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anathemaspeaks · 16 hours

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pas de deux

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: [ˌpɑː də ˈdəː] a dance for two people, typically a man and a woman. word count: 1k warning(s): none (so much fluff i promise it's worth the read) a/n: i'm SO down bad for him HELP

check out my prompt list and request stuff!

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated <3

toji was not a romantic. the very idea made him scoff. the thought of getting soaked in the rain to meet someone was just absurd. what idiot would voluntarily fall sick for something as irrelevant as that. it baffled him, truly.

until he found himself standing at your door at four in the morning.

drenched to the bone, a strong arm raised to knock at your door. it took three tries, and you finally opened the door, hair tousled, eyes wide, and mouth agape.

you immediately ushered him inside, fretting over him. you gave him one of your largest hoodies (which still clung to his frame like a compression shirt), and a pair of loose shorts. you turned up the heater and gave him a blanket, forcing him to relax while you handed him a cup of hot coffee.

"toji, what are you doing here? aren't you supposed to be asleep?" you inquired, worry etched onto your beautiful face and surprise evident in your voice.

"ya ain't getting rid of me that easy, doll" he replied while smirking, clearly trying to underplay his current state. he was still shivering from the cold, his wet hair clinging to his forehead.

you sat next to him on the sofa, moving closer and snaking your arms around his muscular torso, your warmth seeping into his cold body. you leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his jaw before snuggling closer, nestling into his broad chest.

he couldn't say he wasn't loving the attention, but that wasn't what he came here for.

you both were texting when you'd confessed that you weren't getting any sleep, and you were really stressed out as of late. you also revealed that the last time you had a comfortable sleep was with toji.

that was a whole week ago.

after that, he said he was going to sleep, ending the conversation with a 'goodnight doll, love ya.' you smiled at your phone before closing the message app, opting to scroll through instagram to keep your restless mind occupied - sleep was out of the question.

but of course toji was worried about his girl.

the concern gnawed at him. he couldn't stand the thought of you so helpless and distressed.

of course he couldn't - especially now that he knew he could help. he would rather die than see you in any kind of pain. and that's how he found himself soaked in the pouring rain, with only one goal in mind: to help you.

and now here he was, in your home, his strong arms finally wrapped around you.

"baby, i'm not complaining, but how come you're here?" you spoke, voice muffled because your face was squished against his body.

"y'said you only got sleep 'round me" he stated, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. your heart lurched at his words. he ran for ten minutes through a rainstorm...all for your sleep?

"toji...i- i'm so...thank you" you choked, getting emotional. the night did that to you sometimes. but you just loved him so much. toji sensed it and let out a chuckle, the sound reverberating in your chest. you could listen to that dumb laugh forever.

"you're getting soft, old man" you teased, a playful smile on your face. you didn't have that much of an age gap, but you never passed up the chance to bring it up.

he tutted. "y'want me to stay or not, brat?"

you giggled at his tone, burrowing deeper in the comfort of his presence, letting out a content sigh. from over his shoulder, you could see the sky clearing up, the rain slowly stopping. you saw it getting lighter, soft, golden rays striking toji's dangerously gorgeous face.

you looked at his lips, a content smile gracing his features, scar only emphasizing his already perfect looks. you trailed up to his eyes, warm, and filled with so much love and devotion it took your breath away. you could drown in them.

he couldn't stop staring at you, not when you looked this angelic. it was like the sunlight formed a literal halo over you - he was convinced you couldn't be real.

he looked into your eyes. the gears in your head were turning - he could see it. and then he saw a glint in your eyes.

"toji..."

"yeah, pretty girl?" he smiled, one that was so radiant it could put even the most magnificent sunrise to shame. your breath caught in your throat. he was so pretty.

...

"dance with me" you sighed, already pushing yourself up.

"it's 5 a.m., babe" he chuckled softly at your antics. you were always up to something.

"and? dance with me!" you demanded, taking both of his calloused hands into your own, trying to pull him up (and failing, miserably).

but he could never resist you. he wouldn't. you were his world. all you had to was ask, and toji would do it in a heartbeat. so he got up, buff arms enveloping you into his warmth once more.

"mmph- toji, needa play the music!" you said, voice obscured by his chest.

"we don't need music to dance, doll"

and so you stayed in his arms, his body gently rocking yours, moving to a beat only the both of you could hear. occasionally, he'd twirl you around, dipping you down to kiss you right after, just so he could hear your sweet laughs.

you don't know how long both of you danced for. you don't remember it, but you fell asleep in that very position. in his arms, while standing. you didn't even realize how exhausted you were.

you woke up in the safety of your bed, still trapped in his arms, light snores escaping him. he must've carried you here. he was definitely going to fall sick, but honestly? he couldn't bring himself to care.

he might catch a cold, but in that moment, all that mattered was the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

toji was not a romantic. but for you, he would get soaked in the rain a million times. for you, he would do anything to put a smile on your stunning face. for you, he would do anything.

i love him i love him i love him i love him

#anathema writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #fushiguro toji #fushiguro #toji zenin #fushiguro toji x reader #fushiguro x reader #jjk fushiguro #toji fushigro x reader #toji #fushiguro x y/n

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teeentyonepilots · 27 days

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#tyler joseph #twenty one pilots #tyler’s instagram #HE IS WRITING THE SETLIST #WE BETTER GET ANATHEMA

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theelastword · 9 months

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If I’m being honest, I’ll be slightly disappointed if season 3 (if it happens🤞🤞🤞) pushes the narrative that Aziraphale needs to apologize to Crowley and act as if he was naive and did everything wrong. Because if I was presented with the option to run away with the love of my life and have everything I ever wanted BUT doing that would mean I had to turn a blind eye to systemic injustice that I knew I had the ability, power, and voice to at least try to do something about?— I can only hope that I would be brave enough to choose the other option. After all the abuse, neglect, and brainwashing that Heaven put Aziraphale through, I was stunned at his courage to go back despite knowing what it would do to his happiness and future.

I want to make it clear that I am in no way angry at Crowley for his response, it’s completely understandable that he would want nothing to do with Heaven or Hell after everything, and he definitely has the right to put himself first. But respecting his choice doesn’t mean disrespecting Aziraphale’s, and I can only hope that hypothetical-season-3 Crowley understands that what Aziraphale is doing doesn’t make him a fool who chose Heaven above their future together— in fact, it makes him incredibly brave. Because if anyone can make a difference in Heaven, if anyone can grab hold of the hope for other angels’ humanity displayed by Muriel’s fascination with Earth or Gabriel’s love story, if anyone can be a loving and just leader while at the same time being just enough of a bastard to take down the “Second Coming” from the inside? You know damn well it would be none other than Aziraphale.

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shinobicyrus · 5 months

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Hey, yanno how Climate Change is a real thing that is tangibly, at this moment, affecting our world?

Well it turns out, the wealthy and their investment firms have been seeing the mounting evidence that oil companies have had for decades and are slowly starting to think more long-term about their portfolios in the face of rising sea levels, more extreme weather, and the myriad of ways climate crises are affecting...well. Everything. Maybe this means they invest more into sustainability, green energy, building more resilient infrastructure, or carbon offsets. Some of it, of course, is simple corporate greenwashing, but there are those that are taking this trend and packaging it into something called ESG (Environmental, Social, and corporate Governance).

Now some people would say this is predictable, even sensible. Just the good ol’ Free Market(tm) rationally responding to market forces and a changing world.

But those people would be fools! Insidious fools! For conservative sorcerers have come out with a new cursed phrase to explain this new market trend: Woke Investing.

What makes this investing “woke?” Well, much like how conservatives normally flounder when trying to define a word they stole from black people, “Woke Investing” essentially just means any kind of capital investment that they, the fossil fuel billionaire class and their sycophants, don’t personally profit from.

One of these aforementioned sycophants is Andy Puzder, conservative commentator, fellow at The Heritage Foundation, and former fast-food CEO. He calls this kind of so-called woke investing “socialism in sheep’s clothing,” further explaining in leaked audio of a closed-door meeting:

“My father's generation's challenge was the Nazis, who, by the way, were, of course, very proud socialists[citation fucking needed]. The challenge of my generation was the communists, who were, of course, very committed socialists. The challenge of your generation is ESG investing, and it's more insidious than communism or the Nazis.”(source)

You heard it here first, folks. Not investing as much in fossil fuels is more insidious than the Third Fucking Reich.

As usual, the Heritage Foundation is putting their petro-chemical donor’s money where their mouth is. Bills are being proposed to blacklist banks that don’t invest in key state industries, such as West Virginia coal or Texas oil. Fourteen states have already passed bills to restrict ESG-type investing, with Florida Governor Ron “Bullies Kids for Wearing Masks” Desantis leading the charge.

In other words, Climate Denial has reached such a point that so-called Free Market Conservatives who claim to hate big government are trying to make it illegal for banks, investment firms, and financial institutions to make any financial decisions that acknowledges Climate Change is real.

#of course ESG has also been used to describe any kind of internal corporate action #to increase diversity in the work place or implementing new anti-discrimination policies #(which are usually more performative than actually meaningful but that's a separate issue)#a Republican Presidential candidate #Vivek Ramaswamy #has even made ESG investing his personal bugbear #writing such books as 'Woke Inc' and warning of socially conscious investors ''forcing'' companies they invest in #to devote resources to environmental and social policies that are anathema to the right #which is just...a brand new invented crisis by a political movement #in constant need of a crisis to rally their base and justify for draconian legal controls #to favor certain industries and undercut their competition #all under the guise of red scare-type moral and economic panic #ESG #Woke Politics #Climate Change #Capitalism #Republicans #Investment

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marchentraume · 6 months

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Radio Omens Thoughts

General -

First off, you can find the Radio Drama here uwuwuwu

The cast was 10/10 amazing, I love the audiobook but it was really interesting to hear how Neil and Sir Terry wanted everyone to sound before the show was even a thought. Dirk Maggs and Heather Larmour's Direction is so well done! I'm a huge fan of Hitchhiker's Guide so might try out his radio drama later...

The Them and Anathema are personal faves of the supporting cast so I’m always happy to get a new experience with those characters, Anathema’s gaydar going off the charts was perfect (“‘Angel’?” gets me good).

Just want to highlight Josie Lawrence as Agnes is perfect just like with the show, I’m so happy they didn’t change that after the radio drama, the adaptation made her so wickedly charming that I think was in the show but it goes by so fast with everything going on.

There are definitely parts in the book that are somewhat hard for me to get through, and I think the radio adaptation helped push those along a lot better. I do wish we got to hear the parts of Aziraphale spirit hopping around a bit before finding Crowley, but I just wanted to hear him talk more. Overall this is a good way to experience the book if you aren’t sure about reading it yet, or you’re like me and need help figuring out what it was I read in the first place.

Aziraphale and Crowley -

No notes holy shit 20/10 casting, they’re only in the drama just about as much as the book which makes me sad but their scenes were absolutely burning with how flirty they were.

They are 100% already married here and comfortable with each other, the lull of their routine is only disrupted by Armageddon which is really annoying so now they have to do their jobs.

Aziraphale acting as narrator for some scenes was a good choice, blah blah something about reliable vs unreliable narrator Crowley (I just can’t put it to words right now oops).

Peter Serafinowicz your Crowley gives me so much gender it’s insane, also when he’s doing the nanny voice???? Hello????? I could have a whole chapter of him and Aziraphale during that time just chatting with each other and little Warlock.

I overall really loved the respective performances of Peter and Mark, both portrayed the two with this freedom of doubt and lots of mutual love. Crowley still wants to keep Aziraphale safe and he’s confident he can even as events get worse, the latter is stubborn knowing he’s right but confident that his demon will catch up and figure it out (even if begrudgingly so). They already have their happy ending, it can only get happier from here after they save the world.

I definitely recommend Radio Omens, it really is part of the golden triad of experiencing the story.

My personal recommendation: Book, Show, Radio

If you have a harder time starting books (be it reading or listening) then: Show, Book, Radio

Next on my list is the audiobook with the show cast, but I’ll take a break for a bit since every time I read/watch the original story I get so worked up I need to calm down for about a month or so :’)

What do YOU all think of radio omens? Please tell me or send me Radio Omens headcanons and opinions. I need them badly chomping at the bit here!

#good omens #radio omens #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #anathema device #agnes nutter #my writing #my words

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seawardboundsammy · 3 months

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for the first time in forever, i've written a multichapter fic! its an outsider's POV on Anathema and Sidestep, and the city of Los Diablos as a whole. pre-written with 5 chapters, updating every 4 days. link here!

#very excited about this fic!#if you liked my in world ranger memes this is very much in line with that #but less shippy and a bit more serious #sammy speaks #fallen hero #fhr #fhr sidestep #fhr anathema #fhr: ld citizens #sammy writes

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onceuponapuffin · 4 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 8!!

I see your votes everyone, and I hear your voices. But before I can, in good conscience, place us in Heathrow, I need to share this with you.

Beginning|| Previous || Next

******************

In the end, convincing Aziraphale (who, surprise surprise, had never flown on a plane) that First Class was the way to go wasn’t all that hard.

“Otherwise you fly all cramped with hundreds of other people!” You say. Crowley nods.

“Mmmmm yes,” the demon agrees, “Imagine being elbow-to-elbow with all those humans. Feet in your face, children kicking the back of your seat, sharing an armrest!”

“I rather like humans though,” says Azirphale, even though he looks a little pale at the mention of armrests, “And I would be next to you anyway.”

“What about the humans who haven’t showered for days?” You ask, “How long has it been since the last time you were near one person, nevermind a hundred-ish, who didn’t follow basic hygiene practices? A few hundred years?”

Aziraphale’s face falls. Crowley chimes in.

“Oh yes, just imagine all the sweat and grease from the airport food.”

“And then there are the babies that travel. I mean, their ears pop when the plane takes off and when it lands, and they only really have one coping strategy.”

“Aaah,” Crowley says, “The crying babes! Think of all the crying babies and no escape! Not for hours and hours and hours.”

“And then,” You say, “There’s the in-flight meal.” Here, you seem to have struck a cord. Duh, you should have led with this. Aziraphale raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? They serve food?”

“Psh,” You say, “If you can call it that. They ask you if you want chicken or vegetarian, and then they plop a cardboard box with a film top in front of you.”

“It’s dreadful,” agrees Crowley, “All bland and clearly frozen and warmed up in a microwave.”

“And if you’re lucky, you can tell that it’s meant to be a sandwich,” You add.

“Supposing you can tell that it’s food at all!” Crowley says with a nod, “And their wine list is small potatoes.”

“Small bland potatoes,” You say, “If you can call them potatoes at all – served in the tiniest bottles and the tiniest glasses you ever did see.”

You noticed Aziraphale’s eye twitch ever so slightly.

“And in First Class they...they serve actual food and wine, do they?”

“Oh yeah,” You say, “with proper service and cloth napkins and everything. Most of the airline websites say that the food’s prepared by an actual chef.”

“And the glasses are normal sizes, and made of actual glass,” adds Crowley for good measure. Aziraphale hums.

“Yes, fine. Clearly First Class is the only acceptable way to travel.” He leaves the room. You hear the kettle turn on. He probably needs some tea to calm his nerves after hearing all that. You turn to Crowley.

“So you’ve gone on a plane before, huh? Did you invent the food? I would not be surprised if you did.”

“Me?” Crowley says, “Naaaah. Never flown on a plane. Never needed to. But I know a bit of fun when I see it.”

You look up at him and sigh, cradling your chin in your hands for effect.

“It really is no wonder why Aziraphale loves you so much.”

“Ngk,” Crowley says, his ears turning pink.

-----

And now, dear Reader, we arrive at Heathrow. Anathema and Newt had met you at the bookshop, and the four of you drove over together in the Bentley after bidding Newt and Muriel goodbye. You spend the entire wait in line at airport security feeling nervous. Airport security is always a test for your nerves to begin with, but this time you have no passport or paperwork of any kind to twiddle in your hands to take the edge off. Instead, you fidget relentlessly with the button in your pocket (Muriel, being an observant and kind soul, had given you a large-ish green button to put in your pocket “Because you seem nervous, and it looked like it helped you last time.” You swear if anyone harms your new best friend while you’re gone you will end them). The line goes quicker than you would like, and when it gets to be your turn, honestly you’re not sure what happens. It all goes smoothly. Did Aziraphale and Crowley miracle you a passport? Did they click a finger or wave a hand to convince the guard that everything was in order? You have no idea, because you’re too focused on your nerves and Trying Not To Look Suspicious While Worrying That This Makes You Look More Suspicious Than You Would If You Could Just Be Normal About This (if you know the feeling, you know why it gets to be capitalized like that).

Once the stress of airport security is done, you head to the bathroom for a break from the chaos so that you can figure out how to breathe again. Normally, you wouldn’t be That Person to occupy the Accessible Washroom, but since you are desperately trying not to have a panic attack because of all the pent-up anxiety from the whole airport security thing, you decide that you Really Cannot Do People Right Now, and that the single-occupant washroom may be your saving grace. You lock the door and sigh, leaning against the cold metal. It’s comparatively quiet here, and you’re grateful for it. Thank Someone. You resolve to try not to be too long in case someone who actually needs this washroom comes by (although I’m gonna be honest here, reader, right now you need this room for invisible accessibility/health reasons). After a minute or two, you are finally starting to feel your anxiety return to a manageable level. Everything is okay. You are traveling with the most ideal companions you could ever dream of, and the worst part is over. Everything from here on out is smooth sailing.

Except, dear reader, you all voted. And So It Shall Be.

You’ve just finished drying your hands.

“Aah,” says a voice behind you. You jump a solid 3 feet in the air. “I thought I might find you here.”

“HOLY! FUCKING! ZOMBIE! JESUS!!!” You sputter.

“Mind your manners, human.”

“Manners?? ME?? This is a WASHROOM.”

The Metatron looks at you blankly and shrugs. Ah yes, the biggest jerk in Heaven doesn’t know or care about washrooms or privacy. Or actually being polite.

“I merely wanted to have a word with you. Away from the others, of course.”

“Yeeeaaaaah,” You say. You’ve seen a million movies (approximate), and read a million books (also approximate), you know what this is. This is the maybe we can still solve this problem quietly plot. And you know that actually having the conversation is a bad idea. “I don’t think so.”

You reach for thee door. It’s locked, and it won’t unlock. Of course. You (gently) pound your head against the door, before turning to face Metatron. You take a breath, and answer as calmly as you can given how angry you are.

“What. Do you want?”

“I merely hoped that we could agree upon...an arrangement.”

“Pretty sure I made it clear back at the bookshop that I’m not letting you anywhere near them.”

“Oh dear, no. This has nothing to do with the demon or with Aziraphale. This is about you.”

You mentally brace yourself. Here comes the manipulation. You inwardly remind yourself of the tropes of villain manipulation and all the things you’ve ever shouted at the tv screen after one of these interactions. You need to be prepared, because apparently you need to play this out. And so, you give him the response he clearly wants.

“What about me?”

“Well, my dear, I only thought that perhaps you might like to go home.”

“Ha! Nice try.”

“You have no desire to return to your family? Your friends? Your life?”

“Not right now, thanks.”

“And you think you’ll get a similar offer later?”

“I mean...well yeah. I don’t know whether I would actually want to go back yet but --”

“You think Aziraphale and his associates will want to keep you as their pet forever? My dear, they only entertain you right now because you’re useful to them.”

Okay, I mean you knew that already but still. Ouch. Hearing it out loud is just...Ouch. Unfortunately, you do not have the Acting Prowess of either Michael Sheen or David Tennant, and so the Metatron sees the Ouch. He smiles kindly.

“Here, you are merely a tool,” he continues, voice smooth as honey, “And back home there are people who love you and value your presence in their lives. Back home there are people who miss you purely because you are you. Here, you are well, a convenience. A help. But that’s all. And once this is all over, there is no promise, no guarantee that you would be able to return. And no reason for Aziraphale to keep you. You would need to start again, and since you needed the help of an angel to get through airport security, I’m guessing that would be very difficult for you. And then, of course, there’s your immortal soul to be concerned about once the Final Judgment comes to pass.”

You ignore the bait, even though it stings. Take a breath. You’ve got this.

“That’s all irrelevant right now,” You say.

“Is it? It seems that you’re….what’s that charming human expression? Flying by the seat of your pants?” He chuckles at his own joke. You smile awkwardly. Well, yes you are, but the heroes in stories do all the time. They figure it out as they go. You are doing no worse than any of them. You don’t find the joke so funny. And frankly his laughter is unsettling.

“Um...” You start uncertainly, “Well if that’s all, then can I go now?”

“In a moment,” the Metatron says smugly. Oh you hate that he has so much control right now. “First I would like to extend to you the offer of some help. I would like to see you home safely, at a time of your choosing. Whenever you feel that you are ready.”

“And you have the power to do that, do you?” You’re skeptical.

“I have the power of all Creation at my disposal.”

“Riiiiight. Just out of the goodness of your own angelic heart. That’s very kind of you Metatron.” You’re not sure if he hears the edge of sarcasm. He shrugs regardless.

“There is of course, one and only one thing I would like from you if you decide to take my help.”

“Oooooof course there is. I’m not letting you near Aziraphale and Crowley.”

“Once again, my dear, this has nothing to do with them. All I would like is to know why your first instinct was to take that coffee. The full truth, mind you. None of that sarcasm or loophole nonsense that you humans are so fond of. And do not be foolish enough to think I can’t tell the difference.” He looks at you pointedly.

That’s...a suspiciously innocuous request. But then again, it usually is with these sort of things, isn’t it? You feign non-chalance and tap your foot for emphasis.

“Are you done yet?” You ask obstinately. The door unlocks audibly behind you.

“Just think about it,” says the Metatron, “No rush.”

Oh yes there is one. You rush to open the door. Never before have you felt so relieved to be in a crowded place.

Don't worry about airplane route logistics or whether or not you can actually get a direct flight from Heathrow to Orlando. Just vote for whatever you would like :)

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning|| Previous || Next

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dubiousduckears · 11 months

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We talk about how much therapy Warlock’s gonna need, but man, listen to the conversation kid!Anathema has with her mom about how she has the hard job of saving the world. Like, literally, I think they think it all rests on her. She and Warlock are gonna meet one day in the waiting room of the therapist.

#the therapist is gonna write multiple papers on both of them #Good Omens #rewatch #Warlock Dowling #Anathema Device #so much therapy #Duck rambles

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thesherrinfordfacility · 12 days

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brain is whirring on “...some people that you love will be coming back; some that you expect, some that you don’t." and honestly i really hope it's agnes. i don't think we're done with her and her little book yet, not really

#good omens #ignore this but. you write a book that foresees events up until the apocalypse. but if the apocalypse doesnt happen -#and by all accounts you foresee this too butbhave to pave the way to make it happen -#who's to say that there arent prophecies within the book that would apply to events after the end of s1 #she has the second book yes but likely foresees that anathema would burn it in a pique of free will/rejection of predestination symbolism #idk man i just feel like agnes has more to say. more that applies after the failed armageddon in the lead up to 'the big one'#s3 narrative spec #bc who knows

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silvery-bluish · 3 days

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Content: Sidestep paints Ortega's nails, and has a very normal time about it.

Wordcount: 1937

Relationships: Sidestep/Ortega

Warnings: None!! It's just fluff.

#fhr #fallen hero #my writing #arsinoe #chargestep #Step-era is so dear to me...#sorry anathema u deal with so much (third wheeling idiots)

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bird-slayer-brainrot · 2 months

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Pre-marital Shenanigans - Good Omens Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer ft. our ineffable idiots at a silly little engagment party gone alcoholic

Anathema had never even dreamed of getting married. It never really bothered her, as she had always understood that the course of her life was already set. It was quite literally planned in a book that had finally ended.

But the world hadn’t, like it was supposed to, and Newt, who she had known all her life but had only now known, had given her the courage to decide for herself what her life would be, well, everything was different.

The world was literally new.

So when Newton Pulsifer, her nerdy, non-witchfinder, world-saving boyfriend proposed one afternoon in their shared garden in Jasmine Cottage, Tadfield, Oxfordshire, England – far from the life she had always known – Anathema, for the first time in her life, felt alive.

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Jasmine Cottage and climbed out. He was leaning over the top of the car, head rested in his hands, as he waited for Aziraphale to get out. To his surprise, Aziraphale emerged from the Bentley with his arm full of wrapped gifts that Crowley hadn’t even seen him pack. Crowley frowned at the angel without menace, and Aziraphale returned the look fondly.

Anathema answered the door immediately. She had been waiting for the past twenty minutes by the door. Crowley drove fast, but he was always late.

Newt was busy in the kitchen preparing cocktails as Anathema greeted their guests. Aziraphale beamed at is friend, unable to hug her with his arms full.

“Anathema, dear.” He said fondly. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

Crowley, not a speaker, nodded silently at Aziraphale, who nodded in return. This was good enough for the both of them. Crowley followed Aziraphale into the lounge. Anathema shut the door to the cottage behind them.

“Cards?” Crowley questioned. They were in the living room. Newt hadn’t finished the drinks yet. Anathema was shuffling the deck.

“Isn’t this your engagement party?” Crowley grumbled. Anathema shot him a look and he shot up.

“How lovely.” Aziraphale exclaimed. “I’m very good at cards.”

“No you’re not.” Crowley responded almost immediately. Aziraphale made a face at the demon, who did not back down.

“There is cocktails.” Newt announced when he entered. He was balancing a tray of cocktails precariously. Anathema, sensing danger, immediately stood up to help him. Newt greeted Aziraphale and Crowley and sat down in an armchair beside Anathema. The cards were shuffled, and Anathema began to deal.

An hour in, and Newt was tipsy.

Aziraphale had somehow managed to win several rounds, and Anathema had accused him of foul play despite the fact that he, on numerous occasions, insisted he would do no such thing.

“How did you get another ace?” Anathema shouted. Aziraphale just giggled. Crowley was staring at Aziraphale murderously. Crowley was losing, followed in third by Newt. When they were both out, Newt left to fetch another round of cocktails.

When he returned, it was to find a distraught Anathema had lost another round. Aziraphale was laughing victoriously. Newt smiled at his fiancée, and consoled her.

He had been worried about this. Anathema knew Newt was a worrier, it was his nature. He wanted the engagement party to go smoothly, for Anathema’s sake. They’d talked about it extensively. Eventually, they decided a quiet night in with some friends was exactly what they both wanted.

Anathema didn’t have many close friends in Tadfield, and Newt’s mother was coming down from London down the next day to formally meet Anathema and help with the wedding planning. The Them had already popped by to offer their congratulations. Pepper had announced that she wanted to be the maid of honour. Anathema immediately agreed.

The topic of Aziraphale and Crowley had come up one morning as Newt prepared breakfast. He suggested it offhandedly, and, after considering it, Anathema suggested they invite the pair for some drinks soon. It was an excuse, at best, to check in on the state of the world after Doomsday. Newt knew this, because he always knew.

Anathema had confided in Newt that sometimes she had the sense that she was being watched, like when she was younger, but with less potency. It had been nearly a year since the world had almost ended, and the final instalment of Agnes Nutter’s prophecies had been burnt to ash. She hated this feeling. It was a reminder of what had happened, and how close it had all come to ending. It made her feel powerless.

Newt was, for the most part, an excellent comfort in this. He had been a pawn in this celestial game as long as she had, though he had not found out till much later. When she felt like this, Newt was there. She loved him.

The cards were abandoned and Newt was now fully gone. It seemed that, in an effort to steady his nerves, he had drunk way more than the others. This, combined with his, quite frankly, shit alcohol tolerance, and he was trying to dance with Anathema.

Anathema managed to escape from two clumsy waltzes (somewhere, Billie Holiday was screaming) with her two feet barely intact. She sat beside Aziraphale, who was nursing a glass of wine Anathema didn’t remember any of them pouring. Newt was smiling at Anathema, and she tentatively smiled back.

“So, Crowley.” Newt had recovered from the abandonment by Anathema by deciding to bother the demon, who also had a glass of wine. Crowley watched him as he plopped himself beside him.

“Anathema tells me you and Aziraphale are like.” he leaned forward conspiratorially at the demon.

paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “Magic.” He managed to both over-pronounce the final consonant while whispering, seemingly for dramatic effect. Crowley tilted his head at the human, and raised his eyebrows.

Anathema was still talking to Aziraphale. She was laughing at something the angel had said.

“Can you please.” He was almost pleading. Anathema and Aziraphale had now looked over to them. Aziraphale was beaming, and Anathema was doing a very good impression of a tomato.

“Magic me to be deserving of this beautiful, beautiful lady.”

Aziraphale laughed, and Anathema managed to look even more embarrassed.

“Oh, shut up Newt.” Anathema laughed.

They were saying their goodbyes. Anathema had insisted that they had enough space to accommodate their friends, but Crowley said that they would be alright.

When the door shut behind them, Newt turned to look at Anathema with blind adoration.

“Seriously though.” Newt was solemn now. “How is it possible for one single person to be so wonderful. I love you so much Anathema.”

“Calm down Newt.” Anathema said, laughing. Newt then proceeded to wrap his arms around the witch in an effort, it seemed, to become attached to her permanently.

“Bedtime, I think.” Anathema said into his shoulder. “I love you, Newt.”

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anathemaspeaks · 18 days

Text

chocolate

character(s): toji fushiguro synopsis: you accidentally eat an aphrodisiac, but you definitely don't regret it. word count: 1.1k warning(s): smut a/n: i need him SO BAD inspired by this fic by the amazing @tonycries <3

this was a prank. it had to be. you stared at the empty black chocolate wrapper in front of you in horror. the bold, golden letters on the wrapper seemingly mocking your current predicament. 'making bedroom adventures sweeter since 1992' written in a sickeningly bold cursive font under the brand name.

once your initial surprise wore off, you realized you actually felt quite... normal. you had just eaten an aphrodisiac for the first time, after all. even if it was accidentally. but you felt okay, so you decided to get back to work since your lunch break was over.

just as you were about to start working, your phone rang, showing your wallpaper of your gorgeous boyfriend toji. still, nothing was happening. there was no change in how you felt.

until you heard his voice.

"hey doll, you eat yet?"

and just like that, all you could think about was him. your hands on his sculpted abs, teasingly moving lower. him whispering praises on how you're being such a good girl for him, how pretty you look right now. how he lifts his arm, unintentionally flexing his bicep to-

"babe, you there?"

"toji" your voice came out much breathier than you anticipated. suddenly, you were very aware of how you'd soaked through your panties just by hearing his voice. you told him you're coming home early and ended the call abruptly.

when you entered your house, you found a confused looking toji sitting on the sofa. you would've explained the situation to him, but the only thought in your mind was having his fat cock inside you, making you cum over and over until you can't walk for a week.

you practically ripped your clothes off after you shut the door behind you. "well i'm not complainin', but what's goin' on?" toji questioned, his hungry eyes practically devouring you. you didn't give him an answer. instead, you walked over to him and straddled his lap, and kissed him. you kissed him again and again because fuck, he just felt so good.

when you finally pulled away for air, all you could let out was a whiny "need you, toji." you kissed him again, harder this time. his hands were everywhere, his touch alone making your skin burn. he was holding the back of your neck, and then his hands were on your waist. one hand remained on your neck, but the other moved to squeeze your ass.

with that, you lost any self control you might've had before. you broke the kiss and pulled on his hair and guiding his lips to your neck. you practically tore his shirt off. you slowly started grinding on his thigh, moans spilling out from your mouth uncontrollably. this felt so good. he felt so good.

your bare cunt was rubbing against the denim of his jeans, which were already soaking wet because of you. the material rubbing against your clit just right. his hands were on your ass, squeezing and caressing it while guiding you. his mouth sucking your tits, occasionally leaving hickeys on your neck.

and you're so close, that sweet relief feels so near. "toji please i'm so-" and you cum all over his pants. he kisses you while still guiding you with his hands still on your ass. but you're still horny as ever. you get off his lap and help him take off his jeans and boxers, then you drop to your knees in between his spread legs.

you start by licking a small stripe up his very hard cock, then you slowly take his flushed tip inside your mouth, licking it almost teasingly. and then, within a second, you have his cock inside your mouth, tip almost touching the back of your throat with your cheeks hollowed out. "fuck you're such a good girl, shit" "mm, you can take all of it, my good little slut"

his cock was so big you had tears in your eyes trying to deepthroat it, but you couldn't stop, not when he looked like that. one hand on the back of your head, guiding you, with the other one in his hair, causing him to flex his bicep. his abs glistening with the light sheen of sweat that had formed.

his flushed cheeks and closed eyes that would occasionally open to look down at you. his mouth, which was open and saying the filthiest of things to you, cursing and moaning every other second. you couldn't wait any longer, you were dripping wet.

you stood up and leaned down to kiss him, tugging on his hair. "need you, toji" you whined. "need me where, princess?" god, he was such a tease. but you were impatient. so you allowed yourself to sink down onto his length.

you were so wet you could cum from that alone, but you needed more, more, more. you've been on top before, but never like this. you were insatiable, riding him like there was no tomorrow. the sound of his cock going in and out of you, the feeling of being so full, him whispering dirty praises into your ears, the timbre of his voice when he moaned, it was too much.

you couldn’t hold it in even if you tried, you came all over his cock. he finished inside you a few seconds later, his cum dripping out of your cunt. you didn’t stop, though, you continued riding him. his current state only turned you on even more. completely lost in the feeling of you. you placed your lips on his again, wanting nothing more than to taste him.

he couldn’t form a coherent sentence anymore. he was drunk on the feeling of your warm pussy around his fat cock. he was moaning so loudly you were sure the neighbors heard you. the overstimulation paired with your hands tugging on his hair, his hands squeezing your ass, and the view of your tits bouncing so perfectly as you rode him were just too much for him.

the oversensitivity made you both cum again, lewd moans escaping both of you. yet, you still didn’t stop. toji felt like he might pass out, but fuck, it felt so amazing. at this point, he knew it wouldn’t be over until one of you had blacked out. he loved every second of it.

toji, despite having way more stamina than you, blacked out first. that chocolate was the only thing keeping you going for longer than your man. god, you'd never felt so fucked out. you both wake up on the sofa, your naked body on top of his. you woke up to find him smirking down at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “toji?” you questioned. “yeah, i'm definitely giving you those again.” he said with a grin. then it clicked. that little shit had replaced your chocolate on purpose. “TOJI FUSHIGURO-”

likes, reblogs, and follows are appreciated! requests are open <3

#anathema writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro toji #toji fushigro x reader

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