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pennjammin · 18 days

Text

p is for p*ssy 🐈‍⬛

JJK HALLOWEEN!! getoxreader

sum it up ❥ suguru is cursed to turn into a cat by nightfall, and you are a lonely witch who takes advantage of his human parts during the day.

CONTENT: shapeshifter!geto, modernau, swan lake adaptation, fluffy, soft, praise kink, virgin!reader, unprotected, creampie, overstim, nudity unrelated to sex

word count. 8k

song inspo 💿: west savannah ft. sza

A/N:

to conclude my beloved Halloween jjk series, i am giving our bby geto the soft love story he deserves. everything about this fic is gentle from the conversations to the smut and so, it may be boring and out of some of your interest range, so i apologize. this is just something i wanted to do. ofc it’s still a little *nasty* just not rough.

The moon kisses your skin as you sink into the small pond in your front yard.

With no neighbors for miles, you're able to do so without clothes, letting your body recharge in moon water, drenching your hair and skin.

Your practices may appear silly, but that is why you live like a recluse, your only friends being the wildlife and the riverbed. No one around to judge you as you splash your bare shoulders in the cool water.

You lean back in the pond, arms balanced on the wet earth around you. You stare up at the stars. Your eyes begin to flutter closed, until you hear rustling.

Not uncommon. Of course there's wild animals all around you, and you usually welcome them. With it being dark though, you have to be a bit more cautious.

You open your eyes and turn, scoping the scenery. At first, you don’t spot anything until you hear rustling again. Your eyes follow the noise, then you see that walking along the bushes near your porch is a fuzzy, black ball. You cannot quite make out what it is until you squint and see bright purple, slitted eyes staring at you.

It's a cat.

You gasp in excitement and pull yourself out of the water. The cat scurries around the corner of your porch and you frown, but you know how you can get it to come back.

In all your bare skin, you bolt inside the house, dripping water, and begin to scour your fridge for the tuna you had very recently made.

The real reason you live so far from society is because you are not quite an ordinary human. You see, any food that you cook heals the person who eats it. You first discovered this when your brother had busted open his head as a child, and you'd made him a sandwich out of sympathy. Hours later there was not so much as a scar in the place he'd been bleeding out of.

And ever since, when your parents weren't looking, you and your brother would beat yourselves up just to test your powers. He remains the only person who knows about them.

With this ability, you figure the stray cat could use a bit of healing. You fix the tuna into a small bowl, a soft shimmer coming from the fish.

You walk back outside, still stark naked. You don't see the cat anymore but you can hear it in the bushes. You squat down and place the bowl on the grass, just under the awning of your wooden porch, and then you back away.

“Here, kitty kitty,” you coo.

Moments later, the skinny cat emerges, glancing up at you to see if you intend harm. You back away farther and soon, it dips its head and begins eating the food.

Within minutes, the patchy fur around its ears begins to fill in, the mats disappear, and the crust around its purple eyes dissolves.

You smile to yourself. You've only had to use your healing technique on yourself in the past years, so you weren’t entirely sure how powerful they still were. This confirms you’re still fully capable.

The cat would go on to disappear, but for the next couple of months, you’d search for it outside, both day and night. It only ever appeared at night, though, and only about twice a week. Sometimes less.

“Why hello, kitty,” you’d say when seeing the cat, and it would regard you with a mew, but it would never quite come close enough to touch.

A week passed, for the first time in months, and there was pure silence. No sign of the cat. You found yourself rocking on a chair on your porch, waiting, and it didn’t come for an entire seven days.

Until a full moon-bathing night.

The cat returns, completely different in appearance and nearly a brand new animal. It's belly is thick with nutrition, ears sharp and full, tail furry and active.

And to your complete surprise, the cat approaches you in the pond.

You jump with surprise, and turn around to face the cat, putting your hand out of the water. It sits down next to the water and watches you intensely.

You don't move for a moment, afraid to scare it off. But after several beats, it nudges your wet hand and you rub your palm across its back.

You jolt with the realization that you have earned its trust.

"Welcome back," you say softly, moving your hand to scritch its chin. "I wish I knew what you were. A boy or girl. So I can name you. Right now, your name is 'here, kitty kitty.'"

The cat's ears twitch as it rolls onto its side and licks its paw.

"Oh well," you shrug. "Kitty will have to do for now. Anyway," you shake your head, realizing you are trying to hold a conversation with a cat. "Where have you been, naughty cat? I was worried about you.”

The issue with you holding a conversation with the cat is that it seems to be listening. It looks up at you with a slow blink and mews.

You smile. “It’s okay. Just missed you, is all.” You take a deep breath. “It’s chilly tonight, kitty. You sure you don’t want to stay with me? I have a warm bed.” You rub your hand along its side and it begins to purr.

Perhaps that is a yes.

It leaves your hand and skips to the porch where it then sprints towards the front door, turning to face you expectantly.

You huff and then pull yourself up out of the water, your body soaked and dripping as you reach for your dry cloth and begin to wrap it around yourself as you walk towards the feline, who is staring at you.

When you make it onto your wooden porch, you smile down at the feline and pull open your storm door, stepping inside as the cat follows.

It glances around, nose twitching, taking in this new and intimidating space.

“I would have made you your own space if I’d known you were coming,” you say, continuing to talk to the cat like it would really respond.

It was much to hope for, but you hadn’t had a conversation with anyone in years.

You lead it off to your bedroom and push open the door.

"I don't mind if you sleep with me," you say kindly, but now it appears that the cat is back to not understanding you, as it goes into the bathroom and looks around - then back to the living room, before ultimately nestling in on your couch.

You sigh as you follow it around with a smile.

"Fine, make yourself at home.” You walk over to scratch the cat on its head. “If you see any mice, feel free to take care of it for me. I will see you in the morning.”

Okay, so maybe you have lost it. A lonely, weird witch who's speaking to animals that cannot understand you. But at least you have a companion now, something to help you be a little less lonely.

Maybe.

You go into your room and change into warm pajamas, then settle into bed that night with a smile on your face. You poor thing, having no idea what you'd gotten yourself into.

The sun peeks through the window the next morning, and gently pulls you out of your sleep.

The first thing on your mind is that you have to feed your new pet. Even though it looks well fed thanks to your magic, it has been a week since you'd seen it last, so you aren’t sure if it has eaten in that time.

You rub your eyes free of sleep and grab a comb in order to gently work the sleep-knots out of your hair. You emerge from your bedroom to head to the kitchen.

Halfway down the hall, you hear snoring and you freeze. Is the little cat really that loud of a sleeper?

You peer around the corner and, you don't see the feline anywhere. But then your eyes travel to the couch, where you’d seen it last.

Your eyes land on very human toes, then they slither up a very bare human calf, then over a bare muscular thigh, and up a bare human chest, until they land on a human face - surrounded by a wild pool of ebony hair.

Your shriek jerks the individual awake.

You take your comb and hold it out in defense, but you know realistically there is no violence in your body.

"Oh, shit," he shouts, scrambling to stand off of the couch and raising his hands. "I-I thought you would sleep a bit longer."

"Who the hell are you?" you shriek, your trembling hand keeping the comb up in defense.

"I'm..." he swallows and looks down, appearing to realize that he is stark naked, but makes no effort to hide himself. "You invited me in," he continues, voice accusing. "Here, kitty kitty. Remember?"

You blink in disbelief. Your eyes trail over his black hair, then his purple eyes, the slits in them now blown to full size. He's not lying. There is no denying the eyes.

"B-But how are you human?" you whisper.

He sighs sadly, dropping his hands. "I have a curse." He scratches his head and you wonder when is the last time he's taken a bath that wasn’t with his own tongue. "I apologize, as I never intended for you to find out."

You think back to your time with the cat. He’d seen you naked a couple of times, for long periods at that. And he’d secretly been a man the whole time. Even though he stood naked in front of you now, as well, you're more embarrassed than you are upset with him.

"It's okay," you say softly, lowering the comb.

He blinks at you in disbelief but his shoulders visibly relax.

"I considered telling you sooner but, I didn’t want to scare you.” He sighs and interlocks his fingers. "But I always wanted to thank you for healing me.”

You nod slowly. "It was my pleasure.” You pause for a moment. "What is your real name?”

"It is Geto," he says.

"Odd name for a cat," you say, teasing. "I'm Y/N."

Geto nods. “Lovely, well, I'm sorry for the intrusion. I'll go now." He turns to leave and your heart stops.

"What?" you blink at him. "N-No, you don't have to do that."

"Well, don't you think I'm some kind of freak?" he questions. "Aren't you upset I didn't reveal the truth sooner?"

"No, and yes," you say softly. "I wish you would have told me because…” because it is a dream come true that you’re a human, you want to say. “Because who am I to judge you?”

Geto clicks his tongue. “People judge all the time even if they have no right to.”

“I am a witch who lives by herself in the woods and talks to animals, for God’s sake,” you throw your hands up. “Clearly, I needed someone real to talk to.”

“I’m sorry,” Geto says, swiping a hand down his face.

You take a deep breath. “No, I’m sorry, that was uncalled for.” You lower your hands. “How long will you be human?"

"Only until dusk," Geto explains.

"And this happens, everyday, without fail?" you question, taking a step towards him, trying not to allow your eyes to wander.

"Yes," he says, raising an eyebrow, hands flying up in defense. "Forgive me, but I am naked. I don't think-"

"Do you know how long I've been without companionship, kitty?" you ask, putting your hands on your head. "I enjoyed taking care of you, feeling like I kind of had a pet, anticipating your return. I don’t want you to leave so soon.”

Geto bites his lip, "Really? I... I enjoyed coming to see you, too. Especially on nights you moonbathe."

You quirk your brow. "Is that so?" That much was obvious, as you think about the previous night when he had come and sat next to you while you were in the water.

Geto nods sheepishly, keeping his eyes averted. “So, this means I can... stay with you?"

You nod happily, "Of course. How long have you been out there like this? With no where to go?"

Geto shrugs his shoulders. "My life before getting cursed is pretty fuzzy. The days and nights have blended together.”

“And you are always naked?” you snicker.

Geto chokes a bit and uses his hands to hide that part of himself, which you’d been trying not to look at and failing miserably.

“Um, I wasn’t at first,” he admits, “but my clothes became ripped to shreds and I just accepted defeat. If I am wearing something before nightfall, by morning when I am human again, I will be in the same clothes.”

“Oh, fantastic,” you say with a smile.

Geto opens his mouth to respond, but with a snap of your finger, his body is covered in a black sweater, shorts and warm socks - as you are well aware of your cottage’s autumn chill.

"Clever witch," Geto nods in approval. "Thank you. I don't deserve this kindness."

But he does, you think. A man cursed to be something as small and vulnerable as a cat, forced to defend for himself all this time.

And to top it off, as a person he is gentle and kind. You feel your heart palpitate. You aren’t sure what that could mean.

“You’re welcome,” you say, and gesture towards the kitchen. “I was going to make breakfast. Now that you’re human, would you care for pancakes?”

"I have never had pancakes," Geto admits. "But anything you make is delicious, so I’d love to try some.”

And so, you both end up at your small wooden table - a perfect fit for just the two of you as the sun beams in through the arched windows. You've poured strawberry syrup all over Geto's stack of cakes, and he is devouring them with full cheeks and a bright smile.

"I love pancakes," he mutters out. "Your food gets better every time.”

You nod at him with a smile. "Just wait till I make dinner. I know you will be a cat again, but I think you will enjoy it.”

Geto's eyes roll in pleasure, "I already can't wait."

You know your food has physical healing abilities, but you've never known it to seep deep enough to affect your thoughts and emotions. So, this means the odd twinge in your heart whenever you look at Geto must not be from the food. You wonder if he is feeling the same effect.

"So, have you ever tried to break your curse?" you question, shoving another syrupy mouthful into your cheeks.

"No," Geto mumbles sadly. "I used to sit under the sun for many hours, and then when the sun began to go down I'd close my eyes and try to fight the change. But when I'd open my eyes again, there would always be paws looking back at me. I'm used to it now, I live my life around it.” He sighs before smiling softly at you. “And, well, my curse brought me to you, didn't it?"

You feel your face warm at his kind words. They weren’t helping the fuzziness in your ribcage.

"It did," you confirm with a smile. "Well, I was prepared to give you your own little cat room. The offer still stands, but I don’t think the room will be big enough for you in human form.” You tap your fingers nervously on the table. “So… um, you are welcome to share my bed with-with me.”

Geto gasps a bit and nearly chokes on his bite of pancake. "Hmm, I don’t mind, but are you going to wake me up every morning threatening to hit me with a comb?"

You grin, "No, especially since I think it will be nice to wake up to the warmth of another person every day."

"I think so too," Geto says softly, before attempting another bite only to realize he has cleared his plate. "My, my, little witch. You have spoiled me."

He elbows you playfully and you feel your stupid, lonely heart filling to the brim with some new emotion.

"I do think you could stand a bath before you get in my bed, though," you say with a playful smile.

"Oh, right," Geto nods, pink creeping up on his cheeks. "I will do so right after breakfast."

And he did. You had gone outside to tend to your garden while he washed, to see if your vegetables were ready to be harvested yet. They weren't.

Geto joins you in the same outfit as before but now, there are droplets of water falling off of his deep black hair. He walks under the porch awning to the side where you are waving your sparkling fingers over your crops.

"I feel much better," Geto stretches as if he were still feline and leans on the porch railing, looking down at you. "A good meal, a good shower, and a place to live all in one day."

You look up at him. "Well, after so long in the wilderness, I think you deserve it, kitty."

Geto bows his head in gratitude. "At least let me take care of your garden, to... repay you."

"Why do you need to repay me?" you question, astonished.

"Well, nothing in this life comes for free," Geto mutters somberly. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have this curse."

You shake your head, "Well, I already told you that I desire companionship. You are giving me that, so it isn’t technically free."

Geto swallows. "But what is companionship? Just my presence? Or is it engaging and fulfilling conversations and time spent together?"

"All of the above, it may be different depending on the day," you explain.

Geto ponders for a moment. "So, what is it you would like today?"

You smile at him, the sun beaming in your eyes, while Geto remains shadowed under the awning. "Your presence."

And when dusk fell, like clockwork, Geto was back on all fours; a small, vulnerable ball of fur.

You prepare a quick dinner, which Geto slurps up to the last bite, and then you are ready to go to bed - just because you know that the sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up to be with human Geto again.

You go into your room, preparing for bed, and he follows you this time. You step behind your closet door to change into a silk nightdress and then, you climb into bed, and Geto hops up next to you. You fluff your pillows and blankets to make a little spot for him, and he curls into it before nestling his head into your side.

Your hand mindlessly strokes his fluffy back until he's purring in his sleep, and not long after, you float away with him.

The next morning, something solid digging into your back awakes you from your peaceful dreams.

You blink open your eyes and see that it is grey outside, combined with the soft tip tap of raindrops on your roof. You smile, it's going to be a lazy day indoors.

When you attempt to roll over, you notice Geto's hand is splayed on your stomach. A moment later you realize: his entire arm is wrapped around you. But that's not exactly what's bothering you, it's whatever is digging into you from behind.

You carefully roll over in Geto's arm. When your face aligns with his, you see he's still sound asleep, messy hair covering his cheeks and forehead. His lips are parted as he snores.

The something is now digging into your stomach. You glance down and find the culprit: the large tent in his shorts. You gasp at the sight. Does Geto realize this is happening to him?

Of course you know what sex is, but being outcasted at such a young age, you'd never experienced it. You certainly don’t know how it affects boys. Over the years you'd experimented with your body, though, so you knew how to please yourself. But what would it be like with another person?

You wonder if the case is the same for Geto. There’s only one way to find out.

You shake him awake with a soft press on his shoulder.

His eyelids flutter open, and the first thing he does when he sees you is smile.

"Good morning, beautiful," he grumbles sleepily, hand flying up and off of your body to rub his gorgeous purple eyes.

You smile goofily, and feel the urge to cover your face.

"Hi," you whisper. "How did you sleep?"

Geto yawns, stretching. "I slept better than I have in years. You’re very warm and soft."

You smile harder, heat filling your cheeks. "I cannot say the same for you."

Geto raises a brow. "Am I a rough sleeper?"

"No, I just mean," you bite your lip and shyly point towards his groin.

Geto's eyes follow yours and then his face turns equally as red. "Oh, shit, I-"

"Don't apologize," you say quickly. "In fact, um, I was going to ask if... if you wanted help f-fixing it."

Geto's eyes widen in disbelief. "What do you... I mean, you want to...?”

"Yes." Your answer is quick and desperate.

"Well then," Geto scratches his head and then puts his soft palm on the side of your face. "I said I would be here to offer whatever type of companionship you desired day to day. Today, this is what you really want?"

"Mhmm," you whisper, leaning into his touch. "Do you want to?”

“Of course,” he smiles. “I mean, my body kind of already answered for me, hm?”

You giggle, “Kiss me, then.”

Geto nods politely before leaning his face in, softly planting his feathery lips on top of yours. Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign contact. It feels like sparks of electricity are zipping through your veins. Like stars forming together in a constellation. You wonder if this is what soulmates are supposed to feel like.

Geto's lips part your own and his tongue drags slowly across your bottom lip, leading the kiss, as you are clearly the lesser experienced of the two of you.

A small moan falls from your mouth and your eyes pop open in embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you say, pulling away.

"For what?" Geto questions, rubbing your cheek slowly with his thumb.

"I didn't mean to make that noise," you whisper.

"No, it’s okay," Geto explains. "Those noises let me know what I'm doing is good, that you like it. Have you never done this before?"

You shake your head, biting your lip.

"That's okay, I'm here to guide you through it," he nods reassuringly, and then, drops his hand from your face.

He gently pushes on your shoulder and you are now laying flat on your back. He then props himself up on his elbow and slides part of his body between your legs.

"Just follow my lead, and tell me if you want me to stop at any time," he instructs, pushing a piece of your messy morning hair away from your face.

You nod trustingly, and he crashes his lips back onto yours.

This time, he's harsh and desperate. He cocks his head to the side so that your faces fit together and smacks his full lips against yours. Your hands fly up to hold him at his shoulder blades, and his body begins doing a winding motion against yours. You feel his hard length pressing into your stomach with every bit of movement.

You purr softly into his mouth and he responds with his own sultry noise, which alights a flame between your legs. You’ve read about this in books, but no amount of words compared to what it actually feels like, to have another person on top of you.

Geto's hand slides up the side of your left thigh, before stopping to hold your hip underneath the fabric of your nightdress.

His touch and kisses are so soft and pure. He is speaking to you without saying a word.

"Y/N," he mutters against your mouth before breaking away from you. "Is it okay if I take these off?"

His finger tugs the band of your panties and releases it against your skin with a soft pop.

"Yes," you breathe, digging your fingers into the material of his shirt, which earns a deep sigh from his throat.

Not a second more and he's lifting his hips up in order to rip the material down your legs. His eyes linger on them before he tosses them to the floor. You feel yourself become a bit shy, even though he's seen your naked body in full before. It's entirely different when his very human eyes are raking over your body, and his hands are hiking up the nightdress to get a better look at your bare hips and thighs.

"You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen," Geto whispers, pushing your leg up and out, so that you feel the cold air hitting you at the meeting of your thighs.

You blush and slide your hands into his soft hair. “I’m sorry, I’m just shy.”

“Understandably so,” he says, planting a kiss to your jaw. “But remember, I’ve already seen everything. God, it’s so much different to actually touch you.”

You nod and gasp as his hand moves to hover over your cunt, that had been getting wetter by the second.

You can feel the presence of his hand without him even making physical contact, and you nearly buck your hips to break the gap.

“So touch me,” you hum, desperately ready to experience pleasure that wasn’t self-inflicted.

"Okay, eager angel," Geto smiles. "Ready?"

You bite your lip, "What are you going to do?”

He chuckles, "Just getting you warmed up for now, okay? You don’t have to do anything for this part.”

You nod up at him, trusting, and then in another silky breath his fingers come down on your clit - without even searching for it. Your body has no choice but to spasm against his, as his soft fingers begin to slide across your bud like a bow on a violin.

He circles the spot and you cry out instantly, lips still dangerously close to his, but not quite touching. His own lips are parted as he burns his eyes into your face, watching the different ways your pleasure manifests in your features.

"Hngh - Geto," you murmur, your fingers now curling into the roots of his hair.

"Mhmm," Geto sighs back, planting his lips on yours again, this time shoving his wet tongue into your mouth and using it to suck on yours.

You writhe against his touch, unsure how you'd survived this long without this kind of pleasure. It seems Geto had been waiting his entire life to do this, he's so good at it.

You start to roll your hips against his hand and his fingers pick up pace, circling faster, your moans getting louder.

"Pretty girl," Geto praises, after pulling his mouth away from yours. "That feel good?"

You can do nothing but nod desperately, wanting to tell him that the pace he's at right now is perfect, that you feel heat bubbling in your pelvis, but the words won't come.

His fingers are coated in your juice now, he slides them down your folds and back up to your clit, and you almost lose your mind.

Then, his fingers go back down and his long middle finger pushes into your entrance the same way you put your own before. Although, his hand is much larger, and thus his finger fills you so much better.

Your head falls back deeper into the pillows and Geto takes the opportunity to pepper sloppy kisses all over your neck and collar, holding his mouth at times just to make you squirm.

His finger pumps shamelessly in and out of you, going knuckle deep, curling into the squishy roof of your pussy. You feel your hips pulling back from him but he follows you with his wrist.

“Just relax,” he purrs. “Let me make you feel good, repay you for all you’ve done for me.”

You nod obediently and allow your wet inner muscles to relax around him, and he notices, giving you a warm “that’s it” in your ear.

“T-Thank you,” you rasp, pulling his head to your face by his hair.

Your noses touch as you share breath, his hips dry-grinding into yours as his finger harasses your cunt. His pace quickens then slows. He takes note of the way you get louder and nearly burst into tears when he pushes a second finger inside, and begins slamming both members in, his palm hitting your wet clit with each stroke.

“Oh, angel,” Geto coos, “can already tell you’re gonna gonna do so good for me. Huh? Aren’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you hiss. “I-I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Good to hear,” he rasps against your mouth before giving you a needy kiss.

He repeats his quick, deep pumping with his wrist until an unholy wave rumbles through your nerves and your body shakes against him - moaning wildly into his mouth. The rain on the roof begins to fall harder and nearly drowns out your noise.

“Ah - ah, shit,” you whimper as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“Yes, pretty girl, you got it,” he praises, catching your moans in his mouth as your thighs shake and your back twitches on and off of the mattress.

"Mmh - so wet," he adds, pulling out his fingers and tapping them together; revealing a clear, sticky string of secretion between them.

You blink in disbelief, had you done that?

What happens next nearly makes your soul shatter. Geto brings the two fingers to his lips and licks them clean, purple eyes watching you every second that he does so.

He releases his fingers from his mouth with a pop! and plants a kiss on your nose.

"Now, you're all ready," he says with a satisfactory nod. "It's been a really long time since I've done this; I'm glad that it's going to be with you."

You smile up at him, legs still twitching as your clit tries to come down from your high. “You’re so good at it,” you quiver. “‘M glad y’gonna be my first.”

“Maybe even your last,” he says, soft enough you fear that you may have imagined it.

You drop your hands from his hair and slide them down over his sweater collar and instead change the subject. "Aren’t people usually naked for this?"

Geto grins, "Yes, my bad. I'm used to already being naked."

You giggle as he parts his body from yours, only for a second, then he slides his shirt off his body and shakes his hair loose, before discarding the garment to a random corner of the room.

Your hands immediately find his bare, chiseled skin. Albeit soft, the muscles underneath are rigid, and he's covered in tiny white scars that paint a small piece of his entire portrait.

His eyes don't leave you as his hands move to pull your nightdress over your head. Now the two of you lay topless, skin to skin, the only thing separating you being his shorts.

His hand glides mindlessly down your side, resting on your hip. "Just breathtaking," he murmurs, planting a kiss to the crook between your shoulder and neck.

You shake your head. "That's all you. Whoever cursed you must have known that seeing your beauty all twenty-four hours a day would be too much for the world to handle."

Geto cracks a laugh, his eyes crinkling with genuine adoration and happiness.

He doesn’t say another word before he tugs down his shorts, and they join the growing pile of clothes on your bedroom floor. Now he’s back to laying gently between your legs, careful not to crush you with his weight.

Your eyes widen as his length pops out, smacking his abdomen before falling forward from how much it appears to weigh. You’d seen it the day before, of course, but it hadn’t been… erect. You are amazed at the sheer difference in size, and quite frankly intimidated.

“What’s wrong?” Geto wonders, lifting your chin to look at him.

“Th-that’s gonna fit inside of me?” you ask, blinking out of embarrassment.

Geto nods slightly, “Yes, believe me, angel. You can take it, it’s not as scary as it looks.”

You stretch your knees apart so they aren't digging into his sides, and you feel that hard part of him brush against your cunt.

A small gasp flies from your mouth, as your body shudders, and Geto calmly relaxes you with his soft hands massaging your sides, burying his face in your neck.

“A-Are you sure?” you ask.

"I’m gonna need you to kiss me, and focus on breathing, okay?" He speaks against the skin on your neck before planting a kiss to your jaw, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

"Okay, I can do that," you nod nervously, wrapping your arms his neck.

He sits up a bit to stare at you, faces barely inches apart. The rain still patters against the roof mercilessly in the background, occasional thunder claps landing in the distance, mirroring the thump of your heart in your ribcage.

His hand that isn't being used to hold himself up is sliding between your legs, where he grips his cock, then begins sliding it on your slick, lathering himself up.

Your back comes a bit off of the mattress, stomach sliding against his torso.

“Hngh - oh," you mumble, and Geto cuts you off with a peck.

"Don't tense up, angel," he mutters against you. "Hold on to me, don't let go."

You nod against his lips, still shuddering. He taps the surprisingly heavy head on your clit, his wetness and yours creating a smack! noise.

“Tell me you’re ready,” he requests as he takes the tip of his cock and presses it at your entrance, not applying pressure yet.

“I’m ready, Geto,” you say desperately.

As much as you are scared, you’re also ready to feel him, to please him. To be as close as two humans can possibly be.

"Deep breath," he whispers, dipping his face.

You lift your chin to grab his mouth and bite down on his bottom lip as he pushes past your gummy threshold, feeling as your walls mold to the shape of his cock and swallow him up.

You try to keep your eyes open just to see the way his own roll to the back of his head as he pushes in, but the burning at your core makes your eyes squint shut as your nails dig into his back.

“Sh-shit,” he grumbles against your bite, as his hand jerks to find something to grip on, ultimately settling for the pillow next to your head.

“G-Geto, it-” hurts, feels good, burns, is exhilarating. All of these things are entering your mind as he enters you.

He gets about halfway deep and you feel yourself clenching around him, trying to relax, but it’s hard when it’s scary and a bit painful. It’s not the first time something has been inside of you, but this feeling is raw and unique, and he’s so much bigger than anything you’d ever put in there.

He pauses for a moment and you release his mouth from your teeth so that he can prop up on his elbow, and he looks down at you in amazement.

“Doing amazing so far, beautiful,” he praises, placing his palm on your cheek and stroking away the stray tear that is falling from your eye. “How do you feel?”

You nod your head, unsure for a moment if you can speak. “G-Good. J-Just trying to adjust.”

“It’s okay, take your time,” he plants a kiss to your earlobe before whispering, “let me know when you want me to keep going.”

You keep your hands on his back, then slide them down his arms, before dropping them behind your head.

Geto glances up, then takes his own hands up the side of your body and your arms before meeting his hands with yours and linking your fingers together.

You sigh against this touch. He’s no longer hovering over you and you are chest to chest, erect nipples brushing his chest. He buries his face in your neck and awaits your command.

“Go,” you whisper softly, and he does not hesitate to grind his hips further into yours.

Now, his cock is filling you from wall to wall, entrance to cervix. Your legs are shaking on either side of him as you stretch, ecstasy consuming you and making your brain turn to mush.

Geto’s wet mouth smacks sloppy kisses all over your neck as he pulls his hips back to begin his rhythmic stroking.

You arch against him and cry out.

“Mmh, feels so good,” is all you manage to mumble in his ear, and he responds by grazing your neck with his teeth.

The rain swooshes against the window in time with your cunt’s squelches, as you drip all over Geto’s length and down onto the mattress.

“Y’so p-perfect,” Geto whines against your neck, and for several moments he pumps silently and softly into your core, driving you to a feeling you’d never thought was possible.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His hips roll with the howl of the rain, slowly but deep. Your wooden bed creaks in his wake, adding to the symphony of sex in the room.

“Faster,” you hear yourself moan in his ear, and his hips pick up momentum.

They clap against your skin softly as he works harder to slam his cock against your taut insides.

“So warm,” he mumbles, propping himself up to look down at you, and you grip onto his hands tighter. “Shouldn’t feel th-this good.”

You grunt out a pathetic cry as his new pace results in him hitting a new spot, one he continues to press into upon hearing your response to it.

“Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Oh shit, Geto, right there.”

“Right there?” he echoes in a silky tone, pinning your hands further into the pillows as he fucks harder into you, still maintaining his soft kisses along your jaw.

Now that the pain is disappearing, ecstasy consumes all of your thoughts, and it seems to come naturally to you what to do next.

You pull your legs up and wrap them around his back, linking your ankles just over his waistline, and it creates a new angle for Geto to pound you from.

“Hngh - oh,” Geto’s eyelids flutter. He’s hitting another new spot that makes you feel like your groin is going to explode. “Pretty girl, I don’t wanna finish so soon, but if you keep me like this…”

“Don’t care,” you shake your head, wanting to feel what it’s like to be filled with the aftermath of a man’s orgasm. “Wanna take it all.”

“Don’t say - mmh,” Geto cuts himself off and dips his head back into your sweaty neck. “God, I… I think I love you.”

You gasp at his sultry confession. Of course, you had been taking care of him for a while. Though you hadn’t known his human form for long, he’d known you. He was the first person you’d come across in a long time, but in all your life, absolutely the kindest. Was it really that insane to think the two of you could be… in love?

“I-I love you too,” you reply without much thought, using the leverage on your legs to grind yourself down onto him as he pumps.

Your wetness covers his groin which has the underside of your thighs soaked, nearly sticking the two of you together as his strokes become sloppier, wetter, his cock drenching your insides in precum.

You feel him squelching around inside of you, stretching your poor virgin walls to their peak, wringing immeasurable pleasure from deep in your guts.

“Hah - mm,” Geto whines, now mercilessly drilling as deep as he can go.

It hurts but you’re taking it so well, and it shows in the way Geto is mumbling praises in your ear.

Good girl, so good, so wet, mon amour, take it.

He lets out a deep groan and then, he’s grabbing your knees and unwrapping your legs from around him. In a flash, he has you flipped to your side, and he slides behind you, as if you were back in your cuddling position from this morning.

“Just needed to switch it up,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing your shoulder.

“Mm, what are you gonna do?” you question him, and he shows you when he slides his cock between your coated thighs and pulls a gasp from you.

His hand finds your hip and grips it. “Tell me if you don’t like it, we’ll go back to the other way, yeah?”

You nod, but there’s a twist in your stomach at this exciting new angle, as Geto lifts your leg up and holds the underside of your thigh in the air. You twist backwards to put your arm around his neck, and he kisses yours.

“‘Member what I said?” he reminds raspily in your ear, “just hold onto me. I’ve got you.”

“Please, just put it back already,” you whine needily, and Geto doesn’t hesitate to push himself back into your crying hole.

This new angle hits you deep in your belly. Geto’s hand flattens out over your lower stomach and presses down. Inside of your guts, Geto’s cock is jerking hungrily, needing to feel every inch of you sliding back onto him again.

Your eyes squeeze shut as your fingers entangle themselves in his hair.

He keeps his hold on your thigh, his chin on your shoulder, biting and licking and moaning into your ear.

“S-So good, angel,” he huffs out, and all you can do is whimper as he grinds his thin hips into your backside.

“Ngh - kitty,” you whine, “where’d y-you learn this?”

Geto responds by kissing your shoulder. He doesn’t say anything aloud, instead shuts you up by fastening his pace, thundering into you in competition with the lightning from the rainstorm.

His hand glides down the side of your body and takes a handful of your ass, digging his nails into it as if he is going to slip away.

“I… regrettably think I’m gonna c-cum,” Geto stammers.

Something overcomes you, and you spin around, still on his cock. His perfect lips form a shocked, ‘O’ shape, and you put your hand against his throat, softly, applying a slight amount of pressure to each side. You adjust your legs to be on either side of him.

“Cum for me,” you mutter, shocking yourself, and Geto’s response is a guttural, pathetic groan.

“Why’d you have to - hngh - nooo-“

And not a moment more passes before he’s hopelessly spilling into you, cock jerking against the top of your sticky walls, nails breaking open the skin on your hips as you round them over his cock to drag out every drop you can.

The warmth of his cum inside of you makes your body writhe, squeezing his length painfully as your own orgasm comes intensely - covering him in watery fluid.

“G-Geto, I’m-” you can’t get the word out, you are shocked but have no way of telling him due to how fucked out you currently are.

“Agh - so beautiful,” he mumbles, bringing his strokes to a conclusion. He remains inside of you for several unearthly moments, your cunt twitching around his shakey cock.

Then you use the leverage of your legs around his waist to push yourself up and down, up and down.

Geto’s eyes bulge and then roll backwards. “Oh, oh shit.”

Your hands grip onto his shoulders for more leadway.

“Does that feel good?” you question him, a little unsure why you’ve decided to do this, knowing he’s already cum inside of you.

“Y-Yes,” Geto grumbles, leaning forward to plant a sloppy, needy kiss against your mouth before he parts his lips and holds them there - so fucked and barely able to contain his moans. “D-Do y’even know what you’re doing?”

Your body is tingling with the leftover feeling of your orgasm as you slide down on Geto in this laying position, and having him still hard inside of you does feel weird but - you like it.

“No,” you answer honestly. “I-It just feels good.”

Geto nods desperately, “Don’t stop, please.”

You obey his wish by sliding faster, feeling your walls pulsate around his cock as you push both of you beyond your limits. Whoever said sex had to end with orgasms is a loser, you think.

“Geto, you filled me up so well,” you say, “s-so glad you were m-my first.”

Geto looks up and forces his eyes open. He smiles at you through gritted teeth, “I-I’m glad too, m-mon amour.”

Him stuttering like this is doing dangerous things to your cunt, causing you to gush and pool on him even more than before. Geto notices and grabs a handful of your hair.

“O-Okay,” he shudders, and begins to laugh. “Maybe - maybe we can stop now.”

“Hmm? You sure?” you tease, and he shakes his head.

“No, but don’t know if I can take it,” his smug laughter has faded back into pathetic whimpers, and your cunt hates the thought of not being able to hear these noises from him.

You sigh softly regardless, and smile at him, before halting your movements and laying there; his cock now covered in cream and cum, stagnant inside of you.

He takes the pause to catch his breath and there you stay, cock inside, arms intertwined.

He releases your hair and puts his palm on your cheek, pulling your face towards his to kiss him.

“Perfect,” he says. “I wish that I could spend all twenty-four hours as a human with you.”

You sigh softly, “I do too. But I am glad we even get to know each other in this lifetime, let alone spend the time together.”

A moment too soon, he begins to slide out of you with a smile and both of you moan at the gushy feeling. He sits up on his elbow and stares directly between your legs to watch his cum drip out of you.

Then he sits all the way up, on his knees; his hair sticking to the crown of his face by sweat.

You lay there, all kinds of fluids dripping slowly out of you still, breathing in his scent that he’d left behind on the pillow.

“Geto, did you mean what you said?” you ask suddenly, forcing yourself to sit up, your insides squishing around, a slight pain jarring up your tummy.

Geto glances down at you, eyes still dark with lust. “About what?”

“That you love me,” you question, cocking your head to the side. “We’ve only known each other a short time, I-I just…”

“I meant it,” he says softly, falling onto his bottom, before pulling you up on onto his lap, his fluids and yours dripping all over him. “I think that if you are capable of feeling such strong things so quickly, it must be real and true.”

Your eyelids flutter softly and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, running your fingers down his back.

“It’s just that I’ve never had anyone love me for me,” you say. “I literally live alone because no one else ever accepted me.”

“Well,” Geto nuzzles your neck and kisses your collarbone, “I am equally a delinquent as you are. We are one in the same, and I think you are perfect for me. You showed me kindness when you didn’t have to, so yes, I love you.”

You smile, in your happy little post-ecstasy bubble. The rain pours still, and the clouds remain grey, but as long as Geto is around, you know that will always be able to see the sun.

A/N

why…. why am i SOBBING

this is the life our little baby deserved (with gojo) goodbye!!

and that concludes JJK HALLOWEEN! let’s take a bow everyone, i couldn’t have done it without your support!!

jjkhalloween!! is gonna forever be remembered as the series that got me jump started on this platform and im gonna remember the absolute fun I had writing it for the rest of my days :’)

this community is so welcoming and sweet and i love all of you guys and your kind words and reblogs it means EVERYTHING to my poor little jjk heart even if i’m a boomer who doesn’t know how to reply!1!1!

mwah mwah, now onto new things!!! <3

~ pennjammin

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk geto #geto suguru #geto x reader #jujutsu geto #jjk suguru #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut

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mioons · 3 months

Text

“in the moment — you and i.”

pairing. enhypen ot7 x fem. reader (hcs) ୭ৎ mlist

genre. fluff, first dates wc. 918 warnings. none?

— where they would bring you on your first date. extra. 💋

lee heeseung - arcade

he’s awkward. awkward as hell on his first date. he probably spent a few hours— hell maybe even a few days thinking of where to bring you. he thought restaurants were too cliche. what if he brought you to the movies and you didn’t like what was showing? would you even go out with him again after the first date?

heeseung suddenly remembered you loved plushies, loved every single type of stuff toy. then it hit him. bring you to an arcade and win you a plushie. that’ll impress you!

on the actual date he didn’t win anything and instead you were the one that got him a giant teddy bear. “next time win me that bunny plushie okay?”

at least he knows that this won’t be his last date with you.

park jongseong - restaurant

to be honest jay doesn’t have any experience with love whatsoever, the only thing he knew about love was from those tooth rotting movies and the love songs he makes covers of.

so of course he went with the safest option: bringing you to the finest restaurant in the city.

he offered you his arm when you two walked in, pulled your chair out for you, and even rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb while you were looking through the menu. what a gentleman he was.

after you ate finish, he rushed to the counter to pay before you could. he’d never allow his date to pay.

“thank you for today, i had a nice time with you,” you smiled and placed both your hands behind your back in shyness. jay found you so beautiful when you smiled and he hopes he can make you smile for the rest of your life.

sim jaeyun - cinema

he was scared of bringing you to the cinema in fear you wouldn’t like the shows. but guess what? he still brought you anyway because he already bought the tickets and he didn’t wanna waste his money

the day he brought you to the cinemas, a horror show was screening. “are you sure you can watch that? you can hold onto me if you’re scared,” he teased as gave you a cheeky grin.

“i bet 5 bucks you’ll be clinging onto me first,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “game on sweetheart.”

safe to say you won 5 bucks that day. at least jake knows not to bring you to horror movies if he doesn’t want to embarrass himself anymore.

park sunghoon - amusement park

he can’t sit down for ten minutes without dozing off. and he definitely didn’t want to doze off in front of you—his first date. that would be embarrassing.

the best way to not doze off was to do something fun. and what’s more fun than an amusement park? he doesn’t know.

on the actual date he paid for both your tickets.

saying sunghoon didn’t doze off was an understatement. he was downright screaming his lungs out on every ride; even those that weren’t scary.

by the end of the date he lost his voice but at least he gained a kiss on the cheek from you.

yang jungwon - library

he found out from his friend you loved reading. some might call you a bookworm but you were cute.

he wanted to show you he cared about your interest, your likes and dislikes so of course he brought you to the city’s biggest library. many books filled the shelves but the thing he admired the most was the way you eyes widened at the scene.

one of the things he did was listen to you ramble about your favourite books and how you hated cliffhangers. jungwon found it so endearing.

you two were both in the library till the security guards had to chase you out. what a great way to end the date.

“i’ll recommend you some books next time okay?” you said, which indicated than there were definitely more dates to come.

kim sunoo - picnic

sunoo loves the park, or anywhere with flowers and grass. he thought of bringing you to the park to let you experience the breath of nature.

he prepared a picnic basket with sandwiches, sushi and juice inside. he had everything prepared, even got you a bouquet of flowers.

when he laid out the picnic mat, he noticed how the wind ran through your hair, making you look like a garden fairy. so ethereal he thinks.

he placed a flower in your hair and said, “you’re so beautiful.”

“my little flower.”

ni-ki — cooking class

ni-ki wanted you to bring back a piece of him for you to remember him.

so what a better way to do that than to actually let you bring a piece of cake he made back home? he booked 2 slots for a baking lesson to learn how to make fudge cake.

he didn’t expect you to be so skilled in cooking, even better than him. but to be honest he couldn’t even measure the dry ingredients properly.

throughout the whole class, he kept asking you for help and always throwing bits of flour at you to tease you. he covered his hand in flour and patted your back, making your shirt have a flour handprint.

“god you’re such a kid,” you laughed and swiped a bit of cake batter across his face. “i could say the same to you honey.”

after that date, niki was sure you were the one for him

luvlyhee 2024 taglist:: open! send an ask!

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k2ntoss · 8 months

Text

DIRTY LITTLE SECRET

tw ⭒ swearing, angst, couple argument, mean jason todd (he's kind of a jerk with his words but uhhhh, he's cute), jason todd x fem!reader and okayyyyyy that's everything i think and some fluff sandwiched with more angst at the end bc i can't leave this just like that

a/n ⭒ song based fanfics are my weakness, i'm so sorry i just can't stop listening to certain songs just to write something related - the all-merican rejects, dirty little secret here okayyyy

i stopped counting words, sorry lmao

jason has been a nice boyfriend, so long he has never raised his voice or got angry when there was a little problem, he has taken you out on a few nice dates but there was something off.

you knew basically nothing about his surroundings, not his family nor his friends, probably seen once any of his close class mates and before you could go to say hi he was next to you, it was almost as if he didn't wanted you near them but you tried to push it away. for over three months.

you've had enough of pretty much all of that situation, dating jason for almost a year, going on one or two dates every two months and just getting texts from him, probably a short movie night if he had any time for you and it was making you feel so little and less for him, what was the problem with taking you with his family? or asking you to hang out with his friends? because he made some time to spend a few hours with them, drink something and have fun but there wasn't place for you with them, with him.

"jay... do you think we can go to the movies this weekend?" you ask him, sitting on one of the stools you had around your living room when he was spending some of his spare time with you "there is this new movie..." you trail off, trying to get his attention.

"don't think we can do that, doll, already made plans" he looks at your for a couple of seconds with a small frown and you're thinking that maybe you are the problem, maybe you're not enough for jason and he knows it, he's nice with you and the way he looks at you, how he brushes your hair when he walks next to you before sitting on your couch.

"you going out with your friends?" you ask softly, receiving a nod and a soft hum from him "maybe i could join you, i don't know your friends..." your voice is still low, calm but there's a clear intention on it and as soon as you present the idea jason scoffs.

there something in the way he does it that makes you feel like a spark ignited inside of your chest, between a bolt of anger and a sharp pain, what was that supposed to mean?

"you don't wanna know them, trust me, princess" jason trails off, almost lying on your couch as he looked at his phone "not your kind of people..." he whispers and it makes you near explode.

"what is that supposed to mean, jason?" there's an edge to your voice that makes him sit straight, he looks at you and places his hands on his lap "it means exactly what i said, my friends are not your kind of people, why?" he shrugs, as if it wasn't that much of a big deal.

"and what is my kind of people exactly? not so interesting? not as good as you?" you start, the light in your eyes replaced by something else and jason noticed it "is your family also like that? not the kind of people i am around?"

"exactly that" he says, simply and blunt, he looks at you unamused as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans back "not your kind of people either, now stop the tantrum, okay?" and for a second you are speechless because he has never said something like that.

"why can't i meet your family? it's been almost a year, do they at least know you are dating someone?" you ask, not letting go of it just like that makes him sigh in frustration.

"why would they have to know? i don't see your point, y/n." and as soon as the pet names stop you know that he's not happy talking about this "i haven't told anyone, okay? and i don't plan on doing it, i have my reasons."

"maybe they have to know because i'm your damn girlfriend" your town grows a bit louder, not longer sitting on the stool you walk until you're in front of jason "maybe they have to know because what the hell have you've been doing the days you spend here instead of with them?" the way jason looks at you isn't helping, his eyes are fixed on the ceiling and his lips are pressed on a fine line.

"i don't want to tell them, okay? i can't see a damn issue besides you wanting everyone to know i have a girlfriend and that's not a big deal" he trails off, his hand moving in a motion that made your mood go worse.

"it is a fucking big deal, jason!" when you snap at him he turns to look at you, eyebrows raised in surprise bit it quickly changes to a expression of pure tiredness "we barely have a date every full moon, you text me whenever you remember i exist and your friends don't even know i'm your girlfriend" you number with your fingers, your voice shaky because your emotions taking over were too much.

"i do what i can, i don't have that much free days to waste my time here!" he snaps back and his words hit hard but that's just the start "i still can't get why you have to make a fuzz out of it, it's enough with both of us knowing we're dating"

"wasting your time, fine" you mutter before turning around, back facing him as you walk to your room and you can make the sound of his steps following you "it's so fucking funny because no one knows i'm your girlfriend so you get a lot of girls flirting with you and i have to deal with it but as soon as any of my friends gets too touchy with me at the campus you're calling me" and it's true, jason can't stand seeing other people so close to you and so freely because that's something he can't do and he does had his reasons.

"are you really gonna make a problem out of this?" he asks, it's like he isn't able to wrap his mind around of it, how much you wanted everyone to know that someone like him laid his eyes on you, that he liked you from all of the girls it was you "you're the only one that needs to know"

"but at least give me a goddamn reason for me to be a stupid secret, jason" you are almost crying, voice struggled and eyes burning from how much you wish things were at least a little different "is it so bad it's me who you're dating? am i not enough?" your words hurt, not just you but also him because he would love to show you off but his life won't allow it.

he won't risk you to get too deep into his shit, it's enough you deal with his presence and his absence too.

"that's not a game you would like to play, you'll find out shit you don't wanna know" he warns you, jason's voice is now stern and his eyes are no longer soft, he stands towering over you as he seems to be holding back his tongue "i can't tell anyone and you don't even try because that would be so dumb of you" he sounds absolutely mad and he is, but with himself.

jason hates this, he knows that maybe he's breaking your heart and he despises his whole being for that. he loves you and that's why he can't drag you into his world, all the pain and worry it would bring to you would be a burden you don't deserve when you're the only one who brings something nice into his days.

"you're still not giving me one single reason, i don't even know if you're ashamed or what the hell is going on" your voice breaks and he sees the tears pooling on your lashes, he wants to hold you and tell you how much he loves you but maybe he has to break you a little to keep you safe.

"i don't fucking want them to know about you, that's all! is it so hard to wrap your head around it? do i need to spell it out for you like a fucking child?" he's yelling in a way that draws your tears away, wet trails on your cheeks "it's stupid, you know? i'm wasting my fucking time here when i could be doing something else"

you see him passing his hands through his hair, desperate and frustrated "i thought this would be different but you had to decide to get on my nerves and be a pain in the ass, is this what you expect me to take with my family? a brat like you that can't take a no for an answer?"

he is cursing his name in his head, he sees how your heart shatters into pieces and the way your hands fall flat on your sides, tears falling silently through your cheeks.

"do i need to get you a damn banner to announce it? take you out so you can scream it out loud? you've got to be joking" he scoffs, jason outs a show for you. a show of breaking your heart, making you feel so stupid for expecting to be important enough for him.

"get out" your words tremble and he stops to look at you, there's a brief glimpse of regret on his eyes but it vanishes in a second. "i don't want you here, get out of my place" you point every word, crying but still angry at him. the sharp pain in your chest is making it hard to breath and it shows on the gasps you let out as he walks out of the room.

"i hope that later tonight you regret everything you've said" he hears you, his chest aching because he wants so bad to erase each word he said.

"i regret a lot of things, y/n" he says harshly, looking at you intently before he leaves. just like that you're left alone in your apartment, crying and letting yourself fall onto the floor.

night falls like that, rain pouring heavily and it muffles your sobs while you lie on your couch, hugging a pillow and hiding your face because you've been crying without rest since jason left. the headache you feel is killing you but there's no will to get up to take a pill.

on the other hand, jason drives around the city. he has been around your block a few times wondering if he should go back and hold you but he shrugs and leaves, you said you didn't wanted him there so it would have done things worse. jason also looks at his phone, thinking about calling or texting you but he decides is better if he doesn't.

until he stops thinking or at least he thinks he did, he stands outside your door with his copy of the keys on his hand and it's too late when he snaps back into reality because he's already on the doorway. it's almost midnight and the lights are all off, not even the tv is on but he listens clearly to your soft sobs and the sounds of you shifting on your place.

"i told you i didn't wanted you here" you croack, voice hoarse and raspy from how much you've been crying your lungs out. his heart breaks when he turns on the lights and sees your red eyes, puffy and still teary.

"i know... but i couldn't leave you like that" there was the jason todd you knew, his voice was soft and there was a tenderness to his eyes that always made you sigh "i said a lot of shit today and you have no idea how much i hate myself for it" he starts before walking towards you.

he shakes his head when you try to sit on the couch, making you stay still as he lets his body fall sit on the floor and reaches a hand to brush a few strands of messy hair out of your face, he sighs when you pull away refusing his touch.

"i don't wanna know, jason" he wants to kiss your forehead when you snuggle yourself a little more against the pillow but he knows it's not the right moment for it. not when he was losing you.

"but i need to tell you... there are a lot of things about me that you don't know and you are different from my family and friends, baby" his hand finds a way to ylur cheek, cupping it gently as he wipes away a few tears "and that's not bad because you're better than any of them, you're better than me anf right now i'm so damn sure i don't really deserve someone like you" his words are full of meaning, that you can feel it because jason has clear eyes for you, green pretty eyes that had always allowed you to stare into his soul to let you understand his feelings.

"i could never be ashamed to show you off but you have to understand i'm not a good person and letting anyone know how much you mean to me... i can't risk losing the only good thing i have" and it makes you feel weird, part of your brain tells you to kick him out because his words are not real.

but your heart is beating fast, the way jason looks at you and his voice feeling like a warm embrace that keeps you safe from the hard world, there's no pain when he's next to you "i don't know what you're talking about, jason, this just doesn't feel right"

"i've let you into my life, everything i am is an open book for you because i trust you" trying to calm down your words sound a bit more steady, not so broken when you look up at jason "because i love you and i want to share with you everything that i am, is it that i'm asking for too much?"

"that's not– you're not asking for too much, princess... you deserve the world laid at your feet but it's hard for me to let you into a world that you probably won't like" he says, looking away from you as if he felt shame about who he was "what if i let you in and you can't love who i really am?" his eyes bore into yours again, you can see the pain and fear on them.

jason can't stand thinking about losing another loved one because of his life.

#mara's thoughts #i made myself cry with this lmao #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd blurb #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd #red hood angst #red hood imagine #red hood #dc comics #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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shiroisotto64 · 1 year

Text

Fionna & Cake hcs

Fionna

She’s and adrenaline junkie. No questions asked. She loves to bring you with her on adventures! Fighting is already fun, but it’s so much better with company. (Especially if you’re dating)

You’d have to help her keep the apartment in check. It’s a mess when she’s not reminded to tidy it up. Put on some music and she’ll be more willing to get up and clean.

KEEP HER OUT OF THE KITCHEN. This woman CANNOT cook to save her life. That’s why Fionna and cake each sandwiches and take out. She’s tried but Fionna has a track record for burning water so…

Really affectionate and doesn’t mind PDA. She gets flustered but will return you’re affections without question. She’s also always hyping you up. New outfit? She’s the first to comment. Killed a bad guy really quickly? She’s quick to pull you into a strong hug afterwards.

Date nights are anything under the sun honestly. Cuddling in bed? Yeah. Going to a concert? Absolutely!

You could go skating, swimming, anything really but it’s best to do something that can keep her occupied. If she gets bored she’ll kinda space out. She doesn’t mean to though and will apologize later.

Simon

He likes to read to you. In fact he’ll lend you his books to read so you can both talk about it afterwards. He gets really excited to do this and tends to ramble. So you’ll have to excuse him.

Once you say something he’s more conscious and tries not to do it anyone unless your encourage him. He still has his dark days but it’s way easier with you. However Simon hates feeling like a burden.

So he’s not the best with communicating his problems. He tends to lock them away until he snaps. He always feels horrible and leaves for a bit to calm down and clear his head.

He’s an introvert. But if you want him to go with you he’ll try at least. But he will be vocal about it if he feels uncomfortable and wants to go back home. Date nights are pretty chill honestly.

Baking, watching movies / documentaries. Reading or talking about books together. He likes when you talk about you’re interests! He’ll listen and ask questions so he gets it to. He gets real flustered with PDA so keep that in mind to.

Marshall Lee

Real laid back and chill. He plays his guitar while y’all hang out. He has and still will write songs about and or inspired by you and his friends.

He’s really supportive. He encourages you to go after you’re dreams and do whatever makes you happy. Marshall finds it real cute when you wear his shirts or button ups.

Hell he encourages it even. He vents to you about his mom sometimes. He really appreciates you listening and is even more appreciative if you give him advice on how to properly talk to / get through to her.

Has a sweet tooth. You can easily bride him with sweets of any kind. Want him to wash the dishes for you? Whip out a box of his fav cookies from the store. He’s never washed dishes faster in his life.

You’d end up paying for a lot of stuff, sorry. He tries his best to get money singing on the corners and streets of the town yet it only pays so much. He really appreciates it if you’re patient with him.

He’s ok with Pda and will reciprocate you’re affections but doesn’t expect to not be teased in the process.

Gary

He’s like a mother hen. He gets worried if you don’t answer his texts within 10 minutes honestly. It might get annoying and if it does? Gently tell him how you feel and he’ll do his best to be more patient.

He likes cooking and baking for you. And it makes his whole week if you praise his skills and tell him how much you love it. Bonus point if you can bake or if you give him constructive criticism!

He likes it when you play in his hair. He loves it when you pull his head into you’re lap and run you’re fingers through his pink hair. He’ll be out in minutes honestly.

Gary swoons whenever you put on his sweaters. He has bought the both of you matchin ones. And he is also the type to wanna get matching couples outfits. Just putting that out there.

He likes it when you to clean together. He cleans the dishes and you rinse them off. You both finish that much faster and after he goes up behind you to embrace you. He’ll stay like that for as long as you let him.

Gets flustered by PDA but welcomes it anyways. And Gary is super affectionate at night. He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon just hold him.

Finn

He’s affectionate and tries to be as honest with you as he can. But Finn isn’t the best with negative feelings. We all saw how he struggled to help Simon and was a bit awkward while doing it.

Another adrenaline junkie. He likes to go camping and adventuring with you. Anything fun and active and he’s in. Finn Is also very considerate of the things you like and will get you something that reminds him of you while he’s out. Or something he knows you’ll like.

Really playfully. He’ll sometimes just pick you up and throw you over his shoulder before walking off to go knows where. He has complete faith in you and is real happy if you feel the same!

Doesn’t get jealous, like at all. Like I said complete trust in you. He doesn’t question you’re actions and just goes with the flow. He’s very comfortable with you’re bond.

He’s chill with Pda. If you hug him he’ll hug back. You want a kiss? You got it. No questions asked. He is protective of you though. Yet is also confident in you’re abilities but if you need help he’s there in the blink of an eye.

Winter King

Loves to sing to you! He’ll declare his love to you in and out of town. He loves to spoil you. Anything you want is yours. He always smiles at you whenever he catches you looking at him.

Will pull you in to dance with him. You both go ice skating all the time and if you don’t know how he’ll teach you. He’s real patient with you, so don’t worry. He tries to impress you. He’s very subtle about it but if you pay attention you can see it.

He’d melt if you sat on his lap while he sat on his throne. He has introduced you to ice Marcy. I think you’d all get along pretty well. Kinda like a little family. Also his two guards love hanging out with you.

Training and skating you name it they’re in. Simon chuckles while he watches them drag you around. He’s really affectionate to. You both are attached at the hip! He has to have a hand on you at all times or he’ll explode.

Winter king can’t help but to flush if you pull him down to press kisses to his face. He also loves when you run you’re fingers through his silky hair. He lets you go in his lab. He answers you’re questions if you have any.

Candy Queen

(I couldn’t find any gifs I’m sorry)

She’s the clingiest. You’re not allowed to go anywhere without her. You can barely get alone time in the bathroom. She’s always writing new songs to sing to you.

She’ll put on a show to win you’re praises and affection. Like i said she really affectionate. She’ll take naps on you throughout the day. She does drool a little but you’ll be ok.

Not much to say I feel like shes really straight forward. She’s not ashamed of the pictures she has of you in her room and openly flirts with you. Dose not mind PDA she heavily encourages it even.

Gets all giddy if you annotate affection. She’d be chill to watch cartoons with you while you both laze around doing nothin in particular.

#winter king x reader #fionna campbell #Fionna x Reader #simon petrikov #Simon x Reader #marshall lee #Marshall lee x Reader #Gary #Gary x Reader #winter king #candy queen #candy queen x Reader #fionna and cake x reader #fionna and cake #sleepy rambles

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oliversrarebooks · 2 months

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 63: Alexander's Contentment

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: mind control, captivity, blood drinking

October 1925

"So… how long have you been a thrall, if you don't mind me asking?"

Roger swallowed a bite of sandwich and washed it down with water. He'd devoured most of it the moment the plate was put in front of him. "It must be close to twenty-five years by now."

"Twenty-five years!" Oliver could see that Roger was quite a bit older than him, but he hadn't been expecting that.

"Most of that time has been with Fitz," said Roger. "My first master was much less agreeable. The less said about him, the better."

"Does your master treat you well?" said Oliver sympathetically, also hoping to scope out his master's friend for himself.

"He's temperamental and dramatic. He doesn't lift a finger to do chores. He demands I wake him up in time for his shows, and then when I do, he whines about how he doesn't want to leave his bed." Roger sighed. "But he isn't cruel, and he never hurts me. He can often be good company, and when he's not in need of attention, he allows me to do as I will. My life is pleasant, on the whole, so as far as vampires go, I'm glad I have him as master and not another."

Oliver breathed a sigh of relief. "So he isn't dangerous?"

"All vampires are dangerous," Roger pointed out. "But no, my master has no intention of doing you harm. He's been looking forward to feeding from you, as he made abundantly clear."

"Yes, he certainly did."

"How about you? Is Alexander treating you well?"

"Yes, very much so, I would say," said Oliver. "He's very gentle, and I appreciate his library. He seems determined to ensure I want for nothing. The only problem is… well…"

Roger nodded. "My master told me that there was a run-in with your master's sire."

"Have you met him?"

"Thankfully, I have not. Fitz makes a point of keeping us out of his reach. That's why we visit so infrequently."

"Did you know my master's last thrall?"

"Henry. Yes." Roger downed the last of the water glass, and Oliver stood to refill it. "He was a decent sort, a former accountant. Quiet. Loved to play cards. It's… unfortunate, what happened to him."

"…Yes." Oliver's hand shook slightly as he put down the glass.

"Thank you," said Roger, taking a sip. "For what it's worth, both Alexander and Fitz seem much more interested in you than they did in Henry, so there's reason to hope things turn out differently."

"What do you mean by that?"

"It seems possible that they'll pull out the stops to try and protect you. I've never seen my master so excited to drink from another thrall." There was a hint of jealousy in Roger's voice and eyes.

"It's my blood, I suppose," Oliver said sheepishly.

"You must have high grade blood. I'm similarly 'blessed,'" said Roger. "God only knows how vampires decide that. It reminds me of how they review fancy wines, and how it's meant to taste like flowers or minerals or some nonsense."

"I can't say I've ever really had fancy wine, even before it was illegal."

"Right, alcohol is banned here. Ridiculous, if you ask me. Vampires don't care in the least about human laws, so --"

Oliver's attention was pulled away from the conversation by a beautiful low note in his head. It sounded like his master's singing, but it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That song -- my master --" Without any words, it was beckoning him, a call too strong for him to ignore. It had never happened before, but he somehow knew just what he was meant to do.

Roger seemed unsurprised. "Your master's calling you, is he? You'd better go, then."

"Um, but you…"

"I remember the manor well enough. I'll make myself at home in a guest room. Don't worry about me."

"All right," said Oliver, grateful that Roger understood his sudden exit. He didn't stand a chance at resisting the song, and practically floated up the stairs as though he were in a dream. When he reached the door of his master's bedroom, he knocked. "Sir? Were you calling for me?"

"Come in, Oliver," said Alexander.

The room was dimly lit with a couple of gas lamps. Alexander and Fitz were both lounging casually on Alexander's bed. Alexander's shirt was unbuttoned, Fitz was wearing only an undershirt, and they were both in their shorts. A blush crept onto Oliver's face, but the vampires didn't seem embarrassed in the slightest. Vampiric aura was thick in the air, and Oliver's nerves were fighting unsuccessfully against the docile trance state that was quickly claiming him.

"Did you wish to drink from me, sirs?"

"There he is," said Fitz with a positively predatory grin. "What a picture perfect thrall."

"Oh, he is," said Alexander, and Oliver felt like glowing. "Why don't you come sit down, Oliver?"

Oliver politely sat down on the side of the bed, and Fitz slithered up next to him. "Nervous?" Fitz asked.

"Somewhat, sir."

Fitz rolled over like a cat, looking at Oliver upside-down. "There's no reason to be nervous. I do bite, but I promise that you'll like it."

"What Fitz is trying to say," said Alexander, "is that we'd very much like to share in your blood, if that's all right with you."

He couldn't even think of denying his master this. The vampires' desire was too strong and his conditioning too deep. "Yes, sirs. Please share me."

"Well, now that we're not all standing around on a freezing cold dock, I can pick up where I left off, can't I?" Fitz sat up, and brought his hand near Oliver's face without touching it, his fingers moving in a fluid, mesmerizing motion. "I don't know if your master explained this to you, but just as his power is in his voice, mine is in my hands."

Oliver was staring at his fingertips, easily recalling how irresistible that touch was, aching for it. "I see, sir."

Fitz's hand cupped his cheek, and the last of his thoughts dissolved into bliss. "I'm glad we have an understanding, then," he said. "You'll be good for me, won't you, Oliver?"

Oliver had no defenses whatsoever against this new trance, not with his master looking on in approval. His muscles relaxed, his tension wiped away. "I'll be good for you, sir," he said, already half-asleep.

"Exquisite," said Fitz encouragingly, as he ran his hands through Oliver's hair and traced a finger down his jaw and neck. "You're so very good. Not resisting me at all. Just happy and obedient."

"Obedience is pleasure, sir," Oliver muttered, leaning into Fitz's soft touch. so utterly hypnotized and eager.

Fitz laughed. "That must be one of Lily's little mantras."

"Lily did a fine job priming him, not that there was any doubt," said Alexander.

"Such a charming thing," Fitz murmured, cradling Oliver's chin, "the way he simply melts under the slightest enthrallment."

"Hmm, yes, reminds me of another thrall I used to have."

Fitz chuckled. "Surely I was never like this."

"Surely you were."

Oliver's brows furrowed as he struggled against trance to process the conversation. Fitz had been a thrall? Alexander's thrall?

"No, none of that," said Fitz, tapping Oliver on the nose. "No thinking for you."

"Yes, sir," he said automatically, allowing the worries to fade away once more as Fitz caressed him.

"I've been looking forward to watching you go to work on him," said Alexander.

"Well, I can't disappoint, then." Fitz turned back to Oliver. "Do you enjoy being Lex's thrall?"

At the moment, any concerns he might have about his situation were far, far away. "Yes, sir, I'm very happy to be Lex's thrall."

"Don't you love his song? The way it makes you feel?"

"Yes, sir," he said, nuzzling into Fitz's hand with no shame, dreaming of his master's voice. "I love it more than anything."

Oliver felt strong arms taking him around the waist, pulling him close to his master's chest. His master began to hum softly in his ear, an enchanting song of pleasure, while holding him tight. All the while, Fitz kept up his intoxicating touch. Oliver's mind was entirely gone, consumed by an enthralled bliss that was stronger than any he had known.

"Isn't that song so beautiful, so easy to listen to?" said Fitz in his other ear.

"Sir…" he slurred in his drowsy haze. "It's so good… sir…"

Fitz chuckled. "You're delightful, Oliver, do you know that?"

"You're being so good for us," Alexander added in his other ear.

"So good."

"Wanna… be good… sirs…" said Oliver.

Fitz ran his finger across the spot where Alexander normally fed, and Oliver shuddered from the intensity. "You'll keep being good for me when I drink, won't you?"

Oliver was certain he'd never needed anything so much as that. "Drink… please drink from me, sir…"

"How could I ever deny such an adorable request?" said Fitz. "Just relax and keep feeling good, okay? I promise you'll find this enjoyable."

Oliver nodded, and gasped as the sharp fangs pierced his neck. It felt different from Alexander's feeding, hungrier, more desperate but no less pleasurable.

An overwhelming swirl of emotions began to pool in his mind. Joy at seeing Alexander. Fear for the future. Loneliness. Desire. Shame. Obsession. And through it all, an undercurrent of need, a deep, dark need that could never be fully satiated.

"Oh, he is delicious. I've never had a blood so rich." Fitz had paused briefly in his meal. "Why don't you have a bit, Lex? You look hungry."

"I'll take a sip, and then you can have your fill."

Oliver was shifted slightly to be closer to his master, and then Alexander was drinking gently from the wound Fitz had made, filling Oliver with a sense of peace.

Before he knew it, Fitz was at his neck again, feeding like a starving man. He was taking so much blood, and Oliver was floaty and sleepy, his eyelids drifting shut and a sigh escaping his lips.

"Fitz --"

"I know, I know, I don't want to overdrink from a thrall like this. Honestly, I don't know how you can control yourself, Lex. I wouldn't trust myself to not drain him dry."

"…It's difficult sometimes," Lex admitted.

Oliver slumped backwards into his master's arms, drifting in and out of a light doze, content and fulfilled and safe.

"You must be hungry -- all of that buildup, and you barely had a drop to drink," said Fitz. "Why don't I call up Roger so you can have a snack?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind that," said Lex.

Oliver woke up slightly as he was transferred from Alexander to Fitz, but the whine of protest in his throat was silenced as Fitz guided his head to his lap and began to stroke his hair, scattering his thoughts and stuffing his head full of cotton. The door creaked open, and Oliver could see Roger emerge from the gloom.

"You wish to drink from me, sir?" he said.

Alexander began to sing, and Oliver could feel the command in the melody, a command beckoning the listener forward and into Alexander's hold. Roger walked forward through the room, his steps as heavy as a sleepwalker's, and as he drew closer, his wide, glassy eyes reflected the gas lamp.

Oliver couldn't resist the pull, either, and Fitz didn't stop him as he crawled across the bed to his master and curled up next to him. Alexander stroked Oliver's face with one hand while welcoming Roger in with the other, singing of bliss and obedience.

"You remember my song, don't you?" asked Alexander.

"Yes, sir, very clearly," said Roger.

"Then you know the deep sense of fulfillment you'll feel when I drink from you."

"Yes… sir…" The worry and stress on Roger's face was melting away, and he looked somehow younger.

"A wonderful thrall. I'm very glad that your master has a thrall like you. Thank you for taking good care of him."

"Of course, sir… it's my pleasure and my duty…"

"You're going to be so relaxed now, Roger. You deserve it after taking care of Fitz every day."

"I do, sir."

"What are you trying to imply?" said Fitz with a laugh.

"There you go, perfectly relaxed," said Alexander, ignoring Fitz. "You'll feel no pain, only pleasure."

Alexander opened his mouth wide, and his sharp fangs glistened in the flickering light. Oliver watched in dreamlike fascination as he bit into the soft flesh of Roger's neck. Roger's eyes went lidded, his expression slackening. A goofy, dazed smile spread across his face. Oliver was too content and relaxed to be jealous. He couldn't help but wonder if this was how he looked when his master fed.

Soon, Alexander licked the last of the blood from the small marks on Roger's neck. He sank back onto the pillows, cradling Oliver in one arm and Roger in the other. Oliver glanced up to see a sly expression on his master's face as he started to hum again, the same song he had used to draw in the two thralls.

"What are you doing, Lex?" said Fitz. "Are you trying to enthrall… me… too…" A moment later, Fitz was snuggling in next to Oliver, and Oliver was surprised to see how entranced he looked. "I'll allow it, just this once."

They were all in a large, comfortable kind of pile centered around Alexander, and Oliver could feel his master's contentment. He was so used to the undercurrent of loneliness that constantly radiated from the vampire that it almost seemed foreign. This is exactly how things are meant to be. Everything that's mine is in its rightful place.

"I take it that it was agreeable to drink from Roger, then?" said Fitz quietly.

"Very much so. He was as delectable as always, and a perfect gentleman," said Alexander. "And you certainly seemed to enjoy Oliver."

"You know, when you told me the frankly extravagant amount you bought him for, I admit that I was skeptical. I couldn't imagine even the finest thrall being worth that much," he said. "But now that I've seen and tasted him… I understand. I wouldn't have given him up for any price."

"I'm glad you understand." Alexander toyed with Oliver's hair. "Apart from his natural obedience and decadent blood, he's also very pleasant company, soft-spoken and well-read." Oliver nestled in closer, happy to absorb his master's praise.

"He reminds me of you, a bit," said Fitz, running his hand through Oliver's hair. "It must be the smell of books about him. I suspect that's part of why I find him so appealing."

"Is that so?" said Alexander. He leaned down and planted a kiss on Fitz's forehead.

"And now I can tell everyone I've fed from a triple-A, twenty thousand dollar thrall."

Alexander laughed. "Well, not everyone can find such an exceptional thrall at a bargain price like your Roger here."

"To be fair, he was less of a bargain when I had to pay Lily to fix his poor mind. Still worth every penny and then some."

"Speaking of Lily, she suggested that we all meet up at the Tiger's Eye…"

The vampires continued to chat in low tones, and the sound of his master's voice was slowly lulling Oliver asleep. He tried to keep himself awake, wanting to hear the conversation and enjoy basking in his master's company, but his eyelids were drooping and heavy. He heard a yawn and then a bit of a snore coming from Roger, and he yawned too. His mind began to doze, drifting far away, unable to focus on what the vampires were saying, only listening to the cadence of Alexander's voice.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Alexander advances his plans.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter @basica11ywhumped

#whump #whump writing #vampire whump #vampires #blood drinking #mind control #rare bookseller #alexander #fitz #oliver #roger

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privatehousesanatomy · 5 months

Note

House X /maybe fem?)Reader where House falls in love with a singer he just cured. Maybe while checking if she can sing again and he plays the piano while she sings or something? I think that could be a cute one, because everytime I see House making Music, he seems so...emotional and vulnerable. :3

ONE MORE SONG - gregory house x fem!reader

this is a cute idea! i hope i was able to bring your vision to life <3 also, thanks so much for being my first request, i had a lot of fun writing this!

slight fluff ( it is house, after all )

🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

you'd heard about vocal chord injuries all the time. singers strained their voices too hard during performances, especially as they got older, but you were still young. you did everything you could to protect your voice, and yet during rehearsal you found yourself unable to make a sound. at first you thought maybe you were coming down with something, but when a week passed and you had no other symptoms besides no voice, you decided to seek medical help.

there wasn't a single doctor who was able to help you. they ruled out everything from strep to laryngitis, and you even had tests done to rule out cancer. everything came back clean. you were suddenly deemed a medical mystery with no voice.

your symptoms began progressing shortly after that. you were having difficulties breathing and swallowing, and any last remnants of your voice that you might have had were slowly diminishing as well.

princeton-plainsboro teaching hospital was your last ditch effort in figuring out what was wrong with you. doctor gregory house claimed to be one of the best diagnosticians in the country, if not the world, so you were putting a lot of faith in him to figure out what was wrong with you. you were warned right from the jump that you likely wouldn't meet the man in charge of your medical file, and it was something you came to terms with. however, he surprised everyone by taking a major interest in you as a patient rather than you as a puzzle. music was a hobby of his, and it wasn't often that his patients shared that hobby.

the first time you met house, you weren't sure how to feel. he was this grumpy, older man who walked with a cane and looked to be the epitome of the word "miserable". he was sarcastic and rude, not giving a damn about how he treated his employees, nurses, or even you. and yet there was something about him that you couldn't get enough of. almost as if you could see through the facade he put up.

your diagnosis was bilateral vocal cord paralysis, though you were lucky that it didn't kill you. there were a few close calls, but they were able to reverse the paralysis with surgery, and for the last year, you've been going to voice therapy to strengthen your vocal cords and improve your breath control while speaking. you were doing amazing, and on the one year anniversary of your surgery, you actually had a follow up appointment with house's team. it was rare that they followed up with patients, but it was also rare for house to have taken such an interest in the case.

"house, where did you get a piano?" doctor cameron asked as she watched her boss suddenly wheeling a piano into the office.

"don't ask," house replied, pushing it into the middle of the room and getting it set up. he then turned to you. "come here."

"what for?" you asked, very confused as to what he was doing.

"for a sandwich," he rolled his eyes. "obviously i want to make sure your vocal cords are healing properly," he added. so, despite your apprehension about his methods, you approached the piano and sat down on the little bench. house sat down beside you. "you think you can still sing?" he asked.

"i don't know...i haven't really tried," you admitted.

"well, you're going to now," house said, starting to play the tune of one of your songs on thr piano. he'd really gone as far as to look into your music and pick one of your songs.

despite being nervous, you started to sing the words, and you quickly realized that it wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. sure, it didn't sound near as perfect as it used to, but considering you'd gone through bilateral vocal cord paralysis and survived, it sounded pretty damn good. you couldn't help but notice that house was really getting into it, and you could have sworn you saw a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you two had become rather...close during your time in his care a year ago. you two bonded over your shared love for music, and during that time you really got to see a different side of the man he presented himself to be. in fact, it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to say that you two even developed feelings for each other, but unfortunately nothing ever came of it. when you were discharged from the hospital, you were also discharged out of his life, and over the last year, house couldn't stop thinking about you. that was why he scheduled this "follow up" appointment with you. he never saw his patients after they were out of his care, but he realized that if he wanted a chance, he was going to have to take it now.

when the song ended, he glanced at you before the rest of his team, now shooing them out of the office to make themselves useful either within the clinic or with their current medical mystery. it was really just a ploy to get a moment alone with you, and once you two were alone, he turned his attention back to you. god, you could get lost staring into those bright blue eyes of his, and he seemed to pick up on that.

"what?" he asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

"oh...nothing," you replied, feeling a little flustered. his eyes flickered down to your lips, and he drew in a deep breath.

"you know, i don't ever follow up with my patients," he told you.

"you don't?" you asked, and he shook his head. "then why me?"

"because i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since you walked out of this hospital," he admitted.

"oh come on...i couldn't have been that special," you replied, raising an eyebrow.

"i've never...i've never connected with a patient like this. i've never felt like this before," house said. you were quiet for a minute, trying to process what he was saying.

"would it be wrong for me to say that i feel the same about you?" you ask finally, and there was that little smile of his trying not to show itself again. he didn't speak, but instead leaned his head in and pressed his lips against yours. you could have melted against his lips, and you were surprised at how well they fit together. after a few moments, though, you pulled away to breathe.

"i feel like we're breaking so many rules right now," you laugh, and house finally cracked a real smile.

"it's what i do best," he said, pulling you in for another kiss.

#house md #gregory house #greg house #hatecrimes md #fanfic #hugh laurie #one shot #gregory house x reader #gregory house x fem!reader #writeblr #house md fanfiction #houseblr

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oh-stars · 7 months

Text

Boring

Love is wanting to tell someone every little detail of your day and wanting to hear about theirs.

a @steddielovemonth prompt | 1309 words | CW: N/A | Rating: G

Steve isn’t exciting. He knows this, he’s always known this. It’s why he hides behind fake smiles and follows the same beat as the rest of his peers rather than finding his own path like Eddie. He follows the local teams because that’s what everyone else did; he listens to pop music because that’s what’s played at parties and the first thing he hears when he turns on the radio; he wears boring clothes because his mom buys it for him and he actually likes how they look on him.

It’s not something he put a lot of thought into until he started hanging out with Dustin and his friends, only growing when Robin came into his life and then it became this glaringly obvious problem when Eddie took an interest in him as a friend. Steve likes the mainstream, everyday boring shit that makes him blend into his peers, and fully fade to the background when he’s around his wonderfully eccentric new family.

And now that he and Eddie are more than friends, Steve feels even more inadequate.

His date ideas are cheesy and stereotypical. His ambitions in life start and stop at having a family in the future (which has changed since he was a kid – now he doesn’t equate having a family to a wife and 2.5 kids, but rather a cozy little life with his partner, maybe a few pets, and any nieces or nephews the party gives him. As long as he has Robin in his life and a partner, be it a wife or husband, who actually loves him, he’ll be content). Steve doesn’t have any passions he can turn into a career, and the few he did have, it’s far fetched or his body couldn’t keep up anymore even if he had the chance.

Then there’s Eddie who shines so brightly and takes up so much space with every ounce of his personality. He has so many hobbies that could become actual careers, too many choices for him to pick from that there have been plenty of nights where he’s stayed up and talked Steve in circles over his choices. He has such strong opinions about everything, could rant for days about the lint he found in the dryer if he needed to. Nancy always says he’d be a great Phillip-buster, whatever that is, because he can just keep going without losing steam.

He’s incredible and Steve is decidedly not.

It’s something he ponders on his way home, nodding along to the Springsteen song playing on the radio as he heads for the trailer. It’s been a great day, one of Steve’s better ones lately, and he’s itching to revel in its many wonders with Eddie when he gets home. Nothing exciting happened, just a lot of little, wonderful moments that feel perfect to Steve.

But they’re boring. He knows that.

When he was a kid, he used to hear his grandparents talk about the most mundane things. His grandmother would fill his grandpa in on all the gossip she gathered from their neighbor or the way the price of milk went up at Bradley Big Buy. She’d have serious conversations with him about whether they should switch grocery stores or if going to one of the farms directly for their produce was a better idea. And in turn, he’d complain about the squeaky wheel on the mail cart at work or would go into detail about how lovely the lunch she packed him was, complimenting the sandwich like it was made of gold.

They were the perfect couple in Steve’s eyes. He’s always wanted what they have. But his grandparents were so similar, they shared interests in ways that Steve and Eddie don’t. On paper, Steve and Eddie should clash and he knows opposites attract and all, but it doesn’t mean you want a life with them.

So he holds in his excitement about his day. He’s just happy to have Eddie to come home to at all, that he’s allowed to just walk into the trailer and be a part of Eddie’s life.

He parks next to Eddie’s van and pockets his keys.

Eddie’s waiting for him by the door, perched on the dining chair. “Thought you’d be coming home soon,” Eddie says with a grin as he pops up. He loops his arms around Steve’s neck and kisses him, so sweet and soft. Another addition to Steve’s perfect day.

Steve can’t keep the smile off his face. “I missed you,” he says, even though it’s probably too much, too sappy for Eddie.

Instead of wrinkling his nose and making a snide comment, Eddie’s arms tighten around him as he beams, eyes crinkling with how wide his smile is. “I missed you too.” Another kiss, this one a little longer and deeper before Eddie’s pulling away with a peck. “C’mon. I’ve been losing my mind being here all by myself,” he laments, hanging from Steve a little.

“Where are we going?” Steve asks as Eddie straightens up to drag Steve to the couch. He gets pushed onto one side as Eddie takes the other, sitting cross-legged and sideways so he can stare directly at Steve.

“Okay,” Eddie says seriously, “tell me everything.”

“What?”

Eddie nudges Steve’s knee. “About your day. I want the…” His brow furrows as he looks up at the ceiling, eyes glazing over as he thinks. “What’s the sports thing I’m thinking of? With the scripts?”

Steve cocks his head to the side. “A play?”

“Yes!” Eddie snaps his fingers and bounces a little. “I want the play-by-play.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asks, quiet despite the way his heart is picking up. “It was just a day at Family Video. It’s not like I’m a doctor or something more exciting.”

Eddie leans forward and cups his hands over Steve’s face. “Everything you do is exciting to me, baby. I like seeing the world through your eyes. So yes, tell me everything,” he says, leaning forward with each word as he squishes Steve’s cheeks. He ends it with another peck, then two more like he can’t help himself.

Steve laughs, but twists his body to mirror Eddie’s. “It’s been a great day,” he admits, eyes drawn to the loose thread on Eddie’s cushion. “Robin brought me coffee from that new shop on Main and her dad dropped off donuts for us on his way to work. Then Mrs. Peterson came in and she wasn’t a demonic she-beast from the underworld and was actually lovely for once,” Steve says.

“Mrs. Peterson?” Eddie gasps. “The same woman who yelled at me for almost two hours for biking through her yard as a kid?”

“The very one,” Steve says. “I think Rob and I were both too stunned to speak for a good thirty minutes after.”

Eddie shakes his head, eyes bright with genuine interest – almost like he’s mystified. “See, this is the shit I wouldn’t believe if it came from anyone else but you.”

“What’s that mean?” Steve asks, softer but not harsh like he thought it would sound. Not that he wants to – he just knows how he comes off sometimes.

“You,” Eddie says, poking Steve’s chest, “are special. You always bring the best out of people, man. Including grouchy old ladies who sold their souls to the devil for fresh gardenias in their flowerbeds.”

Steve laughs and tilts forward so he’s practically in Eddie’s lap. They shift quietly so Steve’s laying on Eddie fully, arms wrapped around his middle. “You make it sound like I’ve got something exciting to say. It’s just boring shit.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You, Steve Harrington, are so far from boring,” Eddie whispers against his ear.

And deep down, Steve thinks he may actually believe him.

Steve lifts his head to kiss Eddie’s cheek. “Your turn. Tell me something about your day.”

Thank you @lady-lostmind for betaing!

Ao3 Link

#ohstars fic #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #stranger things #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #ohstars posting challenge

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vidavalor · 1 month

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Hello! 👋 Just dropping in for a visit to my favourite online pub: your blog *chews on all your posts and slurps down your analyses*

I love the way you spell out the Ineffable Husband SpeakTM for us, and I was wondering what you think about Crowley’s “You don’t dance.” in 2.06, when Aziraphale asked to dance with him?

Crowley is mumbling a bit here & I wasn’t sure at first if he said “you” or “we” or something else, so I checked the subtitles as well. That aside, we know by this point that Aziraphale has done at least 3 I-Was-Wrong dances, so I wonder if Crowley is referring to something else?

Hi, @procrastiel! How's it going, love? Wouldn't say I spell anything out-- I just give my opinion-- but I appreciate the compliment! 💕Crowley's line is definitely "you don't dance" and ohh, yeah, I can deep dive on my opinion on what it means to dance. Deepest of dives-- this went everywhere. 😂 Mother of all metas for the mother of all Good Omens questions... We're having sandwiches-the-food tonight in honor of where your question crosses into God's tongue-in-cheek monologue on how many angels can get down on the heads of those Mrs. Sandwich seamstressing tools-- pins.

This is going to take a route through some heavy analysis of the argument over Gabriel and The Apology Dance and a few other things to get the root of your question, so, grab a beverage of choice before diving in. TW: Brief mentions of Satan's attacks on Crowley.

*rubs hands together and cues up the disco music* 😂

What does it mean to dance?

When we talk about dancing, there are roughly four different meanings of the word to look at with relation to Good Omens' story.

One meaning is the first one that comes to mind for most people, which is a physical dance-- as in, moving your body, usually to music.

The music, if it exists, can be in your head, a song you're singing aloud, or one that is playing in the room-- it doesn't matter. If you're moving, any and all of it would qualify as dancing. By this measure? Crowley canonically had seen Aziraphale dance before Aziraphale asked him to dance during The Meeting Ball because, well...

...here is Aziraphale dancing in front of Crowley in the bookshop in 1941:

Crowley's shock in 2.06 cannot be coming from never having seen Aziraphale dance at all, right? They've known each other for thousands of years and if Aziraphale was doing this fucking adorable little shuffle of excitement in the bookshop in 1941 then it's not really a stretch to assume that these two-- who canonically listen to records together in the evenings sometimes-- have danced together before.

In 1941, we see that Aziraphale liking to dance is not something he's actually hiding from Crowley because he's doing this cute little dance in front of him without a second thought. This is also interesting because one theory was that Crowley has no idea about Aziraphale liking to dance at all because he didn't appear to know about Aziraphale learning the gavotte. S2 turns that on its head a bit by saying that Crowley might not yet know about the gavotte-- we don't really know yet either way-- but he definitely does know that Aziraphale likes to dance and he was unsurprised to see him doing so in 1941.

The key thing here is that when they have danced together or in front of one another before? It was likely only in the privacy of the bookshop or another place like it. It was just the two of them.

When Crowley says "you don't dance" to Aziraphale, he's not meaning that Aziraphale doesn't dance at all. He's meaning something more expansive, as we'll look at with the other meanings of dancing below.

The second meaning is a verbal dance. These are interactions between more than one person in which the back-and-forth of what is being spoken has the give-and-take quality of a dance.

There can be different types of verbal dancing. Crowley and Aziraphale's word-nerdy flirting is a kind of verbal dance. It's a birdsong mating dance, especially since they are so hot for words. Being able to verbally entice and keep up with a partner makes flirting-- especially their kind of it-- a kind of dance and it's one they've been doing for thousands of years and both enjoy.

Another type of verbal dance between long-time partners is one that could be dubbed, as Crowley and Aziraphale call it, an "I Was Wrong" dance. This is an apology between partners who had an argument but want to get beyond it. No matter what you think the nature of Crowley & Aziraphale's relationship is, they've known each other for thousands of years and are de facto partnership married at this point so they have An Apology Routine TM. People who have been together a long time and who have the occasional spat often tend to fall into a rhythm with their apologies, knowing what needs to be said to just get to the other side of it, which they'd like to do as soon as possible because they miss each other and don't like being in conflict with one another.

When Aziraphale says he wants "a proper apology... with the little dance" as Crowley tries to get away with not doing the verbal dance that he knows he's going to end up doing lol, what Aziraphale means is that he wants the back-and-forth verbal dance they do as an apology. He doesn't want to just ignore what happened because he was really pissed and he's telling Crowley that he'd appreciate an actual apology and a bit of groveling before he's willing to let it go and move on.

The "little dance" in question isn't a physical dance-- it's basically the same apology dance we saw Crowley do back in S1 here:

When Crowley claimed he doesn't "do the dance" in S2, they both knew that wasn't true and so did we, really, because *points to the above gif* there's Crowley doing the dance in the middle of the street in S1. Claiming he doesn't "do the dance" is sometimes part of the dance if Crowley is the one apologizing as, unless Hell is actively, in that moment, trying to kill him-- like they were in S1-- he gets squirmy about apologies, even if he always eventually says them.

The reason why Crowley does the physical dance that he does during The Apology Dance is actually off of Aziraphale being just as dryly self-deprecating about the two of them and their relationship as Crowley winds up showing he is with The Apology Dance. It's rooted in Aziraphale's use of the word proper.

That word falls into the category in their speak of words like wily, thwart, smitten, demon, fiend, etc.. that have wildly contrasting meanings where they can be said on one level to mean one thing that is acceptable to an audience of angels, demons, or humans, but that also, on another level and within Crowley and Aziraphale's speak, has a funnier, more sexualized meaning.

Proper has an understood meaning of being something that is correct, acceptable, and appropriate. It means decent and respectable. It has a connotation that suggests that something deemed proper falls within the generally-accepted social rules of a society.

Within that word, though? Is the word prop.

I probably do not need to further define that but one sense of the word prop is that it is a theatrical term to describe an object being used in a play. From this, it also come to mean an object being used in sexual play. The humor for Crowley and Aziraphale comes from the fact that proper is a word related to what is considered acceptable in society while bedroom activities involving props have historically been considered "deviant" by those same societies.

The word exists in the sexual meaning in several other scenes in Good Omens. Such as:

Aziraphale in 1941 flirting with Crowley in the magic shop by using the silver rings magic trick as an innuendo-laden stand-in for handcuffs and going on about having a "gift for prop"... and in 2019, when Crowley joked that Aziraphale did not need to do his literal magic act because: "You can do proper magic. You can make things disappear."

Words containing the word thin relate to Crowley and disappear/appear are words with a root meaning of to come into view-- heavy emphasis on the to come part. Crowley sounds like he's talking about Aziraphale's supernatural magic abilities (and he likely also is lol) but he's wording it in such a way as to be really referring to Aziraphale's other skills as a true magician in bed.

Aziraphale, hilariously, teasing Crowley back by joking that making him come is not as fun as pulling a coin out of his ear 😂:

This is also the joke around Aziraphale doing things like popping into view from around corners or doorways or, in my favorite, from the other side of The Bentley in S2, as well as things like Crowley apparating into a space to see Aziraphale. They're magical so they can apparate-- literally appear and disappear from view-- and would do so to meet up with one another at times, as we've seen. It's a visual joke on appear/disappear and the verb to come.

There is also the hilarious "only I can properly thwart the wiles of the demon Crowley" from the deleted 1800 bookshop opening scene-- a sentence made up basically entirely of words with double meaning that make them sound like Aziraphale is saying to Gabriel and Sandalphon that he's the only one who can correctly stop Crowley's evil demonicness when he's also, with the same words, trying to alert Crowley, who has just arrived in the doorway, to the fact that the angels are here to recall him by saying a sentence that is like: but you can't take me back to Heaven! I'm the only one who has the first clue how to shag Crowley right.

So, in S2, Aziraphale is being a bit arch when he says he wants "a proper apology." They both know that he means it in terms of saying he wants a genuine, decent apology and nothing more than that. His dryness in choice and delivery of the word proper is Aziraphale being tongue-in-cheek with Crowley and aligning their history of well-balanced, healthy, sexual power dynamics with the fact that their argument was, at the core, a lot about aspects of trust and control that they *both* struggle with outside of their proper bedroom, where things are very different.

The argument was really a perfect storm of triggering both of their traumas and they both, technically, were right and wrong about things. Aziraphale's apology dance is, essentially, the whole 'our car/our bookshop' that becomes the rest of the season. The reason why it's Crowley doing The Apology Dance, though, is actually less about the subject matter of their argument and more about which one of them fucked up when it came to the stuff the argument shows us that they're working on together.

The argument over Gabriel actually shows us the extent to which they're a couple, in that they've clearly talked about working on things they do which trigger each other's trauma and are trying to be better at it. They're proactively working at trying to get better at arguing, which is the most married thing in creation. This is also indicative of both of them trying to manage different traumas and PTSD that they have and doing the best they can do while still not yet able to fully escape the root causes of those difficulties. That is something which any therapist will tell you is nearly impossible to do but they are both trying anyway and doing a pretty good job of it actually, all things considered. Where can we see this in the argument over Gabriel?

It is in that they each both do something when upset that is a trigger for the other's trauma and has, in the past, caused their discussions to implode, and how they both handle that with one another during this argument. When Aziraphale gets upset and anxious, his anger can take the form of saying words he doesn't mean-- words that are often completely and utterly absurd from an objective standpoint. Think of the bandstand argument, for instance, and Aziraphale's ludicrous attempt to say that he and Crowley aren't friends and-- the best one lol-- that he doesn't even like Crowley.

The audience and Crowley alike know this is bullshit and so does Aziraphale but it's the product of Heaven being a place of emotional repression and Aziraphale's perfectionism, which makes him feel like he's not supposed to ever actually feel the depression and anxiety and anger that he does. When upset, this bubbles up in him and explodes and the results are words he doesn't mean that make him feel terrible, further contribute to his pattern of negative self-thoughts, and hurt Crowley.

In S2, we might also notice, Aziraphale phrases his go-to of telling Crowley it's over as a defense mechanism as saying that Crowley is "at liberty to go", which has an implication that a certain amount of staying was occurring. While Crowley isn't living in the shop to the extent that he's there in the mornings because they're still trying not to get caught, this plus things like "we both get plenty of use out of it [the bookshop], don't we?" indicate that Aziraphale never really notices that Crowley no longer has his flat because Crowley just kind of lives in the bookshop now. He's there every day, to a point that Aziraphale defaulting to his usual anger response of breaking up with Crowley when upset is now phrased in such a way as to try to kick him out of the house. Crowley, though, knows better-- just like how Aziraphale knows better where Crowley's own issues are concerned.

Even though Crowley knows Aziraphale doesn't mean what he says when he's upset and is patient about it (the not even batting an eyelash "you doooo" in response to "I don't even like you" in the bandstand argument), it still hurts. So, that's what Aziraphale is trying to work on and we see that Crowley is working on it with him, an example of that being when Aziraphale is starting to lose it during the Gabriel argument and Crowley's response to it:

Crowley is basically saying honey, you're doing the thing-- and it works. This is what they've agreed upon as a way that Crowley can help Aziraphale when he's upset. He points out that Aziraphale is doing the thing he does, which seems to be something they've agreed on as a strategy for communicating better. He gives Aziraphale room to take a breath and say what he really means. Expressing how he really feels when the emotions are not positive ones is hard for Aziraphale because it involves admitting that he has these emotions in the first place.

So, Aziraphale does his part in their agreement and he rephrases what he was saying into what he actually means: that he would love for Crowley to help him with Gabriel but that if he won't, he won't. He is open about how he feels, which is Aziraphale doing what they agreed to do, and is a world of difference from how they were fighting before. He also expresses it in an especially positive way, as he uses words like 'love' and 'help' to say how he feels and what he needs.

This is why it's Crowley who winds up doing The Apology Dance.

What Crowley does in an argument that triggers Aziraphale is to leave. While, technically, sometimes leaving for a breath is not a terrible strategy in an argument, Crowley's tendency to leave is a flight-or-fight PTSD response that stems from a lack of trust in anyone but himself (and, honestly, often not even himself) to keep him safe. It's honestly not how he really feels about Aziraphale, whom he actually does trust with himself, but he sometimes lets fear and anxiety overwhelm him when triggered by situations in a way that relates to his past traumatic experiences.

Just as Aziraphale's struggle with his more volatile emotions is understandable considering what he's been through, so is Crowley's tendency to panic and bolt. The problem is that, just as Aziraphale's angry words can hurt Crowley, even if he understands where they come from and knows Aziraphale doesn't mean them, Crowley's tendency to leave hurts Aziraphale because it feels to him that Crowley doesn't trust him to make decisions that would keep Crowley safe.

They both are aware that their knee-jerk reactions of running away or sniping in anger are trauma responses and not terribly logical but they're both working on trying to heal enough to not have those responses with one another. In S2, they're stuck trying to manage all of that while still living in an environment that is dangerous for them and in which Armageddon could be around the corner again at any moment-- making it obviously harder to deal with things and also making the fact that they are both doing reasonably well with it all the more impressive and an indicator of how good they are for one another.

(It also makes the end of S2-- a series of miscommunications, some of which are not even their fault, that led to epic fucking disaster-- even more devastating because it doesn't actually reflect the healthy relationship that the beginning of the season emphasizes exists.)

Compounding these issues and part of why they're trying to work on them is that both of them trigger each other's PTSD when they react like this.

Aziraphale's words in anger and his tendency to push Crowley away leave Crowley feeling less secure around the one person who otherwise is the safest person he's ever met while Crowley's tendency to bolt in a panic, instead of staying and working through things, triggers Aziraphale's fear of abandonment (both in general and with Crowley) and, even more so, his terror over losing Crowley.

He's never sure when Crowley goes out the door if he's ever coming back because it's not really safe for him out there and S2 illustrates that Aziraphale has real trauma dating back to the time Crowley was taken in front of him in 1827, shown in him going to the spot in Edinburgh in the present where he lost Crowley and needing to call him from it to hear his voice. And, well, also to get a bonus praise kinky little boost from his partner for a job well done on working on his trauma stuff:

So, long story short, the argument they have over what to do about Gabriel's arrival really illustrates the extent to which they're both trying to manage a great deal of trauma together and, to help one another to do so, they have put some strategies into place for trying to do that more effectively. Aziraphale kept to his end of the bargain in this argument. He used more productive and open words to express how he was feeling. Crowley, though, did not hold up his end of the bargain here. He did when it came to helping Aziraphale with Aziraphale's part of it but he didn't when it came to managing his own trauma.

To be fair to Crowley? This situation was basically the exact perfect storm of a trigger for his PTSD and neither he nor Aziraphale are really going to be able to get much of anywhere significant with healing until all of this Heaven & Hell stuff is over in S3. So, that he fucked this up here is both sympathetic and not terribly surprising. It's also the root of him then spending the season reassuring Aziraphale that he's coming back and part of why he goes out the door in the end of 2.06 but he stays by the car. But, when it comes to just this argument over Gabriel in 2.01, it was Crowley who didn't try and that made Aziraphale upset.

This is where, though, that The Apology Dance shows that they're actually pretty healthy about arguing overall. Just the mention of this having existing for ages is establishing that trying to be better at disagreeing and having this little routine for getting back to a good place and starting to talk more after they've argued is not just something that has existed post-S1 but has been going on for, at minimum, hundreds of years, if not a whole lot longer. In essence, The Apology Dance exists as a bridge back to a place where they are less reactive and can talk through what's upsetting them-- which a lot of evidence suggests they are actually very good at doing with one another.

So, when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he wants "a proper apology", he's already injecting some humor into the moment, even if he is serious about not letting Crowley just skip over genuinely saying he is sorry. He is upset but he also loves Crowley and he's aware that the situation was pretty much the ultimate trigger for Crowley. It's just difficult for Aziraphale to watch because he wants Crowley to feel safe enough to heal more from a lot of this and feels like that he can't fully provide that, even if he is doing everything in his power to help Crowley with it. In a way, it's a foreshadowing how Aziraphale is going to fall in the end of S2 over the temptation of power that he thinks might help Crowley be safe.

The reason why Aziraphale chooses to use the word proper in saying he wants an apology-- and in that particularly dry tone-- is because he is very, very pissed that Crowley walked out the door rather than trusted him to have not put him into danger with Gabriel and to help him manage the situation. He's pointing out that Crowley trusts him implicitly in so many other ways, with the use of the wordplay there being a reference to the fact that he and Crowley have a healthy balance of power and an enormous amount of trust in their relationship overall, for which Aziraphale is using their positive sexual power dynamics as an example.

As different scenes have illustrated, when they mess around with those dynamics, they switch off allowing one another a sense of control over the other, even if the overall dynamics of such situations are never as cut-and-dry as that. The point is that Aziraphale's use of proper here is a direct reference to the fact that Crowley went out the door in a panic-stricken fit earlier but they both know that Crowley does trust Aziraphale to a great degree, and a great example of that to Aziraphale is the fact that Crowley-- as eleven hundred scenes in the show suggest lol-- is very into letting Aziraphale restrain him in bed. The reason why we even know this is because of how the show uses aspects of their sexuality to illustrate the level of trust and intimacy in their relationship.

Just as the wall slam scene in S1 exists to make it abundantly clear how much Aziraphale trusts Crowley and how he has nothing to fear from him by contrasting that with Aziraphale's response to being jumped by the angels in the street, the scenes that are referring to them using restraints, while illustrating that they both do, are centered around Crowley's thing for it, in particular, to help illustrate that he has the same kind of trust in and feeling of safety with Aziraphale that Aziraphale does with him.

The reason why Crowley liking to be tied up or handcuffed is given weight enough that it's a recurring thing mentioned in the story is because of how it's a different level of trust for him than it might be for someone else. While the wall slam scene contrasts Aziraphale's safety with Crowley versus the abuse of the angels, the handcuff thing is showing that Crowley, who is a survivor of attacks that render him unable to move or otherwise assert any control over himself and who has demonstrable PTSD from it, trusts Aziraphale enough and feels safe with him enough to explore with him the complexities of being a survivor of attacks involving a loss of control who also finds sometimes being restrained and giving up some control in bed arousing.

So, Aziraphale's "proper apology" is dryly mocking both of their control and trust issues by use of an example of a place in their relationship where they handle those issues without conflict, and that's in the great communication and ease of care for one another in bed. With use of proper, Aziraphale is subtly pointing out that Crowley is an assault survivor who trusts Aziraphale to him tie him up but he runs out of other situations in a panic, which is an example of the lack of logic that can occur in the face of trauma sometimes. It helps to prove how ridiculous they both are really being in general.

Which Crowley agrees with. Because he knows he was. Trauma isn't logical, it's knee-jerk emotional, and he felt bad about storming out and even worse when he found out from Beez what the repercussions of not helping might be so he's come back, heard the 'proper' comment, and is like fine, yes, you're right. We're ridiculous. I was ridiculous.

This is healthy as all fuck:

It matches the humor Aziraphale put in around his genuine anger with additional humor. It's self-deprecating and ego-free, just an admittance of having messed up and showing he's sorry by being a little ridiculous because how he reacted earlier, he knows, was also a little ridiculous. There's the hearing of proper and responding to that with a mock-submissive, self-deprecating, little dance and a bow and scrape. There's a dry, affectionate mocking of the two of them and their long history of apology conversations that all boil down to the lyrics of the little song Crowley makes up here: "You were right, you were right, I was wrong, and you were right."

The tongue-in-cheek vibe of Yes, you're correct. Are you satisfied now, my king? that pokes gentle fun at both of them and that actually winds up illustrating just how much trust and love there is between them as a result.

Aziraphale finding it hilarious to a point that he's working hard not to laugh long enough to respond with equal humor with the little soft dom-ish "very nice" and then miming a kiss at Crowley showing that they are actually good at this. They allow each other to be imperfect, know how to talk openly about how that makes them feel, and can recover from an argument with humor and affection.

This is also a good example of Crowley being supportive of Aziraphale expressing emotions and of Aziraphale trusting Crowley as someone safe to do that around. Aziraphale told Crowley exactly how he felt and what he needed here in a clear way that expressed his anger and frustration without descension into anything harmful and Crowley listened, acknowledged those emotions, and responded in a way that was supportive and positive.

The argument over Gabriel and The Apology Dance is what their relationship is really like when they can speak openly and directly to one another because they have the safety and privacy to do so. They actually do know how to talk to one another and they do it very well. Their present situation as of the end of S2 is more of a nightmare of unfortunate events and misunderstandings and it actually took a lot to get it to go that wrong because, normally, as we can see? It's relatively easy for them to get it right.

So, Crowley's Apology Dance was both verbal and a literal dance, yes, but Aziraphale's bemused response to it indicates he wasn't expecting the literal dance and the fact that Crowley made up and did the literal dance off of Aziraphale's use of proper, as we looked at, indicates that it was something he did for the first time in that moment, rather than how The Apology Dance usually goes.

The usual nature of Crowley and Aziraphale's "I Was Wrong" Dance is strictly verbal.

We can tell this by one of the years in which Aziraphale mentions that he did an "I Was Wrong" dance in the past: 1793.

When Aziraphale shows that he's really hurt by Crowley leaving and needs him to apologize, he lists three, prior times when it was Aziraphale who had fucked something up between them and was the one doing The Apology Dance as a result. The three years he uses as shorthand are 1650, 1793 and 1941. While we don't know anything about 1650 right now... and while we know about 1941 but not how it ends so maybe not yet quite enough to say we know why Aziraphale was doing an apology dance (though I would argue that maybe 1941 itself is a bit of a joint apology dance)... the one year here we do know enough about to use to inform our opinion about what their apology dances usually are is 1793.

What Aziraphale is apologizing for in 1793 is the rescue scenario winding up a bit of a disaster because of Aziraphale neglecting to take into account that if Jean-Claude The Executioner was having that much fun cutting people's heads off, he probably was disturbing in other ways as well. While Crowley covers up his reaction to apparating into the room just as Aziraphale is saying "no" and Jean-Claude is trying to get his clothes off, by the end of the scene, we see that Crowley is more bothered than he was letting on.

Jean-Claude becomes the only human in the entire series to date that we ever see Crowley intentionally push straight towards Hell and, in doing so, he renders Jean-Claude unable to form more than muted sounds of protest-- not at all projecting his own experiences of assault onto him or anything. Crowley makes the very dark joke that's in the above gif, savagely mocking a so-common-it's-cliche victim-blaming response to rape, making it clear in doing so what's been brought up for him as a result of what he saw when he first came into the room. Crowley is half out of it for the last moments of the scene and, at one point, sniffs like he's trying not to cry. Aziraphale had meant for it to be a fun, dashing-hero-to-the-rescue type of thing but the torture-happy prison cell atop the trauma trigger is what would make Aziraphale feel the need to apologize afterwards, even though Crowley knew he didn't intend any harm.

So, ask yourself this: did Aziraphale apologize for that by doing a silly dance?

I really don't think he did...

It wouldn't have been appropriate. The last thing Aziraphale would have done then is make light of how they both were feeling about something relating to this kind of trauma. It's not to say there wasn't any humor involved-- particularly, their form of really dark gallows humor-- but not in the midst of the genuine, actual apology. Aziraphale's "I Was Wrong" dance in 1793 was a back-and-forth of him verbally apologizing and Crowley insisting that it was fine and then Aziraphale, more or less, you were right and I was wrong-ing with other words until they both were okay to talk more and move forward.

Both of them were alright as a result and clearly had a memorable time in Paris afterwards, as Aziraphale is referencing it as a good example of the two of them working through things together in a positive way when he tells Crowley that Paris, 1793 is what he "wants for lunch" in 2008.

It's really why Aziraphale says he wants 1793 in the first place, when they have a zillion other times he could have referenced. The scene in 2008 is taking place after Crowley went missing the night before on assignment for Hell. Aziraphale doesn't need to be told by this point that Crowley was hurt but they've been in public the entire time since they've met up so there has not yet been a moment to try to really acknowledge it. By bringing up Paris 1793 in response to Crowley saying he wants to lunch, Aziraphale is using it as a shorthand to convey both that he's aware and that they'll handle it, like they always do, and it will all be alright. Paris 1793 seems like it is a particularly memorable example of them managing that to them, so it's the one that Aziraphale brings up.

This also accounts for the discrepancy in Aziraphale's expressions in 2008 when he talks about this particular time. When he first mentions Paris 1793, his response is layered. There's regret mixed in there. Pain. Complicated emotions. His smile to Crowley is kind of flat, like he's trying to remain more upbeat than he actually feels.

It's very different from the cheer of we had crepes! that emerges after Crowley's response to the suggestion is positive. It speaks to Paris 1793 being more complex than only the fun, memorable romp in France that it also was.

So, this would mean that The Apology Dance is usually a verbal thing, even though Crowley did a literal dance along with it in S2. This actually is not terribly surprising because Crowley and Aziraphale's language is an exercise in the literal and the figurative.

Everything in it physically exists as well as figuratively exists and that's part of the fun of it for them. It all has to work on the surface level as well as on other levels. There are literal crepes and figurative crepes, for example, while we're on the 1793 topic. Literal fish-- sushi, gravlax in dill sauce, etc..-- and figurative fish, like the two of them. When Aziraphale asked for "the little dance" of light grovel with the apology, Crowley did that by also giving him a literal dance to go along with their traditionally verbal dance. Why? Because Aziraphale called their apology routine a figurative "little dance", so Crowley gave him a literal one to go with it. Eventually, all the figurative has to be at least a little literal in some way. It's why God made sure that an actual nightingale-the-bird was actually singing in Berkeley Square at the end of S1 as her last language lesson to us. There were then now literal angels dining at The Ritz so a literal nightingale sang in literal Berkeley Square.

The S2 Apology Dance is likely then the first Apology Dance that involved a physical dance. I'm not sure that there were others in the past but I think there definitely will be more going forward and that's a good thing since a bit of silliness is very healthy. 😊

Ok, so, back to the "you don't dance" moment... remember ten years ago when I said there were roughly four meanings of dance?

We've defined two of them already: a literal, physical dance and a verbal dance. The other two are the dance of society and dance as sexual euphemism. Historically, these weren't always mutually exclusive things and Good Omens overlaps them in some ways a bit as well.

The dance of society is being an open, active participant in your society. Even though Aziraphale basically built the society around him through being the founder of the street, we've seen how he tends to keep himself one step removed from life on Whickber Street.

It's best summed up by his relationship to The Whickber Street Shopkeepers & Traders Association: he is a member of it but, until S2, he's never hosted the monthly meeting. He doesn't fully see himself as one of them because, as an angel, he's not supposed to want any of this human living stuff, even if he desperately does. He has imposter syndrome for days, feeling like he's always about to be exposed as not really one of them.

Aziraphale does enjoy himself at times. He does engage with the world around him. He just doesn't allow himself to belong to it and his reasons for doing so are not only about his angel feelings.

The human world hasn't always been a place where he fit, either.

It's only been very recently in history-- and Aziraphale has seen literally *all* of history-- when it has been comparatively safe enough for people like him and Crowley to live more openly. It's still not completely safe, obviously and unfortunately, but there is more general acceptance now, more acknowledged human rights and more laws to help secure those rights.

The things that Crowley was hoping were around the corner in 1967-- when England decriminalized homosexual sex between men over the age of 21 and he suggested that maybe he and Aziraphale could go for broke and try being less of a secret-- actually are here by the present of the story in both S1 and S2.

A lot of that is at the root of the humor in S2 as Gabriel's presence in the shop forces Crowley and Aziraphale out onto Whickber Street in the daylight for the first time and creates scenarios in which the shopkeepers-- chiefly, Nina-- are throwing them off by being more comfortable with having their relationship be acknowledged publicly than they are. Part of the joke is that they're still closeted in London Soho in the year 2023 and the humans cannot understand why because Crowley and Aziraphale can't tell them that it's their supernatural world causing them to remain a secret.

It is only relatively recently in human history that people at formal social gatherings like the ones in England that Aziraphale has been to for years danced with anybody they felt like, regardless of relationship or lack thereof to that person. For many years, while someone might stand up with the occasional maiden aunt out of politeness or whatever, most of the time, a request for a slot on a dance card was a declaration of romantic intent. It was done within the public eye and, while matchmaking was often economical more than romantic, it was at the heart of how society functioned.

To dance, in that sense, was to be a part of society.

Aziraphale was never a part of society in that way. Not just because he's an angel who is supposed to remain above the human fray but because he is queer and society, for a long time, was not built to openly accept him. He was on the fringes of it for both supernatural and human reasons. From what we've seen, literal, physical dancing has always been something of a metaphor for this struggle for Aziraphale.

When Crowley says that Aziraphale doesn't dance-- and it's really more, as we've seen, that Aziraphale doesn't dance in public-- what he means it that Aziraphale keeps himself back from being a fully engaged part of the group, out of a fear that it's not for him because both the supernatural and the human worlds have been teaching him for a long time that it is not.

To host a meeting of the local business association and have everyone to his house for a party... to have Gabriel and Maggie under the same roof... to have everyone knowing that Crowley is his partner... to be able to openly dance with Crowley in front of others like the couple that they are, in the same way that the Chengs and Mutt and his spouse are?

That is to dance.

That is Aziraphale trying for a life he's never had before.

It is this form of dancing-- the dance of society-- that Crowley has never seen Aziraphale do before and why he is so in shock when Aziraphale asks him to dance.

This is where we have to talk about what this has to do with the gavotte, the photo from 1941, Mrs. Sandwich, Duns Scotus, and disco... 🪩Yes, I know. Lots to chat about. 😊

Back in S1, as Crowley traps Hastur in his answering machine, we are treated to one of the best parts of God's narration: Her cheeky take on the human philosophical debate around the question:

"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?"

The phrase comes from Protestant theologians in the 17th century who were mocking Catholic scholastics like Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus-- whose name is quite literally the origin of the word dunce, so overt was the mocking of these dudes' ideas. The show via Crowley also is referring to Duns Scotus in Demon's Guide to Angelic Beings when Crowley mocks the demons by spelling 'residence' as 'residunce' in Aziraphale's entry, joking with him about the fact that the demons will not be able to understand what the entries really contain. So, why the mocking of Duns Scotus and pals?

While it's not totally know if they ever did debate this question exactly, questions very much like it were debated in their circle and others in different parts of the world and these philosophers would get a bit in the weeds in the wrong direction with things. This isn't to say there is a right or a wrong way to think so much as to say the way they chose to approach questions like this was full of absurd focus on the least consequential things someone could look at and failing to really think about how considering these questions at all could impact their understanding of the world around them and contribute to making that world better.

They were not asking questions like: do angels exist in the first place? If they do, do they dance? If so, what makes them want to dance? What would it say about angels and living-- and us and living-- if angels did dance? Why the fuck would they want to dance on the head of a pin when they could dance anywhere? 😂 What does it say about us and our views on angels and ourselves that we're spending a great deal of time and resources debating questions about beings that we cannot even prove fucking exist in the first place?

Instead of considering anything like that, Duns Scotus and pals would spend time just working on the most arcane details of angelic and demonic existences-- on things like trying to figure out if angels could exist in more than one place at once or how small they could get and how they would get that small and how many of them could fit on the proverbial head of a pin and still dance on there?

You know... real, relevant, thought-provoking, big picture questions that we've all asked ourselves at one time or another. 😂

Those mocking questions like this made the question "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" a kind of catch-all for pointless debate and it has since become a shorthand phrase meaning basically a bullshit question of no relevance, the debate over which is a colossal fucking waste of time.

Some scholars went so far as to blame those engaging in this type of debate as being responsible for the fall of Constantinople, saying that basically these scholars were sitting around listening to themselves talk on absurd things of no importance to such an extent that it caused mass death and collapsed an empire.

It might be of note then that this question is so notoriously tied to the fall of Constantinople that Good Omens might be winking at the fact that angels dancing around a seamstress might be a prelude to Aziraphale's fall, which some of us think is what's happening at the end of S2.

So, when Hastur and Crowley go into Crowley's answering machine, God jumps in with a little wink to this question in an effort to prevent anyone from focusing on the single most non-important question in all of Good Omens:

How did they get into the answering machine?

The answer to that is that it doesn't matter. They're magical-- that's the answer.

It's not to say that there is not a ton of small detail in Good Omens worth exploring-- and other scenes encourage doing just that, like Shakespeare's "in your role as the audience, could you give us something more to work with?-- but the details worth looking at are ones that will underscore what the story is saying in a bigger picture, thematic sort of way.

God's point here is that if you're hung up on the Magical Technical Whateverness that is stuff like how the angels and demons travel, you're being a bit of a Duns Scotus and trying to solve a mystery that the show has zero intention of ever making be relevant to anything and doesn't really consider much of a mystery in the first place. You can sit there until you're blue in the face doing calculations and looking up scientific explanations and it just simply does not matter. You're barking up the wrong tree because the thing you're talking about has no significant relevance to the story.

"How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" is basically the olden days, scholarly equivalent of rolling your eyes at half the comments in an online discussion for any sci-fi show that has ever existed. My friend and I call this kind of debate 'Photon Torpedo Jerk-Off' and what I mean by that is this: if you watch an episode of, say, Star Trek, and you think the most important thing to talk about that happened in the episode you just watched is whether or not these writers were accurate about the range of the photon torpedoes when they had the Enterprise blow up that Klingon warship, then you have missed the point of the episode entirely. If you're sitting around arguing about the sci-fi magical Whatever Tech and not talking about the story you've watched, you don't understand the point of what you've watched.

In Good Omens, the reason why God's monologue about how many angels can dance on the head a pin begins when it does is because it is a very sly joke on Duns Scotus-like debate, using the fact that the questions that were absurd to consider in real life are actually-- hilariously-- among the most pertinent to consider where Good Omens is concerned.

God brings up the pin-dancing question as a way to answer the question of what's happening with Crowley and Hastur going through the answering machine. She amusingly doesn't really answer the question and, instead, starts going on about the parts of "how many angel can dance on the head of a pin?" that should have been the bits being debated-- like whether or not angels dance at all and what if means that they do. Basically, Good Omens' response to how the answering machine bit works is "something something electrons" and they're proud of it and they should be because it doesn't fucking matter, which is why God's monologue in the answering machine sequence is really all about the bigger questions of the show and not the Duns Scotus-y question of "but how are they traveling through the telephone system exactly?" God simply just says that they are and moves onto more relevant things.

Even though the original debate over questions like "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" was theological and philosophical, the thoughts behind the absurdity of it very much apply to interpreting works of art. Because of its ties to religion and to angels, it makes for a very humorous way of telling the Good Omens audience that they will not really be explaining much of anything regarding to the technical whatzits of how angels and demons travel through electricity and things like that because that could not be less relevant to understanding the story.

The question "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?", at one point, also had several variants. One was the same question but wondering how many demons could dance on the head of a pin, while others involved whether or not angels were "sexless"-- a question that was so confusing at the time that several sub-variants emerged as a result because people weren't entirely sure what that question meant...

Was the question asking if angels had a biological sex-- and, if so, was it asking if they had sex organs? Was it asking if the angels had a form of gender which, at the time and with these theologians, was mostly a question of whether or not angels could be what humans would have called male or female, with gender binary ideas of what that would mean intact? Many others thought a question of whether or not angels were sexless might be more directly about whether or not angels had sex.

(Amusingly, that question didn't really ever get asked about demons, as the sexuality around demonic lore has always been pretty notorious.)

The problem with these questions being asked by theologians is that they never took the opportunity to reflect on what it might say about humans and our societies that we thought these the most pertinent questions to answer about angels and demons. They never stopped and thought about the fact that to ask these questions meant they were not sure that this supernatural world that they believed in had the same sort of structure when it came to things like gender, sex and sexuality that humans do and how that is where the more interesting thoughts exist. Just by asking those questions, you could start to follow a path that maybe suggested that they were different from humans and it might be better if humans emulated some of those ideas, right?

But that's definitely not where these guys took this...

When scholastics would approach questions like this, they'd do so to make the concepts of angels and demons fit more securely into the worldview they were promoting. The very conservative would usually say that angels were genderless and also usually "above" sex and things like this reinforced their holiness. The demons could usually fuck because they were evil and nephilim and the like made for the usual brand of good, scary, weirdly sexual Bible stuff. The ones that did think that angels did gender thought angels thought about it in the same very rigidly binary and traditional ways of most societies.

In other words? Theologians took the mythical creatures of angels and demons and made their theories about them fit human societies to further their own, human goals, instead of using angels and demons to reflect upon those human societies and consider how different viewpoints might improve them.

Good Omens is completely sending up this mindset.

In Good Omens, the supernatural characters are a way of poking fun at these kind of humans who approach ideas about what angels and demons might be like with such rigidity and treat their fellow humans in the same way. The angels and demons are basically all queer in human terms by default because, in Heaven/Hell, gender is a constellation, biological sex is a 'do whatever you want with that, if anything at all', and, just like with the humans, asexuality and sexuality and everything along every possible spectrum related to it all exist. For the most part, human prejudice does not exist-- though prejudice itself does, in the form of the "other"-izing of the demons. Some of that human prejudice has slipped through-- see: Sandalphon-- but it's not as ubiquitous as it is on Earth.

The angels and demons in Good Omens come from a world where everyone is sort of assumed straight-out-of-the-box non-binary by default and queerness is more normalized because when your concept of gender begins without rigid ideas about what that is, damn near everyone winds up being what humans would refer to as queer because that umbrella is then basically anyone other than a cisgendered, heterosexual person... and what is a cisgendered, heterosexual person when gender is design-your-own-concept-of-this from the get-go? How would anyone be heterosexual, when the definition of that is rooted in binary views on gender that do not exist in the supernatural world of Good Omens?

The point of all of it is that if humans thought this way about one another more, the world would be a better place. Good Omens is a story about angels and demons that is using them to ask questions about humanity of a lot more value than "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" but, ironically? Some questions that come about as a result of considering that question in a different way-- as God helps us to do with her monologue-- like the question of whether or not angels dance and consideration of what that might mean-- are examples of some of best questions to ask to get to the heart of what Good Omens is saying and what it's story is all about.

In Good Omens, neither the supernatural world nor the human world are perfect. The supernatural characters seek to learn how to really live from the humans but the humans have a thing or two to learn about themselves that the supernatural beings-- with their choose-your-own-adventure ideas relating to gender, in particular-- could show them when it comes to true freedom.

If we made like the supernatural world of Good Omens and placed less focus on defining and labeling gender and sexuality in such strict terms and just looked at everyone else as fellow people and let people present themselves as they like and identify as they like and be attracted to who they're attracted to and love who they love, we'd just be seeing each other all as people-- which is what we all are.

It's also the point of the intentional vagueness of Gabriel's whole situation during his naked arrival in 2.01.

There is a fuckton happening in this scene but one of the biggest is the decision to make it unclear as to what was behind the box-- and that's the point. Are there a couple of hints here and there? Sure. You can make arguments in different directions and, for sure, the decision to make it vague, instead of including a suggestion that Gabriel's for sure Don Drapering it in that moment is a whole decision in and of itself. The point, though, is not to fixate on determining what, if any, situation Gabriel was rocking during his rather challenging Monday morning in S2 but to just ask yourself why it would matter to know?

There's nothing wrong with some idle curiosity, I don't think, but the ambiguity is the point. What would it matter if Gabriel was running in angelic neutral or sporting, as I think the scene is suggesting, some lady parts for the morning? It doesn't change anything about Gabriel because only humans would look at Gabriel and assume that he has a penis and find it shocking if he didn't because many of us are that limited in thought. Only humans would box (bad, unintentional pun lol) him into pronouns as a result and try to tell him that he can't use he/him if he sometimes doesn't have that penis.

All these humans are looking at his body and judging it-- who gives them the right?

Whatever you feel about Gabriel, you do feel for him in that moment because no one deserves to have their body judged by a zillion critical strangers... and isn't that what many of us are doing online? Isn't that what a lot of humans do about everything from gender to sexuality to weight and looks? We categorize and label and put all of these parameters on meeting the standards of those categories when none of it matters and everyone is unique and beautiful in their own ways.

The genius of the supernatural characters in Good Omens is that, in so many ways, they are not free and a lot of their issues overlap with those of the humans but in real, fundamental ways, they have default mindsets that humanity could really benefit from adopting. The Gabriel arrival scene underlines it by turning the camera back around on us by showing us an example of a very masculine person by traditional human standards, implying that his genitalia might differ from what we've been conditioned to expect from a person with his looks, and then making us consider how we feel about that and if maybe the whole idea of these kind of expectations isn't bullshit in the first place.

So... while Good Omens is sending up the limited mindset of the Duns Scotuses of the world, the joke with God's monologue is that, in the context of Good Omens itself?

From the standpoint of this story?

The related questions about angels and dancing and gender and sex that arise from asking the question: "How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?" are excellent questions.

They happen to be questions that, if you're asking them, you're getting into many of the themes of the story and you're looking at how the story is using angels and demons to talk about the experience of human living. What does matter in understanding the story of Good Omens is, ironically, the dumbass questions that these humans were asking back in the day about dancing angels and demons and their relationships to human ideas about gender, sex and sexuality at which Good Omens is poking more than a little fun.

To add to this, we also have the very funny way in which God presents the answers to these questions to us and that involves a wink towards the last type of dancing-- dancing as sexual euphemism.

In the original question of "how many angels can dance on the head of a pin?", the reason why it's a pin is obviously that pins are very, very small but it was sometimes referred to as well as a question of how many angels could dance on the head of a needle? This was because the detractors of this school of thought were creating puns, so they could call the debate of the question things like a "needless point" in their writings-- very Good Omens-y humorous of them. 😊 We're also now bringing into to conversation via needles and pins language related to the make and repair of clothes-- seamstress work-- as being tied to questions of sex and dancing as sexually euphemistic.

The visuals shown to us during God's monologue include Crowley and Aziraphale dancing separately, in different eras, with other beings-- Aziraphale with some humans and Crowley with some demons-- but with an undertone of sex in both scenes that gets at dancing as sexual euphemism. In Crowley's scene in the 1970s/very early 1980s, he and Hastur and Ligur are in some trippy disco sequence in which they are dancing with a pin but the pin is being used as different kinds of sexual dance-related poles.

This is a visual parallel of the innuendo around seamstress-related language in the series, with a pin-- a tool used by those who make and mend clothes-- being used as a pole, highlighting a (hilariously-presented) aspect of sexuality in dance. Mrs. Sandwich runs a bordello but the coded 19th century-era speech of Aziraphale's magic during The Meeting Ball results in her attempting to describe the sex work menu of her girls as being coded in the language of those who make and mend clothes. This comes from sex workers writing on government forms the 19th century that they were seamstresses to evade authorities (why Mrs. Sandwich says her girls stand on their own two feet "like the government said") and a use of seamstress language as euphemistic for sex that overlapped into coded slang of, in particular, homosexual men.

In one part of the disco sequence, Hastur, Ligur and Crowley are going around the pin like it's a maypole, which were involved in courtship rituals and fertility dances. In another moment, the three of them then turn the pin into a stripper pole and bust out some exotic dancing moves, all less using the pin/pole as prop in a seduction of someone else but more seemingly in place of that someone else, with exactly zero awareness of one another.

What the living fuck is this scene, really? 😂 Is the pin really large? Are they very small? Why can I still not stop laughing at the fact that they aren't dancing on the *head* of a pin but with it? Is Hastur trying to make out with the pole? Did Ligur really invent part of The Macarena decades ahead of its time? What perspective is this scene supposed to be shot from? lol Are we all just assumed high at this point from the disco lights and general trippiness of the sequence? Are any of these the most important questions of this sequence? Not by a long shot lol...

*tilts head* hiiiii Crowley...

What's that? Oh, sorry, right, finishing up the epic journey that is this meta... Yes, yes, sorry. Got distracted by the dancing snake... Which reminds me!

We can't talk about dancing as sexual euphemism without mentioning that the little glimpse into Crowley's bedroom in S1 that we see shows us that he has a wooden figurine of a dancing snake on a table in the corner, which seems like a wink towards Crowley and Aziraphale joking about being like the magician or musician who would play music to "charm" snakes into dancing for them. Crowley kept the dancing snake figurine in his bedroom so that is probably the ultimate in dancing as a sexual euphemism possible and it's another indicator that it's hardly the idea of dancing together being a form of sexual overture that has Crowley so confused when he says "you don't dance" in S2. Dancing, in that sense, is not new to them.

So, God's monologue is winking pretty heavily at dance-as-sexual-euphemism. In showing the dancing this way, God is using dancing to mean both literal dancing (as in, when she describes that Aziraphale is the only angel who dances-as-in-moves-to-music because he learned the gavotte) and also as an answer to the question of whether or not some of the angels and demons have sex. While not all of them do or have interest in doing so-- just like with the humans-- having Crowley and Aziraphale both exhibit a sense of sexuality in the dancing scenes here is more than a little suggestive of the fact that they both do.

So, how does that fit into our whole idea of dancing as it relates to a being a part of society?

Both Crowley and Aziraphale are shown dancing in different situations in different eras in which queer people existing on the fringes of society found a place in which they could express themselves-- but they are very different ways of expression.

Aziraphale learns to dance in a private club for wealthy, gay gentlemen and that is the only place in which he dances because he can do so freely there without too much concern that it will have repercussions for him in both his supernatural and his human worlds. Everyone there in the club is someone who also has a sense of secrecy and a need for discretion in common and they're all well-connected enough to ensure that their privacy remains intact. It's through basically finding a safe space in this club that Aziraphale can have a microcosm of what it would be like to exist more openly in the larger society as a whole.

Crowley, on the other hand?

While Crowley also lived through all of these eras alongside Aziraphale and had the same types of social limitations, we see him dancing openly in the liberation of the disco era. Disco changed everything. It was full of people who had never fit into society and gave voice to, in particular, more female, Black and queer people than ever before. The eventual backlash to disco had nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the changing attitudes about race, gender, sexual orientation, and sex itself at the heart of it.

The difference here is that disco was free to a point that you could dance with anybody. You and your friends could dance, you could dance with someone you wanted to hook up with, you could dance around to it in your house with your family. It didn't matter. While people had long since abandoned the formal rules of dance in mainstream society that existed in the eras of Jane Austen, by the time disco turned up, popular dance had freed itself to being just about self-expression and having fun. It was still sexy but it was no longer playing a formal role in the matchmaking process of people in society. It's about having fun and doing so in the open and much more free.

This is where we're going to look at what your question has to do with the gavotte and Aziraphale's cotillion ball in S2...

The gavotte scene in S1 is one of the most fascinating scenes in the series because nothing else like it exists in terms of how it is filmed. The scene of Aziraphale dancing the gavotte is filmed in such a way as to suggest we are actually watching a video of him doing so. Part of this comes from the lighting, the slightly jumpy 'old time movie' feel of the scene. But, it also comes from the fact that Aziraphale looks directly into the camera at several moments during the scene, in such a way that it makes it feel like he's not looking at *us* in a fourth-wall-breaking sort of way but that he's looking at a camera that exists within The Hundred Guineas Club and is filming them dancing.

This was likely possible at the time, especially in a club patronized by wealthy men. The Lumiere brothers patented the first movie-making cameras in 1895 so it could be argued that Aziraphale and friends are being filmed using a prototype of that technology. (A bit of film-related technology being a bit too early for the time by our human history standards is also shown on Good Omens in S2, when Furfur has a Polaroid camera just under a decade or so too soon, though some prototypes were in development not long after the time Furfur was shown with one.)

The point is that Aziraphale looks like he's letting himself be recorded dancing. Actually, the point is that Aziraphale looks like he is loving letting himself be recorded dancing and that's an enormous thing...

Think back to 1941 for a moment. Crowley and Aziraphale were nearly killed over the picture Furfur took of the two of them together. No audio/visual evidence of the two of them together exists. If they kept the picture, they've hidden it really, really well because they've been terrified of anyone finding them out. Does this recording of Aziraphale still exist, though? Does he have it? Was he going to show Crowley, maybe after everyone left The Meeting Ball?

Living-- existing-- can mean having a record of that existence. That's actually at the heart of the meta I wrote recently about Aziraphale's excitement over getting the Shostakovich record being about having a recording of a performance with history to him and Crowley.

Being a part of the world can mean letting yourself be a documented part of it.

We are shown that, in the late 1880s, Aziraphale let himself be recorded on video dancing with some human friends... which is to say that Aziraphale let himself live.

He let himself find some kindred spirits, learn something new, be an active participant in a group, and enjoy himself. He let all of that be documented and his kind of manic, unbridled joy over all of it is the mark of how rare a thing this level of engagement is for him.

So, why did he?

Why this dance? What does this have to do with The Meeting Ball?

Notice the backdrop of this scene. Other than Aziraphale and the other gentleman and the walls, there is really only one thing of note in the scene and it is in focus for much of the scene: the chandelier.

The gavotte is both a specific kind of dance and a kind of umbrella term for French folk dances from the 16th-18th centuries and a separate, different dance in the 19th century. It was apparently popular in the court of King Louis XIV, whose reign is referred to several times in Good Omens. (Crowley's gauche imitation Louis XIV furniture in his flat in S1; he was king in the time mentioned by Aziraphale in the French scene in S2; his mistress being Madame du Pompadour, historically credited with originating the hairstyle worn by Crowley since prior to Earth's existence, etc....)

Gavotte comes from gavoto, which meant mountaineer's dance or the dance of the mountain people and which, in turn, came from gavot, which meant a boor and a glutton. A boor is a country person or a farmer but it comes from the Latin bovis, meaning a cow or an ox. Etymologically-speaking? Of course this is the dance Aziraphale learned because the gavotte is a French dance of the ox glutton who enjoys a good "mountain" climb.

(The theory that they wrote The Sound of Music lives on. 😂)

Aziraphale learned the gavotte, of all dances, because he knew that Crowley would find the two of them dancing together to this dance in particular very amusing. He learned this dance in the late 1880s, likely with the intent of maybe, someday, being able to dance it with Crowley, which is likely why he was he was annoyed when it went out of style.

Still, we could theorize that one of the reasons why he allowed himself to be filmed dancing it is to have a record of his efforts to learn it-- not just for Crowley but in general-- and that maybe the chandelier in the bookshop is the one from his long-since-closed gentleman's club. It all shows that Aziraphale has wanted to dance, openly and publicly, both in general and with Crowley, for a very long time.

One of the reasons why he likely miracled everyone into 19th century speak during The Meeting Ball and brought down the chandelier and old style dancing was so that he could finally do just that. It isn't so much that Aziraphale needs to stick to old-fashioned dancing in general as it is that he just wanted to have an experience like those of other humans during that time that he wasn't allowed then to have-- by the rules of the human world, not just because of the dangers from his supernatural world.

But it's 2023 in S2 now. Queer people have been able to get married in England for a decade and partnership rights have been around for even longer. Mutt and his spouse's relationship would have been illegal in nine different ways barely a breath ago but they can live openly now. Gabriel has left Heaven and moved into the guest room. Things feel like there's a chance of change everywhere and Aziraphale has just had it and can't take one more night of Crowley slipping out before dawn so this whole "Maggie and Nina" party?

Do you remember how Aziraphale phrased the idea to Crowley?

Cotillion balls aren't just any ball. While cotillion was a style of country dance kind of like the gavotte, a cotillion ball was a coming out ball for young ladies in society. In parts of the world, they still exist, sometimes called now debutante balls.

What's so endearing about Aziraphale fixating on this idea is that a) Maggie and Nina are both women, which is not a match that would have been sanctioned by a cotillion ball in Jane Austen's day, which makes it sweet that Aziraphale is, in a way, trying to give this traditionally romantic idea of love at a dance to a pair of women who would not have had it be an option for them, historically, which is something to which he can relate but also b) Aziraphale is just really semi-consciously using the idea of a party styled after a coming out ball for women in society as his thinly-veiled excuse to have a coming out party of a different kind, of sorts, for himself and Crowley.

Aziraphale isn't closeted in the sense that he's not actively trying to convince anyone that he's straight (good Frances, what a waste of effort that would be lol) but he'd like to be just like everyone else and not have to hide his partner. In the scene where Mrs. Cheng tells him that she and her husband will be at the party, for example, Aziraphale has this kind of wistful look for a moment. He wants that. He'd like to just be chatting with the neighbors and tell them that yes, definitely, he and his husband will be by later on. It's a season of things like Muriel literally opening the door to them hiding in a closet to talk privately and Crowley insisting in the street to Nina that Aziraphale is not his partner but then saying nothing to correct her when she refers to Aziraphale that way when they're in the bookshop. It's Mrs. Sandwich knowing Crowley in part because she sees him slip out the bookshop side door every night but Nina not knowing him in 2.01 because they're hiding the fact that they're a couple so morning coffee is never a thing until it is in S2. The Meeting Ball is Aziraphale taking steps towards them no longer hiding it by having people over when Crowley is there and letting everyone know or assume that Crowley is his partner.

The party is really for Crowley. Having everyone speak outside of time, the theatre curtains, Gabriel circling with trays of food (which was honestly so funny-- The Supreme Archangel walking around all "try an ox rib" to everyone), the vol-au-vents (etymologically linked to nightingales and some of them seemed like they might have been oyster vol-au-vents), etc.. He did it all to dance with Crowley and ask him to stay.

These two are fucking adorable. Look at this angel, I mean, seriously:

Aziraphale has been hitting that since ancient Rome and he's over here, nervous and giddy like he's at his first middle school dance, so fucking excited to ask that dashing ginger currently having an anxiety attack to dance. They have been basically married for millennia and Aziraphale is standing there like I'm going to ask him, I'm going to really do it, I'm going to hold his hand and dance with him in front of everybody and they're all going to know he's mine. We're going to be like everybody else-- just people on Earth.

It's so damn cute.

So, lastly, there's one thing we have to talk about when it comes to dancing and that's the fact that it is a form of self-expression. This is where Aziraphale and his perfectionism come into play a little.

God, in S1, said that not dancing is one of "the distinguishing" features of angels and that Aziraphale, through learning the gavotte, is the only angel who dances (at least, in terms of literally dancing.) This contrasts with the demons, who all dance, though many of them are not particularly good at it. This is the fundamental difference between angels and demons.

The demons are all demons because they were all willing to express themselves as individuals, which is what dancing fundamentally is. The reason why Aziraphale is the only angel who dances in S1 is because the other angels who know how to dance are all now demons.

Dancing means putting yourself out there a bit. You have to be willing to make some mistakes. You have to be willing to look potentially silly in front of other people and learn to not care as much about it. You have to take some chances. You have to engage with others if you want to dance with other people-- so, you have to participate in the world around you a bit. You have to try new things, like hearing new music and learning new ways to move. You have to be your own person, in the sense that you have to have music you like to move to and decide what you'll look like doing that. You have to let yourself take up some space and work hard at shutting off your damn brain enough to enjoy it.

In the 1941, Part 2 scene that we started this meta out with, we saw Aziraphale openly dancing a bit in front of Crowley, a sign of how comfortable he was and is with him. He doesn't have to be perfect around Crowley. Just as Crowley doesn't have to be perfect around him and is willing to look ridiculous to around him, as in the case of The Apology Dance. Being able to be silly and vulnerable is a sign of trust. When you can lean on people you trust and have that kind of intimacy with them, it can make you feel braver to take some risks in the world as a whole. If you let one person in enough and learn how to dance in one or more ways with just them, you'll eventually feel like you can dance free, no matter who is watching.

In the same scene, Aziraphale admits to his conflicts over going to Goldstone's and how he worries that maybe the things in life that he enjoys are "for professional conjurers only"-- for humans only-- with Crowley helping to quiet that imposter syndrome noise in Aziraphale's mind. Crowley's gentleness and the care in his response are examples of why he is who Aziraphale chooses as a partner and why it's with him that he's long-dreamed of having be his dancing partner when he finally is able to publicly dance alongside others at a ball.

Aziraphale is equally considerate in how he treats Crowley and is not put off by spending their first dance in public together essentially trying to calm what he thinks at first is just Crowley's usual level of anxiety talking, knowing Crowley well enough to know that, for all his talk about wanting to live a more open life together, he's as afraid as Aziraphale is. Crowley is dancing anyway. Aziraphale wants to so that's enough for Crowley to do so.

Aziraphale doesn't need some perfectly smooth first dance out together-- though they dance easily and very well together. It doesn't matter how long he's waited. He cares more about trying to reassure Crowley and ease his stress. They actually aren't as safe as Aziraphale believes them to be at this moment but it's the intent that's sweet. He knows this dance is as scary as it is lovely and, as always, it's important to him that Crowley feel safe.

You have to admit that you're a person to dance.

That's what the dancing is all about.

You have to admit that you have a life and to start to accept that you are allowed one. You have to accept yourself as part of a community to publicly dance with a group. You have to feel ready to host the monthly meeting of The Whickber Street Shopkeepers and Traders Association because to do so is to be a participating member in a community and to be a participating member in a community is to be a person living a life on Earth.

It's not surprising, then, that when Aziraphale gets to a point-- a very delicate point but a point, nonetheless-- of feeling like it might be time for him to claim that life for himself, doing so begins with the first night that he's ever been able to be at a party and, just like a zillion other people before him, ask his partner to dance.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens theory #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands speak #etymology #good omens analysis #long post #tw sa mention

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linkemon · 2 months

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Fairy tale moment headcanons

Friendly reminder that English is not my first language. You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

This part contains: Silver, Trey Clover and Leona Kingscholar.

Silver • Meeting in the forest

• Silver's fairy tale moment would be related to the forest. That's one of his favourite places to nap. Not everyone has the opportunity to wake up to the sounds of someone else's singing. Would it be the best voice in the world? No way. But it wasn't unpleasant either. He would follow one of the less-traveled paths, listening all the time.

• Who wouldn't recognize the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm? Even if he didn't know you personally back then, he knew who you were right away. Grim was dancing somewhere right next to you, singing even worse than you. This was one of the very popular pieces. He realized much later that you probably didn't know much songs, not being from this world.

• What surprised him most was that the animals didn't run away from you at all. Usually, any loud behaviour of others in the forest would immediately scare them away. Meanwhile, his bird friends danced around your head, teasing Grim. Deer and squirrels watched curiously, partially hidden in the bushes and trees. When the bunny and its family started chewing on his pants and pulling him towards you, he realized that you must be someone special.

• He doesn't know how it happened but he instinctively finished the line you started, stepping out of the shadows. Maybe it was because his father played in a band and filled his head with every popular song. He just let it slip. You looked embarrassed that someone had caught you. You kidnapped Grim and disappeared before he could say anything.

• He couldn't quite explain it but he felt like he'd met you before. Once upon a dream...

Trey Clover • Falling Card Soldiers

• Trey is quite a composed person. After all, he holds an important position in Heartslabyul. He is not in the habit of mindlessly running through the corridors. That can't be said about you...

• Of course he knew you. Since the beginning of your adventure, you had spent time with the first years in his dorm. Plus, you came to rescue him and his friends when Riddle's overblot happened. Therefore, the sight of you running around the NRC, whether to catch Grim or to deal with matters that the director despised, no longer surprised him at all. You were everywhere and always on the run.

• However, he did not expect that when going to a unbirthday party, he would get hit right in the chest. And with your mischievous, beautiful face on top of that. Riddle and Cater walked right next to him. That's why, when you, Ace, Deuce and Grim ran into them just behind a large rose bush, you couldn't slow down. You fell on top of each other like a giant sandwich. There were muffled screams, complaints and something about beheading everyone.

• He honestly wished he had time to enjoy the sight of your red face. He guessed you didn't expect such a meeting and closeness. However, he had to react, because the face of the prefect of Heartslabyul was equally red and he was already preparing a punishment for all those who came late, while trying to make it out of the pile of students.

• Trey rescued you from the situation, hiding you as quickly as he could before everyone else could recover. It isn't fair? Maybe a little but he really wanted to eat the new tart with you. How would he do it if you were punished?

Leona Kingscholar • Hakuna matata

• Leona wasn't really into the whole circle of life thing and stuff about his homeland. In Sunset Savanna, everyone just talked about nature and refused most innovations. However, he had to admit that he quite liked this one slogan, the hakuna matata one. What was he supposed to worry about? He knows how to plan and is smart, and he lives a pretty comfortable life on top of that. Living without care, that's life.

• So why couldn't his favourite herbivore understand this? You were always running somewhere, dealing with dozens of different matters, often not even your own. That's why he had to explain it to you clearly one day. By explain he meant that you stay in his room and don't go anywhere. Time to relax. Ruggie prepared food and blankets for you so you both could have a movie marathon.

• He listened to your concerns before the movie. Suddenly you remembered a million things you still needed to do. Homework, delivering photos to the principal, buying food for Grim... Leona covered you with a blanket and wrapped you up like a giant burrito. He told you to write down all these things and promised that they would be done by tomorrow (actually, Ruggie would make sure they were done but he was willing to make extra money...).

• You managed to shed some responsibility for the evening and had a really good time. Hakuna matata!

#silver x reader #trey clover x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #headcanons #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi #fairy tales #sleeping beauty #alice in wonderland #the lion king

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call-me-strega · 9 months

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How to Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps: part 2 (chapter 1/?)

Here is part 1, lore

Edit: ao3 link now here

They do go to a library in this chapter so there are a lot of references to books in this chapter. I've read some but not all of them so I can say anything about their quality more than as things that I thought sounded interesting in theory. A lot of the stuff at the library was inspired by my own experiences with public libraries.

~~~

Step 2: Get to know them

Within the next 4 months Jason ran into Danny several more times. Each time becoming more and more enamored with the young man. It was hard not to when he saw how kind and hard-working he was.

The first time he ran into Danny after their first meeting he actually ran into Ellie first. Well, technically she ran into him but that's beside the point. But if you were gonna get technical about it he heard her little giggles before he saw her.

He had been at the library during some of his downtime to peruse some books and relax. The life of a vigilante crime lord isn't a very peaceful one, go figure. That's why Jason liked taking some time to himself every once in a while whether it was to have tea with Alfred, hang with one of his friends or siblings, or in this case visit Gotham Public Library.

Sure he could've gone to the Manor Library or gotten something online but the Manor was pretty far from the Alley and preferred having physical copies of his books rather than a computer or tablet. Electronics just didn't have that nostalgic book smell or the soft touch of a well-loved page.

Going to the library also came with its own perks. For one, he got to visit Barbie at work. It was always nice to see her as they had this unspoken solidarity between them. The atmosphere was also a plus. There was just something special about being able to be completely solitary yet still have this special connection to the other patrons. Seeing the old man enjoying a novel with his wife, the book club that met on Sundays, the haggard office worker winding down on the weekend with a graphic novel, the young woman teaching herself sign language, the teens goofing off while they were supposed to be studying, a mom reading The Kissing Hand to her kids, all of the various people here for various reasons; all of it made Jason feel like he was a part of something bigger.

He was currently browsing a display of LGBT+ books for young adults that the library had put up for Pride Month. '"Cemetery Boys", "Aristotle and Dante", "You Should See Me in a Crown", "Six of Crows", "Boyfriend Material", "Red, White, and Royal Blue", "Carry On", Oh- "The Song of Achilles" that sounds interesting?'

That’s when he felt a small chill pass behind him. He initially dismissed it as a draft from the air conditioner, but soon after he heard the sound of excited giggles nearby. He didn't think too much of it assuming it was another kid on their way out of the children's section. However, something niggled in the back of his head that this particular giggle was one he was familiar with.

That's when he felt something collide with his leg. He looked down to see a small child with a head of glossy black hair in a red beanie glomping his leg. Suddenly, the child looked up and beamed at him. Jason's eyes lit up with recognition and he laughed.

" Hey there munchkin, how are you?"

Ellie continued to smile, releasing her hold on his leg.

" I'm doing really good Mr. Jason! Daddy told me he didn't have any work today and he said we could go anywhere we wanted! First, we went to the bodega a got these really big breakfast sandwiches! Like really really big! Like the size of my face and we shared! And then Daddy took me to the park and it was really fun! I saw a squirrel there but it ran away before I could pet it! And then we came here and Daddy said we'd make me a library card so I could get whichever books I wanted. He read Oh The Places You Will Go and Where the Wild Things Are to me and then they were gonna have story time and Daddy looked tired from the park so I told him to read one of his space books and rest while I went to story time like a big girl! When story time was over I looked around and saw you so I came over to say hi and thank you for the cookies and food because daddy says we should always say thank you when people give us gifts!"

Damn, the girl sure had one hell of a motor mouth on her. It seemed she and Danny were in the middle of a father-daughter day. It brought a smile to his face to see that she was well taken care of, but based on her very informative rambles, it seemed they were taking care of each other.

" Why don't we go say hi to your dad, huh Elle?"

The young girl gasped, "That's a great idea! Then Daddy can say thank you too! And then you can read with us and come to our house for dinner! Daddy kept saying how he wanted to make something for you too since you made us the-, the- uuh... luz-on-ya and cookies!"

" Whoa there munchkin, how about we just start with hi?"

Ellie nodded with a determined look on her face, she wrapped her little hand around his pointer finger and pulled him along to the semi-secluded corner of the children's section. Sitting there in an armchair next to a small pile of books was Danny, who seemed to be out cold, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy slipping from his fingers.

'Aah he must be tired from moving in and probably from working too' Jason thought to himself. A smaller voice in the back of his chimed in with its own two cents. ' He still made time for her. He took her out and is spending the whole day with her even though he's tired. He's a good dad.' That's when he made up his mind not to disrupt Danny's nap and let him get some rest before he had to tackle the rest of his father-daughter day with his hyperactive six-year-old. He placed a hand on Ellie's shoulder, stopping her as she was about to shake Danny awake, and leaned down to whisper in her ear.

" It looks like you were right about your dad being tired. How about we let him rest for now and I'll say hi another time? Besides I wouldn't want to interrupt your daddy-daughter day now would I?" He started to guide her to a different portion of the library quickly forming a plan, "Hows' bout we do something I think you'll like? Did you know sometimes they bring puppies and kitties into the library?"

The young girl gasped, " REALLY!"

" Yeah, sometimes puppies and kitties can help people who are feeling sad or nervous feel better. They also help teach kids how to act nicely and quietly so that they don't scare animals by letting them read to a puppy or kitty. I can help you sign up to read to a puppy or kitty today if you want? Then afterward, you can go tell your dad and he'll be really proud of you."

The young girl seemed so excited by the prospect that Jason worried for a second that she might explode.

" That's a great idea Mr. Jason! He'll be so proud of me and he'll bring me again! And I'll get so good at not scaring animals that the squirrels in the park will let me pet them! Then, Daddy will be so impressed that he'll let us get our own puppy and Cujo can come live with us!"

Jason winced, perhaps his plan had been a tad too effective. Single parents had a hard enough time keep themselves afloat while looking after their kids, a pet was extra expenses and another commitment to devote time and effort to. Pets were usually out of budget and out of question for anyone living in or near the Alley.

Well, he'd cross that bridge if he ever got to it. For now, he focused on getting Ellie signed up to read to Charlie, the old St. Bernard that was at the library this today. He and the trainer, he squinted reading her name tag, Amanda, supervised the session. Jason would be lying if he wasn't endeared by the sight of a young girl reading Dragons Love Tacos very enthusiastically to a dog nearly twice her size.

" It's nice to see a young father spending time with his daughter."

'I agree' Jason thought before realizing Amanda thought he was Ellie's dad.

" Oh- ah no I'm her -," Jason quickly made up his mind on the least creepy excuse he could find, " -babysitter. Although, her father does make a lot of effort spend time with her."

The dog trainer flushed and apologized for her mistake but Jason waved her off saying it was no big deal. Silently, he wondered how often Danny got time to himself. When he realized what he was thinking he raised an eyebrow at himself before dismissing it as worry for a young parent and wondering how he divided his time to be able to take such good care of his daughter.

Ellie was saying her final goodbyes to Charlie when he got a text from Alfred reminding him he had promised to meet him for tea and some chitchat. Once Ellie returned to his side he let her know that he had had fun seeing her today but that he had to go spend some time with his granddad and that he'd have to say hi to her dad another time. She accepted this with a surprising amount of maturity for a 6-year-old but made him pinky-promise that he'd definitely spend some time with the both of them next time they saw each other. Jason happily accepted and sent her back off to her dad before heading over to the tea shop he and Alfred liked to meet at.

" It is so nice to see you again Master Jason. I'm happy to see arrive in one piece. Usually when you are delayed it is due to some rather -ah, unfortunate hold-ups," Alfred greeted him. He returned the smile, sinking into his seat across from Alfred, ready to unload.

" Not this time Alfie, though it is a bit of a story."

" One I'm sure you'll be pleased to tell me all about," he challenged, raising an eyebrow. Jason just shook his head and chuckled.

" Sure thing Alfie."

The next time he ran into Danny and Ellie he was at the grocery store.

Jason had been examining a piece of zucchini when he felt a light, cool breeze quickly followed by the sensation of someone walking past him. A lean figure came and stood nearby inspecting the squash. Jason glanced up, having registered a new presence, before doing a double take. A small grin graced his lips as he spoke,

" Well hey there neighbor, didn't expect to see you today."

Danny looked up, slightly startled before he saw that it was Jason. He smiled back and returned his greeting in a warm tone.

" Hey neighbor, I didn't expect to see you either. Honestly, I was hoping we wouldn't meet till I had made a batch of my family's signature fudge to give you as a thank you when we returned your dishes for the food and for looking after Ellie that day in the library."

" Ah~ the little munchkin told you bout that did she?"

" She was pleased to inform me about how she was learning not to scare animals and how Mr. Jason was sooo nice and even pinky promised to spend some more time with her." he teased.

Jason flushed slightly, his hand coming up to the back of his neck,

" Oh yeah, I hope I didn't overstep my bounds there. She just seemed so excited."

" Yeah, that sounds like my little spitfire!" he chuckled fondly. He took a deep breath and continued. " Well if you don't have anything else going on tonight I'd love to have you over. Ellie has really been looking forward to seeing you again and I can whip up some fudge that you can take home with you if you stay for dinner?" Danny seemed to flush at his own forwardness before rushing to continue, " I mean- not that you have to, especially if you're busy! I just- thought it might be nice to get to know my neighbor, especially since Ellie seems to like you so much! But-"

Jason, who had just finished processing the dinner invite, interrupted before Danny spiraled deeper into his nervous rambles. He place a hand on Danny's shoulder to get his attention and spoke,

" Sure. I'd love to come over Danny." He smiled, puffing up his chest, “ Besides, I have a pinky promise to fulfill.”

Danny returned his smile with a laugh, giving Jason's shoulder an embarrassed shove. Jason grinned at having successfully made the other laugh. The two stared at each other for a beat, coming down from their high of making each other laugh, before flushing and looking away. A look of realization passed over Danny's face and he turned to speak to Jason again.

" You probably have your own groceries to finish and put away. How about you come over around 7:30? I can have the fudge cooling in the fridge while we eat, oh which reminds me, you’re not allergic to anything are you?"

Jason smiled back. "7:30 sounds great Danny and no, no allergies as far as I’m aware, though I’m not particularly fond of most shellfish."

“Well alrighty then I’ll see you at 7:30,” Danny confirmed with a smile and rushed off to continue his own shopping.

And that’s how Jason found himself standing outside the Nightingale residence in a casual maroon 3/4 sleeve tee, a dark denim jacket, and some of his nicer trousers with a bouquet of flowers he put a frankly embarrassing amount of thought into. He figured bringing more food wouldn’t be appropriate since he was a dinner guest, dessert wouldn’t fly either as Danny had claimed he’d be making fudge, and wine didn’t seem appropriate with a 6-year-old also in attendance.

‘Come on Jason, it’s just a casual dinner with your neighbors! Normal human interaction, nothing to be nervous about! You can do this!’

Jason took a breath and knocked on the door. He heard a pitched squee followed by a “it’s him daddy!” come from behind the door. Unconsciously, Jason smiled as he heard the door unlocking. As it opened he was met with a cool breeze from within the apartment and the sight of his two neighbors. Danny was in a pale, moss green apron, smudged with what appeared to be powdered sugar, over a pale blue button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and cuffed jeans. Ellie was dressed in an interesting combo of pink crocs, neon green leggings, a sparkly, powder blue tutu, a white shirt with glittery black script declaring her “Daddy’s little princess”, a denim jacket embroidered with flowers and vines on the back and sleeves, and a plastic tiara with a big purple gem in the middle fixed atop her signature red beanie.

“Hi,” Danny greeted a bit breathlessly. His young daughter stood in front of him beaming up at Jason.

“ Mr. Jason you came!” She bounced excitedly on her heels before launching forward to hug his leg. She tugged at his jacket before pointing to her own, “Look! We match!”

With a smile, Jason got down on one knee and offered the flowers to her, “ And what an honor it is to match with such a beautiful princess! Please, accept these flowers as a token of my goodwill m’lady!”

“Thank you!” The girl giggled, accepting the bouquet and scurrying back into the apartment. Jason watched her go with a smile. He then turned his gaze to look up at Danny who watched the whole interaction with a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He met Jason’s gaze and smiled.

“Why don’t you come in too my good sir,” he teased, holding out his hand to help Jason up. Jason smirked at the opportunity Danny had unknowingly presented him. He took Danny’s hand but made no move to get up. Instead, he ran his thumb over the other man’s knuckles and slowly brought the hand closer to his face. He glanced up once more, teal eyes connecting to icy blue ones.

“Of course my dear king,” he whispered. His breath dancing over Danny’s hand, his lips ghosting over his knuckles. Maintaining eye contact, the kneeling man placed a gentle kiss on his knuckles, watching a beautiful red flush bloom upon the young man’s face.

‘His hand is cold. His fingers have the beginnings of callouses on them. It feels like his hand was made to fit in mine. This feels right’

Jason is snapped out of his reverie when Danny clears his throat. He coughs into his other hand while trying to hide his blush, averting his eyes in embarrassment. He doesn't withdraw his hand however, allowing Jason to continue to hold it. Jason took that as his sign to get up before this got too awkward.

He rose from the ground still not letting go of the other's hand. The pair stood there for a moment with their hands intertwined, as if a message was being passed through their tingling palms. A charge filled the air with an exhilarating tension. The kind you feel before trying something unfamiliar and new that, unbeknownst to you, will become your favorite.

“So, uh, let’s head in then?” Danny said, slowly withdrawing his hand from Jason’s, almost as if he was reluctant to do so.

“Let’s,” Jason replied and the two turned into the apartment.

Danny had Ellie show Jason to the bathroom so he could wash up as he set the table. He had made grilled squash, a macaroni and beef hotdish, and some Greek salad on the side. The three of them sat at the table making some small talk ( how are they liking it in Gotham, how did the rest of daddy-daughter day go, does Jason have restaurant/activity recommendations, would he like to see Ellie’s favorite model airplane, etc.) and laughing with each other over horrible dad jokes and Ellie’s antics.

Jason could feel his chest fill with an almost unbearable warmth. He would’ve sworn it’d have melted him from the inside out if it hadn’t been accompanied by an overwhelming feeling of joy and desire. The traitorous little whisper in his head returned to comment on how much he’d love to be a part of the Nightingale’s family.

Soon enough it was time for Ellie to head to bed and Jason to head out, lest he be late for patrol.

“Here, I can clear off the table while you put her to bed.”

Danny rushed to stop him despite the young child koala wrapped over his torso. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that. I can-”

“Relax your highness, let me take care of this while you put the princess to bed.” He gave Danny a kind look, hefting up the dirty dishes. Danny returned it with a grateful look and turned to go put his daughter to bed. Over his shoulder, Ellie looked up sleepily and weakly waved one last time saying “Goodnight Mr.Jason” in a small voice.

Jason smiled gently at her and replied, “Goodnight princess.”

He then turned back to his task of clearing the table. Moving the dirty dishes to the sink and the serving dishes to the counter. He figured he’d get started on the dishes while he waited for Danny to return. He let his mind wander as he covered a plate with soapy suds. Danny and Ellie seemed like a good pair of neighbors. He doubted they’d cause him any trouble and if they ever unintentionally did, Jason found himself thinking he’d find it rather easy to forgive them. The two were both so welcoming and full of life. They made Jason feel so happy and peaceful tonight. They welcomed him into their home and made him feel as if they enjoyed his company and wanted him around for more than just a cursory “return the favor” dinner. ‘As If he belongs there. With them.’ The little voice returned, prompting Jason to reel in his thoughts. He’s only known them for what? Two weeks? These weren’t the type of thoughts he should be having at this point. He tried to rationalize it telling himself he just missed the domesticity of family dinners like he had when Catherine was in a good stretch or like he had with Bruce, Dick, and Alfred as kid when they were all getting along. He made up his mind to attend one of the bi-weekly family dinners at the manor coming up. It’d be nice to see the little demon brat, big bird, and nerd bird again now that they were getting along like actual brothers.

“Oh! Jason you didn’t have to do that!” His train of thought broken by Danny rushing over to protest him doing dishes. “You’re a guest! You really didn’t have to-”

“It’s okay Danny, I wanted to,” he reassured the fussing young man who pulled him away from the sink. The young man responded by pushing him out of the kitchen and telling him to grab his jacket before turning back to grab something from the fridge.

And there he stood in the doorway, 20 minutes after he had intended to leave, still saying goodbye. Danny pushed a familiar Tupperware container into his hands, which recognized as the one he had given them lasagna in, now full of dark squares of fudge sprinkled with a bit of white and green on top.

Danny smiled as he handed him the sweets. “A family recipe with my own little twist on it,” he winked. Jason gratefully accepted, wishing the young man well and agreeing that he hoped to see the other again soon. And with that, Jason rushed off hoping that he wouldn’t be late for patrol.

~ Later that night Jason returned to his apartment, exhausted. He chucked his helmet off onto the bed and stumbled to his kitchen. He pulled open the fridge in search of something to eat when his eyes landed on the fudge his neighbor had given him. He pulled it out and grabbed a square, giving it a sniff before biting in. His eyes widened at the taste.

The fudge was, well fudgy, but not overly sweet. It had a richness of dark chocolate and a sweeter note from the white chocolate chips mixed in. There were also candied orange peels mixed into it which gave the fudge a bit of chew and acidity to break up the richness. The fudge was topped with pistachios adding a nutty, earthy flavor to the experience. He’s sure that if Martian Manhunter ever tried these he’d accuse Jason of giving him hard drugs. But what Jason liked most of all was the quality only homemade food and family recipes passed down over generations have. He could practically taste the amount of love and thought that went into this fudge.

Jason smiled to himself finishing off his square and decided the save the rest for later. He headed off to bed with a peaceful smile on his face and a warm, full, feeling in his chest.

~~~

I tried very hard to balance out the dialogue and description as well as to not make it too long winded and keep the story moving so please let me know what you guys think. I love receiving feedback so if there is anything you want to see more or less of let me know. I’m also open to suggestions of where Jason should run into our father-daughter pair next.

If anyone's interested here is what the bouquet was comprised of: apple blossom- preference, basil- good wishes, white camellia- you're adorable, goldenrod- encouragement/good fortune, violets- watchfulness/modesty/faithfulness

I actually looked up a real fudge recipe so that I'd have and easier time describing it. You can find it here: https://www.midwestliving.com/recipe/candy/creamy-rich-pistachio-tangerine-fudge

#long post #like Long long #dead on main #jason todd x danny fenton #dc x dp #How To Become a Step-Dad in 5 Easy Steps #How to Become a Step-Dad #hbsd #romance #fluff #domestic fluff #falling in love #single dad!danny fenton #de-aged!dani #books & libraries #family dinner #jason todd #danielle fenton #danny fenton

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joels-shitty-puns · 1 year

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The Key To Your Heart - Track 5

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

*! New warnings will be listed first !*

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.5k

Series List: Here!

Miss last chapter? Here!

Hi guys!!!! Thank you for reading and being so supportive of my first fic so far!!! I love you all ❤️ please let me know your thoughts on this chapter. We're not done yet!

___________

~ We alternate between Pedro + reader's thoughts in this one ~

"Hello?"

"Hello? Pedro? It's me.."

You heard him give a breathless laugh before answering with a gentle "Hi."

______

You laughed back, sounding equally shy but giddy. "Hi," you answer softly. "I hope I'm not being weird calling immediately after you gave me your number?"

"No, no! Not at all. I'm happy to hear from you" Pedro quickly quashed your worry.

"Okay" you whispered.

"So tell me more about this book you love," Pedro asked, trying to start up a conversation, any conversation, just to hear your voice.

The two of you discussed your favorite books, movies, shows, and continued on through other favorite things. Food, ice cream, music, your favorite flowers. You talked about dogs and told him about Skipper. You even shared his name and breed.

"Oh, Skipper! I was wondering about his name when you mentioned him in your interview, but you said you weren't ready to share. Thank you for trusting me. How'd he get his name?"

You smiled before jumping into a story about yours and Skipper's origin. "Well, a couple years ago… I was walking by the ocean down this pier with fishing boats, sailboats, and yachts docked on it. I heard a whimper coming from a corner of the dock and went over to investigate. There he was, small and scared. Just a puppy. He didn't have a collar and was covered in fleas. I tried to call him with no luck, but I also had just stopped at the grocery store and thought maybe I could lure him over with some jerky. But he wasn't interested. Too nervous."

"Hmm," Pedro listened.

You continued. "One of the fishermen walked down the pier with a bag from the same grocery store I had just left. He pulled out a can of wet food and tried to lure Skip over. Still no luck. I dug around my backpack to find something else, but the only food I had was a peanut butter sandwich I packed for my commute home. I took a shot and offered it to him, and weirdly.. that he accepted. The guy likes peanut butter," you said with a laugh.

"From then on, we were attached like glue. I couldn't find an owner for him and he didn't have a chip. We took care of the fleas and I decided to name him Skipper. Partially because of the boats, partially because I can call him Skippy for short, like the peanut butter."

Pedro gave a genuine laugh before complimenting the cute, yet sweet, name. "Does he still like peanut butter?"

"Oh he loves peanut butter. I can't even open a jar without him coming over from wherever he is in the house."

He hears you speak faintly to the side, away from the speaker. "Isn't that right my little peanut?"

"Boof," Skipper agrees.

Pedro laughed, grinning ear to ear. You couldn't see the joy on his face but you could feel it. "He sounds adorable. I love dogs."

"Me too," you smiled. The two of you discussed dogs you've raised over the years before you texted him a picture of Skip.

"Oh my GOD," Pedro exclaimed. "Look at those ears! He's adorable."

As if you couldn't like Pedro more, he's gushing over your dog the same way you do.

You don't know if it's possible, but you hope someday you can have the two meet each other.

Pedro didn't want to scare you and mention it, but he also hoped to meet Skipper someday. But more than that, he wanted to meet you.

_____

The conversation flowed so naturally, it felt as though the two of you had known each other a lifetime. It seemed the blink of an eye, but you had been on the phone for three and a half hours.

"Y'know… I was kind of nervous to call you," you said shyly.

Pedro sighed "I was nervous to give you my number. Especially when you didn't reply right away. I worried I overstepped."

"No! I'm so glad you did. Because even though I was nervous, talking to you just feels…"

"Easy." You both answered, resulting in matching grins and blushes, neither of which are seen.

"It feels like we've been friends for years," Pedro continued.

"I agree" you say softly.

The conversation begins to close, but the two of you plan to talk on the phone again soon.

With that, you both hang up, and each begin to count down the time before the next call. In your respective houses, you flop on your bed, kicking your feet and blushing, while Pedro ran his hands down his face with a grin.

______

The next day, the two of you talk again. He called you this time.

Unfortunately, when he called, you were well into your workday. He didn't know you still worked a normal person's job.

"Hey P! I'm sorry I can't talk, I'm at work, can I call you in a few hours??"

"Oh shit, sorry! Yes." Pedro hung up frantically before he began to think. Did she just call me P? A nickname? He smiled to himself. He had been called many names, nicknames, and mispronunciations throughout his life. Some good nicknames, some… not so good. Other people have even called him P before. But never before had he heard a nickname from your lips.

_____

When you called him back after work, he decided to be bold. "Did you call me P?"

"Huh?"

"Earlier when I called, did you say 'Hey P!' when you answered the phone?"

Your blood turned cold. Oh no. It slipped out. He hates that I used a nickname.

"I did. I figured it would be better for your privacy if I didn't say your name out loud."

"Oh. I see. Well, Pedro is a pretty common name."

Yeah but when your coworkers all know you're in love with Pedro Pascal, I don't think they'd be thinking of other Pedros.

"That's true. But some of my coworkers know I'm a big fan of yours so they might think I'm just delusional, haha" you answered… mostly honestly. Although you aren't sure "big fan" is the right word. It's just the safest.

Pedro thought about this and wondered: her coworkers know that she's a big fan? How big of a fan? Could I be the - nope, don't even go there.

"Big fan, huh? Well, thank you. I appreciate it. And I don't mind the nickname. I liked it. People call me a lot of names and I don't really mind." He had started to tease about the fan thing but decided to change gears.

"Oh good! I was worried I overstepped," you replied cautiously.

"You could never." And he meant it. With as much daydreaming as he's been doing lately, he's not sure there's much of anything you could do to overstep. He, however, worries he might. She's already in love with someone. Stop.

He cleared his throat and continued "so I didn't know you worked, outside of your music."

"Oh yeah, I mean the music is fairly new. Luckily my coworkers haven't figured it out yet, surprisingly." You continued to describe your job, Pedro listening intently (as if work was actually entertaining).

_____

After the work discussion, there was a quiet pause. "Hello?" You asked, wondering if Pedro had been disconnected.

He suddenly sounded serious. "Can I… uh.. ask you a question?"

"Oh. Um… Okay…" you replied, heart pounding.

"You mentioned your coworkers not finding out.. Do you think you're ever going to show people who you are?"

"Maybe someday…if they don't figure it out first."

"Do you think you'll ever tell your guy you love him?"

Your heart was ready to fly away it was beating so fast. "I'm thinking about it..."

"Can I ask - What's holding you back?" He asked cautiously, gently even.

Where to begin? You thought. But he doesn't need to know all that. He doesn't want to. You'll scare him off once he realizes what a mess you are.

"Eh, it's just my own silly worries! It's okay, I'll get over them I'm sure. I know I can't stay hidden forever," you deflected as best as possible.

"Anxiety is a hard thing to conquer, but your worries aren't silly if they bother you. If you ever need to go to someone, I'm here to talk."

"Thanks, Pedro. But really, don't worry about me. I'm okay."

"That's not fair to you. How often have you felt the need to say that? That you're okay, in order to not worry someone else?"

Every time I'm worried. Nobody needs to be burdened by my stress.

"Oh.. I um.. I just don't want to burden anyone over something I should handle myself…I don't want my friends to feel like I'm using them as my therapist."

Pedro's heart sank even more. "I hate that anyone could ever make you feel that way. But if you want to talk, I'm here to listen. You won't burden me. I promise."

You couldn't help the sniffle that escaped you. "I don't want to push you away." Your voice dropped down to practically a whisper "I don't want you to leave."

Pedro's heart broke. "Baby… the only way you'll push me away is if you tell me to leave. Let down your walls. Talk to me."

Did he just call me baby? You immediately snapped up, quieting your tears instantly.

The realization hit Pedro just the same. Shit, did I just slip and call her baby?! Oh what have I done? Tell me she didn't notice. Tell me she didn't hear me. She's worried about pushing me away, and I go and say something like that?

Unsure of how to address the nickname, you decided to ignore it. He probably is just trying to be nice. Friends say things like that. Buddy, pal, babe, baby, love, honey. At least girl friendships do… ? It's probably nothing.

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't even know me that well," you hesitated.

"But I want to. It'll be okay. Let me in," Pedro said softly, cautious, like you'd flee.

And so you opened up. You told him about your anxieties. How it feels safer to just close yourself off from people. About not sharing your excitement and passion because people feel it's "too much." Not showing your feelings because your old crush said it was weird and pushed you away. Feeling like other people fit in so much easier than you ever can. Or how you wonder if your friends sometimes just are nice to you only because you're nice to them. How you're really nobody's favorite.

With every word, Pedro's heart was breaking. All he wanted was to scoop you up in his arms and hold you until you believed all those things weren't true. Until you felt loved the way you deserved.

"But I guess one of the main reasons I haven't shown myself to the world is because of the things people have said about me without knowing me. About my music. About me being naive. Childish. Creepy even.." you continued.

"Those people are assholes. The second you get an ounce of fame and attention they'll do anything they can to knock you down. You're amazing. You're brave and bold and all you did was share your feelings and your voice. Those people just want to make themselves feel better about their own unhappy lives." Pedro spoke from his own experiences. Rumors and articles often spread like wildfire and it can be overwhelming. He isn't immune to that.

"Thank you. And I know that, but I think part of me believes they might be right… I really am just in my silly daydreams."

"They aren't right. You said it yourself, they don't know you. You know you. I'm starting to know you. I can already tell you aren't any of the nasty things people say, and those people couldn't even be half as good a person as you are." Pedro reassured.

"Thank you… but… well… can I ask you something?" You asked shyly.

"Of course."

"On the topic of what people have said… Another big reason I haven't told the guy I like is because I worry he wouldn't like me. Like he'd think the way those people do. You said earlier in your interview when you were asked - that if someone wrote a song or something like that about you, you'd still consider them. You'd give them a chance, even though they were clearly some obsessive fan. Were you telling the truth? Would you really give a fan a chance with you? Be honest with me," you pleaded nervously.

Pedro paused for a second, before answering with certainty. "Yes. I would feel at a bit of a disadvantage that they loved me before I got the chance to love them back... But I would give them a chance. As long as they're respectful, why shouldn't you? Who says celebrities should only end up with other celebrities? The world is full of people looking for and deserving of love. Including, especially, you."

Your heart fluttered around his words like a thousand butterflies taking flight at once.

"Thank you Pedro. You deserve that too. And if that's something you want too, I hope you find it."

Me. I hope you find me.

"Thank you. I hope you do too." He meant it. Even if it wasn't him, he wanted you to be happy.

"But lastly… I think a big reason I'm scared to show him who I am is…"

"Yeah?" Pedro could feel himself getting nervous.

"I don't… look like a celebrity. I don't look like those women in magazines. I'm not… skinny. I'm fat, and squishy… and I don't have flawless skin. I'm not… beau-"

"Stop," Pedro said.

"Sorry…" you fretted. You knew you'd push him away.

"No, no, no. Don't be sorry. But don't say to me that you aren't beautiful. Because you are. I don't even know what you look like but you're beautiful on the inside. And as far as the women in magazines? They've gone through hair and makeup and plastic surgery. They don't look perfect when you strip all that away. But you. We all have bad skin days. And you aren't defined by your body size. You may not be your own type. But for all you know, the man you are in love with might LOVE that you aren't skinny. He might love the curves and the natural beauty that you have. Not to mention that big heart of yours. You might just be his type."

You might be my type, he thought.

You were crying now. Not a sniffle, but a genuine cry. And Pedro felt as though he must have made things much worse. Until you said "thank you Pedro. I'm sorry for putting all this on your shoulders. But thank you for your words. I know that I don't like my own body and I just assume others wouldn't as well. But maybe you're right. Maybe he would love me back."

"I think he will. You just need to give him a chance to see you the way you are. You deserve to be loved as you are. He will love you back."

And if he doesn't, I think I already do. Pedro finally admitted to himself.

__________

That's all folks! For this chapter at least. Thanks again for reading and stay tuned for more!

Next chapter! Here

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #a! wrote a fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x afab!reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x musician!reader #pedro pascal x plus sized! reader #pedro pascal x y/n #rpf #key to your heart

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gazspookiebear · 7 months

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Ghost hcs mostly him having autism

Has compression socks and gloves bc they help keep him regulated, but he HATES tight clothing anywhere else. He strictly wears loose and baggy clothing, like oversized hoodies

Hates flavored water unless it's tea. Green tea? Sure. Any kind of sparkling water? Nuh uh

Likes mud and rain puddles. Don't ask me why

Can't stand the smell of coffee in the morning, it overwhelms him. He can and will leave the room if someone just made coffee

Doesn't like hugs, or really just being touched in general. (Mostly due to trauma, but the autism isn't helping either)

That being said, when he does get hugged, he prefers it to be firm. Heavy knuckles running up and down his back is the quickest way to make him melt in your arms. Soap is the only one allowed to do this, but Price and Gaz will very occasionally be offered one of those awkward one-armed half hugs if they need one.

He masks most of the time (literally and figuratively) so it's not very obvious that he's autistic from first glance. If he's comfortable with the people around him, or if he's alone, he might stim

He does jazz hands as a stim, and can occasionally be found tiptoe walking

He also knocks his knuckles together and rasps them on desks. He likes the noise.

He prefers rough or smooth textures over soft/fluffy ones. Denim, mesh, leather, linen, and polyester are the only fabric types he'll be comfortable in.

He keeps his hair buzzed, not just because he's in the military, but because he pulls on it and ends up tearing it out of his head when he gets sensory overload from it touching his face (me too bro, me too)

He listens to metal songs on max volume when he's sensory seeking (you can hear that shit through his headphones)

He doesn't like having things in his ears, so he prefers headphones over earbuds. He won't complain if he has to use earbuds though.

Surprisingly enough, he can't stand weighted blankets. Unless that weighted blanket is Soap 😏

He gets aggressive when he's excited, so he'll often go to the gym to blow off some steam. Rookies see him going to town on a punching bag and assume he's pissed, but really he just doesn't know how else to express his feelings.

He hyperfixated on komodo dragons for a while (he now has several random facts in his arsenal)

His special interest is weapons. Any kind, he just thinks they're interesting. Especially crossbows. (He knows just about every weapon under the sun, ask him literally anything)

He steals Soap's phone to play neko atsume (he has become emotionally attached to the cats, but you didn't hear me say that)

He prefers to sleep with blankets under him instead of on top because it makes his skin crawl if they're not the right texture.

He's always cold but radiates heat like a motherfucker, definitely has an electric blanket at his place

He has a favorite pen that he carries everywhere, refuses to use anything else.

He eats the most random food combinations. Tomatoes with sour cream? Delicious. Avocados with cream cheese? Absolutely divine. A normal fucking sandwich? Hell no.

He struggles with hygiene but hates feeling dirty. He'll often force himself to shower even when he knows it'll drain his energy.

He has to buy a specific type of eyeblack because of the texture. He doesn't like any kind that feels too greasy. Not that it'll stop him from wearing it if that's all that's available, but he won't be happy about it.

He used to bite his hands as a kid. Hard. He has a few small scars because of it

He enjoys heavy bass. He likes low rumbling/knocking noises. He may or may not be considering buying a bass drum...

Alternates between sleeping in a hammock and a bed at his place

Loves chairs that spin, though you'd never catch him spinning 😔

Everything he says sounds sarcastic, even when he's being genuine. This has caused many people to get annoyed with him.

He tends to grind his teeth, so he chews on tree bark to keep his mouth busy

He used to climb trees as a kid because he liked the way the wind felt from up high in the leaves

He isn't a fan of the way paper feels. That being said, He loves old books. He spends most of his downtime at the library since it's quiet and peaceful, plus it gives him a way to get out of the house and busy himself.

He still wears a mask off duty for many reasons. For starters, he's never been the best at facial reactions. He thinks it's easier to just hide it altogether than to try and contort his face into the "appropriate" reaction. Secondly, he has stims and occasional tics where his mouth moves, and he doesn't want people to stare. (Snapping his mouth like a shark... so real to me) Also, he just thinks it should be common practice. He's never understood why people don't cover their mouth and nose, or at the very least cover it when they cough/sneeze.

He will actually fan the air in front of him if someone he doesn't like just walked by. He doesn't want to breathe "their air". (Graves was very confused as to why Ghost kept waving the air every time he walked by)

He wears sunglasses in public, regardless of whether or not it's sunny out. He just doesn't want to have to make eye contact with people if he doesn't have to. He can make eye contact, but he much prefers not to.

He punches his legs or the walls when overstimulated.

He has dromophobia (fear of crossing streets) and tends to speedwalk across roads

Has the biggest vocabulary known to man because he used to read dictionaries as a kid. (He can and will abuse this power when someone is annoying him)

Prefers non-fiction. That's it.

He cleans doorknobs daily. He specifically keeps a pack of wipes with him to clean doorknobs- who the fuck knows when they were cleaned last. He can't stand the idea of touching something that dozens, if not hundreds of people (who may or may not have washed their hands) have touched prior.

His favorite color is orange. He always avoids touching anything orange because he's worried he'll ruin it somehow.

He washes his hands before and after everything he does (when he can)

He has a crowbar. He keeps it beside his bed, and he's very fond of it.

He can stay completely still for concerningly long amounts of time. Useful for missions, unnerving the rest of the time. Can and will be seen in the corner of a room staring at people.

@waiting-so-long I'm so glad someone wanted to hear my nonsense lmao

#Wdym I'm projecting... no I'm not #(I am)#Half of these are just things I do #Not even gonna lie tomatoes with sour cream fucking slaps #I also think Ghost was hyper empathetic as a child #He lost that pretty quickly #Hmmm I'm gonna monch and cronch on this man #I also don't think he likes kissing #Soap doesn't mind #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost headcanons #ghost #ghost cod #simon riley #Forgive any mistakes I missed #I looked over this very quickly lol

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libraryofantiquitea · 2 years

Text

𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐬.

pairing: jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary: you have a meeting to attend via zoom when jake is leaving for work. he has interesting ways of saying goodbye.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! oral (female receiving), brief masturbation (male), semi-public sex.

word count: 3.4k

author's notes: no beta, we die like goose. thank you to the creator coven for giving me this plot bunny to turn into the beast that it became!

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

“Jake, honey! I have a video meeting in a couple of minutes!”

You liked to give your husband a heads up before you went into any meeting longer than half an hour whenever he was home. It had started in early 2020 when you were adjusting to working from home - everyone was - and Jake had kicked down the door of the spare bedroom slash office you were in, bare ass naked to retrieve some laundry. Thankfully your camera had been off, but it had the potential to not only get you fired, but cause an international incident.

“How long?” Jake asked, wandering from the kitchen and into the hallway, scarfing down half a sandwich.

You looked at your watch as you began to turn and head back to your office. “Um, an hour and a half?”

“I’ll be gone to work by then, I’m working the night shift at the base,” he said petulantly, shoulders slumping slightly. “I won’t see you until tomorrow morning.”

“I know, honey,” you said with a pout, turning back around and closing the distance between you. “I’m sorry. I tried to get it rescheduled, but the Dean was the one calling the shots on this one.”

Jake rolled his eyes, stuffing more of the sandwich in his mouth. “Well, I’ll pop in before I leave to say goodbye.”

“If you don’t I’ll be cross,” you said, wrapping your arms around Jake’s shoulders. You stood on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, not caring that he’d gotten mustard on you somehow.

—

“Mrs. Seresin, did you have any updates from your meetings?”

You’d been trying to pay attention, but your mind kept drifting. Any meeting over an hour seemed cruel, and in the afternoon you were less likely to be at your best. You were also well aware that Jake would be leaving any moment, listening to the sounds of him gathering up gear and packing his bag for the night.

The Dean of the department and you were on a first name basis, but everyone had been calling you Mrs. Seresin since the wedding, because you couldn’t stop giggling and blushing over it, this time it was no exception.

“I do,” you replied, reaching for your notebook and opening a document containing some agendas and meeting notes that lived on your computer. You filled the void by saying “um” a few times while you searched through your materials. “The Equity, Diversity, Inclusion and Accessibility Committee met earlier this week to provide some feedback on the proposal of launching the Employment Equity Plan. Everyone was in favour but they did have some questions about how comprehensive the plan was.”

There was a light rapping on the door, and you turned to look back at it before turning back the camera. “Just a moment. Jake’s off to work.”

“Take your time!” one of your colleagues said, as you turned off your camera and microphone.

“Come in!” you said to Jake, standing up at the same time to greet him at the door.

Jake stepped in wearing his service khakis, and smiled at you. “Off to work I go, darlin’,” he said in a sing-song voice, wrapping his arms around you.

You hugged him tightly, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You’ll call before I go to bed?” you asked.

“Of course!” Jake replied, ducking his head down and kissing you sweetly. He pulled back, saying nothing, looking toward your desk. “That leg is gonna give out at any moment,” he declared.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” you said, waving your hand. “I’ll fix it up later.”

“It’ll take me two seconds,” Jake said, relinquishing his hold on you and moving toward your desk before crawling under it. The space beneath your desk was certainly big enough to fit him, but you weren’t going to deny that he looked a little goofy crowded under there.

You smiled to yourself before getting situated back in your chair, turning on the camera and microphone on your laptop back on. Your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the equity plan you had spoke of.

“Sorry about that,” you said, trying to get comfortable in your chair despite Jake futzing about with the leg of your desk. “Won’t see him until morning.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the Dean said, dismissively waving his hand. “Shall we get back into it?”

“Of course,” you replied, looking down to check your notes, catching a glimpse of Jake using a small screwdriver to tighten up one of the screws. Seriously, did he just carry that around in his pocket? “I wondered if we could bring forth a couple of goals to help us promote a representative workforce? I think that would grab peoples’ attention right off the bat.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” one of your colleagues said, just as Jake appeared to be finishing up.

You idly wondered how he planned to get out from under there, but figured you could just turn your camera off for a moment when he gave you the okay.

He did no such thing.

Clearing your throat, you looked through your notes once more and tried not to pay Jake any mind, who had situated himself between your legs. You had no idea what he was playing at, but did your best to ignore him.

“The first goal we drafted up was ‘to increase the recruitment of employees from equity-deserving groups,’” you continued, feeling one of Jake’s hands on your knee. “And the second was ‘To enhance the experience of current employees from equity-deserving groups.’”

“That committee of yours does some good work,” one of your colleagues chuckled. “Those are great!”

“Thank you,” you said, reminding yourself to breathe as if everything were normal as Jake’s other hand settled on your other knee. “I’ll be sure to pass that along to them.”

You turned your microphone off, and while still looking at the camera muttered, “Jacob Seresin, what on earth are you doing down there?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he murmured, the palms of his strong and calloused hands moving up your thighs. You pursed your lips tightly, trying to bring your legs close together on instinct, but Jake just pushed them further apart. “Keep your legs open, sweetheart.”

The conversation had moved on, and your colleagues were talking amongst themselves about the plan. Where you were the most junior staff person in the meeting, it was unlikely you would be contributing much to the bigger conversation, and for that you were thankful, because you certainly did not want to send your husband on his merry way.

“Jake,” you murmured, briefly closing your eyes and letting out a contented sigh. Though you knew it was gauche, you kept your eyes focused on the small image of yourself on your laptop screen. You knew how responsive you were, what sorts of things Jake did to you. The last thing that you wanted was for it to be extremely noticeable to your colleagues that there was something happening.

So, even though you wanted to be looking down under your desk, between your legs, you looked at yourself.

“God, I can smell you, darlin’,” Jake purred, pressing his face to the inside of one of your thighs. He inhaled sharply, and you made a small sound behind your mouth. “How wet are you?”

What a dick. He knew you couldn’t respond. You shifted a little in your chair, nodding along to the discussion in the meeting, even though you had no fuckin’ clue what they were discussing.

Suddenly, Jake’s face was pressed against your core. Your lips parted in a small gasp, but on screen it just looked like an ordinary sigh. “Soaked,” Jake murmured, and you could feel the vibrations of his voice against you through the layers of fabric that separated the two of you. “Oh my god, baby girl. I could taste you just like this.”

“Any thoughts?”

Fuck.

You turned your microphone back on. “Um,” you stuttered, shifting your hips slightly when you felt Jake’s fingers hook into the waistband of your leggings. “I thought we agreed on seven priorities instead of six. I believe it was Don who alluded to ‘lucky number seven.’”

“You know what? You’re right! Do you remember what the seventh priority was?”

“Recognition.”

When there were no follow up questions, you turned your microphone back off.

Jake’s fingertips brushed along your skin as he pulled your leggings down your legs. You raised your eyebrows at the screen, pretending to be engaged, meanwhile you were suddenly pantsless in front of the team you reported to.

“Oh my god, baby girl,” Jake murmured reverently, and you swallowed hard as Jake’s fingers traced over the edges of your labia through your underwear. As he had observed before, you were already wet, and the sensation of him touching you had you briefly closing your eyes. The drag of the wet fabric against your clit, Jake’s thick fingers pressing against you, had you rolling your hips toward his touch.

The Dean said your name. “Does the Office of Equity and Inclusion being the lead to ensure clarity, confidentiality and transparency make sense to you?”

You begrudgingly turned your microphone back on. “Oh … yes. That, um, seems like an appropriate office to take the lead on that.”

God, you wished the Dean and the rest of your colleagues would just stop asking you for input. Compared to everyone else in the meeting you made significantly less money and had significantly less say in the operations of the university. Then again, they were likely trying to make a point about the whole equity plan by including you.

“You sound so wrecked,” Jake murmured, rubbing your clit through your wet underwear. You whined and lifted your hips toward your touch. “They probably can’t tell, but I can.”

Panicked, you checked to make sure you’d turned your microphone off - you hadn’t. You hoped to any deity that would listen that no one had heard that as you turned your mic back off.

“Jake,” you whispered, trying not to move your lips, “please.”

“Please what?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, as his fingers pressed your entrance, digits wrapped in your wet underwear plunging gently into you. “Stop? Keep going?”

“You asshole,” you murmured good naturedly. “Keep - keep going.”

“Mrs. Seresin, you had something to contribute?”

Fuck.

You began to speak, only to have three different people let you know that your mic was turned off. “I, uh, just wanted to double check by what percentage we wanted to reduce our overall workforce analysis gap by?”

“Eighty percent.”

“Thank you!”

While you had been speaking, Jake had pulled your underwear off, grabbing your legs and pulling them over his shoulders. On camera, it looked like you had shifted and sat back a little in your chair. It wasn’t … inaccurate. This time you triple checked that your microphone was off.

“God, look at that sweet little pussy, darlin’,” Jake groaned. You could feel his warm breath against your clit, and swallowed hard. “I can’t wait to put my mouth on it, to taste you.”

You bit at your lip, and keeping your eyes on yourself, attempted to deduce what it would look like if you fisted Jake’s hair in your hand. Unfortunately, it would definitely look like your hand moved between your legs, so you opted to keep your hands above your desk, much to your dismay. You wanted to feel Jake’s soft blond hair through your fingers, pull on it gently, command him closer to your cunt.

Despite Jake’s declarations of wanting to put his mouth on you, you felt his fingers once more. You gasped, hoping it looked like a yawn on camera, rolling your hips into Jake’s touch.

“Jake,” you whined - carefully - hoping that you wouldn’t be asked to speak, or what your thoughts were, again. “Please. Put your mouth on me.”

“Darlin’, you sound so pretty when you’re begging,” Jake hummed, pressing his mouth where your thigh met your loins. “Maybe I want to hear it some more?”

He was not being fair and it drove you mad, but you wouldn’t want him to change.

On your laptop screen, the Dean and your colleagues were in a deep discussion about the second pillar of the plan, inclusive excellence actions,. And while you had been looking forward to this discussion, it paled in comparison to giving your full, undivided attention to your husband, on his knees between your legs, mouth so close to your pussy, strong and calloused palms alternating between moving over your thighs and calves.

“You’re - you’re going to be late,” you attempted to rationalize. God, you wanted him to draw this out, but you also didn’t want him to get in trouble.

“Beg.”

A shiver ran down along your spine; you knew that was his lieutenant voice. You might have come right then and there if you hadn’t been looking forward to his mouth on you so much.

You made sure to watch yourself on screen, you couldn’t let others know how absolutely wrecked you were.

“Honey, please,” you purred, in a voice that you knew slid over Jake like silk. “I need your mouth on me baby. Fuck, you make me feel so good. Put your tongue in my pussy. Please. I need to feel you, and I know you want to taste it.”

“Mrs. Seresin?”

You really wished you could just leave the meeting and that the Dean would stop jokingly calling you that. You could feel Jake’s wide smile, full of teeth, against your skin, everytime he was reminded that you were his.

“Your microphone is off.”

Your hand was trembling as you reached for your mouse, moving the cursor to turn the mic back on. “Sorry,” you apologized, and holy fuck did your voice ever sound strangled. “Talking to myself mostly.”

The Dean laughed. “Quite all right!”

You turned your microphone off, and that was when Jake’s tongue began to move along your lips. Inhaling sharply, you balled your fingers into a fist, dragging them against your desk.

“Jake,” you whined, letting your eyelids slip closed.

“I think you’ve earned this,” he murmured, the audible sound of his swallowing down your juices far too much to bear. Your hips undulated toward him, and he chuckled softly. “Such a good girl.”

He was sucking your clit gently into his mouth, hauling you closer to his face. You gasped, reaching down and gripping the bottom of your desk chair. It was difficult when your focus was drifting between Jake’s mouth on you, and watching yourself on screen to ensure that it didn’t look like what was happening, was in fact, happening.

You bit down on your lip repeatedly, as Jake’s tongue rolled over your clit before descending lower. Slowly, wetly, he licked his way into you. Moaning against your tightly pursed lips, you arched off your chair, wanting more of him inside of you. The tip of his tongue licked against your walls, and he groaned like it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

If you asked him, he would say that it was.

You could feel him shift, and without even looking you could tell that he was rubbing himself through his trousers. There wouldn’t be enough time for him to get changed, and you were certain his other tans were in a laundry basket somewhere.

Jake pulled his tongue from you, and you mourned the loss pathetically, whining and trying to chase his mouth. He placated you by slowly pressing one finger inside of you, as his tongue laved over your clit.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he hummed against you. You risked a look down, and holy fuck, you’d never seen a sight so gorgeous. Jake’s mouth on your pussy, his bright green eyes looking up at you. “My mouth, my fingers, my cock. So hungry for it all.”

Tightly closing your eyes, you reached for your phone, and thumbed at it to make it look like you were checking your messages, when really you were snapping a quick photo of Jake - eyes bright, tongue licking along your folds, open palm rubbing at his crotch.

“They’re gonna want to talk to me soon,” you murmured, setting your phone down, fingers flexing against your desk. “Please … make me come. Let me come.”

“God, darlin’.”

Jake wrapped his arms around your thighs, hauled you closer, mouth on a mission. You gasped as he sucked your clit gently into his mouth, and then pressed two of his long, thick fingers inside of you. You chanced a glance down at him again, and god, even he looked like he was beginning to come apart at the seams.

Your eyes quickly lifted back to your screen. You didn’t look too fucked out, but you didn’t look like you probably should have in a meeting. You hoped that it was subtle enough that no one else could notice.

As if on cue, your supervisor asked for your input.

“Um,” you choked out, fingers reaching for the edge of the desk. Oh god, Jake’s tongue was flat against your clit, and his fingers were pumping in and out of you just like he fucked. His fingers weren’t as thick as his cock, but they were still his, and he still knew how to stretch you open slowly, perfectly. “Can you, uh, remind me where - jeez - where we are?”

“The third priority, recruitment.”

Briefly, you hung your head, trying to compose yourself. You could feel the pressure beginning to build at the base of your spine. Jake’s tongue moved inside of you, along his fingers. Oh my god, you were going to come. He was going to make you come on camera. You could see the mischievous twinkle in Jake’s eyes even if you couldn’t see it.

“Right, recruitment,” you repeated, unable to keep yourself from rolling your hips. You wanted to fuck Jake’s face so badly as he brought you to the edge, but there was no way. As if sensing your dilemma, Jake’s free hand gripped your hip and pinned you to the chair.

You chose to ignore the concerned look on one of your colleague’s faces. “You had some really great wording for the fifth action in a call that we had, but I’m afraid I didn’t capture it. Would you mind repeating it?”

Yes, I fucking mind!

Jake was relentless. You couldn’t move, all eyes were on you. Trembling, you reached for your notebook to flip to the page with relevant notes. Nails scraped against the edge of the desk, as Jake whispered below, “C’mon, darlin’. Be a good girl. Come - come on me. I want to taste you. Baby, let me taste you.”

He was begging you now.

“Tha - thank you,” you stuttered, knuckles turning white as you continued to grip the edge of your desk. “What I had suggested was ‘Develop and - ha - facilitate a specialized candidate caaaaare program aimed at - ohgod - empowering and supporting equity-deserving job seekers naaaaavigating the employment process.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine!” you replied quickly, as Jake crooked his fingers inside of you. “I think I have to sneeze. Be right back!”

You turned both your microphone and your camera off, ignoring the concerned looks from your coworkers.

“Jake!” you cried, head thrown back as you moved your hips, fucking yourself on his fingers, chasing his tongue. “Honey please. Please!”

You tangled your hands in his hair, pulling hard, and he lifted his gaze to yours. You came with a shout, pressing down against Jake’s fingers and face so hard that his knuckles brushed your entrance, that you were positive he wouldn’t be able to get the scent of you out of his nostrils all day. Jake groaned against you, lapping up every bit of your slick. When he eventually pulled away, he licked his fingers before slowly standing up. You grabbed at his wrist, pulling his hand toward your face. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, and fucked your face slowly.

“Baby,” you hummed, leaning into his touch against your face. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and you looked up at him. “Baby, what about you?”

“I get home at six am tomorrow,” he purred.

Your eyes lit up, knowing what kind of mood he would be in after enduring the desperation of needing release all night. “I’ll be waiting.”

/end.

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