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redskyvenus · 3 months

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NOBODY’S BUSINESS ⟡ CHOSO KAMO

content warnings: 18+ nsfw, non-curse AU, slight angst, bestfriend!choso x fem reader, cheating (reader gets cheated on/cheats back), choso is pussydrunk, consensual recording, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral sex (f receiving), pet names, praise, smut, squirting, toxic relationship, unprotected sex┊wc: 3k

notes: this is loosely based off of a very nsfw dream i had about choso a few months ago, oops┊tags: @manjibunny @rookie98writes @jabamin @satoruhour @kizoken @marimogf @screampied

masterlist

Never in a million years did you anticipate reading the nauseating words that adorned your screen.

It felt like pure agony, as if your heart had been shattered into a million fragments. The shock overwhelmed you, finding out through a mutual friend that your boyfriend got caught having sex with another girl at a party. Buried alive inside a nightmare, you were spiraling — as if the very foundation of the perfect world you lived in had crumbled beneath your feet.

Your relationship with Naoya had only begun four months ago. Initially seeming idyllic, until you slowly started to see a darker side of him. There were early warning signs when you first got together, but you brushed it off, viewing your relationship through rose-coloured glasses.

He had always taken you for granted, never buying you flowers or getting you any gifts for your monthly anniversaries. Making empty promises and getting your hopes up were his specialties, but you were blinded by his looks. Failing to see he was only using you for his own selfish desires.

Much like a ravenous crow, he always found himself looking for the next shiny, pretty girl he could get his hands on to manipulate and discard once boredom set in. A never ending hunt for a new prized possession — a twisted cycle that left behind a trail of endless heartache he showed no intention of breaking.

Blaming yourself for not seeing through his façade sooner, you were already trapped in his iron grip when it was too late.

He had an extremely flirtatious nature you hated, only worsening while talking to girls you couldn’t stand. It was like a sick power trip to him, letting his eyes wander a little too long on whoever piqued his interest, not even caring in the slightest that you were standing right next to him. But he knew you would never dare to leave, well aware of your devotion to him.

To Naoya you were just a mere object; his possession, devoid of thoughts and feelings. The polar opposite of how your best friend Choso treated you right from the beginning of your friendship. He regarded you as delicate and fragile — not wanting to cause you any harm, always being extremely protective of you.

His envy of Choso's genuine love for you only fueled his toxic possessiveness. Naoya didn’t truly care about you, he just didn’t want anyone to get close and steal you away from him. You hated how the fake affection he showed made you desperately cling on to the good parts of a relationship that was slowly falling apart. His love was like a drug, and you were addicted.

You could fix him. It was just a mistake, he didn’t want to lose you — he loved you.

With trembling fingers, you desperately scrolled through your contacts to call the one person who could mend your soul.

“C’mon…” Anxiously pacing around the living room, your body violently trembled as you attempted to suppress the intense nausea. “Answer the fucking phone, Choso…”

The phone rang a few times, each passing second feeling like an eternity, before a deep, honeyed voice finally filled your ears. A sigh of relief washed over you in the midst of your hellish heartache.

“Hello?”

Breathless and shaken up, you cried into the microphone. “Oh, thank god. You’re still awake.”

“What’s going on? Are you o-” Before he could finish his sentence, your soft, melancholic voice cut him off.

“Can you come over… like right now? I’m at Naoya’s house.”

“Of course. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Need you right now,” you sniffled, tears staining your screen.

“‘m coming. Just stay where you are; everything will be okay.” His calm aura always knew how to soothe you, even in the midst of utter despair. You clung to him, hoping that his presence would be a balm for the searing pain in your chest.

After ending the call, a mix of emotions swirled within you —anger, betrayal, and a longing for solace.

Rushing to the bathroom, you tried emptying your stomach but to no avail, tears streaming down instead. Kneeled on the tiled floor, your cries were interrupted by the loud ringing of the doorbell, prompting you to stand up. Shaky legs moved towards the entrance.

Slowly opening the front door, big, beautiful purple eyes met yours—a spark of electricity rushed through your veins. He had never looked this worried before.

”Hey.”

“Hey…” You greeted, looking up at him distraught, but his loving gaze never faltered. ”Thank you, Choso.”

“Of course, anything for you.”

He stepped inside, closing the door. Trying to hold back tears, you jumped into his big, strong arms. Inhaling his familiar scent to regulate your uneven breaths. He softly kissed the top of your head, gentle hands wiping away the mascara stains from your cheeks. “Let’s go get you some water first, and then we’ll talk.”

Choso walked into the kitchen, opening different cabinets to find a drinking glass, filling it with water before handing it to you.

“So, who dared to upset my girl?” You almost choked on the liquid, thinking you must have heard it wrong. Trying your hardest not to burst into tears again as the words of that damned text flooded your memory, you struggled to gather your words.

“I received a text from Yuki about half an hour ago. She told me Naoya cheated on me at Sukuna’s party,” you felt your heart aching again. Choso, in absolute disbelief, furrowed his brows, and his expression morphed from shock into anger. “He didn’t even care that he got caught.”

”What — he did what?” The rage inside of him fired up quickly, “I will beat the shit out of that blonde bitch. What the hell is wrong with him?”

“Don’t call him that.”

He scoffed, “Why not? He doesn’t give a fuck about you, so why would I care about him?”

“I don’t know. But just don’t, please.”

“I’m not letting him get away with it.”

You sighed deeply, leaning against the countertop. “I know, but I love him.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. Choso knew you well enough to understand that you wouldn’t give up on Naoya, even if your relationship was on the verge of sinking like the Titanic.

”You’re honestly insane if you forgive him after pulling shit like this.”

“It was just a mistake, Choso.”

”Yeah, right—he accidentally slipped and fell into another girl’s pussy,”

“Fuck you,” you glanced at him, a hint of genuine anger laced in your voice.

”C’mon… Do you really think he won’t do it again? Be honest with yourself.”

”I don’t know how to break up with him.”

“You do know, you just don’t want to. That’s different.” Trying to mend fractured relationships and giving second chances to people who didn’t deserve your forgiveness. It was your best and worst characteristic simultaneously.

“Kinda sucks that he gets to have you, and I can’t. I could treat you way better — just sayin’,” Choso mumbled nonchalantly.

“What was that?” You raised an eyebrow, looking back up at him surprised. Your words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the kitchen. His admission lingered between you, creating a palpable tension. You shifted uncomfortably, the chaos of emotions swirling within you making it difficult to find the right response.

”I can’t believe I’m actually saying this out loud,“ Choso repeated, his voice a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “But I want you — I’ve wanted you since the day I first laid eyes on you. You deserve to be treated like the amazing woman that you are,” he spoke into your ear, before pressing a loving kiss on your right cheek.

His warm breath sent shivers down your spine, and the gentle kiss on your cheek left you confused. “C-Choso… d-don’t say that,” you stuttered.

He knew it was wrong to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself.

“It’s the truth,” he insisted, his gaze unwavering. He gently grabbed your chin, making you look up at him. “Listen to me, I’d let you break my heart, if that means I get to show you for one night what it means to actually be loved.”

The echoes of his confession lingered in the room, intertwining with the complex emotions weaving through your heart. The fragile state of your relationship with Naoya, coupled with his true feelings, left you feeling adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

Choso released his hold on your chin and took a step back. “I didn’t plan on saying any of that out loud. But I needed you to know.”

You closed your eyes, allowing your hazy mind to take over. ”Kiss me,” you breathed out loud, the words escaping before you could fully comprehend their weight.

His eyes widened in surprise, trying to process your words. ”W-What?”

”I said… Kiss me.”

Taken aback by your sudden request, he hesitated for a moment before closing the distance between you. His smoky scent enveloped you in a dizzying cloud.

He leaned in, letting his breath fan over your face before soft lips met yours in a tentative, passionate kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as you embraced it, letting the warmth of Choso’s affection wash over you. The chaos of your emotions slowly subsiding. As the kiss deepened, his hands found a delicate place on your waist, pulling you closer. Your eager fingers got lost in his dark locks, making his hair fall down. The room filled with the rhythmic sound of your shared breaths.

Big hands sneaked under your oversized black shirt, exploring every inch of your soft body. His touches became more sinful, making you further sink into his embrace.

A little whimper escaped you as you felt his wandering hands everywhere. He broke the kiss to bury his face into your neck, planting hot, wet kisses along your jawline. He started to temptingly suck on the skin, your lewd moans growing loader. ”Mmphh, Choso — don’t stop,” he could feel his cock stir in his gray sweats.

Touches becoming more desperate, his muscular body pushed you against the wooden cabinets. The impact making a jar fall to the tiled floor, there was so much dizzying tension between you he thought he might actually faint.

Suddenly he halted his attack on your neck. You squealed as he lifted you up effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to Naoya’s bedroom.

”You have no fucking idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he shamelessly whispered in your ear. Laying you down on the soft pillows that covered the bed, his tall figure loomed over you. Quickly taking off his shirt before he lifted up yours slightly, uncovering your breasts. Choso grazed his lips along your chest, biting the skin before he soothed the bite marks with his tongue.

Trailing down kisses to your stomach, Choso pried your thighs open. He skilfully removed your already soaked pink panties, flinging them across the room. Your heart was beating so fast — never in your entire life did you want someone to touch you this badly. You couldn’t take your eyes off his broad, muscular back that was covered in a sheer layer of sweat.

His hot breath fanned over your cunt for just a few seconds, before he licked a long stripe up your puffy folds. His tongue traveled towards your clit, circling little figure-eights around it. He groaned contently licking and sucking every spot, “Fuck. This pretty pussy tastes so good… Just as I thought.” His praise ripped a lewd whine from your throat.

”Choso, please. Need more,” you whined, arching your back into the mattress.

“Shhh— I know,” he cooed, half-lidded purple eyes peering up at you, “Gotta make you cum first.” His deep, honeyed voice vibrating against your folds made you clench. He covered his digits in your slick, stuffing one finger inside your soaked hole. Hearing your moans grow louder, he quickly added another one.

His tongue and fingers made you feel like you were floating, pleasuring you like it was his last night on this earth. You gasped and trembled, repeating the words keep going like a broken record until the pressure in your lower abdomen almost exploded.

He satisfyingly hummed against your cunt, “Mhm. Cum for me, pretty girl. Give it to me.” Speeding up his tempo, your eyes rolled back in your head, crying out his name as you squirted all over his face.

Choso’s chin now covered in your juices, he smirked at you seductively, “Fuck. Could do this forever.”

Before you were able to blink, he had switched positions, your body now on top of his. Not satisfied yet and growing desperate to feel him, you started riding his abs. The rigidness of his muscles stimulated your sensitive clit again. “Chosoo—need you inside of me.”

“Patience, baby. Would never be able to forgive myself if I only made you cum once tonight.” His strong arms grabbed your hips, moving you back and forth on his abdomen. “So sweet and needy; lookin’ so pretty on top of me.” He pulled one of your hands up, tenderly kissing your fingers while you were riding him, before he placed them back on his chest.

His devotion to you made your brain short circuit, “‘’m close again.” Choso loved seeing your dazed expression as you inched closer to reaching nirvana once more — the moonlight illuminating your glistening body. Your ears were ringing as you came for the second time.

He grinned proudly, “There she is, my good girl.” Your shirt and his stomach now covered in your juices. You panted heavily as your soul returned to your body.

Choso lifted himself up and started kissing your neck again, and you were so eager to let him finally fill you up.

“Need to feel you inside now.”

”Mm? Say that again?”

”Please fuck me, Choso,” you whined. He removed his sweatpants and turned you around so you were positioned on all fours. Slick-covered cunt on display, almost making him cum at the beautiful sight. You wiggled your ass, turning your head to look up at him. His dick was so intimidatingly big, making you panic slightly.

He slowly sank himself inside of you, inch by inch, your walls hugging his cock as if your body was made for him. He grabbed his phone from his sweatpants and opened the camera, “Shit. Need to remember this moment forever, gonna put this as my lockscreen. Can I?”

You giggled, further arching your back for him, “Yeah. Don’t mind.” He pressed the record button and gripped your waist, “Oh baby — you feel so fucking good.” He moaned as he picked up the pace, dragging your walls so nicely, sounds of slapping skin filled up the room.

Mewling and whimpering as he moved the angle of his hips just right — making you see stars, mouth falling agape. “Mmpf. S-so deep,” You panted breathlessly, cunt gushing around him as he pushed you over the edge, coaxing your third orgasm from you. Choso ended the video and threw the phone on the bed. Following soon after, he stuffed you full of his cum before pulling out, staining your black shirt.

Both of your bodies collapsed onto the bed, and he gently kissed you again, “I meant everything I said earlier.” Your mind was too fucked out to respond, only humming in response.

You quickly took off your stained shirt, dropping it to the floor. Choso shook his head and smirked, caging you in his strong arms as you drifted off to sleep in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend had arrived home unexpectedly in the middle of the night, drunk and disoriented before falling asleep on the couch. His alarm jolted him awake, prompting to navigate his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Opening the door to his bedroom, Naoya grabbed the nearest shirt he could find from his bedroom floor and hastily put it on. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him, the realization of the situation slowly dawning on him. A venomous smirk curved his lips, and the storm in his brown eyes intensified.

His footsteps waking you up from your deep slumber, “What the fuck?” Naoya’s loud voice sliced through the charged silence, laden with accusation. "Is this what you do when I'm not around?" Anger dripped from his words, the air thick with tension.

Choso's expression remained stoic, but his gaze held a glaring intensity. Before you could respond, Naoya's eyes flicked to the tousled sheets of his bed, and the smirk on his face contorting into a sneer. "I see. You didn't waste any time," he spat, the words a volatile mix of rage and betrayal.

As you attempted to form a response, Naoya lunged forward, confronting him. "You think you can just walk into my house and touch my girlfr-"

Choso, unyielding, cut him off with a steely glare. "Maybe you should've thought about that before treating her like shit. She called me because you stuffed your dirty dick inside someone else.”

”I’m sorry, this was a mistake.” You sniffled, directing your gaze towards Naoya.

Choso, with a heavy sigh, gathered his belongings and headed for the door. "I'll give you two some space. Figure it out." His words were laden with a mix of anger and disappointment. “You’re wearing the shirt I fucked your girlfriend in last night, by the way.”

Naoya inspected every inch of his shirt until he saw the white stain, leaving him mortified. ”You need to get the fuck out, before I beat your ass.”

As the door slammed shut, the two of you stood frozen, the reality of the moment sinking in. Naoya's gaze softened, a flicker of realization in his eyes. The storm within him seemed to subside. "I... I messed up. I messed up big time. Please forgive me, I don’t want to lose you."

The conversation that ensued lasted for two hours, his manipulative tendencies resurfacing again — weaving their insidious charm to win you over once more. Trapped within the clutches of his vice-like grip, the toxic cycle persisted, weaving an intricate web around your emotions.

Several weeks later, you were randomly woken up by the chiming sound of your phone. The blinding light hurt your sensitive eyes, and your blood ran cold when you opened the message.

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addledmongoose · 4 months

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Best of 2023 Good Omens Fanfiction

This is my list of the 20 best Good Omens fanfiction works I've read in 2023.

A few notes:

These are all complete works; there are no WIPs in the list.

Please feel free to let me know if a link stops working

It's not an ordered list. That would be far too difficult.

You'll probably recognize some of the most popular ones. They're popular for a reason, after all, but I hope you find something you haven't yet read.

The majority are full-length works, but there are definitely some shorter pieces.

These are certainly not the only good works I've read, but they are the ones I'm most likely to read more than once

Click the Keep Reading to see the list

If you're the author of one of these, first off, thank you! But second, if you want me to add your tumblr name to your story, let me know, and I'll edit.

This first section, all the stories are canon-compliant or canon-adjacent. In other words, it's at least somewhat set in the Good Omens universe.

a lighthouse (burning) (108K; Rated M)

This one is canon-adjacent and set in the 19th century. Aziraphale goes to a lighthouse to figure out where all the lighthouse keepers disappeared to, and Crowley follows along. This one is a bit of a spooky mystery along with the romance, and the writing style is simply beautiful. You really get a sense of being trapped in this lighthouse in the middle of nowhere.

***

The Grindr Logo Doesn't Even Have a 'G' In It (79K; Rated E)

It's honestly hard to remember that this one isn't human AU, but they're still just as angelic/demonic as ever. Aziraphale joins Grindr and starts texting (and then sexting) with a charming young man. It's no secret to the reader who this new hookup is. This story is genuinely funny at times. I like the funny ones.

***

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (103K; Rated M)

This is one of the best reverse omens stories I've read that isn't technically a reverse omens. Crowley wishes things were different after leaving the bookshop, and the universe gives him his wish. He finds himself in a world where Aziraphale hates him, Death has trouble taking lives, and basically everything you knew about the world of Good Omens is upside down. It's very funny. It uses inline footnotes (which is good, because it has a LOT of footnotes), and Death is hilarious.

***

it's a new craze (5K; Rated T)

Another one that seems like it should be human AU but isn't. Crowley and Aziraphale start up a podcast after the Notpocalypse and gain a loyal fanbase who can't figure out if they're a couple or not. They often forget who their audience is and often reference events in their shared history that make no sense to the humans listening.

***

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a demon in possession of a mobile phone, must be in want of attention (6K; Rated G)

And yes, that is the entire title. Another funny short story where a couple of podcast hosts receive a call from a certain angel whose demon trapped himself in his phone and won't leave.

***

In Mixed Company, or the Corporate Retreat of Heaven and Hell (52K; Rated M)

I've read this one at least three times, and it's probably my favorite of all. Every 300 years, Heaven and Hell share a company retreat on Earth during which angels and demons surrender their celestial powers and hold retreats. It has a great new angel friend of Aziraphale's; Hellish Powerpoint presentations; Gabriel being annoyingly chipper; and Aziraphale and Crowley sneaking around like teenagers trying to find some alone time.

***

How To Woo A Demon (24K; Rated T)

Aziraphale researches demonic courtship rituals and starts implementing them in order to convince Crowley he wants to take their relationship to the next level. Crowley is very confused by Aziraphale's actions. Another cute, funny one.

***

Factory Settings (107K; Rated T)

This one is famous for coming out practically as S2 dropped, making people think whoever wrote it (the author is anonymous) had something to do with the production of the show.

This is the only one I'm going to say anything negative about. There are a lot of spelling errors and typos in it. It needs a hard editing pass. Despite that complaint, I devoured this story as fast as I could scroll. It's that good, and even knowing all the errors are there, I'll probably still re-read it. I'm usually pretty picky about errors like that, so for me to overlook it and even recommend it, means I really liked it.

Crowley gets reinstated as the angel, Raphael, with no memory of his time as Crowley, and Aziraphale struggles to return him to his demonic self. It's heart-breaking and wonderful and I absolutely loved it.

***

One Night In Bangor (And the World's Your Oyster) (17K: Rated E)

Much like In Mixed Company, Heaven and Hell come together for a corporate retreat on Earth. In this one, some totally random demon who's name definitely doesn't rhyme with Bowley created a wager in Hell to see which demon could bed an angel first.

Another funny one. This time, a lot of the humor comes from the demons doing their best to pick up the angels with really bad pickup lines.

***

We Only Said Goodbye with Words, I Died A Hundred Times (9K; Rated E)

If I could learn to write even half as good as this, I'd be ecstatic. The emotions the author packs into this story are mind-blowing.

Crowley receives a cursed amulet that creates an ever-increasing need for the person he wants the most and goes to see Aziraphale.

***

To reveal my heart in ink (29K; Rated E)

Aziraphale starts writing letters to Crowley by mail. The letters they exchange slowly get more and more explicit.

***

Pray For Us, Icarus (66K; Rated G/T)

The author wrote this one as a series, so each one varies in chapter count and rating, but they tell a single, contiguous story.

This was the first long-form GO fanfiction I read, and it was way too close to the ending of S2. I really should've waited a while, because holy cow, is this one heartbreaking.

For three hundred years, Crowley has been reincarnated over and over as a human with no memory of his past. Aziraphale has spent those three hundred years trying to restore him to his true self.

The author, Atalan, is probably one of the best writers on the site. This story is stunning in the quality of its writing, in the pacing of the story, and in the emotions evoked. I normally don't like being sad (like I said, I like the funny ones), but I've saved this story off to make sure I always have it.

***

Pretend For Me (53K; Rated E)

In a panic, Aziraphale tells the archangels that he survived hellfire due to his soul mixing with Crowley's because they're in a romantic and sexual relationship, but now they want them to prove it.

I'm a sucker for fake relationship stories, and there aren't a whole lot of them where the characters are still angel/demon, but this one is. It's another fun one, though a bit more angsty than some of those I listed above.

***

The following are all human AU. Good chance you'll recognize all or most of these.

Married At First Sight (147K; Rated T)

One of the most recently completed stories in the list, this is a fake relationship story where Aziraphale and Crowley join a reality show that marries complete strangers off to each other. Their new marriage starts off on a less than idyllic foot and they decide to fake it for the show. The author is a master of making you want to scream "for fuck's sake, just talk to each other, you walnuts!"

Probably one of my favorite fake relationship stories.

***

Postcards From Paris (12K; Rated G)

The author, ghostrat (@mrghostrat), is a fantastic writer of human AU, and it's worth going through his entire backlist (and read his current WIPs, too).

Crowley moves into his Mayfair flat and starts receiving postcards addressed to the previous tenant from one A.Z.F., who is in Europe hunting for bizarre bibles and rating wine. Sweet and fluffy and the perfect antidote if you've just been on an angst binge.

***

Or Be Nice (151K; Rated E)

I stayed up until 6:30 in the morning reading this one, crashed for three hours, then read until I finished it. Then that night, I started it again.

This is, without hesitation, my all-time favorite human AU. It's funny. I love the author's version of the characters, and I will probably end up reading it again in just a few months. I probably already would have if it wasn't for the length of my Mark For Later and Subscription lists.

Crowley and Aziraphale are neighbors who get into a noise war. They both have their reasons for their actions, though to be honest, Crowley is a bit of an ass at first. Once they really start talking, though, they are absolutely wonderful together.

Even if you've never read a human AU, I recommend at least giving this one a try.

***

What We Make Of It (Shotgun Wedding) (213K; Rated E)

This is the third charlottemadison work on this list. 15% of this list is just this one author. That's how good they are.

Aziraphale works as an English teacher. Crowley is the guardian for his nephew, Adam, and works for a school testing company. Crowley can't risk his job dating his nephew's gorgeous and charming teacher. Unless...

Crowley comes up with a crazy plan. Now he just has to convince Aziraphale to go along with it.

Again, another very popular human AU. One thing I love about this story is how there's a lot less angst between the two characters, and how they both really care for Adam.

***

Slow Show (95K; Rated E)

The very first human AU I read. Didn't even think I'd like that specific genre until I read it. Now, as you can see, it's about half of my reading list.

This is an actor AU. Aziraphale (named Avery here) and Crowley are actors working together on a new show. Avery is an award-winning, straight-laced, well-respected actor; Crowley is a mess who immediately falls head-over-heels for him and somehow has to get through the show without letting his (apparently straight) costar realize that.

***

South Downs (76K; Rated E)

Another actor AU. This time, Aziraphale is an openly-gay actor, well-respected for his period drama work. Crowley is a once-blackballed actor who jumps at the chance to star in a gay Regency romance with Aziraphale in the hopes it can restart his career. The trouble is, Crowley is struggling to play the romantic lead opposite a man.

I love the growing friendship between these two as much as the romance. I love how comfortable and confident Aziraphale is here; and how caring he is toward Crowley's growing awareness of his sexuality.

***

This one doesn't really fit either category, so I'm putting it here.

The Rose and the Serpent (56K; Rated M)

By the same author as Pray For Us, Icarus comes a GO retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Aziraphale is sent off by his older brother, Gabriel, into the forest to be held hostage by a giant snake in a cursed castle. Turns out, neither the snake nor the castle are what he was expecting.

Light-hearted and with very memorable characters, the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale is simply stunning. I love how Newt and Anathema are used here. The quality of this one is as good as Icarus, and I loved this one so much I could easily have read 300K more words.

***

And bonus: mine!

The Beginning of the End (Again) (79K; Rated M)

The first fanfiction I've ever written and the first book I've written in a decade. I had the first two chapters in mind after finishing S2, and the story grew from there. I actually have a sequel in mind after I finish another, separate fake relationship story.

Crowley spends months drowning his sorrows after Aziraphale accepts the Supreme Archangel position, until a group of demons shows up one day and tells him the Second Coming is nearly upon them, and they want him to stop it. Turns out being a demon isn't much fun if there are no humans left to tempt.

Aziraphale has spent these last months in Heaven looking for ways to stop the Second Coming while mourning the way he and Crowley left things. After discovering that Hell's minions have been tasked by the Metatron to escort the son of God on a tour of Earth in preparation for his Second Coming, he hurries down to see what's going on, fearing the worst.

Instead he discovers Crowley escorting the Messiah around Earth. Is his demon taking the son of God on dates?

#good omens fanfiction

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enviedear · 5 months

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A request throught for billy the kid.

He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....

girl from the north country — billy bonney

request

i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.

tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.

less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.

his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.

he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.

you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.

it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.

you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.

you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.

you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."

you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.

inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.

the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.

you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."

you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.

his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.

hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."

as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.

a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.

his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"

the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.

a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.

you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.

"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."

billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."

you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.

billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.

"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."

you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."

billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.

you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."

billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."

you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."

your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#—askolivia !#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #coriolanus x reader

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notjustjavierpena · 8 months

Text

Jealous

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost

A/N: The spirit of husband!javi told me to write this. JUST TO PROVE HE IS A DICK AT TIMES. I imagine that it takes place around the time that Sebastian is conceived, so you can decide if this is that time ;)

Summary: You dance with your colleague. Javier reads too much into it.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 smut (mdni), javi is a dick, jealousy, public sex, rough and brutal sex, creampie, car sex, dirty talk, possessive sex

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49644700

Jealous

You are starting to regret coming along to this work function as you scan the crowd of people from different branches of your company. It hasn’t even been that many hours, and you are swirling the wine in your glass impatiently as the wish to go home grows stronger. You had taken off your heels already half an hour into the event, and have carried them around by your side all evening. They are perched on a barstool beside you.

Your boss had insisted, said that the more the merrier, and that he had always wanted to see you out of your shell. Then he had made a joke about seeing your wild side that you laughed at because you really want to keep your job.

Javier is getting a cigarette with some of the people from accounting, and you know that you will have to hear about how they feel like energy vampires when he comes back to throw his arms around in dramatic gestures. It makes you smile to yourself as you stare into your glass.

You don’t allow yourself to think too much about the fact that the reason you are so eager to leave is mainly because Chucho has the kids. Your house is empty when you arrive home later. Neither you nor Javier have made an actual verbal agreement on having sex tonight, but you know that he is thinking of it too; you’ve seen him staring at you whilst you tapped your wedding ring against the flute of champagne you drank at the welcome speech.

“There she is,” you hear the voice of one of your coworkers. Jim works in the same branch as you, eats lunch with you daily, and occasionally makes work less hellish by making you laugh. You would call him a friend as much as a good colleague.

“Hey,” you look up to greet him with a grin, “Where the hell you been? Crunching numbers for fun or flirting with Tina?”

“The latter is cooler, right?” He asks with a wink.

You laugh genuinely.

“Okay, yes, then the latter. The flirting,” he nods towards the dance floor which they are starting to set up, “She declined a dance though.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Jim,” you put down your glass on the bar behind you, “She’ll come around at some point.”

“Anyway, don’t matter,” he waves dismissively, looks back to the dance floor for a second, and hesitates for just a moment, “I’d rather dance with you. Platonically obviously.”

“Might turn into a dance battle,” you let him know with a smirk. Jim is harmless, and genuinely in love with Tina from the front desk with the way that he hovers by her side when he has the chance.

“Well, damn, I like the sound of that. Think they’ll let us request songs?”

“Let’s find out,” you say, telling the bartender to keep an eye on your shoes.

Javier returns to the party about five minutes later, but you are nowhere to be found in the spot where he left you. He has the urge to tell you about how horrible your colleagues from finance, accounting, or something are, has planned the conversation in his head so he can make you laugh out loud.

But there are your shoes, left abandoned by the bar and he is forgetting his line more and more. Puzzled and slightly disappointed, he looks at the bartender who nods towards the crowd of people dancing in cheap flashing colored lights. He feels confused since you don’t normally dance alone.

That’s when he notices that it’s your favorite song playing, and then he sees your figure moving in the crowd. You are dancing with someone. A male someone who looks at you with a stupid grin; the kind that is only reserved for someone you are interested in.

Javier’s chest tightens with an uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty and unease. He pushes past a few people who are talking animatedly from too many drinks, one of them letting out an uh-oh at seeing how he is eyeing your dancing body. They know who he is, but he doesn’t care. He wants to bark something at them, but he is too focused on getting between you and the probably handsy guy.

When he gets close, he hears you say something to your colleague who he realizes must be Jim who you have talked about several times. The problem is that Javier never knew that Jim was as good-looking as he was.

You will laugh at him, he is sure of it, but he still puffs his chest when he approaches the two of you. You have your arms above your head, gripping your wrist and swaying your hips in a way that would make any man swallow thickly. Jim probably has.

Javier says your name, taps your shoulder and you whirl around. You look at him with a smile so big that he regrets being pissed off and saying something in an aggressive tone at you the moment he has done it. The smile fades from your face, your brows furrowing and you tug down your dress that’s been riding up slightly from dancing.

“Hey,” Jim interrupts, “Didn’t mean no disrespect.”

“No, Jim, stop,” you say quickly.

Javier knows he is being ridiculous, but he cannot help the way that he feels when he sees men look at you with as much interest as he has. You’re beautiful. In that dress, you’re sexy too. It’s not your fault, but he cannot stand being here another moment.

“Don’t worry about it,” Javier grits out. He looks at you, a hand on his hip as impatience overtakes him, “We need to get home anyway. The kids are with their abuelo and it’s late.”

“Claro,” Jim says in a way too American way.

“Let me get my shoes,” you say.

“I’ll get them,” Javier tells you.

You meet Javier by the entrance but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he kneels on the floor and helps you step into your stiletto, ties the ankle strap securely before tapping your leg to make you present the other foot for him.

When he is done, he gets up and shoves your coat into your chest. He mumbles, “It’s raining.”

You take a cab home since the both of you have been drinking enough to not be able to drive. Javier holds the door open for you as you climb inside, making you jump as he slams the door behind you and walks hurriedly around the car.

With your coat in your lap, you wait for the silence to break. It doesn’t except for Javier tapping the glass that separates the front- and backseat, telling the chauffeur where you are going.

You take matters into your own hands.

“You’re being fucking ridiculous, Javi,” you sigh as the car takes off. The driver seems to turn up the music a little as a way of giving you privacy, “I’ve told you that Jim is dating Tina.”

“He looks at you just the way I did,” he snaps, staring out of the car as the heavy rain patters on the window, “It’s not just fucking fun and games when he looks at you like that.”

“I would never let him do anything,” you mumble, removing your coat as the anger you feel makes you sweat.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he says simply.

“Then why are you scolding me like a toddler?” You pat the seat to make him look your way, “Hey. Look at me. Why is me dancing - as friends - with Jim a problem?”

“Because you’re too fucking beautiful, that’s why,” he finally admits. He gestures to you, “Look at you. Es estupido.”

“Oh? Weird way of communicating that you think I’m pretty,” you giggle, “Jesus, Javi.”

“Pretty isn’t the word I’m trying to say here,” he continues to fume quietly, “I don’t like ‘em getting all up in your face. How am I supposed to feel about that?”

“Well, sorry for—“

“And Jim knows you’re mine,” he interrupts with exasperation, “Pendejo.”

“Whoa, mister,” you chuckle in disbelief, “Back down.”

“Take off your panties,” he replies simply.

Your eyes nearly bulge out of your skull. You nervously laugh at first, but when Javier doesn’t make any signs of his command being a joke, you stare at the back of the cab driver’s head to see if he has heard anything despite him being behind a glass panel. His posture hasn’t changed since he started up the engine, so you guess no.

“No, are you kidding me?” You shift a little in your seat, feeling warmth spread across your face and chest. Your heart slams against the inside of your rib cage.

“Does it look like I’m kidding?” Javier places his hand on the space between you. He turns his palm upwards, “Hand them over.”

Your stomach swirls in interest at the danger. Your heartbeat is between your legs now. You shift a little more to make it seem like you are trying to get comfortable, but it allows you to hike up your dress just slightly and reach underneath the skirt. You lift yourself from the seat just slightly, hooking your index fingers into the seamless cotton panties you have worn for tonight. You tug them down over your thighs, slide them past your knees until they hit the floor.

Javier picks them up. He gives you a look when he feels how wet they already are and then stuffs them into his jeans pocket, “Not mine, huh?”

“I’m so done with you,” you say with a little laugh, “What are you going to do next? Fuck me in the backseat?”

Javier looks over the cab driver’s shoulder to check the clock. He looks like he is calculating the time it will take to reach your home address, then he raps on the glass again, “Could you turn that song up? I like it.”

The music grows louder. Your eyes widen, “Javi, no— no, c’mon.”

Then he lunges forward and pushes you down into the car seat, and you yelp loudly and try to play it off with it being the car swirling to the right as it overtakes another vehicle.

Javier has you on your back in mere seconds, belt clinking as he hurries to get his cock out. You scramble for your jacket, positioning it by your hips to somewhat cover up what you’re doing.

You give in much sooner than you thought you would, your nimble fingers making quick work of hiking your dress up once more to expose your dripping pussy. You spread your legs for him, “Hurry. People will see.”

Javier reaches down to slide into you immediately, the stretch making your cunt sting so deliciously that you already flutter around his girth. The both of you groan but it is barely audible over the music making the car boom.

“Nobody makes you feel like me,” he says as he starts fucking you into the seat. Your high heels dig into the leather, creating dents as he grinds his hips forcefully into yours.

“No,” you moan, shaking your head as he nearly smacks you into the door with how much force he puts behind his thrusts, “There’s no one else for me but you.”

The car turns a corner, causing you to slide to the side and nearly making you fall onto the floor of the cab. Javier catches you just before it happens, dragging you back to him with the help of the car driving straight again. You giggle and it makes you clench around his dick. He pants heavily, “Stop laughing. I can’t—“

“Sorry,” you try calming down, but to no avail.

Javier ends up shutting your mouth by picking up his pace. He drives brutally into your cunt until you think you might split right down the middle, replacing the giggles with high-pitched noises of ecstasy.

Your arms come up over your head just like when you were dancing. You wonder if Javier notices during the few seconds it takes you to find purchase on the car door, gripping until your knuckles are white.

“Fuu-uuck,” you swear, eyebrows knitted together as the pressure builds behind your clit, “Javi.”

“Come for me,” he growls, staring wildly into your eyes whilst he fucks you to the point of tears.

A weak noise close to a feeble cry leaves your mouth just before you come but then your voice cracks as the world fades to nothingness when the first wave of pleasure crashes over your half-naked form. You feel only the sensation of your cunt choking around Javier’s dick and the car humming underneath the two of you.

Javier follows soon after. A streetlight outside lights up the car as he peaks, and you gasp at the sight of his face screwed up in pleasure. His mouth hangs open, brows furrowed and there’s sweat threatening to drip from his brow.

He fills you up with his warm seed. You relish in it, letting out a soft moan as he coats your walls. You’re not actually trying for more children right now, but you know It’s a way of marking you and that thought alone is enough to make you not care - for now.

It takes a moment to find your bearings again. You pant with aftershocks, but the situation has you quickly pulling down your dress again despite not feeling ready to move. You make sure to sit up in a way that coats the dress in come instead of the seat because already you feel it drip out of you.

Javier gets off of you and sits up too, tugging his oversensitive dick into his jeans once more. He does whatever he can to make it look like he hasn’t just fucked your lights out, but the car feels hot and the windows have started to fog.

You dare to lean into him when there are only a few minutes left of your car ride. He wraps his arm around you, kisses your hair affectionately, “You tired?”

“Just need a little nap,” your eyes flutter closed, “Cockdrunk, you know.”

“No one does it like me.”

“No one.”

TAGLIST WILL NOT CONTINUE FROM NEXT MONTH (September 1st, 2023). FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

@aestheticangel612 @moonand2saturn @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @littlevenicebitch69 @pedropascal-whore @alltheseperfectimperfections

#pedro pascal characters #javi peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena imagine #javier pena smut #javier pena one shot #javi pena #javier peña #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #husband!javi #my writing

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reticent-writer · 2 months

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heyyy PLEASE I NEEDD Vox x teen! Reader. Where she’s like the Vee’s assistant, or Vox’s assistant or something like that and she sees Vox as a father figure? Tyy

I like this alot

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

the most chaotic job in all of hell, like there is never a peaceful moment in the Vees tower. Someone is always yelling, something is always being broken, and you are in the middle of it. The peacemaker.

Your soul belongs to Vox but you assist all of the Vees. Your like 17/18. You were a hacker before you died, you hacked into the governments software and was killed for it.

You did the same thing to Vox but he didn't get mad instead he offered a secure home/job for your soul. (Seeing that everyone is dead that sounds silly but you shook his hand anyway)

If Vox isn't around to calm down Val and Velvette you're the next best thing. Valentino can talk your ears off as much as he wants and Velvette can use you as a model

In hell you can travel through electronics like Vox

Most of your time is spent with Velvette and Vox, mainly Vox. Vox has you do a lot of work that he trusts no one else with like going to the overlord meetings when no one else wants to

You are genuinely nice, like the other overlords wonder why you're working with the Vees

Your room doesn't have a door, so to get to your room you have to go through electronics to a backroom type of place. It's still in the Vees tower but no one but you or Vox and get to it.

Vox made it like this so if you wanted to be unbothered no one could even knock on your door.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Vox-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"Y/n are you awake."

You heard Vox from inside your room. You zapped you phone knowing that Vox you feel it. Basically saying you were getting up.

It took you 15 minutes to get ready before you teleported to the monitor room to find Vox watching random sinners on his big screen.

"I'm up, sir."

He dramatically spun his chair to face you.

"I hope it's been a hellish morning so far, what's on today's schedule."

You pulled out your phone and started to read off it, "the day doesn't start until 1 which is when the early talk show starts ot lasts until 3, at 5-7 is a game show, Velvette s show starts at 7, Valentino's live streaming a BDSM thing at 8, late night talk show at 10."

You looked at the time it was 8 am.

"Well since I'm free why don't we work on your mega computer." He offered. He likes how your face lit up and without wasting a second you dragged him to one of the quietest rooms in the building. In it was a desktop with a few wires connected to it.

Your mega computer was a project you started after you sold your soul. You hope it can connect to heaven one day and who is Vox to stop you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Velvette-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You were in Fox's monitor room untangling cords.

"Y/N COME HERE." Velvette yelled at you through her phone.

You sighed as you stopped what you were doing and turn went through one of the many TVs.

"Yes, Vel." You smiled, clearly Vox was rubbing off on you.

"Something is missing with this outfit, tell me what it is." She pointed you in the direction of a mannequin with a outfit in your preferred style.

"(￣ヘ￣）ᵁᴹᴹ a (whatever you want)."

She hummed and with a snap of her fingers it appeared.

"Better right?"

"Yes."

"Good it's yours, take it" she snapped again and the outfit was in your hands, "no go put it on, I wanna see it."

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me, put it on."

-It looked amazing-

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚-Valentino-˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

"Vox said your not aloud in the studio so the least your could do is read the script." He said as he handed you a think packed.

"Jailbird gets hard time" you read loud in disgust, "do you really think I should be reading this?"

He scoffed, "oh please it's not like I can't see your browser history. A03, wattpad, Quotev, fanfiction.net the list goes on."

You stared at him in disbelief.

"What... Aww is someone embarrassed." He squished your cheeks. Your face was beat red.

"Aw, Chiquita, I don't judge. You should see the more kinky scrips."

"Oh no thanks. I think I hear Vox calling me. Bye." You reached his pocket for his phone and with a poor you were gone.

After that you made it so no one could see any of your activity.

✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･**･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

A/n: I don't like Valentino. I love his voice tho

#hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin fluff #hazbin hotel fluff #female reader #teen reader #the vees x reader #platonic #reticent writes #reticent writer

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itzchasee · 2 months

Text

⁂𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐓 - eren jaeger.

✍︎ synopsis: you see your ex boyfriend Eren Jaeger at your friend Mikasa’s birthday party after three months passed since your break up.

☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾☾

It’s been more than three months since you and Eren broke up. No one believed you two at first. Like, how? You had the relationship that everyone wanted to have! Why did things end up like the way it did? It was just one random night, he looked into your eyes and said, “Let’s break up.” He didn’t even give you a chance to ask him to talk it out.. What bothered him that much to straightly break up with you?

After the break up, you saw each other once in a while, no, every time you went outside. By chance, of course. Or.. was it just about chance? Did it have nothing to do with Eren syncing his timing with yours? He always, and always visited the same places just when you visited them. He would glance at you, place a genuine smile on his face and lower his gaze.

However tonight.. He was different. You went to Mikasa’s birthday party and obviously he was there. You stood in a corner, having fun by yourself and watching the others with your calm eyes. You weren’t in your mood for partying, not for the last hellish three months. You were drowning in such great emptiness and no one even noticed, nor did they try to notice. Not even your best friends.. And you were still right where Eren had left you, living that moment again and again, non-stop.

Then, you caught his gaze locked on you. He was looking directly at you, not with a gentle gaze but a piercing look on his face. His green eyes were boring into you. Oh, his pretty eyes.. His face didn’t show any emotion but he looked like he could pounce on you at any moment. You wanted to cry, but forced yourself to hold your tears back. Why was he trying to ruin your night like this? He knew you still didn’t get over him and yet.. Oh!

You noticed he was now right in front of you, holding you by your waist and pulling you close to his chest. You could feel his heartbeats, his heart was beating calmly and relaxing. You realized you missed being in his embrace more than anything else. “I feel complete now..” His voice was shaky, barely audible. “I’m sorry, so goddamn sorry for leaving you like that. I needed space.. I.. I was starting to become toxic towards you..” He said, snuggling you while burying his head into the crook of your neck. He took in your scent, you were heavenly. You were his heaven.. You looked around, everyone was on their own thing, having fun and partying. No one noticed you two at all..

Were you going to forgive him? Who knows..

#anime x reader #anime #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk x reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren aot #eren x reader #aot oneshots #aot levi #anime oneshots #snk oneshots

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abiiors · 2 months

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one for the road // george daniel x reader

a/n: the idea belongs to my sweet friend ace @ughgoaway and i'm just bringing it to life but JFC GEORGE'S HANDS HAVE BEEN THE ONLY THING ON MY MIND SINCE BOILER ROOM (side note but it took me sooooo long to think of a title until one for the road by am came up on shuffle) cw: semi-public, fingering, edging, slightly dom/sub?? like it's kinda hinted but that's it, the writer’s hand kink is very obvious in this one wc: 2.6k

l.a. traffic is the bane of your existence. everything crawls at a glacial pace, there are a million and one red lights and every once in a while someone tries to honk or zoom past as if that would magically clear the road for them. you try to play some music and even that keeps getting interrupted by the two calls george has gotten so far.

you’re frustrated beyond belief and so is he, judging by his tight grip on the steering wheel and his clenched jaw.

“george!” you whine. it’s childish and immature, and yet you can’t help it. it’s not even ten a.m. and everything is already hellish.

“i know, baby,” he speaks in a low voice, navigating yet more traffic. by some miracle, the car in front of you speeds, opening up space for you to cross the green light. george perks up, about to floor it when someone cuts in from behind, and gets stuck right in front of you. just in time for the light to turn red.

george slaps the steering wheel, letting out a few choice curse words, you groan into your hands, about to curse some more when his hand lands on your thigh.

it’s innocent enough—something he’s done countless times. it’s almost a permanent resting spot for his hands when you’re driving anyway, but the rough pads of his fingers scratch against your thigh. his rings glint in the sunlight, and you stare at his hands, completely forgetting about the frustration from just a minute ago.

the red light lasts far longer than it should, longer than it has any right to. but in the end you move again, and george’s hand goes back to the steering wheel. instantly, you miss the warmth of it, the friction of his fingers against the smooth skin of your thigh. you fidget with the hem of your short, short skirt, wishing your fingers felt the same. they don’t, not even close.

“fuckin’ hell,” george curses quietly, voice gravelly. his fingers drum on the leather, and a deep groan echoes around the car, making your mind go to all the places it really shouldn’t.

you sneak another look at him, at the way he dwarfs the car seat. his long legs are almost stretched out in front of him, spread wide. your mind wanders to all the times you've sat between them, pleasing him for hours, being a good girl and keeping him warm.

“you’ve gone quiet,” he speaks suddenly and places his hand back on your thigh. it almost makes you jump but you see right in front of you, at another red light and then at his hand on your thigh, at the veins littering it.

“‘m fine!” you squeak, voice weirdly high-pitched.

“you’re annoyed, aren’t you,” he tuts. “‘m so sorry, baby.” he does sound genuinely sorry, stroking your thigh with a gesture that he thinks is comforting.

for you, however, it only makes everything worse.

george draws small circle on your skin, round and round and absentminded as he waits for the car in front of you to start moving. he doesn’t know how strongly you’re trying not to rub your thighs together. he doesn’t know the kind of buzz filling your head, each time his hand inches higher or inward.

“n-no,” you choke out, trying to sound as normal as possible. you’re completely fine! you’re not about to soak through your underwear and onto the rich leather seats. “traffic’s normal.”

the last bit catches his attention but before he can say anything, the light turns green and george removes his hand once again. you scrunch your eyes shut, embarrassed at breathy your voice sounded just now. how girlish and needy.

but the sunlight makes his rings glint again and your mouth goes dry.

oh to feel them against your cunt… your ass…

oh to feel the cold metal on your lips while he shuts you up by shoving his fingers in your mouth.

“baby? you alright?” he tries to sneak a quick glance at you while also keeping an eye on the road. “shit, you’re not carsick, are you?”

sick. yes. that would be one word to describe you—sick in the head for wanting him to use his fingers right now, so publicly in the middle of a busy l.a. highway. right here where anyone can peep in.

he sneaks another glance at you, a bit longer this time with his brows furrowed and lips pressed in a straight line, and places his hand on your leg again. deliberate.

“bab—”

“george!” a whine slips out of you, and you can’t help but cross your legs this time, effectively trapping his hand between them. his fingers are so fucking close to your cunt, so…

“oh,” he breathes out and you feel his fingers move. it’s a swipe against the inside of your thigh, so fucking high up that he might as well be touching you now. no, scratch that. he is touching you now as his finger softly brushes over your clothed cunt. you hiss through your teeth, already sensitive.

“what have you been thinking about, hmm?” your eyes linger on his hand still, half of it disappearing under your skirt. his fingers move deftly, still swiping against your pussy, on the insides of your thigh. “you’re drenched…”

the breath whooshes out of your lungs once the red light hits and george slides the underwear aside.

“yeah?”

“please…” you all but beg, spreading your legs just a bit wider so his hand can fit better. slowly, leisurely, his fingers move through your folds, parting them and making you moan softly each time he brushes against your clit.

the red light even allows him to look at you, but you’re far too gone to care what he sees—your eyes half shut, mouth parted and slack, parting further when his thumb presses against your lit. the cold metal of the ring brushes against warm skin, sending a shiver down your back, and you but thrust up.

“can you–can you go faster?”

“my dirty girl,” he tsks, “you think i’m gonna get you off here? where anyone can see you?”

right. the people. not that you can be blamed for it, the outside world is the last thing on your mind.

“we aren’t in a rush, are we?” his voice takes a low, mocking quality. it’s so unfair that he should know you this well. that he should know how desperate you are for a release. he isn’t in a rush only because you are. a minute more of this teasing, and you might just lose your mind.

“i’ll be—”

a horn cuts you off and his eyes snap to the road, where the light, much to your frustration, has turned green once again. within moments george pulls his hand away, fingers just about coated with slick and places it back on the steering wheel.

“no, no—”

“patience, baby…” he uses the voice he always does when he wants you to obey. it’s the voice that rings around in your head. “i’ll get back to you if you sit patiently.”

and just like that his attention is back to the road again. you huff, aching all over and trying not to replace his hand with yours. it won’t end well for you, if you did that. your thighs feel sticky and the leather of the seat rubs against your skin all wrong. everything is all wrong. craning your neck a little you try to see where the next red light is—suddenly that’s all you crave. suddenly your pulse spikes when you see a light turn green.

but the traffic takes care of the rest, and george’s fingers are back at your cunt the moment the car comes to a standstill.

“you’ll be good for me, won’t you?” he asks sweetly, pressing his thumb against your clit just hard enough that you lurch off your seat, squeezing your legs shut again. this is where his hand belongs, this is where it should stay.

“i’ll be good, i’ll be so… so g-good.” the words get harder the more he touches and teases, drawing a lazy eight around your clit and dipping his fingers in and out, never deep enough though. he always pulls them out just before, keeps you right on your toes. in turn, your fingers curl, long nails digging into the leather until it leaves half-moon shaped marks behind.

if this keeps going, you might just tear through them…

“just a bit m-more… please, george,” you try begging again, not that it worked for you the first time but george relents just a little and pushes his fingers deeper. desperately you clench around him, whimpering and whining and pushing your hips up to take more of him. a second later, he wrenches his hand away, leaving you cold and empty.

tears of frustration brim on your lash line. you were so close, so close to feeling good, feeling floaty. the seat is soaked with your arousal now, and your fingers dig into the seat tight enough to leave your knuckles while. your heart hammers in your throat, head dizzy and swimming with thoughts of only his hands—his hands around your throat, choking the breath out of you. his hands on your ass, squeezing and kneading the skin, hands gripping your hips, your thighs tightly. leaving bruises.

“shh, baby… you’re doing so well,” his gravelly voice interrupts the train of thoughts and you realise you’ve been squirming and moaning, trying to find at least a little friction from the seat but it’s utterly useless. “you’ll wait till the next red light, won’t you? my good girl.”

“your good girl,” you nod fervently, eager to prove how much you deserve his fingers, how much you deserve an orgasm. george looks at you quickly, smiling in a way that makes his face look sharp and smug and goes back to driving. if it weren’t for the bulge in his jeans, you would have been convinced that this doesn’t affect him at all.

you almost close your eyes, swallowing harshly to get rid of the tears clogging your throat. you almost even manage to calm yourself down just a smidge, when the car stops again. this time, you barely get a moment’s notice before fingers thrust inside you, deep. all the way in, hitting the sweet spot. your back arches all the way off the seat and you cry out his name. you gulp in large breaths, trying not to pass out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

it’s like he’s turned the dial up from zero to one hundred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, thumb pressed against your clit. his body is twisted to look at you, lips hovering so close to the shell of your ear. once or twice he even nips the soft skin, earning himself yet another cry.

“yes, yes, that’s it… that’s…”

“yeah? that’s it? am i doing good, baby?”

he is, he knows he is. you feel like you’re on cloud nine, completely forgetting about the other cars outside along with the heat and traffic and every other thing that frustrated you not even an hour ago. the only frustration you know is the frustration of not getting to cum.

“words, sweet girl,” he taunts, “am i doing good?”

“so good… so good…”

george tsks. “but what if i’m not done with you yet, hmm?”

you can almost hear the pout in his voice, the undercurrent of smugness, and this time you see it coming before he pulls away.

“no no no nooo, george!” it’s the most frustrated you’ve ever been, shaking and crying, edged over and over again, and at his mercy. every time he pulls away it’s like your body’s doused with ice cold water, each time more tears fall down your cheeks. your mascara must be a mess by now, lipstick smudged by how much you’ve bit your lips.

“you’re mean,” you pout at him and george laughs. he actually laughs!

“do you want me to stop th—”

“no!” you cry out, scared that he’d really stop. scared that you’d have to sit here in a limbo, aching so desperately between your legs and not being able to do anything about it. but at the next red light, george takes mercy on you.

his fingers hover right over your clit, flicking it swiftly before they’re inside you again. the metal of his rings stings against your skin, digging into the sensitive skin. if anything, the mix of pain and pleasure is all the more heedy, dizzying. your head falls back, back still arched off the seat until your hips are moving of their own accord, rutting and grinding against his hand, riding his fingers. you try to match his pace.

it’s too much, too much, too much.

“pretty baby,” he coos, “look so good riding my fingers, look so good when you’re desperate for me like this.”

desperate is exactly what you are. you finally place your hand over his, pushing his thick fingers deepers. to your surprise, george even lets you. the rough calluses provide just the right amount of friction. his name is the only thing you can chant over and over again, moaning to the rhythm of his fingers.

“please, please, wanna cum. please george…”

you know the light's about to turn green, you don’t have much time. you know if he denies you again, you might just lose whatever hold you have on your sanity. george places a kiss on your jaw, lips warm against your skin, his stubble almost scratchy. then his mouth hovers right above your ear.

“since you asked so sweetly…”

your entire body tenses at his words, pussy clenching around his fingers so hard until your can practically feel the rings inside you. pleasure swims through your whole body and your vision turns white. the next thing you feel is something wet and sticky sliding under your ass, coating his hands and george continues to finger you.

your legs shake and tremble with the force of the orgasm, stars flare in front of your closed eyelids and you grip onto his hand, keeping it buried deep between your legs, riding it until the dizzying waves of pleasure subside. grinding on it until you can finally slow down and open your eyes again.

two seconds later, the light turns green again and he has no choice but to pull away. his fingers leave a trail of your release on the steering wheel.

“can i clean you up?” you ask sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him even though he’s trying to focus on the road. doesn’t matter though, his hands look just as delicious as before and you can’t help but stick his fingers in your mouth, suck on them, swirling your tongue around the digits until all you can taste is your release. the salty taste of it sits on your tongue and you pushing his fingers in deeping, almost gagging around them, till your lips touch the cold rings.

“fuck,” george curses under his breath when you let go of them and swerves the car, taking the exit he’s just seen.

“what are you doing?”

“going to find a hotel for us, sweet girl.” he mumbles, shifting in the seat, trying to adjust his very obvious bulge. “haven’t gotten enough of you just yet.”

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes

add yourself to the taglist

#no i'm not writing a pt 2 sorry. they fuck. you can imagine 🤭#the 1975 #george daniel #george daniel x reader #george daniel x you #george daniel smut #minors do not interact #the 1975 fanfic #george daniel fanfic

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official-megumin · 5 months

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there is always this discourse about if transfem and transmascs have it worse

And like, I know it's not really quantifiable and measureable to find the objective suckiness of being trans.

But like

Man it's gotta suck to be a trans guy. This is coming from the perspective of a trans girl btw.

I know that not all transmascs care about passing and having a "fully male body", like everyone decides for themselves what they wanna do. But let's see this from the perspective from a trans guy who wants to be as close to a cis perisex man as possible, this guy is also perisex afab, meaning normal development and stuff.

Ok, so for this man to "finish" his transition, he would need like, what? 3 surgeries. All of which are gatekept. He would need top surgery, tit chop as you say.

This is already a lot, and it sucks fucking dick that y'all have to wait for that. But other than that already sucky and gatekept surgery, we also have phalloplastry, which many countries including Denmark, doesn't offer at all because it's more complicated than vaginoplastry.

This is also a hugely impactful surgery, and I assume that for many trans men, it also doesn't really feel good enough because no semen and dick pump. Of course I'm no expert, so don't take what I say as gospel, I might flat out be wrong about many things.

But that still isn't it. By now we have moved past surgeries the average transfem would "need"

Like yes, many trans women end up getting BA and FFS to combat dysphoria on top of bottom surgery, but they aren't "required" in the same way. So let's round it out and say one half of both of those surgeries count, so that means that transfems on average get two gender affirming surgeries. Which means that now, transfem and transmasc surgery counts are the same.

But wait, there's more!

There are also hysterectomies to remove the uterus and ovaries. Which again is very extremely gatekept because "devine femininity"(bleugh)

That's three surgeries to transition "normally" for a transmasc versus the two of a transfem, already there it's more sucky.

Of course this is not taking other typically gendered features into account like hip and shoulder width, which is too variable to really take into account here. Also it is not as widely different between the sexes as some people claim.

But this is just the surgery front.

I can't even begin to imagine how dysphoria inducing dealing with menstruation must be to a trans man.

Like periods suck dick, I know that from personal exprience. It hurts like shit for like a week at a time and there's blood everywhere.

But for trans men you add fucking dysphoria on top of that???? Hellish, the female reproductive system is so invasive and intrusive. For transfems we can just y'know, not touch the thingy and we won't have to worry about a visceral bloody reminder every month that stays even after hrt starts.

Really what I want to say is that yea sure maybe transfems struggle more with sexism and such whilst transitioning, I'd argue even that is not quantifiable and will be hugely variable on how the individual looks(speaking from experience as a trans girl who has not once had transphobia aimed at her in person in public from strangers)

But the physical struggle of transitioning? I think that trans masculine transitions take the cake by far here. Like objectively too.

And all the transmascs out there at all, doesn't matter how dysphoric you are, or how far you wanna take your transition. I respect you so god damn much, and I'm in awe of all of you. You're genuinely incredible

#I'm really sorry if I phrased anything poorly or if I triggered dysphoria in anyone #I just wanted to give a different look on this stupid discourse because I think trying to decide who has it worse is pointless #and I just wanted to elavate transmasc people in general

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anintrovertedechoe · 1 year

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Gentle.

Satan x Reader

gn reader

Obey Me! Shall we Date

If you could use one word to describe Satan, it would be gentle. Lesser demons (and maybe even his own brothers) would call you insane for saying so, but the truth was there for anyone to see, if they would just look. Wrath, as destructive as it may seem at first glance, was passion, and the green-eyed ‘monster’ you deemed your closest friend was full of it. And within the throes of his devotion, there was gentleness. Gentleness in the way he handed you his precious tomes, trusting you with its safekeeping. Gentleness in how he talked about his favorite furry friends. Gentleness in the way he looked at you, eyes filled with all things kind and good in the world.

How ironic, for you to see nothing but benevolence in the being borne from grief, and pain, and violence. But people seem to forget he was born out of love, too. (After all, are grief and love not the same side of a coin?) Love for the sister he never got to meet, love for his brothers whom he pretends to hate, love for the people held so dear you would start a war to protect them. That love was what drew you to him. A demon so full of passion and sorrow that you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

You didn’t always think so affectionately of Wrath, you will admit. The day you first truly met him, you were terrified of him. You genuinely thought you would (and most likely, you would have if not for Lucifer’s interference) die. A refused pact would have led to your demise. (And oh, dearest fourth-born, would you really give up your life to spite the eldest? Or was it because you didn’t think your life was your own?)

It wasn’t until the body-swapping incident with Satan and his most despised brother that the two of you began to grow close. (For how could he not follow the one who made him realize with a gentle strength that he is no one’s but his own; not but a broken off piece of a soul’s rage, but a being strong and deserving of being the fourth brother?) It turned out that Wrath itself had a weakness, and he was in no way loathe to admit it. It only took a stray alley cat for your bond to begin to grow. Cat treats and makeshift toys began to take place in your pockets, and you swear you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight than Wrath’s gentle smile.

Your thirst for knowledge in the strange new world you were dropped in was also a growing factor in your relationship. The day he lent you a book from his own personal library was a day you would never forget. A milestone of trust, and the day a funny feeling took hold in your chest.

Hangouts went from every few weeks, to every few days, to the point where you could not find one without the other nearby. The two of you were attached at the hip (much to the other brothers’ dismay), and maybe that’s when you started to recognize the buzzing affection within you.

Love had taken root in your heart, and grew, grew, grew until there was no space left to fill. Your days felt brighter and the color green colored your vision when you closed your eyes. (you had never felt so full of warmth before him. You never wanted this feeling to stop.) Every thought you had now consisted of the boy you fell for, kind, sweet, gentle. (You shamefully wondered what it would be like to be within the throes of passion with your blonde (imaginary) lover. You could never look at him in the eyes the days after, and a certain lust filled strawberry blond would taunt you with a smirk and knowing eyes much to your dismay.) There was no room for the burning anger you used to hold for the hellish situation you had been thrown into by a certain prince. Only love. Kind, gentle, love.

If only there wasn’t enough space left for the fear and doubt that overshadowed your courage.

There was no questioning that you were bathing in your love for the fourth Avatar of Sin; Wrath had stolen your heart and you had blissfully let him. What you doubted was if those feelings were reciprocated or not. And if they were, just how much love did the blond hold for you the way you held for him? (Oceans worth, love. He would challenge God himself if he had to in order to keep loving you.) You cherished the friendship the two of you had built from the ground up, and the possibility of ruining it with unrequited feelings froze you with fear. You were only human, at the end of the day. And Satan was the fourth born brother, Avatar of Sin. He was Wrath, and love, and passion; ethereal, beautiful, gentle. (your bond deeper than the depths of Tartarus, you misjudge him, darling. Could you not see how he adored you so?)

So, you decide to wait. You tell yourself you’re imagining the flush of his face when he shows you his romantic poetry that somehow suspiciously resembles you. You remind yourself his gentle smile is for all of those he cares about, not just you. You wait for him to come to you, for fear of having your tender heart torn to shreds. You wait until you are sure. (Will you ever be?)

And Satan?

It infuriates him when your ignorance thwarts his romantic plans. The rage within him comes to life when the ‘I love you’’s are interpreted as platonic and his attempts at courting you seen as anything but romantic. He’s not mad at you; no, never you. Moreso at the people who convinced you that you are not the most loveable being in all of the three realms. His wrath destroys him from the inside at the fact that you don’t see yourself the way he does. Your smile makes him week, your laughter brings him to his knees. How could Satan possibly not love you? There is no reality that exists where he would not fall for you.

But Satan has learned patience; he has honed the skill over his thousands of years of life. He knows to wait until you learn to see yourself the way he sees you. He has learned to be soft, and kind to those he loves. And Satan? Satan loves you. For you, he will wait. For you, he will be gentle.

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mischievous-marchie · 1 year

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Arkhamverse Dork Squad having romance with their fem!therapist at Arkham in secret?

I went the route of starting the relationships, but I would be into the idea of expanding on these eventually!

Arkham!Dork Squad x Therapist!Reader Headcanons

SFW, secret relationship, power dynamic, shift in power dynamic, varying degrees of manipulation by the dorks

Jervis Tetch

The last thing Jervis wants is to be sent back to Arkham. It's a hellish place and nothing good has ever happened to him there.

That is until he has his first session with you.

You're not like the other doctors he's spoken to. You always have a kind word and genuinely seem to be trying to understand him.

He falls fast and hard. By your third session, he's already making his feelings known..

You think he's... Sweet. Charming, even. You'd be lying if you said there wasn't an attraction there, but... It would be highly unprofessional.

You're also aware of his history of being manipulated. With your position as his therapist, you're afraid of inadvertently taking advantage of him.

That doesn't stop him from trying to woo you.

Complimenting your appearance at the start of each session, slipping in hidden words of endearment when answering your questions.

Even giving you small gifts he makes from the few little crafting materials he's allowed to have. Usually origami.

You're falling for him. You'd lose your job if anyone found out.

The appropriate thing would be to transfer him to someone else, but you're afraid of how he'd react to the switch. He's been doing so well and you'd hate for him to lose that progress.

Looks like you have an important decision to make.

He greets you with his usual fondness and the gift of a paper flower.

"Jervis. We need to talk about... This," you say, holding up the gift you'd just received from him.

"About my affection?" He giggles, leaning forward in his chair. "Ah, doctor doctor. A glimpse of perfection! I certainly hope you have no objection..."

"I don't," you confess. And that's exactly the problem. "You know what that means, don't you?"

"Well. I believe it means," the Hatter grins ear to ear, clapping as he delivers his excited response. "The courtship has been successful! Now... When shall we have the wedding? I believe Spring is-"

"It means I can't be your therapist anymore, Jervis!"

His smile fades. A looked of panicked realization fills his eyes.

"You're... Leaving me?"

"No, I'm. I don't know what I'm doing, honestly."

Every idea you could think of to handle this while still keeping contact was flawed. Handing him over to another therapist would limit you to visiting hours. You'd barely see each other.

You couldn't just sign his release papers before he was ready either. And breaking him out was an absolute no-go.

He takes your hand in his. "Doctor, dear... Oh, can't you see? You're the only one who can understand me."

You realize that he's right. The other doctors don't get him. Don't respect him. They'd just as soon lock him away and forgot about him as look at him.

You can't leave him in someone else's hands. A secret relationship with your favorite patient it is then. Sealed, of course, with a kiss.

And to think you were worried about manipulating him.

Jonathan Crane

Jon seems... Indifferent toward you at the start of the session. All things considered, that doesn't really bother you.

You're more concerned when he starts turning the questions around on you. Asking you about your fears. You know he's done this with other doctors and it never ends well.

Usually they try to resist and end up playing directly into his hand regardless. He knows what he's doing, and if he's going to get his answers anyway...

You decide to try something different.

"Alright. We'll take turns. For each of my questions you answer honestly, I'll answer one of yours."

This surprises him somewhat. At least if the quirked brow is anything to go by.

He knows what you're trying to do here, and he honestly finds it naïve. Still... Something new, if nothing else. Sure. He'll play along.

"What kind of man was your father?" "How's your sleep? Fitful?" You go back and forth like this for a while.

He was expecting your first few questions. The basics that every doctor here uses to get a feel for their patient. But you manage to through a few curve balls as well. And he has to answer them or you'll deny him what he's looking for.

Perhaps you're not as naïve as he initially thought. A simple "well played, doctor," at the end of the session is as close as he'll come to admitting he's impressed.

Your following sessions follow a similar patterns. He tells you what you want to know, you tell him what he wants to know. It's a dangerous game you're playing, but a risk you're willing to take for even the smallest chance at progress.

You don't know when your mutual analysis of each other took a turn toward conversing like old friends, but somehow it made sense. You each knew things about the other that no one else did. As crazy as it sounded, there was a kind of trust there now.

Initially, that building of trust had been a part of Jon's plan. A way he could control you. What he hadn't planned on was his developing respect for you.

Respect that made it a whole lot harder for him to take advantage of that trust. But not impossible. A minor setback at worst, he assures himself. One he will overcome.

Or so he thinks, until the delay in his plans leaves just enough time for respect to develop into something more.

He's... Not happy with this development to say the least.

You notice during one of your sessions that he's quieter. Observing you more than usual.

You know him well enough to know that something's troubling him. And you bet your ass that as his therapist and friend, you're going to question him on it.

He evades the question at first, turning the questions around on you like he did in your first session.

And just like your first session, you bring out your now tried and true method. "I'll answer one of your questions. But you have to answer mine."

You even give him first question to sweeten the deal.

He trails off in thought, looking you over one last time before asking. "How's your sleep?"

"You've asked me that one before," you point out.

"Answer it."

"...Better, lately. Since we started having our talks," you confess.

There's a beat of silence. How rare it must be for the fearful Scarecrow to hear he'd had a positive impact on someone's sleep.

"Now," you tell him. "You have to answer my question. What's bothering you?"

"Unfortunately for us both, doctor," he finally answers. A curse on his plans, and certainly a curse on the recipient of his feelings. "It would seem that I'm in love with you."

You stare at him in silence, unable to find the words. As unprofessional as it may be, the feeling is mutual.

In lieu of a verbal response, you kiss him on the cheek, marking the beginning of a new secret between you.

Edward Nygma

As expected, he's highly antagonistic during your first session. There is nothing wrong with him, he insists, and your attempts to 'help' him are going to be a fruitless endeavor.

Needless to say, he doesn't like you.

Expect a lot of sarcasm, insults, and passive aggression.

You don't let it get to you though. Your job is to listen to him and help him work through his problems. Not that the man believes he has any problems, and he will lash out if you bring it up.

So you don't. You try to be more subtle.

You listen to him talk. You compliment him on his intelligence and insight, always toeing that line between validating him and just feeding his ego.

And honestly, you do believe he's brilliant. His potential is endless and you have no doubt that he could do just about anything he put his mind to.

Over time the barbed insults begin to fade, replaced by... Well, backhanded compliments.

"You know? You're not NEARLY as intellectually shortsighted as those other doctors I've spoken to. Why... I'm even beginning to believe you may possess a brain under that pretty little cranium of yours."

"Um... Thanks?"

No one said it would be easy, but you take this as a sign that he's warming up to you.

This is all but confirmed when he gifts you a puzzle box.

Where he got it, you have no idea. But his trust in you not to tell about the contraband item, not to mention the fact he would gift you something at all speaks volumes.

...Unless it's a trap.

"My dear, if I wished to entrap you, the means would be far more intricate than this."

Really. What do you take him for?

You think he couldn't turn your entire office into a deathtrap if he wanted to? Now that would be an endeavor worthy of his genius. And you'd never suspect a thing!

But no, he doesn't want you dead. He likes you doesn't want to waste his valuable time adjusting to a new therapist.

You keep the puzzle box secret, even as the guard arrive to take Eddie back to his cell.

And the moment you're alone, you start to work on it. You don't know what's driving you, but you're determined to solve it before your next session with him.

It takes... Longer than you expected. In hindsight, you suppose a puzzle from the Riddler wasn't going to be easy.

But little by little, you work at it, counting the days until you see Eddie again.

It's not until the final day that you manage to solve it. The box clicks open to reveal what is, essentially, a miniature Riddler trophy and the word 'CONGRATULATIONS' written in green across the bottom of the box.

Just in time to hear the knock at your office door. The guards bringing him in for his weekly session.

"I see you've solved it, doctor."

You nod your head, giving a hum of acknowledgement.

"And how long did it take you, might I ask?" he questions, eyeing you expectantly.

"I confess... I've been working on it all week."

A satisfied chuckle. "Then my estimations were correct. But then, that's hardly a surprise."

"Really, Ed? Another shot at my intelligence?" You quirk a brow. Your accusation is calm, but firm. "I take it this was an attempt to prove my stupidity."

He laughs at the insinuation, barking out an amused, "NO!"

You already know his opinions on the limited intellect of... Well, anyone who isn't him. Although the curse you bear isn't quite so heavy.

"Alright... But the way you're talking makes it sound like this wasn't just some random gift."

"Sharp as ever, doctor!"

"Then what? What was the point of this?"

"Mm... Think of it as... A little distraction. A way to keep you thinking about me until we could meet again."

He. Wanted to keep you thinking about him. You freeze at the implication, and you have to admit... That was smooth.

"Eddie. You know I'm your therapist. We can't-"

"Really? Because your eagerness to solve my puzzle. To IMPRESS me, and don't deny it doctor! I could see it in your eyes; tells me that we're already beyond a professional relationship."

The dawning realization that he's right consumes you. You had been trying to impress him. It had been the driving force behind your tireless efforts. The reason you couldn't just leave it alone.

You wanted his attention. And he wanted yours.

"So. You have another puzzle for me this week, I hope."

"I might have something... Trade you for a kiss."

You laugh quietly before allowing your lips to meet his. You know your job's on the line, but it's a risk you're willing to take.

#jervis tetch #mad hatter #dc mad hatter #jonathan crane #the scarecrow #dc scarecrow #edward nygma #the riddler #riddler #jervis tetch x reader #mad hatter x reader #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #edward nygma x reader #riddler x reader #arkhamverse #headcanons #sfw post

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