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The Ecstasy of Eden: 4 & 5

Good Omens fic: Chap 4 & 5 Four of five times they used sex pollen, and one time they didn't

Excerpt

“The music is good, isn’t it?” Aziraphale said, his face as bright as the morning sun. Crowley’s eyes dropped to his lips, moist from whiskey, he noticed a small dot of cream on the edge of his mouth.

“You have -” Crowley leaned forward without thinking, and ran his thumb to catch it. Aziraphale’s cheeks turned pink, and his eyes stretched wide.

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s small pink tongue dipped out, and brushed the edge of Crowley’s thumb; a volt of electricity zapped his hand, he pulled away stunned.

“Eclair,” Aziraphale smiled, licking the corner of his lip to fish the rest of the cream off. Crowley’s fingers clenched hard against his thigh.

He looked so beautiful. Why did he always have to look so damn beautiful?

“Right, mm, yeah.” He stared forward, not daring himself to gaze any longer.

The band stopped, and the air stilled; Aziraphale glanced up and caught Crowley’s eyes through his dark glasses. The air crackled with static electricity, and Crowley’s knees bounced, unable to stop it, he knocked into Aziraphale.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, he began to move it away.

A hand caught it.

---

Things are happening in a seedy jazz club in London.

It's a double chap drop this week for reasons.

CW: Sex pollen, dub con

Rating: Explicit

Start here

Read Chap 4 & 5 here.

We're nearly at the end. Thanks to: @adverbian, @voluptatiscausa, @malachitegrey again for the High Sex Pollen Event! And to my lovely betas: @fuzzygoblin , and @happynachohologram.

@goodomensafterdark

#good omens #good omens 2 #self recs #good omens fanfic #aziracrow #jazz cafe #sex pollen #high sex pollen event #good omens after dark #buckle up #We're earning our tags today

Poet in the shadow

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

---

summary: you are drawn by enigmatic poet, shikamaru naru.

Here's the link to the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50UCezNCKemq7EBFvLgwei?si=_bjXvGw5Q8mT3cw3Zi6vVA

_________

as of recently, a beer hadn't been quite enough to sully my mounting stress at work. Having to kiss the feet of my sanctimonious managers made me physically ill.

so, a friend decided to introduce me to the likes of jazz.

they were walking in the nightly streets of tokyo, searching for a new habit to get addicted to.

been there.

done that.

it was time for another thrill, an outlet for the forced submission that we put through every time we walked into our dreaded offices. condescending glares. venomous workplace gossip. the old that has been gotten used to.

they had found the poster by mere chance, plastered across the front of a ramen shop. its name was striking, and it's silhouette sparked intrigue. who was it that took that shape? was it a real person? or was it just a bold choice of design…

well, I was always receptive to trying new things.

Friday rolls around pretty quickly; I spent that week with my head in the clouds. what was always dry in my life became an enriching oasis upon discovery of the event.

and upon arrival; instantaneous ambiance. the grinding of coffee beans smelt like nostalgia to my nose, and the faint melody of piano keys was evocative to my childhood dreams; a place where I searched for a belonging. the brassy, slow sound of a trombone played, with hums of soft guitar in the background.

the spotlight at the front shimmered golden yellow; it must of been the spot where words that sounded like magic took place. black, round tables were spread throughout the room and when we sat on our own; lavender, incense sticks enlightened my senses - it was all in preparation for a thought-provoking night.

the stage was in place; whispers were in session, and the performance started. distinct voices that had their own story to tell; some painfully relatable, and some out-of-reach; I could empathise but I couldn't understand. I barely touched the soft drinks they were serving for newcomers; I was glued to the symphony.

just as I about to glaze the glass for a sip....

then came the last guest.

slouched shoulders, and hands in pocket, he lazily strided to the stage, like he was at a place he didn't want to be; but had to be. his hair was tied into a ponytail, and his navy blue sleeves were rolled above his elbows, revealing identical shadow-like tattoos that wrapped around his arms.

there was no introduction.

he coolly looked at the audience, and he began to speak his piece in a husky, murmury voice.

sometimes - its the little things

he pauses.

the little things that quieten -

the chaos in your head

the little things

let it be overflowing

its as simple as

making your bed

at 7am in the morning

sit by the windowsill

let that glare of sunlight

be your start over mode -

an extra sugar

in your coffee mug

will be your energiser

look up at the sky

and turn into a cloud

dissipate when

your worries consume you

and come back

when you feel plentiful again

see -

its the little things

that complete an incomplete day

let it follow you...

he paused.

"...but easier said than done, huh?" he added.

Soon after, a cascade of claps followed and he sheepishly nodded his head, before disappearing into the curtains.

he was a stream of water; I was a fish following his stream.

I decided I was gonna take it to the end.

The next week meandered tediously; from the same micromanaging, lack of tact and respect, there was one line that I kept with me.

"it's the little things."

That meant when i was yelled at, I instead savoured the three sugars that sunk inside my coffee; it also meant that when I woke up in the morning, I actually looked forward to washing the dishes...

No, never mind. I still hate that part.

----------

Let me start off by saying

Im not a advocate of nicotine

and i'll never be your endorser

but I'll admit it

as soon as I take a puff or two

I'm floating in the air

hands up

like i don't really care

the world disappears

when I inhale and exhale

any argument, any deadline

it all fades

it becomes grey

the troublesome things

they temporarily go away

I'll like to encapsulate myself

in nothing but smoke

smoke, I smoke

Not all the time

only when I rather

revisit my mentor

his name is peace

He's the reason why

I stick to his training regime

it's free-form

Its free -

just like me

It feels like me...

"...but if you start smoking, don't say you got the inspiration from me, alright?" He shrugged, before revealing a slight, playful smirk.

without fail, I had been to his performances for about a month, his alcohol-infused words soaking through my skin. My friend still attended with me, but they likened the slam poetry to extra background noise; they mostly came for the drinks and mellowed out crowd.

so, there was me.

I only knew his name as shikamaru.

shikamaru….

there was a blank.

"why do you only drink iced water?"

"...I don't wanna order anything else."

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru poetry café ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp Looking to catch a break from adulthood woes? The Hidden is a jazz and poetry café, known for it's soul, drinks and words that keep you floating...

Meet the poets

Sai - an elusive poet that takes you by surprise. don't judge by a book by it's cover.

Aina Ito - her outlook on life is brighter than the glare of a sun. don't shy away from it.

Shikamaru - like a cloud, he comes and he goes. do as he says, not what he chooses to do.

Kenta Arimoto - sharp, quick and unpredictable. whiplash is forever in effect.

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp > meet the poets

Shikamaru - like a cloud, he comes and he goes. do as he says, not what he chooses to do.

No results found.

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru its the little things ⌛ Loading...

No results found.

did you mean: shikamaru it's the little things

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru performs poetry the hidden ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp Looking to catch a break from adulthood woes? The Hidden is a jazz and poetry café, known for its soul, drinks, and words that keep you floating...

📍 Niconico

10k views . 6 years ago

@shikamaru the hidden live performs

______________________________________________________________

after extensive browsing, the only other thing that came up was a 30-second blurry recording of him on stage. I could make out a younger version of him, his hair loose with a few helix piercings hanging on both ears. he sported a much more delinquent look, but his detached, sophisticated way of speaking remained.

im not really the type

to be sentimental

but i have a confession

treat it as a one-off throwaway

think of it but don't dwell on it

its a reminder

a reflection

of the things that can come and go...

---

however, the one thing that was different about him in that clip was that he had...

an emotional edge.

the impact of whatever it was that was made on him took the shape of his voice, rather than him making that shape himself.

he must of been in his most vulnerable form.

so, I ended my search. there was nothing more to see.

I continued to go as usual, without any expectations that our parasocial relationship would go anywhere.

I was just an attendee.

there's nothing wrong with

being stuck in traffic

that is

stagnant, slow, frustrating...

when everything moves pass you

seemingly effortlessly

as you stare at yourself

unmoving and unchanging

but is a ripple just a ripple?

you might say so but..

however, on one uneventful night, I discovered a podcast. I wasn't searching for it in particular...

but the name resembled a figure that I knew.

I put my headphones on, and tuned into the world of who might be who I think it is...

[INTRO] [soft jazzy r&b plays in the background, chairs start shuffling and then-]

[REDACTED]:

*clears throat* good midnight everybody, the moon and stars are up and bright, and if your still up with the cows, then welcome to the 2nd episode of in the shadow.

[pause]

My name is redacted, and we are about to kick some vibes off with someone as transparent and elusive as a smokescreen - he's here and then he isn't -

SHIKAMARU:

hey...redacted. the audience gets it now, alright?

[REDACTED]:

...can't a guy build up a suspenseful introduction for his own guest? well anyways...

[pause]

now introducing, shikamaru!

SHIKAMARU:

thanks man, I appreciate it...

[REDACTED]:

nice - now I've got a few questions for you...one or two just a tad close for comfort but the rest, a breeze. I'm telling you this now so at least you know...

SHIKAMARU:

if you wanted to warn me in advance, you could of done it by email.

[REDACTED]:

shikamaru. its called the element of surprise...it wouldn't be spontaneous if I told you before hand, right?

SHIKAMARU:

hm. I don't mind spontaneity from time to time but...

[REDACTED]:

but?

SHIKAMARU:

never mind. let's hear the first question.

[REDACTED]:

gotcha. now, don't worry - we are starting off light and easy. bit nosy? sure. but I really want to know this....what is your day job?

SHIKAMARU:

do you really want to know? it's quite mundane...

[REDACTED]:

that's why I'm asking you. i want to know if your day role wildly differs from the genius poet you portray at night...

SHIKAMARU:

huh. really tryna drive the point home with the hyperboles?

[REDACTED]:

so? your answer?

SHIKAMARU:

planning analyst. I handle data, finances....

[REDACTED]:

oh. that sounds boring.

SHIKAMARU:

*chuckles dryly* i don't disagree with you. but it gives me that sense of stability - when I'm at home I have all the free time to overthink...but in the most productive way.

[REDACTED]:

so your saying that your job is the reason why your so...introspective?

SHIKAMARU:

...in a way. it means I don't have to stress about the unnecessary, and I can live as peacefully as I need to.

[REDACTED]:

yeah, yeah. which actually brings me to my next question...

[pause]

[REDACTED]:

what is it that inspires you to write? Why do you find it to be the most productive way to spend your time?

SHIKAMARU:

hmm. That depends on what kind of answer you want.

[REDACTED]:

Hey, don't put it all on me to decide. You can be as transparent as you want...or stick to your usual formula and keep the details vague.

SHIKAMARU:

you know I don't like making decisions. its troublesome.

[REDACTED]

say whatever you need to say.

SHIKAMARU:

…well. in terms of inspiration…

[pause]

its not really it. but moreso, someone.

[REDACTED]:

oh? and who is that someone? is it a old flame, maybe a teacher..

SHIKAMARU:

…just someone.

[pause]

he was a heavy smoker. he told me not to copy him but…

[REDACTED]:

but?

SHIKAMARU:

if you indoctrinate someone to follow a certain set of beliefs, chances are, you might turn into them.

[REDACTED]:

....wow.

[pause]

haha wow. now isn't that such a shikamaru response?

SHIKAMARU:

if you say so...

_____

I took my headphones off, feeling as if I discovered something innate within myself.

I went into my drawer, picking up a pen and a notepad -

and I put the pen to paper, ink bleeding through as my thoughts overridden on top of each other -

my new poem was…

"...here," I said, the newly inked paper trembling within my hand.

I never meant to caught him a time such as this - where he held a cigarette between two fingers, hair untied and casually leaned against a brick wall.

I originally wanted to give to him as soon as his set finished and he still felt unreachable. however, I lost him within all the noise of people.

by the time I went outside as I was too nervous....to ask to see him backstage he was already undressed. no longer a enigma.

he glanced at it, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the ember became dim and lifeless.

"...did you write something?" he croaked, his veering between seemingly indifferent and a little curious.

"...yeah."

that was all I could say.

he took the piece from my hand, eying me up and down once and only once. he nodded in approval.

"cool. write more," he muttered, before sliding the piece into his pocket.

'its the little things...'

I nodded back.

then, I left.

Poet in the shadow

link to my a03: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lalaloopsyland

---

summary: you are drawn by enigmatic poet, shikamaru naru.

Here's the link to the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/50UCezNCKemq7EBFvLgwei?si=_bjXvGw5Q8mT3cw3Zi6vVA

_________

as of recently, a beer hadn't been quite enough to sully my mounting stress at work. Having to kiss the feet of my sanctimonious managers made me physically ill.

so, a friend decided to introduce me to the likes of jazz.

they were walking in the nightly streets of tokyo, searching for a new habit to get addicted to.

been there.

done that.

well, I was always receptive to trying new things.

Friday rolls around pretty quickly; I spent that week with my head in the clouds. what was always dry in my life became an enriching oasis upon discovery of the event.

just as I about to glaze the glass for a sip....

then came the last guest.

there was no introduction.

he coolly looked at the audience, and he began to speak his piece in a husky, murmury voice.

sometimes - its the little things

he pauses.

the little things that quieten -

the chaos in your head

the little things

let it be overflowing

its as simple as

making your bed

at 7am in the morning

sit by the windowsill

let that glare of sunlight

be your start over mode -

an extra sugar

in your coffee mug

will be your energiser

look up at the sky

and turn into a cloud

dissipate when

your worries consume you

and come back

when you feel plentiful again

see -

its the little things

that complete an incomplete day

let it follow you...

he paused.

"...but easier said than done, huh?" he added.

Soon after, a cascade of claps followed and he sheepishly nodded his head, before disappearing into the curtains.

he was a stream of water; I was a fish following his stream.

I decided I was gonna take it to the end.

The next week meandered tediously; from the same micromanaging, lack of tact and respect, there was one line that I kept with me.

"it's the little things."

That meant when i was yelled at, I instead savoured the three sugars that sunk inside my coffee; it also meant that when I woke up in the morning, I actually looked forward to washing the dishes...

No, never mind. I still hate that part.

----------

Let me start off by saying

Im not a advocate of nicotine

and i'll never be your endorser

but I'll admit it

as soon as I take a puff or two

I'm floating in the air

hands up

like i don't really care

the world disappears

when I inhale and exhale

any argument, any deadline

it all fades

it becomes grey

the troublesome things

they temporarily go away

I'll like to encapsulate myself

in nothing but smoke

smoke, I smoke

Not all the time

only when I rather

revisit my mentor

his name is peace

He's the reason why

I stick to his training regime

it's free-form

Its free -

just like me

It feels like me...

"...but if you start smoking, don't say you got the inspiration from me, alright?" He shrugged, before revealing a slight, playful smirk.

so, there was me.

I only knew his name as shikamaru.

shikamaru….

there was a blank.

"why do you only drink iced water?"

"...I don't wanna order anything else."

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru poetry café ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp Looking to catch a break from adulthood woes? The Hidden is a jazz and poetry café, known for it's soul, drinks and words that keep you floating...

Meet the poets

Sai - an elusive poet that takes you by surprise. don't judge by a book by it's cover.

Aina Ito - her outlook on life is brighter than the glare of a sun. don't shy away from it.

Shikamaru - like a cloud, he comes and he goes. do as he says, not what he chooses to do.

Kenta Arimoto - sharp, quick and unpredictable. whiplash is forever in effect.

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp > meet the poets

Shikamaru - like a cloud, he comes and he goes. do as he says, not what he chooses to do.

No results found.

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru its the little things ⌛ Loading...

No results found.

did you mean: shikamaru it's the little things

______________________________________________________________

🔍 Search: shikamaru performs poetry the hidden ⌛ Loading...

📍 The Hidden

https://www.thehidden.jp Looking to catch a break from adulthood woes? The Hidden is a jazz and poetry café, known for its soul, drinks, and words that keep you floating...

📍 Niconico

10k views . 6 years ago

@shikamaru the hidden live performs

______________________________________________________________

im not really the type

to be sentimental

but i have a confession

treat it as a one-off throwaway

think of it but don't dwell on it

its a reminder

a reflection

of the things that can come and go...

---

however, the one thing that was different about him in that clip was that he had...

an emotional edge.

the impact of whatever it was that was made on him took the shape of his voice, rather than him making that shape himself.

he must of been in his most vulnerable form.

so, I ended my search. there was nothing more to see.

I continued to go as usual, without any expectations that our parasocial relationship would go anywhere.

I was just an attendee.

there's nothing wrong with

being stuck in traffic

that is

stagnant, slow, frustrating...

when everything moves pass you

seemingly effortlessly

as you stare at yourself

unmoving and unchanging

but is a ripple just a ripple?

you might say so but..

however, on one uneventful night, I discovered a podcast. I wasn't searching for it in particular...

but the name resembled a figure that I knew.

I put my headphones on, and tuned into the world of who might be who I think it is...

[INTRO] [soft jazzy r&b plays in the background, chairs start shuffling and then-]

[REDACTED]:

*clears throat* good midnight everybody, the moon and stars are up and bright, and if your still up with the cows, then welcome to the 2nd episode of in the shadow.

[pause]

My name is redacted, and we are about to kick some vibes off with someone as transparent and elusive as a smokescreen - he's here and then he isn't -

SHIKAMARU:

hey...redacted. the audience gets it now, alright?

[REDACTED]:

...can't a guy build up a suspenseful introduction for his own guest? well anyways...

[pause]

now introducing, shikamaru!

SHIKAMARU:

thanks man, I appreciate it...

[REDACTED]:

nice - now I've got a few questions for you...one or two just a tad close for comfort but the rest, a breeze. I'm telling you this now so at least you know...

SHIKAMARU:

if you wanted to warn me in advance, you could of done it by email.

[REDACTED]:

shikamaru. its called the element of surprise...it wouldn't be spontaneous if I told you before hand, right?

SHIKAMARU:

hm. I don't mind spontaneity from time to time but...

[REDACTED]:

but?

SHIKAMARU:

never mind. let's hear the first question.

[REDACTED]:

gotcha. now, don't worry - we are starting off light and easy. bit nosy? sure. but I really want to know this....what is your day job?

SHIKAMARU:

do you really want to know? it's quite mundane...

[REDACTED]:

that's why I'm asking you. i want to know if your day role wildly differs from the genius poet you portray at night...

SHIKAMARU:

huh. really tryna drive the point home with the hyperboles?

[REDACTED]:

so? your answer?

SHIKAMARU:

planning analyst. I handle data, finances....

[REDACTED]:

oh. that sounds boring.

SHIKAMARU:

*chuckles dryly* i don't disagree with you. but it gives me that sense of stability - when I'm at home I have all the free time to overthink...but in the most productive way.

[REDACTED]:

so your saying that your job is the reason why your so...introspective?

SHIKAMARU:

...in a way. it means I don't have to stress about the unnecessary, and I can live as peacefully as I need to.

[REDACTED]:

yeah, yeah. which actually brings me to my next question...

[pause]

[REDACTED]:

what is it that inspires you to write? Why do you find it to be the most productive way to spend your time?

SHIKAMARU:

hmm. That depends on what kind of answer you want.

[REDACTED]:

Hey, don't put it all on me to decide. You can be as transparent as you want...or stick to your usual formula and keep the details vague.

SHIKAMARU:

you know I don't like making decisions. its troublesome.

[REDACTED]

say whatever you need to say.

SHIKAMARU:

…well. in terms of inspiration…

[pause]

its not really it. but moreso, someone.

[REDACTED]:

oh? and who is that someone? is it a old flame, maybe a teacher..

SHIKAMARU:

…just someone.

[pause]

he was a heavy smoker. he told me not to copy him but…

[REDACTED]:

but?

SHIKAMARU:

if you indoctrinate someone to follow a certain set of beliefs, chances are, you might turn into them.

[REDACTED]:

....wow.

[pause]

haha wow. now isn't that such a shikamaru response?

SHIKAMARU:

if you say so...

_____

I took my headphones off, feeling as if I discovered something innate within myself.

I went into my drawer, picking up a pen and a notepad -

and I put the pen to paper, ink bleeding through as my thoughts overridden on top of each other -

my new poem was…

"...here," I said, the newly inked paper trembling within my hand.

I never meant to caught him a time such as this - where he held a cigarette between two fingers, hair untied and casually leaned against a brick wall.

I originally wanted to give to him as soon as his set finished and he still felt unreachable. however, I lost him within all the noise of people.

by the time I went outside as I was too nervous....to ask to see him backstage he was already undressed. no longer a enigma.

he glanced at it, slowly inhaling and exhaling until the ember became dim and lifeless.

"...did you write something?" he croaked, his veering between seemingly indifferent and a little curious.

"...yeah."

that was all I could say.

he took the piece from my hand, eying me up and down once and only once. he nodded in approval.

"cool. write more," he muttered, before sliding the piece into his pocket.

'its the little things...'

I nodded back.

then, I left.

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