if you needed a lullaby in the dark of night, “Tell me, birdie. It’s alright.”

You quake. Opening your eyes slowly, you are filled with Eclipse’s soft gaze. His attention is fierce, ever sharp, but when he holds you, everything else falls to the wayside. 

A rattling breath fills your lungs.

“My baby,” your voice cracks. Eclipse’s gaze widens. “My poor baby died. He was so small… I don’t know why.”

“Such things can happen,” he says so firmly, you long to believe him, “It’s not kind, but little ones simply don’t endure by no fault of their own nor yours.”

“Eclipse, wait,” you grasp onto him tighter. He is your last island in the sea of your grief. He doesn’t understand.

“What of your mate?” he asks instead, his teeth glint.

“He left me,” you say quietly. A fact you have accepted long ago. Whenever you looked at him, you only felt the same grief again. “After my—our chick died, he left.”

Eclipse dips his head in the slightest, not exactly pleased, but reassured, in some way. You don’t know what to make of his expression.

“Then what became of you?” he asks in his growling cords.

You quake. 

“I don’t know why I did it. I just couldn’t stand it. Everyone with their chicks, hearing their little cries. I was alone,” you pull in a breathless gasp, “I didn’t stop myself. One little chick was unattended, for just a moment. Her mother was looking away. I wasn’t thinking at all. I just did it—I swooped in and stole the babe.”

Eclipse rumbles deep within his chest. You glance anxiously at Sun and Moon. Sounds escape Sun even as he chews vigorously. Moon is quiet, slurping down a tentacle. Eclipse draws a black-bone claw down your cheek, returning your attention to him.

“What happened?” he asks softly.

“I tried to feed her, but she refused to take any food from my mouth.” A strained sound, like a sob, escapes your throat. Eclipse hushes you softly, stroking the back of your feathered head. “She was crying—I told her I was her momma but she wouldn’t stop.”

The tiny babe was not your own, though just as small and hungry and fierce. The chirps were just a little off. They weren’t your babe’s.

Your heart twists. How could you ever have your little chick back? How could you try and replace one by taking from another? You were selfish and mad. You were trying to force another mother to go through what you just had.

“She wasn’t yours,” Eclipse answers simply, as if he might understand wanting something so terribly, and doing awful things to have it, but not being able to keep it.

You hold his gaze, wetness blurring your vision.

“It was cruel of me.” You shudder again. “They caught me. The colony decided I could no longer be a part of them. They sent me away. I could never return.”

Eclipse is silent for several heartbeats. You sit, heavy with shame and grief. His flukes brush against the little ones eating. A small complaint of being bothered during their meal rises in a sharp squeak. You glance over them, wishing to pull Sun and Moon into your arms again. What if you can never hold them again?

“That’s why you were waddling alone.” Eclipse sweeps a claw down your temple, almost touching your eye. Your eyelids flutter, and a great fear takes over you. Does he not want you anymore? Has he decided you will make a better meal than a parent?

“I still don’t know why I did it,” you mumble. You felt mad. You still feel unstable with loss and emptiness. You could only take and take to try and fill up the gaping place left within you. The baby you love so dearly was gone without a whimper.

And now two little sirens need your care. They are so beautiful and precious. Your heart bobs within you for longing to tend to them.

“You wanted your child back,” Eclipse hums. Your eyes lift to him, stained with tears. “You love your child. Now you have two little ones who need you. And you have been a beautiful mother to them.”

Stunned into silence, you blink. “You… you still want me?”

Eclipse chortles, looking at you as if you were simply precious.

“I have already chosen you as my mate. I have witnessed how tenderly you tend to Sun and Moon. I will have no one else but you, birdie.” He leans in and kisses your tear-wet cheeks. Your feathers ruffle underneath his affection. “Breathe, and when you are ready, you will hold our children again.”

Our children.

You cling tightly to Eclipse for one moment. His eyes widen. Leaning up, you lay a kiss on the corner of his mouth and smear salty tears on his maw unwittingly. You hope he doesn’t mind. All the while, he holds very, very still.

“They’re my little chicks,” you whisper.

“They are,” he rasps softly. Eclipse holds you until the Sun and Moon finish eating. Their cries of attention are answered as the orca siren scoops them up, one by one, and places them in your arms.

Your family.

[ficmenrhot]

Hiiii idk if u take requests but if you do could you write a smut with Finnick Odair where basically finnick is eating her out and she’s tooooo overstimulated and reader pulls his hair a little to hard, in which Finnock replies with

“Yank my hair like that again I won’t touch you for a month.”

PLEASEEEE

Self-Control

Pairing: Dom Finnick x whiny fem reader

Notes: oral (fem receiving), punishment, hair pulling, slight degradation, overstimulation, fingering, edging

A/N: OKIE DOKIE so actually, in my head, Finnick loves it when you tuck on his hair but for you I’ll change it a bit, also I slightly altered the idea of the request ;)

Minors DNI

—————————————

Your shared bedroom is set alight by the pearlescent moonlight shining in through curtain gaps, a light scent of sea salt and musk whiffing through the air from Finnick. The scent is intoxicating; you’re sprawled out on the ruffled sheets with Finnick buried between your legs, your loud moans echoing through the room.

The two of you had attended a party earlier on, and from the lack of attention you received from Finnick who was too busy socialising with the other victors, you decided to tease him in hope that he would finally satiate the immense desire you felt. You tried to pull many tricks-softly running your fingers down his arms, tugging on his sleeves needily, and batting your eyelashes at him knowing he can’t resist.

“Honey, I know that you’re needy tonight, I’ll give you what you want when we go home, I promise,” he’d say at your attempts to break him, but you’d whine with a slight pout, unable to wait any longer.

Finnick’s last straw was at dinner when you decided to run your hand up and down his thigh underneath the table cloth, circling that sweet spot of his through the fabric of his pants. Finnick is a patient man, and you knew you were in deep trouble when he sent a stern look your way instead of his usual sweet ‘not now’.

This is how you end up with your legs wrapped around Finnick’s head, hands tugging on his golden blonde hair, as he continues with his assault on your clit. His tongue skilfully flicks and draws patterns on your swollen clit as he fucks you with two thick fingers at a torturously fast pace. You feel your climax building up for the fourth time tonight but is denied that sweet release as Finnick purposely pulls his fingers out before plunging them in your heat again.

You mewl as your climax is ripped away from you once more, feeling so overly stimulated. Your face is tearstained, whining as you accidentally pull at Finnick’s hair a little too hard, making him groan whilst his mouth is still attached to your clit, sending vibrations through your body.

“Careful now, sugar,” Finnick warns as his teeth gently grazes your clit as a warning, making you whimper quietly.

“I-It’s too much…I said I’m sorry Finn, I’ll never do it again…please let me come” you beg, sounding so desperate as you attempt to grind on his face, earning some friction.

“Please-”

Finnick lifts his head up from your throbbing heat, scoffing as he tilts his head at you, his fingers continuing to thrust deeply as he stares you in the eye with a mocking look.

“I expected better than you honey, but you acted like a desperate whore. I told you I would give you what you wanted when we came back home but you were just such an impatient little slut, weren’t you?”

Finnick sneers, his pearly white canines flashing as he does so, “you really can’t go an hour without riding my fingers huh?”

His head dives back between your legs, angling his fingers, and he finds that sweet spot once more which makes your back arch in pleasure. He adds his tongue once more, circling and tracing figure eights on your clit which makes your body shudder and mouth agape.

Finnick has been edging you for nearly an hour, denying you releases after releases, and the overstimulation you feel is almost painful. Every single touch drives you insane and the sensitive you feel is certainly not helping.

Finnick suddenly switches to sucking your clit instead, and you have to use every strength in your body to stop yourself from coming right then or else the punishment would be worse. You forget about Finnick’s warning from earlier, and you accidentally yank at his hair, a raspy growl falling from his lips.

“What did I tell you huh, sugar?”

“Mark my words honey, tug at my hair like that again and I won’t let you come for a month, let alone touch you. It’s time to teach you some self control.”

You whimper at his words. If only you had listened.

———————————

A/N: to whoever requested this, I hope it lived up to your expectations. I did kind of change it a bit so I’m sorry if it’s different to what you wanted 😭 once again, reblog and likes are appreciated, a follow would be great :)

[lilylovestowrite]

Could I request Gepard with a chef! reader who enjoys cooking for him?

Reader loves to spoil Gepard with homemade bread or cake. Upon realizing that he skips meals, reader decided to take action and make him boxed lunches.

SWEET LIKE BUTTERCREAM! ୨♡୧

PAIRING ୨♡୧ (Gepard Landau x Gn! Chef! Reader)

WARNINGS ୨♡୧ None

SYNOPSIS ୨♡୧ Your husband has been neglecting himself, and you decide to spoil him rotten. 

WORD COUNT ୨♡୧ 1.5k

A/N ୨♡୧ Thank you for the request, Anon! I know you didn’t specify whether the reader was married to him or not, but Gepard is so husband material that I couldn’t help myself. Hopefully you don’t mind! Please enjoy!

Divider by @/cafekitsune

“Honey,” Gepard echoes through the entryway to the kitchen, “I’m here.” 

You can’t hear him through the chaos, but he can hear you barking orders at your coworkers. Even your yelling soothes him to a certain degree. Still, he wants you to talk to him, so he shuffles through the tight squeeze in between the kitchen island and the ovens. Honestly, even though he’s a guard, his workplace is almost as dangerous as yours. The smell is heavenly, saffron and spices waking him (and his stomach) from a stress-induced daze, but the discord is immeasurable. 

He can hear you asking (shouting) for someone to check on the tiramisu, followed by a louder, “Thank you!” which makes him chuckle. That’s what the blond first noticed about you: even in dire situations, you never forget your manners. The memory of a rainy day in Belobog flashes through his mind: on his daily rounds, he finds a figure dressed in an adorable frog raincoat, beating a thief with their matching frog umbrella, hollering tearful apologies with each strike. Whilst as a Landau, his teachings have raised him to believe that ‘manners maketh man’, that scene was a rather overexaggerated use of the phrase. Nevertheless, the second he met your teary gaze, he was so enraptured by you that he nearly stumbled into a puddle. He’s about to melt into one too, watching you work away with that little look of concentration that makes him want to scoop you up. 

“Darling?” Your husband calls once more, just metres away from you. Finally, you turn around. Meeting his deep blue eyes, taking in his tired tiny smile and outstretched arms, you leap right into his arms. You’re not one to throw yourself at people, nor are you one for physical touch, but of the many years you’ve known him, Gepard will always catch you if you fall. It’s that trust that allows you to dive into his embrace every time he visits you at work, he’s just so reliable. 

“Hello handsome,” you hug him so tightly he nearly stumbles backwards, “back from work so early?” It’s then that you do a double take at him. Gepard is never home from work early. He’s a doting husband, yes, but he’s an equally hard-working Captain. You hug him harder and realise just how much skinnier he’s gotten. “You must be sick, sit down. Let’s get you to the private lounge.” You take a deep breath, ready to yell once more, and Gepard shuts his eyes in anticipation of another wave of noise-barrier-breaking-banter. “Jiaoqiu, I trust you’ll keep things running?” The new foxian chef nods, and you leave your domain with your husband behind you. 

Working as a chef in a hotel is a stressful job: entitled customers who plant hairs in their food to get a discount, waiting staff who hand in an order that is completely illegible, the loud hustle and bustle of the kitchen. It’s not for the weak, and your employers are appreciative of that fact and give the cooks a little lounge. Even for a five star hotel, it’s amazing they even considered it in the first place. You take full advantage of their kindness and lead your husband to one of the cream coloured couches. The sea is visible from the lounge, full glass windows making you feel as if you’re trapped in an ice cube. The hues of sunset begin to paint the sky, light red casting light on the hollows under Gepard’s eyes. 

“Geppie, you haven’t been overworking yourself and skipping meals again, have you?” 

He looks away, slightly red: “It’s not that bad. It’s just a few meals.” He winces, his soft voice jaded from fatigue. To make matters worse, his stomach rumbles ferociously. He covers his stomach with white gloved hands, blue eyes widening with panic. “Listen, go back to work, love, I promise I’ll eat once we get home. Just, don’t do that thing where you go insane trying to cater to me. You work a full-time job too, don’t let me get in the way. I’m a grown man, I can take care of myself.” 

“You’re a grown man when I saw you are, Geppie. I’m bringing you pasta, just the way you like it.” You flash him a pout, frustration building up inside of you. You hate seeing your husband neglect himself like this, every time you see him convince people around him when he’s fine when he’s obviously struggling, it hurts. You two lead your lives in effortless synchronicity, like a perfectly executed ice skating performance, so observing his health deteriorate when you two are so close it’s like you share the same chambers of your heart is hurtful to you too. You’ve given him his space, but now it’s time for an intervention.

“You don’t have to cook me pasta, darling, I can cook too, you know?” 

You grab both of his legs and rest it on the white fancy coffee table in front of you so suddenly, he startles and jumps back like a frightened rabbit. You fetch him a blanket from the hotel cabinet and drape it over him. “I know you can, love,” you run your hand through his soft hair and he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, “but just let me handle it tonight, okay?”

He yawns, finally giving in. “Okay honey, but only for tonight.” Gepard replies, his Captain’s authoritative lilt leaking into his words. 

But that voice doesn’t work on you, it seems, because the next day during his patrol, you bound up to him like a puppy. Gepard may walk into you at times, and you will greet each other, maybe share a kiss. But you know not to interrupt his work, as any lack of diligence may result in casualties in rare cases. But Gepard doesn’t want to take that gamble. Today, however, in this picturesque sunny day, the sky the shade of his eyes, there is something hidden behind your back. 

“Darling, hello! Are you enjoying your day off- oof!” The second he reaches out to kiss the back of your hand, you smack an adorably wrapped box into his arms. Although he is in his uniform, perfectly built to protect him, he does stumble back slightly. He assesses the box, unwrapping the floral pink fabric that holds it, and finds a bento box. “Wait, love, I love your cooking but we have food at work, don’t waste your day off on-” His voice trails off, because as he looks in front of him again, you’ve already vanished. He shakes his head dismissively, “What a sly fox.” But a few of the Silvermane Guards at the same post as him watch as a wide smile breaks out on his face, along with a blush that turns the tip of his ears a deep pink. 

It has become a daily thing now. And although Gepard feels a bit ashamed that his partner is babying him, the complete truth is that on your days off, he intentionally ‘forgets’ his bento box just so you can find him and hand it to him then. It’s no different three months later, when you stomp up to him in your wellie boots, under your frog umbrella. “Hello, love.” He greets, ruffling your hair and taking the bento box. He looks at the fabric that decorates it and tilts his head to look at you better. “I like the ducks on this one, it’s cute.” When he laughs with the same softness as a tiny bell, you swoon softly, even more so now that he’s gained some of his baby fat back on his cheeks after your rigorous diet schedules. It makes him seem so much more peppier, and now that things are a bit more difficult for you at work, he’s been stepping up and taking care of you too. It shows now more than ever that he’s less overworked. There’s a pep in his step, all signs of tiredness in his face replaced with a healthy glow and rosy tint in his cheeks. He makes your cheeks bloom with heat when he kisses the back of your palm, his common Prince-like greeting. “So, what did you make this time?” 

“I made some linguini and I had some leftover battenburg cake, so that’s in there too! It’s a bit chilly today, so wrap up warm, sweetheart. I’ll get going now, I have to pick up some groceries.” You’re about to turn away, but Gerpard calls your name in such a way, it resembles the light and sweet taste of buttercream. 

“Wait! Before you go,” he sets the bento box on a nearby bench and lifts you up for a kiss. You meet his lips and exchange a cold kiss that ends up warming the both of you up significantly. “I’ll see you at home, angel.” He smiles, putting you down. You say your goodbyes and walk away, heart swelling with affection and excitement for the next time he opens the door to your house so you can leap into his arms once again. 

[slightly-knot-insane]

waaahh omg hi!!!! could I maybe get an eldritch sea monster that just loves his little diver he found? (he totally didn’t kidnap you from the rear of your team…) mayyybbee with some breeding/eggpreg? frothing at the mouth

Underwater sexy time finally finished! Thank you for the request! It's a bit longer since I wanted to add this because you liked it ^^

[ m!sea monster x ftm!reader ]

First Breath of Water

It was meant to be just a simple skinny-dip with your friends. Then you saw a beautiful bluish purple light underwater. It was so pretty you just had to see what it was! Foolishly, you walked into the sea, deeper and deeper, until the water reached your shoulders and then - something grabbed your ankle and pulled you under.

And now you're here, in this cave, surrounded by wet stone, and a water pool at your feet... With a large monster peeking from it. It has something resembling a face with mouth and multiple set of eyes. It doesn't speak to you, but it brought you a strange fish to eat, and fresh water to drink. The raw meal is rather nourishing, and you are not hurt, so you relax a little bit.

While you eat, the creature completely exits the pool and slides next to you. Ethereal bioluminescence decorates its translucent skin. Frills, tentacles and spines grow out of its body. It is both scary and fascinating. It doesn't do anything else aside from watching you, and any attempts to speak to it are met with silence and curious tilts of its slightly humanoid head. It doesn't seem to like the air very much. It starts heaving after barely fifteen minutes next to you and then quickly enters the water for, what you assume, a dose of oxygen.

After a few minutes alone, the creature exits the pool and, this time, gets even closer to you. It touches you and is surprisingly gentle. The being also insists on you touching it - it pulls your hand toward its massive body. You obey and glide your palm over its smooth and slick skin. Your nerves barely register touch - that's how polished and silky the creature is.

With a tremble of its tentacles, it pushes you on the ground, its eyes fixated on yours. The monster is heavy and you can't move, so you just squeal in panic. It slides and moves upward, arching over your entire body. It holds you by your shoulders firmly against the rocky floor. You are presented with two penises, swollen and pulsating in bioluminescent purple light.

"Whoa, slow—" but your words are cut short. One of the penises dives into your mouth, and the other one eagerly rubs against your chest and neck. It is oozing some strange liquid and soon you're covered with lubricant sort of substance. Penises are very flexible and mobile, and the one in your mouth is exploring your teeth and tongue, rubbing against your soft tissue. For some reason, you are not scared but excited. The phallus tastes peculiar but not unpleasant. The monster above you moans in a strange, guttural way and the organic lights flicker into pink shade. It moves its lower body, slowly rocking, and penises thrust and rub harder until, with a strong jolt, they spurt cold and very thick liquid onto your chest and into your mouth.

Wheezing, the monster quickly retreats into the water, leaving you soiled and sticky. You cough and yell at the creature for not preparing you, worried about the thing that you just ate. After just a few minutes, the monster is on top of you again, wet and recovered, pushing you down and shoving the upper penis into your mouth. It fucks your mouth until it climaxes again and you swallow its seed.

This is repeated many times, until your stomach is completely full of sperm and swollen. Exhausted, you fall asleep as soon as you are given a break.

You are woken up by an unpleasant feeling. You can't... breathe? It hurts when you inhale as if your lungs shrunk. You try to cough and take deep breaths, but that causes you even more pain.

"Heee... heeee... lp..." Your words are more like hisses, barely audible. You fall on your knees, tears falling down your cheeks and you feel some strange growth on your jaw. Are those... gills? Long tentacles glide around your waist and swiftly pull you underwater.

Once you're inside water, you gasp - really gasp - because you can breathe! No more pressure and sharp pain. You can breathe underwater!

The monster is in front of you. He (how do you know it's a he?) moves with grace, circling you, swimming and letting out happy clicking noises. It looks so much bigger, intimidating, but also incredibly beautiful in his element. The tentacles surround you, pull you toward him, and explore every part of your body: your hair, neck, armpits, legs, scars and gills. You are mesmerized, getting incredibly aroused by this creatures touches and wonderful lights of his skin. They slowly change from gentle blue to royal purple.

The penises are out again, but the lower one that used to be smaller is now quite longer and there is white orb at the base of it. The creature grabs you, pulls you up and the top penis prods your hole. Luckily, the creature doesn't force it. He finds your t-dick and uses one of his frilled tentacles to rub it. The sensation is incredible and you can't help it but respond. With every limb he has, he locates your erogenous zones and fondles them while carefully observing your emotions.

When you're on the edge of climax, he slowly pushes the top penis into your hole. Surrounded by water, it slides easily and deeply, and takes only few thrusts to shatter you.

While still pulsating from your orgasm, the creature takes out his cock and presents his thick and a lot longer lower one. The light changes to dark pink and he shoves his massive phallus inside you. You arch your back, pushing him away from overstimulation, but he doesn't budge. His light becomes pulsating red and you can see glowing orbs the size of your fist moving inside his shaft into your body. As they slide under your t-dick, you shake from intense pleasure and it takes only three of them to push you over the edge again. The tentacles hold you firmly in place while the monster places his eggs inside you. Soon your belly swells. It's an incredible feeling, stretched by warm objects that emit waves of pleasure through your tissue every time they shift.

So many eggs and so many orgasms after, you wake up in monsters embrace, wrapped around by his tentacles. He happily clicks as a greeting and one of his arms touches your belly. It is huge, skin stretched like a balloon and glowing in soft red light. With a joyous smile, you touch it and happily click, click, click yourself.

[totallynotcoffeeturtle]

Sinking Into Your Arms

Masterlist

Cw!: yandere!Scaramouche, possessive behavior, (brief) drowning/suffocation, abduction, (somewhat) suggestive. Tags: merman scaramouche, modern fantasy au, established relationship, gn!reader, open ending. Summary: Scaramouche has finally gotten tired of waiting in one place for you to come back to him.

☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆

You sighed heavily as you walked along the coast, breathing in the salty breeze. Your parents called you back during your vacation, just to rush you to get married. You weren't even that old! They had been nagging you day by day, even on your regular phone calls. Your parents wouldn't understand that you had been dating someone already, even if he can't quite go to meet them.

Scaramouche swam up to the surface the moment he felt your presence. You were gone for way too long! His eyes lit up at the sight of you wearing the necklace he gave you but acted as if he did not care one bit. "Finally care to come back, pipsqueak?," he huffed while taking out a small bracelet designed to your taste. "It doesn't matter. How long are you going to stay this time?"

You looked at him guiltily. You felt horrible for choosing an inland city, making it even more difficult to meet up. "A week at most…?," you scratch your cheek awkwardly while looking away. A dark expression flashes on his face but disappears just as quickly as it appears.

Everyday for the next week, you go to the seashore, at Scaramouche's request, each time bringing a small snack or gift as an apology for leaving him again so quickly. Your parents don't let up on trying to get you to go on blind dates, however. And with their intensifying efforts, your exhaustion also increases, leading to you pouring out all of your complaints on the final day.

Scaramouche smiles almost innocently, his violet eyes glinting under the sunlight. "I have a solution for you." His hands move to pull you down into a deep kiss, each movement slowly claiming the air in lungs as his. His sharp nails dance on the nape of your neck, pulling you deeper into delirium before pulling you into the sea with him. 

The cold water pulls you right out of your trance and you struggle against his hold desperately. Scaramouche lets go just enough for regret to fill your eyes, diving back in to give you some much needed air. This time, there is no resistance even when he stakes his claim on your lips, your tongue and even your existence as a whole. He whispers into your ear, his voice killing you into a deep slumber…

"News flash: a resident has been reported missing after going to the seaside. It is recommended to keep your family members, especially children, away from the waters as the current has been rather unforgiving…" Your parents cried, aggrieved at your disappearance. There is nothing they wouldn't give to find you again.

☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆

A/N: oh wow this wip was all the way back from april lololol well happy mermay folks!

[vidavalor]

Fish: A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing

A deep dive meta on fish and that deathless death.

NSFW under the cut. TW: Mention of Satan's attacks on Crowley. Also for those who asked me for more on the Ineffable Husbands and trauma-informed partnership.

Aziraphale, listen to me. The supernatural world? It's a mess. Life under the sea is better than anything they've got Up there...

This is basically the requested "Crepes 2" but you don't have to have read that first. I did link it at the bottom if you have not and you're interested in more meta like this one. Thanks for reading. 💕

Couples. Romantic and/or sexual partners who have an understanding of a mutually-agreed upon level of commitment to one another and their relationship. Frequent celebrators of special occasions.

"A team-- a group; group of the two of us." A couple.

Special occasions. Notable life events celebrating milestones and past days significant to a couple's relationship.

"For special occasions." Why Aziraphale bought one dozen cases (144 bottles) of Chateauneuf-de-Pape in 1921, as he either tells or reminds Crowley on the walk to the bookshop in 2008. Only "a few bottles" were still left at that time, according to Aziraphale, after 87 years of Crowley and Aziraphale celebrating special occasions enough times as an unofficial couple between 1921 and 2008 to have drank almost 144 bottles of the wine they only drink on special occasions.

Wedding anniversary. A special occasion; the "big one" of a married couple's special occasions. Celebrated annually by married couples as a romantic day that honors their commitment to one another. In S2, the day of The Meeting Ball is the night that Armageddon: Round Two gets underway. It is also the wedding anniversary of...

Mutt and his beloved spouse. The lovely magician who owns Goldstone's Magic Shop in 2023 and his beloved spouse, who is dry-witted, trans and had on a dress the color of Crowley's eyes at The Ball. Paralleling characters to Crowley and Aziraphale.

Anniversary. For partners who are not married, usually celebrated as a day of significance in their romantic relationship, chosen for its importance to them. Almost always related to a "first" in the relationship, like the day they first met or on which they had a first date.

"This is The Big One, Crowley..." What Satan (while impersonating the voice of Freddie Mercury) said to Crowley about Armageddon while assaulting him in 2008, on the night Armageddon: Round One began. Crowley was supposed to be having dinner with Aziraphale at the time.

The 1.01 sushi scene. Our re-introduction to Aziraphale in 2008. A series of indicators that we learn throughout the course of the season teach us that Crowley was supposed to be with Aziraphale in the Japanese restaurant on this night before he was delayed by Hell, assaulted by Satan, and forced into helping to start Armageddon.

Various scenes in S1 show us that Crowley always comes up on the same side of Aziraphale if he is approaching him from behind when meeting him but we don't yet know that in the first scenes of 1.01. As a result, we might not immediately realize that the reason why Aziraphale opens his eyes and looks to his left after hearing a miracle chime in this scene is because he expected that it was Crowley arriving to meet him after having been running late. In reality, it turned out to be Gabriel on his right-- which Aziraphale first sees in a mirror and which will be mirrored in additional scenes in the show (Crowley dragged to Hell in 1827 and the Gabriel statue on the other side of Aziraphale, etc.). Dialogue from the scene set the next day in St. James' Park that we will look at later on in the meta also confirms that Crowley was supposed to be with Aziraphale in the 1.01 sushi scene.

The sequence of scenes at the start of the 2008 minisode also sets this up by giving us Crowley alone first and letting us revel a bit in how fun he is and like him even more. The contrast with Hastur and Ligur establishes for us that Crowley is about a trillion times smarter and more enlightened than these guys. It's the second scene with Satan, though, that exists to show us that while some of the demons are just idiots, demonic life for Crowley is actual hell.

The "Bohemian Rhapsody" he so endearingly rolled up blaring in The Bentley comes back and now takes on a nightmarish tone as Crowley receives instructions from Satan while driving The Bentley and we learn that Satan can possess him at will and Crowley's sunglasses-- even in the dead of night while driving alone-- start to make more sense. They're a defense mechanism but he's actually defenseless in the face of this threat. It's from watching Satan get in-- through the radio, taking over the music, speaking through the voice of a non-evil entity, jumping through the air and through Crowley's sunglasses through his eyes and into his mind and rendering his body immobile while he's driving The Bentley-- that we are taught the core of what it means to be a demon in Good Omens.

The demons belong to Satan, in Satan's view. They are part of his collective of souls who exist to serve him. They are not individual people existing independent of him. There is no such thing as bodily autonomy in Hell.

What Satan does to Crowley in 1.01 is a metaphor for sexual assault. It's a forcible attack on his body against his will and without his consent. Though the scene is mercifully short, we are left with the awareness that it is short for reasons of the plot in this instance-- because Armageddon is beginning and the purpose of the attack in this moment is to give Crowley directions on delivering the antichrist baby. The scene, though, shows us that Satan can do this to Crowley whenever he wants and Crowley-- an otherwise very powerful being-- has no known defense against it. Crowley is unsurprised by it and that, plus all his various defensive layers already in existence in 1.01, show that it has happened before. Crowley has been on Earth for 6,004 years in 2008 and the implication here is that these assaults have been happening periodically the entire time and are among the issues most responsible for the PTSD symptoms he shows throughout the show.

It's off of this assault, though, that we segue into our re-introduction scenes of Aziraphale in the present and they are, at the start, the exact opposite of this nightmare that Crowley is living. As Crowley is attacked in his car on a dark road alone at night and then has to narrowly avoiding killing a man in an oncoming truck, we move over to Aziraphale's world, not yet realizing that this is the world that Crowley lives in when he can get away from Hell-- that it is actually their world together.

Aziraphale is presented with the sushi from his friend who has prepared it specially for him and we listen to Aziraphale thank him. The Italian of "Bohemian Rhapsody" (symbolic in this moment of Dante's Inferno and Hell) gives way to Aziraphale speaking Japanese (symbolic of mindful living.) The tone is all kind and gentle-- respectful and peaceful. We then get what is, really, the exact opposite of what just happened to Crowley, which is Aziraphale taking a slow breath with his eyes closed, inhaling the scents of the brine of the fish and vinegared rice and the herbs, and centering himself in the present moment as part of the experience of enjoying his meal.

The immediate contrast is drawn between Satan-- Crowley's rapist, who terrorizes him-- and Aziraphale-- Crowley's partner, who loves him, and with whom he has the kind of consensual, mindful, sensual experiences he was supposed to be getting up to on this night when Armageddon began instead.

In S2, the importance of the sushi scene from 1.01 returns as it is mirrored during the attack on the bookshop. Once again, Crowley is away from Aziraphale when he should have been there by that point and Aziraphale is worried about him. Present instead is, once again, Gabriel. This time, Gabriel has undergone a bit of a Jim journey. (Aziraphale offering him hot chocolate instead of tea in 2.01 was also set up by the sushi scene, as it's off of Gabriel being grossed out by the "rose matter" tea, showing again how important the scene is.) In S2, Gabriel is with Aziraphale again, this time pushed back further into the bookshop, and where are they in the bookshop-that-represents-Aziraphale during the sushi scene mirror? They're upstairs, on the landing.

Specifically, they're just inside the top of the stairs in front of a room, the door to which we are shown several times in S2 but which we have not yet seen open.

We have gone into the room next door to it-- that's the guest bedroom, where Gabriel stayed during the season. By process of elimination and out of an idea of convenience here, the room we haven't been inside of that is located at the very top of the stairs is almost certainly Aziraphale's bedroom. So, we've gone from S1 and having Gabriel show up unexpectedly while Aziraphale mistook him for Crowley while he and Crowley were supposed to be having one of their sexy meals together to S2 and Gabriel now there in the mirror scene in front of their bedroom, drawing a bit of a correlation between what these two scenes are both about.

There's also something symbolic to the idea that S2 uses invitations and doors and rooms in the bookshop to symbolize Aziraphale himself and who he lets in and whose voices he is, for better or worse, listening to at different times-- with his mental health crisis being symbolized by the bookshop being essentially overrun to a point that anyone can now get in. The one room that is shown to us but the door to which never is opened in S2 is the bedroom door. The bookshop can get overrun and others can get deeper into it than we've seen before-- demons in the living room, Maggie and Nina and Gabriel upstairs and in the back kitchen table area like the family they've become-- but the bedroom door stays closed because only Crowley and Aziraphale are allowed in there. No one but them can open the door. Metaphorically-speaking... and probably literally as well.

As the sushi scene is paralleled in S2, we get Shax there bullying Aziraphale. Shax is jealous of Aziraphale and his relationship with Crowley and she also fails to understand it because she sees Crowley as a demon like her and presumes he's as dark as she is, having no idea that Crowley's demonic schtick is an act to survive. She gives voice to these questions (and to Aziraphale's most illogical self-doubts-- but self-doubt is never logical...) when she asks:

"Aziraphale, what *are* you? Crowley's emotional support angel? The softest touch? The one who went native? Do you need more big, human meals, Aziraphale? Shall we send up *the sushi*?"

Shax is actually doing something here, language-wise, that the show first did with Hastur in 1.01, and that's making them both useful idiots when it comes to language. Remember Hastur's mistranslation of "ciao" as Crowley leaves the graveyard with the baby? What Crowley said was, as we know, Italian-- Hastur got that bit correct-- but instead of translating it in his mind as meaning the "hello"/"goodbye" that "ciao" means in Italian, he confused it with its homophone of "chow", which he said "means 'food'." It does but in an informal way or in reference to food given to animals.

This is darkly ironic in the scene because of where Crowley is headed in the next scene-- and where he's supposed to be during both scenes. He's supposed to be "chowing down"/having food-- having dinner-- with Aziraphale and food is, as we'll learn over the course of the 2008 minisode, euphemistic for sex in Ineffable Husbands Speak and symbolic in relation to it in the show itself overall. Instead, Hastur isn't entirely wrong when he translates "ciao" as "chow"-- and he might have done so unconsciously in his mind because he knows Satan is going to contact Crowley with instructions soon. He sees Crowley as "chow"-- in the sense of food fed to the animal that is Satan.

In 2.06, while Crowley is taking Maggie and Nina to safety outside the bookshop, Satan is mentioned when Shax demands that Gabriel and Beez be given to her to take "as gifts for Our Master Satan." Dagon-- Head of the Dark Council and not known for mincing her words-- replies that Satan "wouldn't want them... maybe as hors d'oeuvres." Not a single person in the room-- which contains almost every major non-human character in the show shy of Crowley-- disagrees with this assessment. Rape is not about sex-- it's about power-- but in a show that uses food as euphemistic for sex on several different levels, Dagon's comment is chilling.

It not only takes the attacks on Crowley that are already a metaphor for sexual assault and codes them through food in such a way that the feeling you get from the 1.01 Satan scene-- how it comes with an implication that the assaults aren't always a delivery of instructions-- is correct and that, unsurprisingly, Satan is a rapist in every way possible, but it also sees someone who would know in Dagon state that Satan would not actually care that much about Gabriel and Beez. He'd rape 'em, sure, is what Dagon is saying. He's Satan. But they would be just hors d'oeuvres. They're not who he's really fixated on.

The Grand Duke of Hell who betrayed him and their former Supreme Archangel partner are not interesting to Satan is Dagon's statement and not a single person in the room challenges that. No one says anything about it and the scene is deliberately structured so Crowley is not in the room when it's said to create this reaction in the others... the implications of which are just horrible where Crowley is concerned.

Back to Shax in the bookshop attack scene...

Shax parallels Hastur here because they are using her lack of language skills to highlight something to us by what it is that she doesn't understand. Much like with Hastur unintentionally spelling out what's really going on through mistranslations of words, Shax is trying to bully Aziraphale and she's tossing insults at him that are, actually, in the alternative meanings of what she's saying, the answers to the very questions she's been asking.

"Aziraphale, what *are* you? Crowley's emotional support angel? The softest touch?..." In insulting Aziraphale, Shax is using Crowley's mental health issues as a way of insulting both of them here, which shows how Hell obviously isn't exactly the most trauma-aware place. She's obviously saying that Crowley is comparable in mental health issues to humans (whom the demons see as beneath them) who have a need for emotional support animals. Like Hastur with the "chow", there's an animal comparison being drawn beneath the words used here but instead of the ominous lead-in to Crowley being attacked in 1.01, in S2, we have it about Crowley and Aziraphale, not Crowley and Satan.

So, Shax is calling Aziraphale Crowley's pet, right? And then she calls Aziraphale "the softest touch", which is a phrase meaning someone who is really gullible. What Shax doesn't realize is that the other, human-derived meanings of what she just called Aziraphale are the answer to the question of what Aziraphale is to Crowley.

In British slang, "pet" is a term of endearment. To pet someone is to touch and kiss in a way meant to be sexually arousing-- as in, "heavy petting."

The softest touch. This is, quite literally, the definition of a caress.

In S2, Aziraphale pats his and Crowley's pet-- The Bentley-- but he pets Crowley. The only time he tries to actually pet The Bentley is when he's semi-jokingly making it a sexual metaphor for Crowley. It underscores that Shax is almost there in getting it-- she's just not quite understanding the meaning of her own words-- which are words that, like Hastur's ciao/chow moment, exist to tell *us* something in how we look at them more than to tell the character speaking something.

In effect, we get a whole scene in S2 that parallels the 1.01 sushi scene by defining some more what it's really all about through Shax not quite fully getting it. What is Aziraphale to Crowley? is her question and the answer is the softest touch, just in the other meaning from the way that Shax says it. Aziraphale is kind to Crowley and gentle with him. He's the mindful sushi night in the face of the horror chow of Hell. They love each other. It's soft and sweet and that's why Shax has trouble understanding it-- it flies in the face of what she thinks the demon Crowley would want because of the reputation Crowley has sold everyone on regarding who he is, which isn't who he really is at all.

"The one who went native. Do you need more big, human meals, Aziraphale? Shall we send up *the sushi*?" Aziraphale is the angel who "went native"-- he lives a mostly human existence with Crowley alongside the humans. Shax clearly doesn't eat that much as no one has ever called sushi a "big meal" lol but besides that bit of humor aimed our way, this is more tying of food to sex. Aziraphale likes food and he likes sex and in Ineffable Husbands Speak-- which Shax does not speak-- food is euphemistic for sex. What's unnerving about this scene in this moment is that it plays like the later scene between Maggie and Shax does-- as if Shax is reading the thoughts of the character she's bullying and lobbying them back at her. She might well be doing this here and that's why the sushi comes up-- Aziraphale is thinking about it because Crowley should be here and isn't and Gabriel is right near him instead and it reminds him of 2008. (This wouldn't be the only callback to S1 in this sequence, either; there's Aziraphale explaining the fire extinguishers to Nina not that long after this.) Either way, it's writing designed to directly correlate this part of the bookshop attack with the 1.01 sushi scene to further underline what the 1.01 scene is about.

Okay, so, let's look then at why we're so into repeating bits of this sushi restaurant scene in GO and what it tells us about Crowley and Aziraphale's story by what other scenes it ties to...

As the 1.01 episode continues, we get another scene pretty soon after the sushi scene which adds another layer to this by recontextualizing our understanding of the sushi scene-- that's their lunch at The Ritz the next day, in which we learn that Crowley is rather into watching Aziraphale eat and Aziraphale loves it. This then helps to explain Aziraphale's look in the sushi scene when he turns to look in the direction of where he thinks Crowley will be on the left, before it clicks that Crowley is not there and he sees, instead, Gabriel on his right via the mirror on the wall.

Aziraphale hears the chime with his eyes still closed. His eyes are then still on the food when he reopens them and he hasn't had time to see that Crowley is not beside him before he turns in that direction and this is the expression on his face as he does:

That is a pretty sexy little look that was indisputably supposed to be given to Crowley...

In the later scene where they're at lunch at The Ritz, we come in on their meal at the end of it. Aziraphale is on the last forkful of his dessert and we get the idea of kinky lunch from what we see on the tail end of it. But before it? Back at the start of the episode, set the night before? We see that everything that happens the next day at The Ritz actually happens because they weren't able to be together the prior night. It will also help us to understand how Crowley knows about "the fascinating little restaurants where they know" Aziraphale in the St. James' Park scene.

The 1.01 sushi scene tells us that, by 2008, they sometimes sneak out to a quiet, dark place where they think they won't be seen to have dinner together.

What's most notable about the set of this scene in the sushi restaurant is the shocking brightness of one color in particular.

The scene leading into it, as we noted, is Satan's attack on Crowley in The Bentley and that scene is, appropriately, very dark. It's pitch black night outside and Crowley, in his perpetual black clothes, half-blends into the night around him. Flecks of grey and silver are the main sources of light in the scene. The same color scheme tips into the Aziraphale sushi restaurant scene-- with two exceptions. The silver grey remains (Gabriel) and so too does the thick, black darkness but there is more light in the restaurant and it shines over Aziraphale. He looks bright against the black darkness, even though he wears beige. He is the light that is missing from Crowley's scene. But that's not the shocking color to us in the scene. That's the one that saturates its way through the darkness around Aziraphale. That color is...

Pink. The color you get when you mix white (Aziraphale) into red (Crowley). Traditionally, a color of love, romance and health.

Pink plume. The energy field emanating from the bookshop when Crowley and Aziraphale performed a miracle together to protect Gabriel in 2.01. Also: part of Mrs. Sandwich's hair accessory during The Meeting Ball. Mrs. Sandwich represents sex and healthy communication in 'The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Represent The Stuff of Life' thing the show has going on.

"In the pink." A phrase meaning "in good health."

1967. Flashback scene in the 1.03 Cold Open in which Aziraphale gives Crowley holy water and they discuss their relationship-- specifically, trying to be more openly together. The scene is drenched by the pink light from the sex shops (one called the "Love Shop") that were then in the spot where Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death (symbolic of freedom) is in S2.

Jane Austen. One of the most famous writers to ever live (sorry, Crowley, but she is lol.) Writer of romance novels. A human that both Crowley and Aziraphale knew in the early 1800s. As Aziraphale brings her up to Crowley while they are talking about romance, pink floods the frame through the clothes on the extras in the wider part of the shot besides him. Pink is also present throughout this scene in general, which already parallels 1967 via it being related to set up, The Dirty Donkey and Crowley's turtleneck.

Back to the pink-dipped sushi restaurant in 2008... what else do you notice about this scene that is familiar, now that you've seen all of S1?

Maybe that Aziraphale is actually sitting at a bar? And thought Crowley would meet him there, so they would be sitting at the bar together? Aziraphale also had just spoken at the start of the scene with the restaurant person on the other side of the counter. Where have we seen one of them doing something like that before?

That other rather fish-oriented scene: Rome. 41 A.D....

Rome. 41 A.D.. Aziraphale runs into Crowley in a tavern in Rome. Crowley is miserable and not having the best day of his demon life. Frustrated by the temptations he's been sent to perform for Hell that have him enabling horrible men in the Roman military, he's lonely, tired and grouchy. This initially was worsened by the arrival of Aziraphale, whom Crowley always loves to see but who, in that moment, was a reminder of how broken Crowley felt.

PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. A psychological condition brought on as a result of experiencing the psychological shock of a traumatic event or events. Some symptoms of PTSD include disturbed sleep, difficulties feeling safe, difficulties trusting yourself and others, anxiety, depression, and intimacy issues.

"In the pink." Remember the phrase meaning "in good health'"? Not a lot of pink in the Rome scene... initially. 😉

"Salutaria." What Aziraphale says in toast as he and Crowley clink glasses. Means "to your health." Crowley clinked glasses but quickly looked away, leaving Aziraphale thrown in the moment as to why Crowley was not rejecting his presence entirely but seemed uneasy and was putting up some walls between them that he had not in this way up to this point.

So, why was Crowley doing that?

Anorgasmia. Modern, clinical umbrella term for all issues relating to disorders surrounding an individual's ability to orgasm. If physical or medicinal reasons are eliminated, however-- as they often are-- then anorgasmia is a psychological mind-body disconnect.

Not an arousal disorder. Sufferers of anorgasmia still experience desire, compounding the impact of the disorder.

Secondary anorgasmia/situational anorgasmia. The inability to orgasm unless under certain conditions, such as through self-stimulation (masturbation). The inability to enjoy partnered sex. Extremely common in rape/sexual assault survivors.

(Diagnosis for anorgasmia are related to biological sex but Crowley is able to switch that at will so he'd be both of these, which are fundamentally the same thing.)

Hot Water Boiler. Device which heats up water in a house or apartment. In S2, a metaphor for anorgasmia.

In S2, Shax is living in what used to be Crowley's apartment and asks him if he knows how to fix the hot water boiler, as it has "two yellow lights" and isn't working. The point is that this used to be Crowley's apartment. Crowley, in 2023, knows how to get beyond a bout of it. He's fixed his own metaphorical hot water boiler-- and also the literal one when he used to live in that apartment. And while he's being sarcastic because Shax won't stop hounding him and Aziraphale, he's also giving her the most sage advice he knows, as he has continuously been doing during the season. In this case, it's to self-love a bit (which is actually prescriptive for anorgasmia in our modern times as well.) That he does is suggestive of the prior issues with secondary/situational anorgasmia.

Alcohol (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). As we looked at in the Crepes meta: Surface layer: alcohol. Hidden language layer: Sex. Quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol. An extremely alcoholic breakfast at The Ritz.

Whiskey. Alcohol. What Crowley orders in a bar. Usually Talisker, which is a single-malt scotch. (Scotch being whiskey made in Scotland.)

Broken bottles of whiskey. What was in the case Crowley brought Mrs. H in 1941 at the start of the sexual metaphor that is The Bullet Catch.

Trauma-informed partner. Modern term for a romantic and/or sexual partner of a trauma survivor who is aware of the pervasive nature trauma can have on a person and who endeavors to provide a sense of safety-- physical, psychological and emotional-- for their partner and to create a relationship centered on healing and recovery, rather than one that causes further distress.

Frequently survivors of one or more forms of abuse themselves, as Aziraphale is. Not expected to be perfect but just to do their best by their partner.

Characteristics of trauma-informed relationships include kindness, empathy, mindfulness, gentleness, well-earned trust, a sense of playfulness, and a well-developed shared sense of humor. (Sound familiar? 😊)

The Bentley. Crowley's car and Linus blanket. As sexual metaphor, when Aziraphale is feeling cheeky: Crowley himself.

Driver's license. Documentation that must be obtained in order to operate a motor vehicle. Requires permission, experience, necessary skills, and willingness to learn. In London, not originally necessary to drive upon the invention of cars, until everyone realized what an absolute disaster that was. Aziraphale long ago passed his test and has had a driver's license since shortly after Crowley bought The Bentley. They did not require licenses at that time but always-eager-to-be-thorough Aziraphale made them give him a test to be sure he was truly qualified to drive.

As sexual innuendo: Crowley, we're absolutely ridiculous. You won't give up your car and I wall myself off in a fortress of books I can't part with but you've been "in my bookshop" and I've been "driving your Bentley" for an absurdly long amount of time. We even swapped bodies a few years ago. It might not actually be possible to be any more intimately familiar with a person than we are with one another and we both know I had these car keys the moment I asked for them so hand them over. No one was exactly a trauma-informed partner in those days but I was-- aren't I marvelous?😉I'll treat your car as gently as I treat you. Give me the keys or I will just keep going until I run out of car sex innuendo and I should warn you that I have lots more...

Trauma-informed partner. Aziraphale.

Mindfulness. A state of mind that focuses on being in the present moment by being conscious of one's thoughts, emotions, and bodily sensations. A state of the mind being connected to the body and experiencing the present moment consciously and fully. Frequently used to help combat PTSD, anxiety and depression. Also frequently used as a therapeutic intervention for assault survivors experiencing intimacy issues.

Aziraphale and Crowley smelling the magic shop in Season 2 and Aziraphale inhaling the scent of the sushi in 1.01 are both examples of mindfulness exercises. The sushi scene is tied to sex, as the food kinky thing is a form of foreplay, suggesting a focus on sexual mindfulness in bed.

Mind-body connection. What is in need of repair in sufferers of situational/secondary anorgasmia. Sexual assault causes the body to associate a loss of control with being under threat. Whereas people who have not experienced a violation of their bodily autonomy tend to respond to sexual stimulation with a response of pleasure, those who have been hurt have bodies that are wired to react to being touched or to feeling out of control as if they are under threat again, even if they are intellectually aware that the new situation they are in is not dangerous. What is arousing for others can cause a sense of anxiety instead of pleasure. There is also the risk of flashbacks to being attacked.

Healing the mind-body connection requires a trusted partner with whom the person suffering from anorgasmia feels safe and who is willing to help keep their partner in the present moment and help them "re-wire" and recover their body through new, positive experiences.

Asmodeus. The Demonic Prince of Lust. Crowley. A persona to have in Hell to give him big reputation that didn't involve him having to kill anybody and that also acted as a cover for his anorgasmia.

"Crowley." What Crowley asked Aziraphale to call him in 33 AD, just 8 years prior to Rome. An admittance of being mad about Aziraphale.

"What am I supposed to be, an aardvark?" In Rome, as Crowley grows nervous by this wine-drinking Aziraphale who also has nothing to do for the evening that has shown up in his world on a miserable day, he responds to Aziraphale's "still a demon, then?" nervous chatter with a line of his own, asking what else he was supposed to be? An aardvark? Of course, if Crowley was not a demon, being with Aziraphale would be easier and he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place but an aardvark is not just a random animal that Crowley thought up here.

Just prior to this moment, Aziraphale had approached him with "Crawley-- Crowley" and a soft smile. It wasn't actually a mistake on Aziraphale's part but a silent question: is it still alright to call you that? Thanks to S2 and the Job minisode we can see the 33 A.D. scene- in which Aziraphale learns of Crowley's new name-- in a different way. We see it as Crowley romancing Aziraphale a bit-- responding to Aziraphale being obviously a little jealous of Crowley's reputation as the wild Asmodeus with a whisper of how he'd changed his name to "Crowley"-- something that we know now that only Aziraphale understands. In Rome, eight years later, Aziraphale is asking by saying both names if that's still something Crowley feels-- and silently saying he hopes it is by subtly asking and by flirting with him a bit.

Crowley doesn't object to Aziraphale calling him "Crowley" and that encourages Aziraphale to join Crowley, who sends signals that he wants his company, even if he's grouchy. Maybe especially because he's grouchy. He can be grouchy around Aziraphale, who is his friend and will listen.

Aardvarks. Primarily eat ants and termites. In the insect metaphor in the show, humans are ants. (The "ants go marching" of The Flood scene.) Demons were hornets in this analogy but also flies and one could assume that termites might also be a good demonic insect analogy, as termites eat decaying plant material and demolish the dying down into the ground. Since food is sexual metaphor on Good Omens and living creatures are metaphorical in multiple ways, being an aardvark then is being someone who both fucks and kills other demons and humans. Being an aardvark is actually a good metaphor then for what's expected of Crowley in Hell and he obviously has some issues with it.

He doesn't want to kill anybody and he's sitting there wearing Roman military regalia, having been sent by Hell to facilitate some death and destruction in a way that he hasn't been able to Bildad his way out of this time. Aziraphale's presence is always welcome but Crowley's crabby in this moment because he knows Aziraphale is in a place by this point where he wants to sleep with him and they just ran into each other in a tavern and both clearly have the night free and now Crowley's got to decide if he's going to tell the angel or not that he's a disaster of an aardvark.

Aphrodisiacs. A substance purported to increase sexual desire. Named for the Greek goddess of sexual love and beauty, Aphrodite, who has been depicted since antiquity usually nude and on the shell of an oyster (or, occasionally, a scallop), as both are two of the oldest purported aphrodisiacs known to man.

Oysters. History's foremost food-related aphrodisiac... though that's not really proven. A few years ago, Italian and American scientists did a joint study to attempt to prove if oysters really did increase virility. What they found was a very minor increase in testosterone in men brought on by one of the compounds of oysters (which is also found in some other kinds of shellfish.) The difference was so small, though, that the scientists determined that an individual would have to consume a lot of oysters (like, a bucketload) to notice any significant difference. In other words?

Whether it works or not is, like with almost all aphrodisiacs, in the mind of the individual. If you believe it will work, it likely will. It's mind over matter. If you want it to work, it probably will. Thematically, an interesting thing to throw in a scene involving a character deciding he's in a place to work on overcoming psychologically-based anorgasmia.

The ancient Romans were obsessed with the oyster-- particularly the soldiers of the Roman military. Much of the cultural awareness of oysters as having a reputation today as being sex-boosting food is actually rooted to the beginnings of that trend in ancient Rome. Both Crowley and Aziraphale would have been aware of the reputation of the oyster in 41 A.D. and Crowley wearing military regalia might have been one of the reasons, in particular, that Aziraphale chose oysters as an euphemism to convey his meaning.

Oysters. Fish. To eat them, you have first got to get them out of their protective shells.

Adam and Eve. The first humans and the other inhabitants of The Garden of Eden. Parallels to Crowley and Aziraphale. Eve gave Adam food-- showed him the pleasures of eating the apple. It sent them on a path of sensual exploration and Adam, freed by Eve showing him food, gave her sex in return.

The other two in Eden at the time-- The Angel of the Eastern Gate and The Serpent of Eden-- are actually no different.

Crowley tempted Eve but Crowley also parallels Eve to Aziraphale's Adam. Crowley encouraged Aziraphale to try the ox ribs and unleashed the raging hedonist that Aziraphale can be. Rome in 41 A.D. is Aziraphale then realizing just how much they are Adam and Eve. (Something that they become aware of over time and is at the root of things like Crowley dryly saying that it's "time to leave The Garden" in 2019 in S1, when they leave a park to go have kinky lunch together.)

By Rome, Aziraphale is now a devoted gourmand. He also drinks now; he's tried wine at some point in the interim years between the Job minisode and this scene. (This is the first scene in which both Crowley and Aziraphale drink and the first time we see them share a toast-- something that becomes symbolic of them as lovers in scenes in the future, like its parallel scenes in 1941 and 2019-- furthering the suggestion of Rome as the start of their sexual relationship.)

Aziraphale might be in Rome on Heavenly assignment but that's not what he mentions to Crowley, if he is. Instead, he talks about Petronius, whom he assumes from Crowley's military clothes that Crowley will know and whom Crowley does. If referring to, as we suspect, Gaius Petronius Arbiter, then Aziraphale is referring to a being so queer even the historians can't get around acknowledging it-- a courtier who was the taste and style maker of the Roman empire, and who is believed to be the author of The Satyricon, which is basically the foundation of satire in literature but also famously contains a whole chunk of it that is just basically erotica.

Some details of Petronius' life are a little vague so Good Omens is exploiting the wiggle room here to suggest that he actually did own a restaurant. In reality, Petronius wrote in The Satyricon a description of ancient Roman feasts that have been seen as maybe barely satirical because of the whole bacchanalia of the period that Petronius was satirizing. So, by 41 A.D., Aziraphale is moving in wealthy human queer circles in ancient Rome and enjoying all of the pleasures life on Earth has to offer... and he's found Crowley alone in a tavern and is throwing as many of these things together in a sentence at one time as possible to convey an overall sense of would you like to join me?

The Job minisode has already happened. Aziraphale is more than aware that Crowley was enjoying watching him eat. They're both here with the night free and blending in amongst the crowds has never been easier than it was in highly-populated Rome. Aziraphale is used to picking up humans and it's different than it is with Crowley, who is quasi-immortal like he is and his friend and somebody for whom Aziraphale has feelings. There's also something funny about the fact that Crowley is in a (literally) hellish mood and Aziraphale is pretty undeterred and still goes for it. In attitude, Aziraphale is basically like You're in a terrible mood--you need to get laid, Crowley. Lucky I showed up, isn't it? 😂

Meanwhile, Crowley is fully aware of what Aziraphale is up to. He's known since he heard Aziraphale approaching him and has been mulling over how he's going to handle it. The grouchiness isn't just about his bad day-- it's anxiety manifesting as crabbiness. To his credit, Aziraphale seems to get that even before Crowley more specifically shares the source of that anxiety.

So, Aziraphale goes for it and how he does is to pick up on their way of speaking to one another euphemistically that they started in Job's courtyard and introduce food as a way of speaking about sex. This is already amusing in S1 but it's funny as fuck after S2 when we know that the ox ribs have already happened at this point and that that's why Aziraphale is going this route. Aziraphale's like how to see if Crowley wants to smash? Tell him I'm hungry wink wink... 😉

I would also like to point out that they are already in a tavern that sells food. In the wider shots of Crowley in the second half of the scene, a plate of food is on the table beside him. There are oysters *in this bar* lol. Oysters were not uncommon in ancient Rome by this point-- if this conversation were really entirely just about trying this particular kind of seafood, they could just order some from the woman who served Crowley his drink who is three feet away for the entire scene and try oysters right here.

By bringing up Petronius and another restaurant where they sell sexy fish, Aziraphale is laying down an ancient Roman, euphemistic equivalent of do you want to get out of here?

To tell Crowley that he [Aziraphale] hears that Petronius "does remarkable things *to oysters*." To ask Crowley to go to bed with him.

Specifically, to see if the food kinky Crowley wants to go with him to Petronius' new restaurant and try these oysters the human guys are so on about and then go back to where Aziraphale is staying and see if the oysters really do anything to their oysters.

With this one sentence, Aziraphale has just turned "oysters" into three specific, separate-but-interrelated things at once:

1) oysters are fish-- just the seafood itself-- as we're always also talking about the thing on the surface level as well in Ineffable Husbands Speak and this is no different. Petronius makes some yummy oysters, according to the restaurant reviews of ancient Rome, and his new restaurant is an opulent food orgasm of a place and Aziraphale correctly thinks that would be appealing to both of them. He loves to eat and Crowley loves to watch him eat and does Crowley want to go on a little date to do that-- just also with actual sex this time?

2) oysters are aphrodisiacs-- Aziraphale is bringing up the fact that everyone is talking about how eating oysters can increase your sexual desire and bring about more pleasure for you and your partner(s) in bed. Aphrodisiacs are evocative of partnered sex. Not that you can't take them for fun times on your own but most people do not so bringing them up then sets up the verbal italics of "to oysters" that lands Aziraphale's invitation, unintentionally, straight in the heart of Crowley's issues, because:

3) oysters are a partnered sex orgasm-- Aziraphale says he (Petronius) "does remarkable things to oysters" so Petronius makes delicious oysters, which are what you eat to increase sexual desire and therefore what apparently cause you to experience more pleasure for longer and to climax harder... the innuendo is that the oysters (the aphrodisiacs) do things to your oysters (your orgasm).

Surprise twist, Aziraphale...

Crowley has made sure it never occurs to anyone that he has problems in bed and that has included Aziraphale up to this point.

Crowley basically now has a couple of choices. He can gently rebuff Aziraphale's offer, hopefully without embarrassing him too much, and they can try to pretend this never happened, and then he knows that Aziraphale is probably never going to ask him again. Not an option. Who knows when else they might find each other with the night free like this again? and Crowley does want to try.

He can pretend there's nothing wrong with him and stress himself into a disaster, like he's probably tried to do with humans before but they die within a couple of decades and take the embarrassment with them but Aziraphale's going to live for ages, is really his only friend, and Crowley's in love with him. Crowley's self-sabotaging at times but he's also an optimist and a romantic, and it's those things that give him some hope that he might not be permanently broken.

Finally, there's that he can just tell Aziraphale the truth because, let's be real here, the angel wants to try it and like hell is Crowley saying no to that.

So, he doesn't.

(Note the red squiggles on his costume that look pink in the light and like a heart monitor jackhammering-- with anxiety, with arousal-- and the candle that burns a pink flame where the light hits the jug.)

"I've never eaten an oyster." Aziraphale has defined an oyster between them as an orgasm had during partnered sex and that is what Crowley is saying he's never had.

He's also possibly saying that he has never eaten an actual oyster-the-seafood, because even though they were pretty common in Rome in the era, Crowley eats less than Aziraphale does, apparently hasn't been in Rome that long, and has had, until this moment, no reason to try the fish everyone is throwing back to try to increase their sexy times as Crowley's just been avoiding any sexual situation like the plague.

This is both a leap of faith on Crowley's part and a moment indicative of just how much he trusts Aziraphale. He needs every other living being to believe he's Asmodeus but Aziraphale can have the real, unvarnished truth because Aziraphale is the only person Crowley trusts not to hurt him. He knows Aziraphale can keep his secrets and that they have their own private world where vulnerability is allowed. He knows that Aziraphale is his friend beyond anything else.

This is telling Aziraphale that he'd like to try but he's kind of a mess. He doesn't want Aziraphale to feel like it's his fault if this doesn't work and he wants him to know what he's getting into. Crowley has long harbored a suspicion, though, that it would be different with Aziraphale, which is also why he wants to give it a try. If the angel can't help him rewire himself here, no one can.

Emphasizing this is Aziraphale's reaction. If they had been talking about pizza, maybe this reaction would have fit lol but it's clearly not a reaction to learning that Crowley has never consumed one particular kind of squiggly, hard-to-eat, honestly not that great seafood. It's a reaction much more befitting learning Crowley has not experienced something far more delicious and life-affirming than actual oysters-the-seafood.

"Oh-- well, let me tempt you to--" Just consider this moment from Aziraphale's perspective for a minute...

Serpent of Eden Crowley? He is literally the spark that lit the flame of all of humanity here. By tempting Eve into free thought and sensual pleasure, he also empowered her into teaching Adam these things. As a result, Crowley is basically responsible for sex on Earth-- for all of its history. If you live in the Good Omens universe and you've ever had an independent thought, a sensuous experience, or an orgasm, you owe Crowley a thank you note.😂Every play Aziraphale has ever seen, every meal he's ever enjoyed, every human he's ever taken to bed-- all of those experiences are indirectly because of Crowley.

Aziraphale has wanted him for quite literally ever. He compares everyone else to him. No one else has ever made him feel like this. He knows they're attracted to each other but he never felt like he knew what, if anything, he had to offer Crowley. The hottest being he'd ever seen freed him from the prison of his own repression here-- what could he ever give Crowley that was worth something like that? How do you learn together and try new things and adventure together with someone who seems like they're leap years ahead of you and know all the things it took you a long time to find out?

It's at "I've never eaten an oyster" that Aziraphale realizes that the being who freed everyone else got left behind and Aziraphale can fix that. He is good at burning holes in prison walls. Protection and arming others against threats to them and healing and kindness-- that's what he does. He's been here thinking for ages that Crowley would never need anything from him that he knew how to give like this but now he sees it differently. They've shown each other already by this point that they're good at being partners but this one aspect of it always felt to Aziraphale like it would be imbalanced. In Rome, he realizes that it isn't.

Aziraphale doesn't have the vocabulary we have today for these sort of issues and Rome wasn't exactly a bastion of trauma-informed sex lol but he didn't need any of that because he's intuitively good at this. He already knows that it will be fine because Crowley doesn't know it yet but he effectively already told him that it will-- by telling him in the first place. Aziraphale knows that trust and desire are what's needed and that they have those in spades. All he really has to do here is help Crowley relax and get out of his head.

Or, as Aziraphale will put it during the 1941 sexual metaphor that is The Bullet Catch plot: "You do the shooting. I'll do all the hard bits."

What gets Crowley's attention in Rome is how utterly confident Aziraphale is. How empathetic but unpitying. Aziraphale doesn't hesitate and he trips over himself accepting the challenge-- which is awfully cute-- but it's that Aziraphale doesn't treat him like he's broken or seem to see this as daunting that works for Crowley. There is a lot of internalized shame and fear and pain associated with anorgasmia and Crowley has been stewing in this for a very long time up until Rome so for Aziraphale's response to be not dismissive of it but, instead, reassuring, was exactly what Crowley needed. Aziraphale's whole attitude is oh ok no problem should we get going now or..? While he was not happy about Crowley having had difficult experiences before because he doesn't like to think of him in pain, he was really into the idea of Crowley thinking it could be different with him.

Aziraphale really, really, really likes being the person Crowley let in enough for this. Pardon the Crowley pun here but Aziraphale has never stopped crowing about it between them in thousands of years and if Crowley weren't besotted with him, he would have murdered him over it by now. (See: an example in 1941 that we'll look at near the end of this meta and "I had to miracle in the cherries" in Good Omens: Lockdown.)

"No, that's... that's your job. Isn't it?" Aziraphale's use of "tempt" to offer Crowley sex is then something of a joke between them because neither of them are tempting each other in a demonic sense of the word at any time. They find each other tempting though, in the sense that they find each other attractive. To use "tempt" with one another is just to ask each other if they are in the mood for something, not to influence the other into doing anything ("tempt you to a spot of lunch?" and "temptation accomplished" in 2019.)

This is really established first in the Job minisode, chronologically, as Crowley didn't so much tempt Aziraphale to try the ox ribs so much as he just offered them to him and Aziraphale decided to without influence. The same is true for Crowley choosing to try sex with Aziraphale in Rome-- he's really already chosen to by not saying no and that's all before Aziraphale's "well, let me tempt you--".

When Aziraphale replies to Crowley's reaction to the "tempt" line with "No, that's... that's your job. Isn't it?", Aziraphale is teasing him a bit. He's saying he sees through Crowley's massive control issues and that he gets him. You always have to be in control but you don't always want to be. Well, today's your lucky day, Bildad, because we're partners in this now.

Or, as it's known in 2023:

Flame burning pink as Crowley smiles a little for the first time in the scene:

"Oysters! Oranges!" What Juliet (the woman selling snacks) calls out as the opening dialogue in the 1601 scene to entice prospective buyers, the only one of which really is Aziraphale. Oysters-- aphrodisiacs. Oranges-- cinematic symbol of death. Aziraphale chooses...

"Some grapes please! They look scrummy." Grapes. Fermented grapes are wine. Wine is alcohol. Alcohol is sex. We haven't a need for oysters anymore and we shun symbolic death in favor of the little death. The grapes look "scrummy", shortened version of "scrumptious", meaning both "delicious" in food terms and "sexy enough to eat" in people terms. Aziraphale eats them in front of Crowley during the scene.

Oysters. What Crowley and Aziraphale had in ancient Rome.

Oysters. What Crowley and Aziraphale had in ancient Rome.

Oysters (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). Both an aphrodisiac and an orgasm, but...

...since they don't want to bring up anorgasmia every time they're flirting or talking about sex for the rest of their very long lives... and since oysters on their own are really hard to work frequently into conversation and would get a bit old pretty quickly, they need another word.

So, based on what we've seen in the series, it evolved into...

Oysters = Fish.

Fish live in the ocean, amongst other sea creatures.

Fish & sea creatures (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). An orgasm.

Anything related to the ocean (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). A metaphor for sex.

If it is in or lives in water, it's prime material for climatic innuendo. If it has multiple meanings in English? It will be used frequently as part of wordplay. If it pertains to the ocean or lends itself to destructive adjectives (shipwrecks, sea monsters, bubbling seas and rising waves), it will absolutely be a sexual metaphor at some point.

Such as...

Wahoo. A kind of fish. Also: an exclamation of joy. For obvious reasons, Crowley and Aziraphale's favorite fish joke.

In 1941, Aziraphale seeks feedback in the dressing room on their sexual metaphor Bullet Catch performance-- that they are both more than aware of-- and Crowley agrees that it went well and dryly suggests they "chalk up a win for the side of the angel", turning the common phrase that is usually "...side of the angels" singular to reflect only Aziraphale, who is over the moon that Crowley enjoyed it and cheekily replies "wahoo!" before their flirting is interrupted by Furfur.

Decades later, Crowley gives another stellar performance-- the full, epic saga of his M-25 Orbital Disruption-- to the joyless, miserable lot in Hell and concludes it with a line that he plans to tell Aziraphale later to make him laugh:

Carp. A kind of fish. Also means: to stand around and bitch. Aziraphale telling Crowley to stop standing around getting off on grouching and go get Maggie and Nina for The Meeting Ball in S2.

Gravlax in Dill Sauce. Cured salmon. This one is special and we'll look at it in the Dill Sauce meta about the St. James Park scene soon.

Ducks. Waterfowl. Aquatic birds. This is long enough. 😂 They are a whole separate meta.

Pickled herring. A kind of fish, cured in salt. What was dumped out of the barrel by Elspeth in The Resurrectionist minisode so she could use the barrel to transport her corpse. Crowley and Aziraphale spend half the minisode dragging around a barrel that should contain fish (the little death) but actually contains a corpse (actual death)-- foreshadowing the fact that their date will end with Crowley dragged to Hell and the start of the holy water arc of misery for them.

Red herring. A dry, smoked fish that turns red as it is smoked (ooh la la...) 😉 Also: A literary device, in which something is established with the intent of it distracting the audience from something else in the story. Elspeth and her pickled herring barrel are a red herring that changes The Resurrectionist minisode story from what the audience thought it would be into what it is, distracting the audience from the fact that the story actually began with Crowley and Aziraphale meeting in a graveyard at midnight for... ah... reasons. Aziraphale also turned 'red'-- turned to Crowley's side-- during the course of the episode, even as his shot at getting him some "pickled herring" that evening went up in hellfire smoke.

"Sargeant Shadwell." The hilarious, Sean Connery-esque way that Crowley said Shadwell's name in 1967, made funnier by the fact that a shad is a type of fish... and part of the herring family and this scene itself is a red herring. It misleads the audience into thinking we have a whole new plot about Crowley leading a break in to a church that is rendered inert within a matter of minutes when Aziraphale gives Crowley holy water. Shadwell's name is basically 'Fishwell' and, for Madame Tracy's sake, I hope that's true and not ironically funny. Either way, doubtful that Crowley and Aziraphale haven't joked about his name before. Shad also phonetically sounds like 'shag', the British slang word for fucking, and Crowley's tone of voice in the scene had a ring of 'shag' connotation to it.

Kieler Sprotte/Kieler Sprotten. A German smoked herring dish. A hidden reference in the Baraqiel entry in 'The Demon's Guide to Angels...' book that Furfur had in 1941. Baraqiel is Crowley and the entry, based on what's in it, was written by Aziraphale. One of you requested a meta on Baraqiel so that's on deck for now.

Newt. A semi-aquatic salamander. They live in the water but only some of the time. Also: Newt Pulsifier, an extreme parallel of Crowley who breaks all technology he touches, loves his less-attractive-than-The-Bentley car, and falls for a being who has issues with the purpose they feel they were put into the world to fulfill. Newt gets "in the water," metaphorically-speaking, when he has sex for the first time in S1 with the Aziraphale-paralleling Anathema, which is another example of how he's a more extreme version of Crowley, whose parallel to Newt is Aziraphale helping him through his intimacy issues.

Flounder. A kind of fish. Also means: to struggle helplessly in water. "To flounder" is frequently confused with "to founder", which is wordplay intentionally being used by Aziraphale in the "Seeds of Destruction" scene in S1, which we'll look at in the requested Seeds meta soon.

Bananafish. A kind of fish. Also: the first two words of Aziraphale's magic words. Is it "bananafish" or is it "banana, fish"? It's a little unclear and possibly situational. It's also likely both and a reference to wordplay and sex via fish. "The Bananafish" is also a short story by J.D. Salinger about trauma, PTSD and suicide that correlates to S2 quite a bit but we can look at that in a more Aziraphale's-trauma-centric meta.

The 'drunk-in-the-bookshop' scene. Part of the 2008 minisode, in which Crowley and Aziraphale are drunk and talking on the surface about Armageddon but are actually flirting with each other using sea-related terminology to make some drunken sexual metaphors.

Whales and dolphins. Sea-dwelling mammals. Not fish but live like them, alongside them. Damn big brains. Whales, in particular, are their own metaphor in Good Omens-- above and beyond Ineffable Husbands Speak-- but, in this context, they are non-fish creatures that live in the ocean, so Crowley is equating himself and Aziraphale to whales and dolphins in the drunk-in-the-bookshop scene and calling Aziraphale smart and clever in doing so. He is too drunk to come up with how smart they are ("brains the size of... *gives up* damn big brains" lol). His point is that Aziraphale is so smart, which is so hot, and that's his point. Brain city, whales.

Off of this, a drunk Aziraphale has heard Crowley say "damn big brains" and is thinking you know what *else* is big, Crowley?

"Kraken! Oh, great, bigggggg bugger..." Totally plastered Aziraphale is undefeated at Completely Wasted Wordplay, though, and he has a mythical monster and a whole attempt at a sexual metaphor for Crowley here, thanks to whatever brain cells are still kicking around in his damn big whale brain. The Kraken is huge and we aren't just talking about smart anymore, nope... Adding to the humor is the use of 'bugger'-- The Kraken is a massive one and we're talking about both in size and in terms of quite extraordinary amounts of buggery that Aziraphale wants to get up to here...

Giant squid and octopi. Also not fish but live in the sea, much like the whales and dolphins that Crowley had just mentioned and probably one of the reasons why Aziraphale's mind then goes towards The Kraken.

The Kraken. Mythical sea monster from Norse mythology. The Kraken-- and sea monsters, in general-- are thought to be based on giant squid and/or octopi. Particularly before days when squid and octopi were understood, The Kraken was sometimes described as a "sea serpent". Crowley, in Aziraphale's sexual metaphor here, is The Kraken-- is the great, bigggg bugger who is:

"Supposed to rise up-- right up-- to the surface. At the end. When the sea boils." We're talking about Armageddon on the surface but we're talking about sex under the surface and The Kraken is a mythological being who does not exist, making this drunk conversation even funnier. Adam will manifest The Kraken into existence later on in the season-- but, prior to that, the actual Kraken was a myth. Aziraphale and Crowley both know that. Neither of them believe in The Kraken-the-sea-monster. Aziraphale is just using it as a joking sexual metaphor while they're drunk as all fuck to flirt with Crowley using their whole ocean-themed innuendo.

"The Kraken" is "supposed to rise up, right up, to the surface, at the end". The sea serpent going from the depths of the cold black sea to cresting the surface of the ocean at the end of days, which is Aziraphale using destructive sexual metaphor-- using disaster, death, apocalyptic terminology, etc. as a metaphor for sex. Armageddon is the end of days is a sexual climax. "The Kraken" rises to the surface of the ocean "at the end-- when the sea boils"-- when it becomes too hot and there's no other choice but for the sea serpent to come... to the surface. 😉

"There is a lot of 'underlying unspokenness' and it comes to the surface now and again." Michael Sheen quote describing the nature of Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship in S1 in the interview below. I'd bet serious cash he's specifically thinking about The Kraken scene.

Thanks to @procrastiel for showing me the interview.

"Well, that's mah point! Dolphins and whales-- whole sea bubbling-- hard to keep everybody from turning into bouilla--" Crowley's response to Aziraphale's The Kraken metaphor. Actually surprisingly witty at the start considering how drunk they are (it's their damn big whale brains hitting on something every few words lol.) It is, indeed, his point that Aziraphale is talking about-- his boiling point-- but Crowley uses "point" in the other meaning here as well (as in, "that's the point of what I was saying!").

"Whole sea bubbling-- hard to keep everybody from turning into bouilla--" Everybody, eh, Crowley? 😂I thought we were talking about fish being boiled in the end of days here? (Someone ought to get Crowley and Aziraphale to make videos explaining climate change lol.) These fish and dolphins and whales seem like they could be easily mistaken for people? Like, say, you and Aziraphale, hmm?When the whole sea gets bubbling and it's just too hot in here, it might, indeed, be hard to keep you both from turning into...

Bouillabaisse. A fish soup that is frequently referred to as a fish stew, which is what a drunk Crowley calls it. The dish is French and when Crowley is too drunk to get the word out, he keeps repeating the first half of it-- "bouilla"-- which comes from the French verb "bouillir", which means "to boil". He heard Aziraphale's "when the sea boils" and his mind took it to the fish joke of bouillabaisse. To boil is, of course, to cook something in very hot water.

Crowley is too drunk to get the word out in full and repeats the "boil" part of it, getting distracted at one point and calling Aziraphale "baby" while they make hilarious, drunk, kissy faces at one another, before redirecting it with "fish stew-- anyway! It's not their fault."

A bouillabaisse features at least two different kinds of fish cooked together and served alongside one another in the same bowl.

Bouillabaisse/A fish soup or stew (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). Climaxing together/simultaneous orgasm.

"Fish stew-- anyway! It's not their fault." The end of the 'bouillabaisse' portion of the scene and yes, it's not the fault of the actual fish that will be turned into bouillabaisse when the world ends but this is also Crowley thinking of Aziraphale's earlier "hereditary enemies" comment and saying again that it's not their fault, they didn't ask for this. Tossed drunkenly into this getting sloppy sexual metaphor, it's pretty funny as it's also saying wouldn't be their fault if they turn into bouillabaisse later as who could blame them? World ending, been waiting for days, bouilla bouilla baby...

Good thing they sobered up because they were one more bottle of Chateauneuf-de-Pape away from just speak-singing "Under the Sea" at one another. Even the sturgeon and the ray, angel! They get the urge and start to play! That's *mah point*... 😂

"Heaven will finally triumph over Hell." One of the coded things that Aziraphale said to Crowley in the 1.01 St. James Park scene. While the surface layer of this conversation is about Armageddon, they're actually talking on the hidden layer about having not been able to be together the prior night. The key bit to this that I'm mentioning here is the use of the word "triumph"...

Triumph. A triumph is obviously a great victory or success but the history of the word is interesting. It originally meant a victory parade-- a processional-- held for a victorious general upon his return to ancient Rome. It was exclusive to Rome for a time as a word and still is how historians refer to that type of processional.

By using "triumph" in the St. James' Park scene, Aziraphale correlates the would-be sushi night with Rome.

Sushi. Raw fish mixed into vinegared rice, along with other ingredients. What Crowley and Aziraphale usually go out for in the modern era on their unofficial anniversary, which is the date of the first time they had sex in ancient Rome.

1,967. The number of years between the first time Crowley and Aziraphale had sex and when they were trying to meet to celebrate that special occasion in 2008 in 1.01. Armageddon: Round One began on their 1,967th anniversary. A reference to:

The 1967 scene, in which they talk about their relationship, and "dine at The Ritz" is said.

41. The number of years between Aziraphale suggesting they could one day "dine at The Ritz" in 1967 and when they did for the first time in 2008. A reference to:

The 41 A.D. scene in Rome, which shows how they first became lovers.

Well, with one caveat...

Hellfire and Holy Water. Substances produced by the physical corporations of angels and demons which are lethal to one another's "opposite kind"/"enemy." Aziraphale's body can make Holy Water, which could liquidate Crowley into non-existence. Crowley's body can make Hellfire, which could burn Aziraphale into the same.

As such, they spent some time concerned that each other's, em, "hellfire" and "holy water" might be harmful to one another, until they disproved this theory. This historical HIV allegory is alluded to in the "angel-demon, probably explode" Discorporated!Aziraphale scene in S1 (to "explode" also meaning to "explode a theory"-- to disprove it) and also in this scene here, in The Big Damn Sexual Metaphor that is The Bullet Catch:

Aziraphale's dry "just aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear," right?

So, how did they figure out that they wouldn't kill each other?

Kingdom of Wessex. 597 AD. The Camelot scene. Crowley and Aziraphale cross paths in the time of King Arthur and are so damn over canceling each other out at work. After Aziraphale rebuffs Crowley's initial proposal of basically quiet quitting Heaven & Hell-- just doing the paperwork and phoning it in-- because he thinks Michael will figure it out (not because he doesn't want to lol), the two part the scene without a resolution... but the 1601 scene provides that resolution for us via the reveal of The Arrangement.

Back in 597 A.D., after the scene we saw, Crowley and Aziraphale got creative in trying to find a solution to their work woes and wound up experimenting with what they had been told by Heaven regarding what their capabilities were. They uncovered that Crowley could still do blessings and Aziraphale could do temptations. So long as they kept pulling power from their respective head offices, it didn't matter what type of miracle they did and no one in Heaven or Hell figured it out. This then caused them to also realize that if they were biologically similar enough to be able to do the same miracles, then odds were high that they actually wouldn't hurt one another if they had more expansive sex and they decided to try it. They're both still here so obviously the end result was nothing but wahoo. What else is suggestive of this besides the already mentioned scenes? This one, in 1941:

Excalibur. King Arthur's sword. Excalibur's Chest. The famous swords-in-the-box magic trick, on sale at Goldstone's in 1941. Swords are as much sexual metaphor as guns. Note what's between them in the magic shop in 1941 when they agree to perform The Bullet Catch together that night, after a performance by The Ladies of Camelot:

This is part of the reason why they also use performing miracles as innuendo-- besides the fact that there is just a lot of material there lol. It's because it took them 556 years after Rome but they happened into figuring out Heaven's big secret and it freed them to boff each other senseless for the last *maths* 1,426 years as of S2 lol so it's kind of irresistible. An example is Aziraphale in S2 with "the 25 Lazari miracle you and I performed together the other night" which is on the surface, sure, about the miracle they did together to protect Gabriel but which Aziraphale makes actually sound like what they got up to the other night, probably the one before Gabriel arrived. He's talking about Muriel there for the Gabriel miracle but he's saying it with a tone of: I suspect that the angel is here to verify the miracle that was Sunday night. I'd imagine alarm bells must have been ringing in Heaven constantly since. You and I raised the damn dead, old serpent...

The Bullet Catch. A sexual metaphor for both "firsts"-- 41 A.D./Rome and 597 A.D./Kingdom of Wessex-- mashed together because they were similar... but also a metaphor for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship overall.

The Bullet Catch requires them to trust one another and be vulnerable with one another. It's only possible because of how much they trust in and care for one another. Crowley's ability to fire the gun in a way that won't kill Aziraphale-- which Aziraphale is trusting him to do-- means that Crowley has to trust himself to do it. He has to believe himself capable of it and that he can relax enough to do it. He only believes this because Aziraphale believes it about him and makes him feel safe enough to focus. Aziraphale's trust in him allows Crowley to trust both himself and Aziraphale while Aziraphale's trust in Crowley allows him to let Crowley in enough to let him see his insecurities and be loved in spite of them, something Aziraphale's self-doubts and imposter syndrome keep him from doing with other people. Crowley knows he's imperfect and loves him madly anyway, something Aziraphale has trouble doing with himself and which no one else in Heaven ever has. Crowley's faith in and love for Aziraphale give Aziraphale the confidence to live more freely and feel like he's among the professional conjurers and not just on the outside of life. Their trust in one another helps them trust each other and that self-trust opens them up to experiences with each other that lead to ever-deepening trust of one another that lifts them both in a kind of feedback loop.

"Cheers for, um, getting me off the hook." Crowley thanking Aziraphale for helping him with the Mrs. H situation. He's more than aware that Aziraphale assisting with Crowley's broken alcohol bottles when alcohol = sex to them is more than a little metaphorical for their actual history and he chooses a fish reference as part of the thank you. "Cheers" is that British way of saying "thank you" but it's also obviously what people also say as a toast (which is also a word used to refer to warmed bread, which is also related to partnered sex in Ineffable Husbands Speak.) It's what Crowley actually says in 2019 at The Ritz at the end of S1 in the "Cheers. To the world." moment. Here, it's also a reference to the first time they did clink some glasses together in toast-- the "Salutaria" of ancient Rome. And what is this toast-y thank you of Crowley's for? For getting him off-- that is, for getting him "off the hook."

"Off the hook" refers to a caught fish being taken off the hook. It also became, over time, a phrase referring to communication, from the days of phones with cords. Leaving a phone "off the hook" meant that calls couldn't come through and communication couldn't be had. By 1941, the phrase would have roots in both origins and if we're talking about fish and telephones, we're talking about earlier in the evening in 1941 but we're also talking what it referenced to them symbolically about the past of their relationship. It is also absolutely why Aziraphale jumps on The Bullet Catch as his grand gesture once they get to the magic shop-- he sees a way to continue the metaphor that they're both more than aware of.

It also makes it a thousand times funnier then that poor Aziraphale essentially makes the same assumption about demonic life twice over a bazillion years apart. He thought The Bullet Catch would be a no-brainer, fun thing for them to do because he assumed that Crowley had fired a gun before, only to discover that this was now actually Rome all over again because while Aziraphale has a firearms license and a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop, this metaphor was suddenly way too on point because Crowley hasn't fired a gun with someone else around before-- in this case, at all, actually. His dry as all fuck "not as such" response to Aziraphale is well, we both know I've fired the metaphorical gun this rifle is standing in for here but yeah, no, I have no idea how to shoot this thing and I was going to miracle you safe and now those aren't working either so I have to do this for real and I'll just be over here trying not to have a panic attack...

Talking. Making sure the telephone is not off the hook is obviously always a good thing with everyone one trusts around them in life. In a relationship context, feeling safe enough to talk openly with your partner about things which make you feel vulnerable is the mark of a trust and what allows for deep intimacy. Talking in bed-- not just checking in with a partner but talking beyond that-- is a therapeutic intervention for anorgasmia, as it helps someone suffering from it to stay present in the moment. Tends to work in general but even more so if the person involved likes chat in bed as a whole, which a couple of scenes suggest Crowley does (the evolution of it into also some extra spicy chat in the "Seeds of Destruction" scene in S1 and his self-deprecating "you just say 'blah blah blah'" moment in S2.)

"We need to talk." What Crowley says in 1.01 when he calls Aziraphale from a corded public pay phone. This is the first time that Crowley and Aziraphale talk in the present, even if they're in separate locations, and the first time we've seen them interact since the opening scene of the show of them on the wall in Eden. We've spent the first part of the 2008 minisode re-introduced to them separately, not yet fully aware of how they were supposed to be together during it. Crowley doesn't wait until he's back in Mayfair after dropping off the antichrist baby-- he calls Aziraphale from the nearest payphone. He says "we need to talk", a phrase that is, for many, a relationship cliche that comes with a sense of the foreboding but we will learn from this scene also means other things to them.

For one thing, it's a code phrase that automatically triggers them to meet the next day at noon at St. James' Park. If one of them calls and says they "need to talk", they know that it means to meet the next day and when and where. This one they know a lot better than their four million alternative rendezvous spots, as we saw in that other scene in S1 when they set up meeting in the bandstand over the phone. Because it triggers St. James' Park, it means that the initial talk will be all coded in their hidden language, as that scene in 1.01 was, but that is also a form of communication for them and a kind that they actually enjoy.

For another thing, it means that they need to talk in general-- that something is happening and they need to talk about it, as was the case with Armageddon. At the time that they have this phone conversation, they don't yet know that one another already knows about Armageddon starting. We know from all the contextual clues we've already looked at here that they were supposed to be having dinner together earlier and that they also can't say that over the phone so when Aziraphale says: "Yes, I rather think we do. I assume this is about....?" there's a dryness to Aziraphale's tone because a form of talking was already on the menu. Sushi night is Rome and Rome had talking so, yeah, Aziraphale rather does think they need to talk-- to fuck-- and also Armageddon just started so they'll need to actually talk-talk about that as well at some point.

Crowley's response to what it's about, though, is destructive sexual metaphor. What do they need to talk about, on all levels, summed up by Crowley in a word?

"Armageddon." Armageddon: the actual end of the world and Armageddon: their big damn anniversary sex. The Big One. It's an apology of sorts for Hell detaining him and a request that they meet tomorrow.

The scene ends with Crowley placing the phone back on the hook-- indicative of understood, secure communication, the likes of which will be on display in the following scenes of the 2008 minisode.

Talking (in Ineffable Husbands Speak). Both verbal communication and physical communication. Talking means speaking. Talking also means making love.

"Trust me." What Aziraphale mouths at Crowley in 1941 to get him to be in the moment enough to be able to fire the gun. Absolutely one of the things Aziraphale said to Crowley to help him relax in Rome.

"I knew you'd come through for me. You always do."

Aziraphale pouring Crowley another glass of wine (and alcohol = sex) and the wordplay kink out here in full force as there are three levels of meaning happening at once. Surface level is about their success with The Bullet Catch earlier in the evening. Aziraphale knew Crowley would come through for him-- "come through" in the sense of he can always rely upon Crowley to be there for him when he needs him to be.

To "come through" something, though, is also to get through to the other side of something-- to have been able to pull through a difficult time or a struggle-- and refers to Crowley always coming out of dark periods and not giving up. But there's really also the third meaning, which is just the direct innuendo:

Some serious 'tone of voice' at play in this bit here performing a little magic trick and making that 'through' disappear right out of first sentence lol, turning it into: I knew you'd come for me. You always do.

Aziraphale's never going to stop being thrilled at their Roman triumph here and is still happy to remind Crowley in 1941 that they both know Aziraphale just does it for him.

"Well, you said 'trust me', so..."

Just prior to this, Aziraphale had been telling Crowley the magic words he silently said to keep the photo of them from Furfur (more fish-- "bananafish").

"Well, you said 'trust me'..." is Crowley saying "well, you said my magic words, so..." Aziraphale invoked Rome and talked to him so he got there.

"And you did." And Crowley did trust him, so it worked.

Aziraphale, though, is not just thinking about earlier that night in that moment in 1941 when he's staring off, reminiscing, before looking at Crowley like that...

...he's thinking about Rome.

"To drain the whole sea/Get something shiny..." Lyrics from Hozier's "Take Me to Church", pretty uniformly agreed as the most Crowley song that has ever Crowley songed, and which is on his official playlist in S2.

Pearls. The shiny things found in the sea. The jewels harvested from within the opened protective shell left behind by emerged oysters.

The original post referred to a bit in this one:

[mvltisstuff]

Evan Buckley x female reader - tsunami episode - they have been dating for 4 years and Buck has recently proposed, reader and Buck spend a day on the pier with Christopher but they soon get caught up in the tsunami. Reader gets injured badly (hit her head/unconscious/broken bones etc) and Buck struggles to find her and panics. Some hospital scenes with Buck and reader and 118.

angst, injuries(if ur comfortable too write about it), heartbreak, fluff 🫶🫶

waves - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

a/n: you guys always have such good ideas istg… so funny story i was gonna finish this last night but i was drunk so i couldn’t 😁

every time her eyes were forced open, y/n was faced with a new horror in front of her. the murky grey water full of debris scratching against her skin. the stinging salt water in her eyes and lips. the salt from the sea diving into her scrapes. the feeling that she was drowning and there was nothing she could do to stop it. the ocean has always been scary, but it’s never scarier than when you’re in the center of its wrath. she came up for air, only to take one deep breath before being forced under the surface again. she’s a good swimmer. she knows she can swim, but no one prepares you for a wave from hell in swimming lessons.

y/n and buck had taken christopher out for the day, trying to get buck more involved after his accident. they went to the pier, the arcades, anything that christopher suggested they did.

they were supposed to go to the movies. to see a film, but the only thing they saw now was pure calamity in front of them.

she didn’t think buck could take much more pain and uncertainty in this world. he’s the toughest man, but even the toughest soldiers can fall. y/n’s concern for him had peaked. his life felt empty when he didn’t have y/n or the 118. he loved working more than anything, saving people ended up saving him.

he knew y/n before she even started working at the 118. they had been in the same training program, and y/n was eventually transferred to los angeles. buck was so fond of y/n. he loved her more than anyone, which frightened him but also made him filled with electricity. she was alluring, talented, and the sweetest person he’s ever known. she showed him love when he needed it.

so, the ring was in his apartment, shining in one of the hidden compartments in his closet. he was certainly prepared to whip it out and spend the rest of his days next to y/n, but then, a kid with some bombs took over. the engine was on top of buck before he could take a breath, and all his plans to propose were thrown away. it was now or never, he thought, laying on the stretcher. he’d switched from gut-wrenching wails to a solid “marry me.”

now, y/n looked for buck wherever, but the shore had become one with the whole city. the pier was gone, and she didn’t know if buck and chris were too.

she was being shoved across the water, her body being smacked with incoming debris. her head made contact with a slab of concrete that the wave had taken up. after, she’d made contact with another piece that sliced through the side of her abdomen, leaving a clean gash that was releasing a spill of blood. before she knew it, the the water was cold, but she started to feel warmer by the minute. the water around her started turning red, and her face became paler as she accepted her fate. she wanted buck to be there to save her. she wanted to be able to save herself, but the aggression of the water made it near impossible. she allowed her frail body to wash up on top of a white delivery truck, laying there with her maroon blood smeared on the top of the truck.

she was transformed into survival mode, thinking of anything she would be able to do without killing herself even more. she was able to reach for a piece of sopping fabric, pressing it securely against her belly where the massive slash was. there was nothing to be done for her head as the damage had already been done. she’d be damned if this tsunami killed her, but as long as she knew buck was out there, she was going to fight like hell.

buck felt completely lost. he was settled on top of a fire engine, christopher being cradled in his arms as they faced the disaster together. they were the only two people on bucks mind, y/n and christopher. at least he knew where christopher was, but he was separated from his fiancé the moment the wave flooded the pier.

buck tried to stay positive, he really did. but, seeing all the bodies float past limply brought his spirits down. he knew that he would be okay, but the woman who’s the center of his universe could be dead. buck thought nothing could hurt more than his accident. on the contrary, the thoughts in his head during these moments of his life hurt more than any physical pain he’s experienced.

buck stayed silent, not wanting to scare christopher but the boy had his own questions. “how come y/n is gone?”

“she, um, she got lost in one of the waves, pal,” buck mumbles, trying to contain himself from completely breaking down. “we’ll find her when this is over, alright?” buck wishes he had a more firm answer, but there is nothing in this environment that is stable. no one knows a single thing that could or couldn’t happen.

suddenly, everything turned to nightmare fuel. christopher had fallen, and was swept away by the harsh flow. buck screamed his name, jumping in after him and searching for him anywhere. he swore his heart stopped, watching the exhausted boy fall into the unknown pit of water. everything had become a blur to buck. he didn’t even care about anyone else as long as christopher went home to eddie, and y/n went home with him.

bucks heart fell with eddie’s face as their reunited with each other at the hospital. he was carrying the weight of two missing people, feeling like it was only his fault. he wanted y/n there so bad, he so badly wanted her to hold him and say it’ll all work out in the end. y/n was gone, and buck had no fucking clue because now, she could be anywhere. he loves her more than anything on this planet, and a wave can’t change that.

buck continued to notice the shallow breathing of eddie, the pure horror on his face as he might’ve lost the person he adores most. there’s no pain like losing a child, and buck could never live with himself if he didn’t save christopher. alas, when eddie’s eyes directed to behind bucks cut and dirty body, he saw his son wrapped up in a warming blanket. buck felt like complete shit.

he knew he saved christopher, and he was thrilled beyond words. but where was y/n? he had to know. the sun had already set and if she wasn’t found, she was probably dead. the word rang through bucks brain, repeating itself over and over like a monster under the bed. she’s the best thing that ever happened to him, and he never guessed that it would shoot him in the foot until now.

“buck!” bobby yelled, beginning to walk over with hen and chimney as eddie sprinted to his little boy. “hey, what’s wrong, kid?”

buck could barely formulate words, the heaving in his chest was too strong to hold anything else. he panted while spitting out y/n’s name. “i cant find her, guys i tried so hard but we just got separated so fast-“

“alright, buck hang in there,” hen says, placing her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to ease him. “we’re going to look around, ok?” buck nods, knowing that this isn’t easy for them either. y/n was the light at the station, being able to cure a bad day and always making every glad to be at work. she made it the best experience, and she became their best friend outside of work too. they’d lose a coworker, but they’d lose a member of their family above all else.

buck storms around the parking lot in the triage areas, desperately begging them for her name. “do you have a y/n here? y/l/n? ive been to all of the other ones and if she’s not here i don’t know what to do.”

“she’s not on my list, sir. i’m so sorry, but have you checked the black tents?” the sad woman asks, acknowledging the tarp that was decked with body bags. buck stared at them, like they became the only thing in the world.

“i- i cant-“ buck breathes, turning around to break the contact.

“i know, you’re ok, buck,” hen speaks, as buck falls into her arms, his knees barely holding any support of his body. he tries to match henrietta’s breathing, her comforting voice soothing his ears. he tried to ignore everything around him, but the aggressive sirens of another ambulance and the lights illuminated the teams faces.

he watched as the two paramedics opened the doors, revealing another on next to a womans body, squeezing the air into her lungs with the bag. buck knows. he sees her damp hair on the stretcher, the hair loves and admired every day. he sees her crimson-stained outfit, the one he complimented her on this morning. lastly, he sees her beautiful face, the face he could never forget. he wants to sprint over to her, but his feet are planted on the ground. he has no more fight left to give, and he lets himself fall to the ground in exhaustion.

the next time his eyes peel open again, buck is sitting behind a curtain, an oxygen mask around his head and a bottle of water being handed to him. “drink this,” bobby demands.

“thanks,” buck replies.

“don’t thank me. you did great work out there today, buck. i’m proud of you.”

“thank you, cap,” buck twists the cap off, starting to take sips of the water. “please tell me i wasn’t dreaming when i saw y/n.”

“you weren’t. she’s in surgery now. she had a pretty nasty laceration on her head, and an even worse one on her abdomen. they’re thinking it hit her appendix, so they’re going in to take it out before it causes more harm than good. they did a few test on her as well,” buck hisses at bobby’s words, not wanting to hear anymore but needing to know. he didn’t know if it was good or bad, but he had to know. “she has a severe concussion. she’ll probably be disoriented and confused when she wakes up, and surely in pain. buck, hey,” bobby notices the man starting to zone out. she’s still hurt, and it’s not enough for buck. he wishes he could put a force field around her, wanting to take the force of anything that might hurt her. knowing that this out of the ordinary thing almost took her life pains him beyond injury.

“s-sorry,” buck whispers. “i want to see her when she’s out of surgery.”

“you can, but i need you to know that it’s going to look bad. she’s going to be intubated and definitely banged up. you have to know that she’s going to be ok. so, say it,” bobby tells him.

“what?”

“say she’s going to be ok.”

buck gives him a confused look, trying to contain the waves of his own tears as he utters the words out. “she’s going to be ok,” before he knows it, the dam breaks and bobby’s hugging buck, comforting him from the emotions that have taken over.

the minute buck gets the confirmation to see his girl, he’s passionately walking down the hallway of the ICU, scanning the rooms for the only one he cares about. scarily, bobby was right. it looked bad. she had cuts through her cheeks and her shoulders, even passing through her eyebrows and forehead. she had a thick bandage around her abdomen, protecting the incisions on her stomach. the lights were dimmed, protecting her eyes from hurting her head even more. the tube down her throat was a haunting sight for buck to see, realizing that she could barely do it on her own.

he sat in the chair next to her, anxious to even graze her hand. he just watched her chest rise slowly and sink down again, next to the hissing of the machine. and he stayed there. he couldn’t bring himself to leave her side again. he lost her once, it wasn’t happening again. so, buck sat next to her until her anesthesia wore off. some people might’ve thought he was a statue, the way he didn’t rip his eyes off of her.

the doctors came in a while later when y/n started breathing over her tube. she was still sleeping, but she was breathing on her own. buck knew she could, he knew this wouldn’t be the thing to take them apart. the worlds had it’s go at trying to separate buck and y/n, but it never works. until death do them part, literally. buck looked at the ring on her finger, almost forgetting that they’re planning a wedding. he’d been given the ring from the nurse, who took it off before her scans. he was the first one to put it on her finger, so he did it again.

the 118 had piled into her room, eddie bringing christopher to his tías house to spend time with her. he came back when he heard about y/n. buck just saved the life of his son, and y/n saved bucks life before he even knew it. the entire team knew it. they needed her to be ok, or work would truly never be the same.

she’d worn off the anesthesia a few hours later, looking at her family surrounding her.

“hey, baby,” buck smiles, still dressed in his muddy clothes. “i know it hurts, it’s ok.”

“what happened?” she asks, rasp in her voice.

“there was a tsunami, y/n. it got you pretty good, too,” bobby added, standing at the edge of her bed. “you fought that pretty good, y/n. they said it was pretty ugly when they found you.”

“yeah, i remember,” she squints. “but why am i here? shouldn’t i be at work soon?” buck gives his captain a confused look.

“she’s just confused, buck. it’s the concussion, don’t worry about that,” eddie whispers behind buck into his ear.

“do you remember seeing anyone or anything?” hen asks.

“i remember being scared, for buck and c-christopher. i thought they were dead for a little, and i thought i was next. but i couldnt just drop there and give up on them.”

buck noticed her exhaustion, from the pain medicine and just the stress of her disorientation. “you should get more sleep, honey. you’re gonna need it.”

“bucks right. we can come back to see you tomorrow, y/n,” hen stands. “we love you, y/n. you did good.”

“you’re tough, y/n, you’ll be alright,” chimney adds, patting her hand and starts to clear out of the room.

“don’t go, buck,” y/n says, grabbing his hand with her eyes shut tightly.

“i’m not going anywhere, y/n/n. you’re stuck with me,” buck tells her, leaving a kiss on her hand and he sees the corner of her lips rise with it.

[deadsnothere]

Gunslinger Girl! pt.2

Synopsis - After getting a call from Garp, Alias made her way to the Baratie for a nice bite to eat and a long needed reunion.

Part 1

WARNINGS!! - READER HAS A NAME!!

Request - no, not taking them.

Word count - 2.5k

Speak Ali! - Both parts together make 5,340 words, it's evolved my brain man.

I saw this ending many ways. Deep diving for Luffy was one of the many.

I unclipped my gun holster so they fell right off my shorts and dove in after Luffy as soon as Arlong was out of my sight. Water made him lighter so it wasn't hard to get the hefty boy back onto land, with help of Usopp and Sanji of course. I hated it, watching him cough up water and choke like he did. I wanted to find the largest ice bullet known to man and put it in that stupid man's skull. Luffy Spoke, even if it was weakly. “Where's Nami?” Usopp spoke next. “She’s gone. She’s a member of Arlong's crew.” He gave up trying to stay up and just laid there. “No. She can't be.” Usopp was sitting with his legs open, arms resting on his knees, Sanji stood on his knees, and I was sitting on my left thigh beside luffy taking my button up shirt off all the way (the texture of the wet clothes on my body made me want to scream.) and grabbing my guns from their holsters to insure they were ok.

The Baratie’s ship bell rang. As everything slowly went quiet, nothing but me and Luffy's heavy breathing filling the thick sea air.

–

I was introduced to a sleeping man named Zoro. At that point both me and Luffy's clothes had dried, so we weren't dripping on him. I said hello, introduced myself and decided I was hungry so I walked out of the room to get something to eat. This is one of the only times I was sure Luffy wouldn't follow me to the kitchen. I knew he wouldn't follow because he doesn't eat when he's feeling guilty. Once he didn't eat dinner with Dadan because he felt bad for accidentally punching me in the face with his gum gum power but he felt better after we talked about it and he ate almost everything in the house that night. Me and Sanji had a lovely conversation, he's a bit of a perv but he's a gentleman so he definitely gets my respect, especially with those fighting moves i saw earlier.

“So how did a beauty like you meet him?” Sanji was chopping up some beef he brought from the Baratie. He asked if I wanted anything and I kindly asked for beef stew, because everything is better with stew, or soup! I was swirling some of the Marlot from the bottle I bought earlier around in a different wine glass. “Me and Luffy grew up together, he was a careless idiot. I think most of the time we spent together was me patching him up after he would fall from a tree or something.” He could tell the thought made me happy by how a smile drew across my lips in a thin line. It was subtle but those smiles were always the most feelingful ones. He nodded along with me laughing at my words. “And how did you become a warlord of the sea?” I clicked my tongue and laughed softly. “Now that is a long story for a different day. How did you become a cook?” He stopped what he was doing momentrally and looked me in the eye. “I was picked up by a cruise ship, the cooks took me in and taught me everything I know.” He continued to cook. “Except for the stuff the old bag taught me.” I laughed at the name and finally took a sip of my wine. “Well they did an excellent job teaching you.” I winked at him and he just laughed back.

I took both pistols out of their holsters and set them carefully on the table. “Where are your guns from, they look familiar.” I smiled and reached for one of them, holding it in my hand carefully. “Their names are Alice and The White Rabbit, both of them are Dual-barreled, they're quite sleek, I've always thought it was important to keep your best companions clean. They were given to me by an old friend I still hold close to my heart.” I set the gun back down and smiled at the cook as he poured some veggies into the pot. "One was named after her, and the other after her clean fluffy friend. We had a beautiful friendship, if only it hadn't ended so soon.” There was a morbid but soft feeling in the air. We both hadn’t been telling the complete truth but we really didn't care, we would tell eventually, either with the rest of the crew or not. The rest of the time spent cooking was silent, right until the end. When he was finished stirring the pot.

“So how long have you been in love with Luffy?” I spit the wine out of my mouth, my hand reaching up to wipe it off my chin. “W-What-” He held a smirk on his face as he lit up a cigarette he got from the pack in his pocket. “You don't look at him like your friends, and no one normal starts to physically shake when they see someone.” I winced slightly at the mention. Standing up from where I sat. “There are..certain things about me and Luffy that are platonic..and there are some that aren't. I've spent the last ten years of my life trying to figure out what he feels for me. And I'm telling you Sanji, it's not love.” I sighed and finished the little wine I did have left in the glass. I met face to face with Sanji a little ways away from the island, I reached up slightly and kissed his cheek, winking at him over my shoulder as I walked out of the kitchen. “Luffy’s a hard man to read, but I like a challenge.”

I walked over to the room with the loud voice effects and talking, walking into a conversation. “You scared ‘um off, huh?” It made me laugh, that is definitely not what I remember happening. Usopp agreed. “The Great Captain Usopp.” I was leaning on the door frame watching the once sleeping man talk from afar. “Yeah.” I smiled, it was sweet. “That is not what I remember happening.” Luffy looked back at me with a wide smile on his face, his hands starting to shake as he tackled me. “Luff!” The wind was knocked out of me as the rubber man was standing above me. “ALIAS!” he just looked so excited i couldn't bear being mad at him. “Hi Luffy.” His grin continued to spread, and I couldn't help but smile right back. His smile was like my drug, it filled my body to the top with joy, made me want to start giggling like a schoolgirl in love with her best friend. Which is what I practically was.

Luffy left a kiss on my cheek and I left a kiss on his forehead. “How have you been? I see you took to the pirate life well.” He laughed loudly and sat in the middle of the hallways in his own manor. His legs laid on the floor and his hands held the heels of his feet in them. “Yeah! you ready to join my crew now!” My face scrunched up when he said it. “Luffy- you know it's not a good idea-” He interrupted me anyway. “I don't wanna hear that, we made a promise.” I sighed softly and placed a hand on his cheek. “Luffy it's dangerous- Not only will you have the Marines after you because you're a pirate but you’ll be harboring-” He put a hand over my mouth, a fight of who can stop themselves from shaking longest.

I could feel Luffy's body start to tremble underneath my hand on his cheek. but at the exact same moment I started to shake, the callousness on his hand felt like mini kisses on my lips making a shiver go down my back. Which means I lost. I sighed softly as I took my hand off his cheek and my face started to turn red. Luffy had a smile on his face, knowing he won. “I don't care who comes after you, we made a promise. You need to keep your end.” He stood up off the floor and put his hand out for me to grab. My hand went up to his almost by routine but I didn't grab it just yet. “I would be putting you and your entire crew in so much danger..” He grabbed my hand, clasping it tightly. “We’ve been through worse-”

I unclasped our hands and jumped up to hug him. All he did was laugh and pull me up, his arms wrapped around me in his warm luffy way, I could feel his curly hair on my head and his warm hands holding my waist. When we pulled back from the hug, I swiped the hat from his head. “Well- Captain.” His face lit up like a light bulb and his hands started to shake. “I hope you're ready to set sail!” I walked back into the room. Both boys trying to act like they weren't listening in to the conversation happening very close to them.

Usopp looked between both of us and finally spoke. “So uh…are you two?-” I laughed as I took the hat off my head and placed it back on Luffys. Just ignoring the question. “Nice to meet you Zoro, I mean- awake this time.” He looked at me but closed his eyes right after. “Yeah the captain over there said he was waiting for you, Kept talking about you so much I almost thought you weren't real.” I looked over to Luffy, the little glint in my eye causing his hands to shake. Usopp patted Luffy's back, when the flustered boy looked down to the floor. All I could do was smile and answer back. “That's Captain for ya..” Luffy looked back up at me as I said it. There was a flirty tone in my voice but I think the other two were trying to give us a moment. “So I hear you're a gunslinger..and a warlord?” I nodded softly, looking over to usopp who i'm assuming told him. “Uh yeah..You know how it is- World's Youngest Warlord of the Sea..” I trailed off as I finished the sentence.

“How did you get that title at fourteen?” I sighed again, all three boys were staring at me with such intent in their eyes and ears. “I was kidnapped by the world government…They held me captive for years but when I turned fourteen they allowed me my own assigned pirate crew and just a bit of freedom if I did their dirty work.” Luffy hated that story, he always said. “I was stupid as a kid, I should've protected you.” and I said, “You were 9, if you tried to beat up those Marines they would’ve thrown you into a seawater tank.” It always made Luffy pout but it doesn't matter, it was the truth (And his pout is really cute).

Zoro looked like he was calculating that story in his head, trying to figure out the pieces. Usopp on the other hand looked confused. “Why didn’t you just run?” I laughed, it was a genuine laugh, nothing fake or out of anger. “I did, I ran- and ran. and ran. but no matter how far you run there's always going to be someone to catch you.” I sat down on a chair not too far away. “I once joined a pirate crew..i stayed on that crew for a year and that's how i got my name, but no matter what the government will always be back to get me.” Usopp let out a little ‘Oh.’ before Zoro finally spoke up. “So you're joining our crew?” I looked up at him, then glanced over to Luffy, who was waiting for my answer. “Yeah, if anyone has the best chance of keeping me hidden, I guess it's my oldest friend.” I winked at Luffy and Usopp did a little fist pump in the air, Zoro on the other hand was just laughing.

“So what do we do now?” Usopp was looking between all three of us, his gaze constantly going back and forth. “Plot a course for the grandline?” Luffy looked conflicted but also completely sure of himself. “Nope.” Now Usopp was the one conflicted. “But I thought we were going after the one piece.” Luffy looked so sure of himself, he was always confident and ready. “We are.” He looked down at Zoro and me, and then back up at Usopp. “But we can't do it without our whole crew. First..” He brought his straw hat back onto his head, now that it was dry it looked much better on him. “We’re going after Nami..” He had a small accent to his voice, it came from where we grew up. I was sad when mine had disappeared after being away for so long.

–

“Lot of dried meat in these barrels.” Both me and Usopp were bringing Barrels over from the Baratie for the adventure over to nami’s island and farther. “You think we brought too much?” The only difference was Usopp was sweating and carrying half as much as me. As I let the barrels drop on the ground, both me and Zoro spoke up at the same moment. “You know who you're sailing with?” Luffy was climbing the roping. “Yeah..”

The small moment made me laugh, instead of dwelling on it I continued along to grab the final three barrels from the baratie, but I was interrupted by sanji, who caught me gracefully when I fell into him after tripping on a loose board in the pier. “Heard you guys need a cook.” Sanji was still holding me close. “YEAH!” Luffy yelled, Sanji helped me stand up straight and I thanked him and looked up at the idiot who looks like he's gonna fall in excitement. “Yes, we do!” It was quick moving from then on. We finished supplying the ship, and quickly made sure to get out to sea in time. I was the ship's temporary navigator, but I would love to learn more from Nami if she agrees to join.

–

Usopp made his way down the stairs of the ship standing near Zoro who was sitting on the stairs behind him. “So we’re…we're going after Nami, but how are we gonna find her?” Zoro spoke up next. “Yeah, we don't even know where she is.” Luffy who was standing on the top floor of the ship said “I know someone who does.” Making all four of us confused and a bit conflicted about our decisions to join him. Everyone got up from their seats or made their way to follow him into the kitchen. When we got into the kitchen luffy was unveiling a clown head on the table, he was spitting out the sand from the bag that he was complaining about earlier. Buggy looked overly happy to see us, his smile wide. “Hello boys! and Misses Cat over there!” I rolled my eyes at the stupid name he’d given me. While Luffy looked so proud of himself.

@otaku-degenarate

[faesdreaming]

Yandere Namor Headcanon

an: I’ll work on requests I swear, I’ve just been obsessed with this man

tw: yandere themes, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever Spoilers, stalking, overprotective behaviour, kidnapping, captivity, ooc

•Namor, a child without love as he’d been cursed, did not have it within his heart to love another. His love lay with his people. That was until he happened upon you. An inquisitive human who was investigating the legend of K'uk'ulkan. At first, he’d planned to kill you as he did with all others that had come to find him ans Talokan. However, your intentions, unlike the others, was honourable. You only visited out of curiosity, and acted respectfully towards the land and the people of the village. Namor began to observe you. He watched you from afar as you continued to search for him, for any signs for him. He never let you catch on though.

•Frustrated by your fruitless efforts, you decided to leave in resignation. Despite hiding himself from you, Namor wasn’t prepared for you to go. He’d spent so much time watching you that he grew obsessed. He was completely enamoured with you, with your mannerisms, your habits, your laugh, your smile, everything about you. You were a pure being. The cruel surface world was undeserving of you. So, the day you were meant to leave, you visited the beach one last time as a sort of nostalgic end visit. That’s when you saw him, emerging out of the water. You stood there, stunned. Here before you was K'uk'ulkan in all his glory. And he was glorious. He must’ve been the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen. The silence between you two grew as you eyes raked him over, taking him in. Slowly, he moved towards you, then he uttered your name. That single utterance of your name caused your insides to double over, twisting and turning.

“K'uk'ulkan,” you whispered in awe, eyes widened. Smiling, he corrected you, “Namor. You’ve been searching for me.”

Still in awe, you nodded slowly. “You wish to see it, do you not? My home,” asked Namor, outstretching his hand in an unspoken offer. He was inviting you, a mere human, to see his home. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you cautiously took his hand. He pressed a mask to your face and before you could register what was happening, you were being pulled under the water.

•Namor took you to an underwater cave where you didn’t need a mask. This is where you’d be staying, he told you. You didn’t pay any thought towards his ominous tone, too absorbed with the mesmerizing beauty of the cave. Namor then showed you to a high-tech deep-sea diving suit. Once you were suited up, Namor showed you Talokan. The underwater city was ethereal. You marvelled at the sights and the people, all who received you warmly. Namor’s heart swelled watching you interact with his people as if they were your own, well they would be soon.

•You enjoyed your time at Talokan. All your needs and wants were met. You adored spending time with the people, especially the children. However, eventually, the novelty wore off and you grew homesick. You tried to bring it up with Namor but he would either change the course of the conversation or just blow you off entirely. This dodgy behaviour worked up your irritation until it finally spilled over.

“Namor!” you called out. Namor turned around, his face set in an adoring smile. “I need to talk to you.”

“What is it? Is there anything you need?” He asked sweetly.

“I want to leave, and don’t try changing the subject. I love it here in Talokan, but this isn’t my home. I have a home, a life back on the surface that I need to return too,” you said, pleadingly.

Something in Namor’s eyes changed, and he titled his head in confusion. Then, he laughed. “Darling, tell me, what did you expect to happen once you accepted my hand. Did you believe that Talokan has remained hidden for so long through allowing people free range?”

Your heart rate quickened, and you stuttered, trying to formulate a response. You hadn’t thought of the future consequences, lost in the thought of experiencing the myths you’d studied for so long first hand. Chuckling, Namor closed the distance between you two and cupped your face with his hands. “Worry not, beloved. Talokan shall offer you far more than the surface world ever could.”

[zapreportsblog]

The Volturi kings meeting reader who is a deep sea mermaid and is just amazed because she didn’t know there was more than just the dark ocean she lived in

❝curiosity killed the cat or mermaid in this case❞

✭ pairing : volturi kings x mermaid reader

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) is what’s known as a mermaid, an mythical creature that humans believed to be made up fairytale stories. Her clan always warned her to never wander to close to the oceans surface for bad things happen to mermaids who do, if only she had listened.

✭ authors note : I already pre wrote this story in my head from when I seen this request :) the first twilight masterlist got filled up so I made another

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) was a mermaid unlike any other in her clan. While her fellow merfolk were content with their deep-sea existence, she had an insatiable curiosity about the world above the ocean's surface. The shimmering sunlight that filtered down from the top always fascinated her, casting dancing patterns of light in the depths where she lived.

However, (Y/N) had been warned time and time again by her clan about the dangers that lurked near the surface. They spoke of mysterious creatures that roamed the shallows, perilous storms that could send a mermaid spiraling into the abyss, and humans who were relentless in their pursuit of the underwater world.

Despite the warnings, her desire to explore the surface world only grew stronger with each passing day. She spent her free moments studying the patterns of light, listening to the songs of seagulls above, and dreaming of what lay beyond the boundary that separated her from the surface.

One fateful day, her curiosity became too powerful to resist. She decided to venture closer to the surface than she ever had before, her heart pounding with excitement and trepidation. She swam upwards, her tail gliding effortlessly through the water, until she found herself dangerously close to the surface.

As she breached the water's edge and her head broke through to the surface, (Y/N) marveled at the world above. The sensation of the sun warming her skin was unlike anything she had ever experienced. The world was different up here—vast, open, and filled with colors she had never seen in her underwater realm.

But her joy was short-lived. Just as she was about to dive back down to the safety of her underwater home, a sudden, painful tug on her tail sent shockwaves of fear through her. She struggled against an unseen force, but it was too late. (Y/N) had been captured in a fishing net.

Panicking, she thrashed and twisted in the net's grasp, but it held her firmly. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized the gravity of her situation. She had ventured too close to the surface, and now she was at the mercy of whatever creature had ensnared her.

As the moon hung high in the night sky, casting an eerie glow over the Volturi's ancient castle, Ronaldo, the traveling Norman vampire, stood before the imposing gates, seeking an audience with the Volturi leaders. His request had been granted, and now he wheeled a large, water-filled tank into the dimly lit chamber where the Volturi convened.

The room was shrouded in shadows, and the Volturi leaders, Aro, Caius, and Marcus, sat upon their thrones, their crimson eyes piercing the darkness. (Y/N), curled up in the tank, shimmered like a moonlit pearl in the dim light, her beauty and strangeness taking the Volturi by surprise.

Aro, the most enigmatic of the three leaders, leaned forward, his eyes fixated on the captive mermaid. "What do we have here?" he inquired, his voice dripping with curiosity.

Ronaldo, ever the salesman, grinned and began to recount the legends of mermaids from human lore. He spoke of their captivating beauty, their ethereal songs that lured sailors to their doom, and the countless tales of their existence. His storytelling skills were as smooth as his negotiations, and he had the Volturi leaders captivated.

"What is it you desire in exchange for this extraordinary creature?" Aro asked, his gaze never leaving (Y/N).

Ronaldo's eyes gleamed with a mixture of desperation and cunning. "My freedom," he replied without hesitation. "I know you have been hunting me for my past transgressions against your kind. I will hand over the mermaid to you in exchange for my release."

Aro's fingers steepled in thought as he considered the offer. He was intrigued by the prospect of possessing such a rare and mystical creature, and Ronaldo's freedom seemed a small price to pay. "Very well," he agreed. "We have a deal."

Ronaldo breathed a sigh of relief, his gamble having paid off. He knew that his own fate had been hanging by a thread, and the mermaid had become his lifeline.

Once the transaction was completed, Ronaldo left the chamber, the tank left ominously behind him. Unbeknownst to him, Aro had no intention of letting him escape unscathed. The Volturi had their reputation to uphold, and no one defied them without consequences.

After Ronaldo had left the castle, Aro gave a sinister smile. He turned to his loyal guards, Demetri and Felix, and issued a chilling command. "Follow him. Ensure he doesn't make it far. Oh and make sure Ronaldo does not survive his very unfortunate…accident.”

With unwavering obedience, Demetri and Felix departed, their dark forms disappearing into the night as they set out to fulfill Aro's orders, leaving the fate of Ronaldo and the mermaid hanging in the balance.

As the realization dawned that (Y/N) was scared, Marcus, the most taciturn of the Volturi leaders, spoke up, his voice carrying a hint of empathy. "She's terrified," he observed, his eyes focused on the mermaid's curled-up form in the tank.

Aro, however, was not one to be deterred by fear. He was determined to have the mermaid as part of his collection, and her fear was an obstacle he intended to overcome. "Fear won't do," he declared, his voice commanding.

With a flick of his hand, he summoned some of the lowly guards that stood nearby. "Fix up the garden," Aro ordered them. "Prepare a suitable place for our new acquisition."

The guards hurriedly obeyed, scurrying to the Volturi's garden. There, they prepared a large, elegantly designed pond, its waters reflecting the pale moonlight. Once the garden was to Aro's satisfaction, they wheeled the tank containing (Y/N) to the pond's edge and carefully lowered it in.

As soon as the tank was submerged in the saltwater pond, (Y/N) sensed her opportunity for escape. She wasted no time and swiftly swam out of the tank, her lithe form disappearing into the depths of the pond. Her mermaid instincts guided her, and she found solace in the cool, familiar embrace of the saltwater.

Aro, not one to be outwitted, addressed (Y/N) directly, his thoughts projecting into her mind. "Dear mermaid, I mean you no harm. We merely seek your company and your unique presence." His words were accompanied by a sensation of reassurance and curiosity.

But (Y/N) was not easily swayed. Her instincts and her fear of the unknown prevailed. She refused to heed Aro's words, choosing to stay hidden at the pond's bottom, her tail camouflaged among the aquatic plants.

Aro's efforts to cloak her presence and win her trust proved fruitless, and he could only watch as the enigmatic mermaid remained hidden from sight, her secrets and her destiny her own to protect.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) found herself settled in the Volturi's garden, beneath the moonlit sky, surrounded by the grandeur of the ancient castle. The kings of the Volturi had made it a habit to visit her, each with their own approach to her peculiar presence.

Aro, ever the strategist, was persistent in his attempts to communicate with her. He visited the pond regularly, his thoughts reaching out to her. "Dear mermaid," he would say, "I am genuinely curious about your kind. Do you have a name?"

However, (Y/N) remained steadfast in her silence. Her oceanic gaze remained fixed on the pond's depths, her secrets guarded by her enigmatic presence.

Caius, on the other hand, was a man of few words. He would visit the pond and simply stare at her for hours. His crimson eyes bore into her, and she could feel the weight of his scrutiny. There was an intensity about him that sent shivers down her spine, but he never spoke a word to her.

It was Marcus, the third and often overlooked leader of the Volturi, who approached (Y/N) in a different manner. He would sit quietly nearby, bringing books from his extensive library. He read out loud to her, his deep voice resonating through the garden.

The books he chose were tales of ancient love and legends of the sea, and he read them with a melancholic grace. He didn't ask questions or seek answers, but his presence was a soothing one. It was as if he understood the mermaid's need for companionship, even if it was only in the form of his voice.

As the nights passed, (Y/N) grew accustomed to the routine of her existence within the Volturi's garden. The vampire kings' visits were as mysterious as they were intriguing, and the ancient castle held more secrets than she could fathom. Yet, she remained a silent enigma, her presence a source of fascination and curiosity for the Volturi leaders.

A month had passed since (Y/N) had been captured by the Volturi, and her time in their garden had settled into a peculiar rhythm. She had grown accustomed to the vampire kings' visits, and although she remained mostly silent, their presence had become a strange sort of companionship.

On this particular evening, as Marcus sat beside the pond with a book in his hands, (Y/N) decided to break her silence. The book in question was an archaeology tome, filled with intricate details about ancient civilizations and their mysterious ruins.

Curiosity had finally gotten the best of her, and she swam up to the surface of the pond, her azure eyes fixed on Marcus. "What is that book about?" she asked, her voice a melodious echo.

Marcus turned to her, his eyes holding a hint of surprise. It was the first time she had spoken in his presence. "It's a book about archaeology," he replied in his deep, soothing voice. "It delves into the mysteries of ancient civilizations and their remarkable ruins."

Intrigued, (Y/N) pressed further. "Tell me more," she urged.

With a nod, Marcus closed the book and set it aside. "This book, in particular, discusses the Mayan ruins of the Holy Land. The Mayans were a fascinating civilization, known for their advanced knowledge of astronomy, mathematics, and intricate city planning."

As he spoke, (Y/N) listened with rapt attention, her curiosity piqued by the wealth of knowledge Marcus possessed. The world of the surface, so distant and unknown to her, seemed to hold countless wonders waiting to be explored, and the vampire's words painted vivid images in her mind.

For the first time since her capture, (Y/N) felt a spark of connection, not just to the vampire before her, but to the world above the surface, a world of ancient civilizations and untold stories waiting to be discovered.

The next day, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Aro paid his customary visit to the garden. He approached the pond with his usual air of intrigue, expecting the same silent presence from the mermaid.

But as he drew near, (Y/N) surprised him by speaking. Her voice was soft and tinged with a hint of curiosity. "You are back," she said, her eyes fixed on him.

Aro, taken aback by her words, responded in kind, "And you are speaking."

They sat in a brief, somewhat awkward silence, both processing the unexpected turn of events. Aro's fascination with the mermaid had only grown since her arrival, and now her ability to communicate added another layer of intrigue.

After a moment, (Y/N) felt compelled to break the silence once more. She hesitated for a moment before finally revealing, "My name is (Y/N)."

Aro's crimson eyes studied her, a faint smile touching his lips as he absorbed this newfound information. "It is a pleasure to finally know your name, (Y/N)," he replied.

But before any further conversation could unfold, (Y/N) suddenly felt a wave of shyness wash over her. Without another word, she swung her tail and gracefully slipped beneath the surface of the pond, disappearing into the depths once more, leaving Aro alone by the water's edge, pondering the enigma that was the mermaid named (Y/N).

As the moonlight cast a silvery glow over the Volturi's garden, (Y/N) found herself seated on a large rock by the pond. Her mermaid tail glistened as she meticulously cleaned it, her slender fingers running through the scales with care.

Caius, drawn by his usual fascination with the mysterious mermaid, had come to watch her again. He approached her quietly, his crimson eyes fixed on her as he observed her delicate task. But this time, a pressing question weighed on his mind.

"How did you get captured by a coward like Ronaldo?" Caius asked, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and disdain.

(Y/N) paused in her task, her gaze shifting to meet Caius's piercing stare. She took a deep breath before answering, "My clan has always warned us not to venture too close to the surface. But my curiosity got the best of me, and I swam higher than I should have. That's when Ronaldo captured me."

Caius listened intently to her explanation, his features impassive. He, too, had a sense of disdain for Ronaldo, but he was more interested in understanding (Y/N)'s perspective.

"Do you ever miss your clan?" he asked, the question surprisingly gentle.

(Y/N) nodded, her eyes momentarily clouded with sadness. "Every day," she admitted softly. "I miss the deep ocean and the songs of my kin."

Caius, for all his coldness, seemed to sense the depth of her longing. He didn't press further but simply nodded in understanding. With that, he turned and left the garden, leaving (Y/N) to her quiet contemplation by the pond, as the mysteries of her past and her future continued to intertwine with the enigmatic world of the Volturi.

[floralembarrassment]

Could you write jealous Remus and Regulus? Like James and Sirius are being hit on and they get jealous (I love your writing sm and i have literally spent the past hour reading your fics)

hello! you are so kind. I like this request alot so I hope you enjoy it too! ps. I see all of you - but it does make me laugh when I see someone doing a deep dive on this blog. with love

Gorgeous (1/1) (jegulus)

Regulus’s jaw is clenched. The hand in his pocket is a fist, his other gripping the drink in it. His eyes starring daggers across the bar. He was seething, and his cheeks weren’t hot because of the alcohol. His boiling blood was urging him to push his was through a sweaty dance floor over the bar. 

His feet remained planted to the floor because he knew James. James was his sun, a force that let him float and search the universe, but somehow kept him tethered exactly where he was supposed to be. 

If Regulus strutted his way over to the bar, over to his love, it wouldn’t be to catch James’ eyes roaming, it would be to step on the heart of the person flirting with him. Because James was absolutely, completely oblivious. 

James was waiting to order drinks, talking kindly to the person trying to get into his pants. Regulus couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he watched James be himself, charming but a bit spacey. Regulus was only able to sip his drink when James looked away from the person, and smiled at the bartender while he ordered. But when James looked away, and the other person’s eyes roamed the room catching Regulus’ gaze. They gave Regulus a dirty look, that spurred Regulus to move before his brain made any choice. 

He was wearing dark pants that fell off his hips, a structure broad shoulder tank top that was cut just at his naval. His hair was bouncing softly but edgy around his face, dark curls against pale glistening skin. His eyes darkened with sharp eyeliner staring straight ahead at James. 

Every head turned to watch him cross the floor. 

As the sea of people parted, James’ eyes found Regulus the moment he was next to him. James arms opening easily to wrap around Regulus’ waist, and his lips quickly kissing Regulus’ temple. 

“Hey gorgeous,” he called into his ear. “Shouldn’t be long, but thank you for coming to help.” James was hopelessly in love and Regulus couldn’t help the smug smile that curved up his face as the light went out of the eyes of the person standing in front of James. 

Regulus raised an eyebrow at them. To some a challenge, but from Regulus, with James wrapped around him, it wasn’t even a question. 

The other person opened their mouth, but at least they were smart enough to close it, and just turn and walk away. 

James turned Regulus in his arms, hands gripping his waist. Dark eyes finding dark eyes. Regulus’ smugness still playing in his, and James’ love sparkling in his. 

James leaned in and kissed Regulus, lips pressing against supple lips. And when James pulled away Regulus chased him. 

“You’re so hot when you’re jealous,” James whispered. 

Regulus’ eyes opened wide and blush flushed his face. James loved Regulus, so much that he was oblivious to everyone and anyone else. But Regulus was just as gone for him, happy and sucked into the universe that is James.

[tenjikyu]

𝘥𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘬 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 - 𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘴𝘬𝘪 - 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ extremely fluffy , male!reader throughout the entire series.

PART Il • PART IV • GENSHIN M. LIST

tag list - @wanderchive @wanderer-baizhu-simp @gimmealamp @mis-disaster @remi-appalance @lucianidealz @sleepdeprivedpotato @unemiart @heejinsong @kiiyoooo @sweett-heartzz @camryn-ciel67 @aruaruru @danika-redgrave124 @ravencalamity @snowcatlove @bunbunboysworld @kaoyamamegami @aphxdea @faesfaggotboyfriend @avatsufaust @danika-redgrave124 @red1sg0n3 @idolautism @sleepndacloud @squishyboo @ally674 @totallynotanagent

life in fontaine was quite different to what you had expected, however you surmised that it was due to the fact that you spent most of your days around… interesting… characters.

on one hand, you had some clingy little magician hanging off your arm and treating you as if he was your big brother wherever you went, which only reminded you of a certain redhead back in the day.

on another hand, you had a classy lady who wore a gorgous gold dress and was possibly one of the most glammed up people you’ve ever seen, who insists on dragging you around with her, taking you to all sorts of little shops and cafés. when questioned why she does this, she only smiles, saying how you seemed lonely and needed a friendly face that wasn’t bursting you eardrums with enthusiasm constantly.

having an absent female role throughout your childhood, you slowly began to cling to navia. from the moment you requested the both of you go on a little snack date, she was your official big sister!

with all these eccentric people in your life with seemingly no limit on their social battery, you find yourself overly exhausted almost every evening.

this all changed when a humble and shy diver boy swam into your story.

after about a month of living within the walls of fontaine, you soon come to realise you never formally introduced yourself to lyney’s younger brother, who was absent the first time you ever met the twins.

from what you could recall, freminet was a reserved yet somewhat stoic character. from what lynette had separately told you, he was easily flustered and a bit difficult to talk to. for awhile, you just accepted the fact you might not ever even meet the boy as you had never ACTUALLY seen him out and about.

until the day you decided you’d explore the waters.

like many people in fontaine, you too were curious and mesmerised about the beauty of the sea. the shimmering blue waves blended into the prismatic pinks of the seabed. an assortment of colours could be seen from the top of the ocean and you just had to know what lay beneath the surface.

so, like every normal people would do, you grabbed some overglamified water-gear (NOT diving gear), and hopped straight into the ocean. you were a fairly strong swimmer so you had no issues going under, you weren’t planning on diving deep into water ravines and ocean monuments after all.

looking at all the ocean had to offer you, your eyes glimmered in an almsot spellbound way. the ocean was hypnotic, an almsot angelic tune could be deciphered as you swam further.

going down a little, you see something almost glowing? just beneath the sand. as you go to pick it up, you then realise it wasn’t an object, but a flower. you then recalled what lyney had told you about certain flowers of fontaine.

a little giddy, you go to pick one for yourself before someone else appears in your vision. a boy wearing a diving helmet moves directly upwards from where you were, also in shock in the fact that somebody else was present.

the flower was sitting off the edge of a ravine, and so a body coming flying from the depths of it was quite a sight to behold.

the two of you stare at eachother, before you begin your ascend to the surface, needing to get some air.

you notice the figure swimming up next to you, and decide it’s worth it to learn who this mysterious diver truly is. divers aren’t uncommon in fontaine for obvious reasons, so when you make it on land you didn’t expect the one to take off the helmet to be the youngest brother of the magicians.

“hello, my name is freminet”. he speaks, almost robotically. still a bit startled, you go to speak.

“nice to meet you freminet, my name is (y/n), it’s a pleasure to meet you”.

silence.

“so, um.. do you like the ocean?” the boy asks, a small blush coating his pale cheeks.

“that was the first time i’ve ever touched the waters of fontaine”. you reply rather formally, going back into rich boy mode.

“oh! cool..” he plays with his fingers.

more silence.

you two suck at talking.

from that moment forward (after the very awkward first meeting), freminet was attached to your hip. he followed you around everywhere, and his company didn’t seem to bother you whatsoever. you were one of the first people, who wasn’t one of his siblings, to tolerate his inability to hold a decent conversation, and freminet cherished that part of you,

on the other hand, you liked how freminet didn’t make you feel as though you needed to talk with him constantly to keep the newly formed friendship in tow. the two of you could sit on a bench for hours, barley conversate, however the atmosphere never differed from comfortable.

in a way, you were each others peace.

“hello again (y/n)! are you here to once more whisk my little brother away on a little date?” lyney asks, winking as he spoke. it wasn’t rare you came to collect the boy if you had something to do, and vise versa if freminet wanted some company while he worked.

you only rolled your eyes at the blonde, flicking his forehead (to which he winced slightly) before making yourself at home. by this point your migration to fontaine was close to hitting the 4 month mark, and in that time the trio of the hearth became almost family to you.

that also means waltzing into each others homes unannounced.

i’m not joking by the way, once you came home to lynette stuffing her face with a cake you bought earlier that day with lyney knocked out on your lounge. and you know what you did? ate the rest of the cake with lynette (you twos secret till this day) and markered all over lyneys face before taking a nap yourselves.

anyways, you made yourself at home before asking lynette where freminet was. she smiled to herself knowingly before directing you to the boys bedroom.

as you entered, a truly charming scene before you unfolded itself.

freminet was fast asleep on his bed, pers sitting on his nightstand. freminet had a book cuddled into his chest, his little snores filled the room.

smiling to yourself, you go to collect the book from his grasp, worried the edges might hurt him in his sleep, before something truly taken out of a romance novel happened.

instead, freminet grabbed your sleeve and yanked you down towards him. you always knew he was a clingy sleeper, having shared a DOUBLE BED with him beforehand, however freminet had a SINGLE BED.

in schock, you look at his peaceful face that was still dead asleep, before giggling to yourself.

you successfully take the book from his grasp and put it on the floor. then you look up to the ceiling. the artwork of sea creatures and hanging bubbles from his roof was truly a mesmerising sight, his entire bedroom being themed off the ocean. everything about him drawer you in more and more.

you failed to realise that the ‘more and more’ was now directly next to you, clinging onto your chest. for the 100th time this day, you heart skipped a beat as the diver cuddled himself next to you.

‘fuck it’ you say to yourself, grabbing him gently by the waist and adjusting him so he was on your chest sideways, with you flat on your back with one arm around him.

‘you know, i think i could get used to this’. you think to yourself once more.

you didn’t know at the time, but the tune you assumed to be in your head was actually outside freminet bedroom window, being strung gently by a lyre. the figure of the person could not be seen to those passing by, but if you looked close enough..

you’d notice a jade green bard smiling to himself, an instrument of pure melodies resting upon his fingertips.