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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 9 months

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One Monstrous Miracle (Part Seven)

Hi. I know it's been quite a long time since I last updated this story, I'm sorry guys! If there's anyone still interested, here's a new chapter, just for you! This is partially motivated by Season 2 dropping, and partially by intense nostalgia from rereading what I had already written. I have an outline for the last chapters, but I'm still trying to decide how to split them up. I can't promise how soon I'll be posting more after this, but I can guarantee it will be sooner than last time! Thank you all for your continued support, and I hope you love this chapter as much as I do <3 (Pst! Here’s the AO3 version!)

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Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: A group of kids stop Armageddon (offscreen). A deadbeat dad shows his face. Aziraphale almost has a panic attack.

Warnings: Unsure, please let me know if any pop out at you! I wrote the first part of this chapter 3 years ago, and finished it tonight, so please forgive me if you spot any yucky parts.

Word Count: 4,714

Tadfield Airbase, some weeks later…

Crowley was well aware that things were far from being over. He knew exactly how much Hell had been itching for a do-over, that they were still licking their wounds from the Great War. Adam and his friends had stopped Armageddon, something that would not go unpunished by both sides. If Heaven and Hell wanted a war, they would get one. It was only a matter of time.

They were all standing around in the lull between banishing the Four Horsemen and the next Big Thing, doing the dreaded, but inevitable small talk thing with each other. Crowley ignored most of it, staying on high alert. He was soon rewarded for his diligence in the form of an enormous bolt of purple lightning striking the ground not ten feet away from where the group was standing. Simultaneously, the ground began to break apart and crumble in a small patch beside the spot where the lightning had touched down, seemingly being forced up by something moving from below the pavement. They all gasped, stepping away from the new developments. Everyone except for Adam and Anathema. Newt was trying to pull his new girlfriend back, but she stayed, feet planted firmly where they were. Adam just looked.

Adam watched as a tall, dark shape began to form in the lightning, and something broke through the ground next to it and continued to rise. The rising form turned out to be Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies. Adam did not know how he knew this, but he did. The other form was not just one person, but two. An Angel, Gabriel, Adam thought, and a woman. Adam frowned. Gabriel seemed to be holding the woman up by her hair! That didn’t look very nice. The Demon and the Angel glared at each other before marching forwards, Gabriel dragging the groaning woman behind him.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the gasp that escaped him when he saw the state you were in. Once Gabriel had gotten close enough, he threw your limp body to the ground, shaking out his hands as though he had been touching something quite foul. Aziraphale was already halfway to you, shrugging off his coat to cover your ripped and dirty clothes. He gathered you into his arms, mindlessly healing all your scrapes and cuts, taking your bloody wrists in his to press cooling miracles into the wounds there. The look he gave Gabriel could have sent him straight to Damnation, if Aziraphale had been concerned with anything other than your wellbeing. You whimpered and fell fully into Aziraphale’s embrace.

“What did you do to her?” Aziraphale demanded of the Archangel, feeling his blood boil in rage. “Her clothes are soaking wet!”

Gabriel grinned shrugging as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, and he could feel Crowley bristling at his side.

“Oh, I haven’t done anything to your precious little pet. You know me, Azi, I don’t like getting my hands bloody. You know, unless there’s a war on. A divine, righteous war that you…people had no right getting in the way of!”

If Aziraphale hadn’t been holding you, he would’ve lunged at him. As it was, he could feel your shivering getting worse, so he wrapped his coat tighter around you and brought you closer to his chest, burying his face into your messy hair. He was thankful you were alive, anyway. Seeing how the angels had treated you doubled the guilt he felt for not dropping everything to scour creation looking for you. Although he knew it was the right choice, later, he would look at every single cut, scrape, and abrasion on your body, thinking that if he had gotten to you, if he hadn’t gone to Tadfield instead, that you would be whole. You would be healthy and happy, far away from all of this mess. As it was, you were right smack in the middle of Armageddon, completely and utterly clueless about what was happening.

Meanwhile, you had gradually been coming back to consciousness, the jolt from being thrown onto the concrete doing most of the heavy work for you. The first thing you noticed was the smell—like wool and tea and old books. A familiar smell that you couldn’t quite place, so you opened your eyes to find your vision blocked by a wall of light tan. Your pain-addled brain was slow to recognize what had happened, but once it did, you couldn’t help yourself from bursting into tears.

“Aziraphale! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…they just took me! I sw-swear I didn’t tell them anything, honest—”

“Hush, now! Don’t be silly!” Aziraphale was aghast. Here you were, after Heaven only knows what you had gone through, and you were apologizing! To him! He began rubbing soothing circles onto your back, cooing softly, and quieting your crying. As if he needed more proof that he did not deserve someone like you.

“Oi! Do you think you could get her to stop bawling?” Aziraphale lifted his head to see Lord Beelzebub snarling at the pair of you. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from staring as a fly landed right on her eyeball and crawled back into the socket. Shuddering, Aziraphale forced his gaze away from the disgusting sight.

“Surely you can understand, Your Highness, with her having just been tortured and all.” Crowley answered, speaking over whatever was about to come out of Aziraphale’s mouth. He knew his friend, and he recognized the same ancient anger that he had felt from Aziraphale the night they had gone to your empty flat. If Aziraphale had had the wherewithal to keep him from burning half of Heaven to find their girl, then Crowley could, at least try and do the same. For now. Beelzebub sneered at him but turned back to the conversation.

“Now. Adam. Listen to me.” The Prince of Hell was bending over in front of the Son of Satan, looking him straight in his eyes. Adam had to stop himself from scrunching his nose at the rank smell that was rolling off her in waves. He stared at her, waiting for her to speak. “When this is over, you’re going to get to rule the world! Don’t you want to rule the world, boy?”

This was a question that every child has thought of at least once. The ultimate, most interesting question one could ask themselves. Adam, being who he was, hadn’t thought about it at all until the past few months, as things in the world had gotten stranger and stranger. After reading the Antiquarian magazines, after finally learning about all the stuff that was really happening, everything that was wrong with the world, Adam knew that he wanted to fix it. Get rid of the nuclear plants! Welcome the aliens to Earth! Adam would fix everything. Hearing Lord Beelzebub say that he really could rule the world and all he would have to do would be to listen to the voices in his mind that he had been resisting all this time was tempting, to say the absolute least.

But then Adam looked around him at the strange group of people that had gathered together to stop that very thing from happening. The two Angels and the two Demons, the witch and the witchfinders, the fortune teller…and his friends. He knew for a fact that he had scared them witless with how he had behaved towards them. Despite how horribly he had treated them, they were here with him—they had his back. He grinned at them, and they grinned back. He turned to the Prince.

“It’s hard enough to have to think of things for Pepper and Wensley and Brian to do all the time so we don’t get bored. I’ve got all the world I want, right here.” His friends cheered, while Gabriel and Beelzebub looked positively murderous. Gabriel huffed and waving his hands around angrily.

“Well, you can’t just refuse to be who you are,” he informed Adam. “Your birth, your destiny, they’re part of the Great Plan—”

Aziraphale stopped fretting over you when he heard those damnable words. The Great Plan. Poppycock. How many times has that phrase been used over the millennia to excuse all sorts of shit? As he listened to Gabriel and Beelzebub squabbling over not getting their war, he was hit with a sudden realization. It was something that had crossed his mind from time to time, but he had always dismissed it outright because…because of what, exactly? Righteousness? Fear? Was he afraid to acknowledge something so huge that it would shake the very foundations of his faith? He turned and gestured to Madame Tracy, who had been watching the proceedings with varying degrees of horror and fascination. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she hurried over, and it occurred to Aziraphale that he had inhabited that body not one hour ago. What a strange thought.

“What is it, my dear?” Tracy asked kindly. Aziraphale waved her closer to where he was sitting with you half across his lap.

“Tracy, would you mind terribly if I asked you to watch Y/N for a moment?” Tracy immediately got down on the ground beside him, reaching for your still weak body and pulling you gently towards her. She could see Mr. Shadwell inching closer out of the corner of her eye, but she focused on you.

“Oooh, you poor dear. We’ll have you right as rain as soon as all of this nonsense is over with!” She assured you, squeezing your hand. You sneezed and groaned.

Aziraphale rose to his feet, brushing the dirt and grit off of his trousers, and strode over to the rest of the group. He cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Ahem. Um, excuse me, you…keep talking about the Great Plan,” he began. Gabriel did not look at him when he replied,

“Aziraphale, maybe you should just keep your mouth shut.” Aziraphale had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

“One thing I’m not sure I’m clear on just yet. Is that the Ineffable Plan?” Gabriel and Beelzebub shared a confused and irritated look with each other.

“The Great Plan!” Beelzebub insisted, her voice going sort of staticky in her frustration. “It is written! There shall be a world, and it shall last for 6,000 yearzzz and end in fire and flame!”

“Yes, yes that sounds like the Great Plan.” He paused, smiling warmly at the two entities. “Just wondering, is that the Ineffable Plan as well?”

There was a short silence.

“Well, they’re the same thing!” Gabriel sounded a lot less confident than he had before. Crowley couldn’t believe it. All of this fighting. All of this uncertainty, and running around England searching for the bleeding Antichrist, trying to stop the unstoppable war and the two people in charge of the whole affair didn’t even know if God wanted it in the first place. You couldn’t make this drivel up, you really couldn’t.

“You don’t know,” Crowley was incredulous. He looked at Aziraphale and he knew that they were on the exact same page. He smirked. “Uh, well, it’d be a real pity if you’d thought you were doing what you thought the Great Plan said, but you were actually going against God’s Ineffable Plan. I mean, everyone knows the Great Plan, yeah? But the Ineffable Plan…” He licked his lips with his forked tongue. “Well, it’s ineffable, isn’t it? By definition we can’t know it.” Gabriel and Beelzebub looked stricken.

“But…it izzz written?” Beelzebub buzzed, disheartened. Crowley nearly felt sorry for the poor things, all the work they had put in, all for naught. Then he thought about all the work he had put in and found he didn’t care about their feelings anymore.

“God does not play games with the Universe.” Gabriel tried in a tone that sounded resolutely final, but with an expression that looked like someone had just broken his favorite toy. Crowley couldn’t help himself from laughing out loud at that one.

“Where have you been?” he asked in between chortles. The two of them stepped away from the group to have their own little conversation. Crowley watched as Aziraphale returned to his post at your side, nodding his thanks to the strange red-headed woman he had been when Crowley had first reunited with him. Gabriel and Beelzebub couldn’t resist one last threat directed towards Adam before they both blinked out of the world. That was that over, then, onto the next one.

You had been watching all this taking place from your spot on the cold, wet ground. Aziraphale’s coat and arms had been warm enough, but you couldn’t even focus on your own body with everything that was going on. You had never felt more confused in your life, surrounded by complete strangers, except for Aziraphale and Crowley. Aziraphale. The people who had taken you, they’d called themselves Angels, had known who he was, and had known about Crowley too. They had called Aziraphale an Angel, too, and Crowley a demon. They had demanded any and all information that you had concerning either one of them, but you had no idea what they were talking about. At first, you assumed that Aziraphale was secretly in some deep trouble with some strange crime syndicate, like a Godfather sort of thing. But the longer you stayed on that chair, the more you had begun to realize that these angels were…well, they were Angels. And that meant that Aziraphale was an Angel too.

________________________________________________________________

Of all the things you’d expected to happen to you, meeting actual Satan was not high on that list. After the shock of Aziraphale, Crowley, and …Adam(?) blinking in and out of existence, you were greeted by the deep rumbles and sharp smell of burnt earth announcing the arrival of the Great Adversary. Here. In the flesh. About a million feet taller than you, with only his top half poking out of the actual ground, Satan cast an extremely intimidating figure. Your heart stopped when Adam, a boy that couldn’t even be in his teens yet, stepped up to the Ruler of Hell and gave him a piece of his mind. Apparently, Adam was Satan’s son, and had never even seen his own father for the entirety of his life. Typical. Adam sent his father straight back to where he had come from. Once the pavement had patched itself up, a small, red car came tearing through the lingering smoke. The door opened, and out stepped a very cross, middle-aged man.

“Can anyone tell me, what exactly is going on?” He demanded. It turned out that this man was also Adam’s father, which was very confusing. The children all migrated over to him, and the rest of them stayed back, assessing the damage, and waiting to see if it all really was over. You watched as the young couple embraced almost forcefully; the man’s glasses being pushed askew with how…passionate his partner was being with her kisses. The red head and the old man with the Dr. Seuss-ian gun-thing were standing awkwardly next to each other, but you could see their hands brushing each other ever so slightly. Your boys had examined each other, and were now making their way over to you, Aziraphale not even bothering to hide his worry while Crowley sauntered along behind him.

“You alright, Y/N?” Crowley nearly could’ve convinced you that he wasn’t concerned about you, if it wasn’t for the serious expression on his face that completely belied the casual way he had spoken. Aziraphale stayed quiet, seemingly unable to meet your gaze. You looked back at Crowley.

“I’ve been better.” You paused. Aziraphale and Crowley had hidden this part of themselves from you, their true selves, one could say. Now that Crowley wasn’t wearing his glasses, you could see that he had sickly yellow eyes with slits for pupils. Aziraphale didn’t seem any different, but after what the Angels had told you, and what you had seen in the nightmares they had given you, he was hiding some very impressive wings under that trench coat. What were you supposed to do with this information now? The two people you had grown to love more than anyone else weren’t even human, apparently, and they had kept that from you the whole time you had known them. What else could they be lying about?

Immediately, you felt awful for even entertaining such a terrible thought. You knew it wasn’t like that. You could tell just by the look of pure remorse on Aziraphale’s face. Crowley was too much of a sweetheart at his core to hurt you needlessly. You wouldn’t treat them any different at all. You would accept them for who they were, just as they had accepted you with all your faults. You lifted a shaky arm towards the pair, pulling yourself back into the moment.

“Help me up?” They didn’t hesitate to come forwards, Crowley going to one side and Aziraphale going to the other to lift you as gently as they could off the ground. You groaned quietly as your aching body was made to move, but your boys held onto you, letting you lean on them for support. The moment he was sure that you wouldn’t collapse on them, Crowley dropped his hands and stepped back to where he had been before. Aziraphale did not. His fingers dug into the fabric around your waist almost as if he were afraid to let you go. You remembered the last time you had seen him, when he told you that he loved you and how reluctant he had been to let you leave even then. You turned around so that he was now holding you properly in his arms and placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale startled and looked straight at you for the first time, completely bewildered. His grip on you lessened quite a bit, but he still did not let go.

“Y-you’re asking me if I’m alright? Have you seen yourself?”

“No, actually, but I’d imagine I’m not looking too hot at the moment.” Aziraphale appeared to have lost the power of speech. He sputtered, opening and closing his mouth like a fish while trying to find the words, any words, to say.

“Not too hot?! I can’t believe you, I really can’t. After everything—”

“You know, I’d really prefer it if you didn’t mention it, if you don’t mind.” You interrupted. “I promise I will let you therapize and rehabilitate me to your heart’s content later, but right now, I just want to make sure that you’re alright.”

The process of Aziraphale understanding what you had said was clear in the expressions on his face. At first, he was still baffled at your seemingly blasé attitude towards your kidnapping and torture. Then, you could see the change in him as he slowly realized what you had said. You knew it had clicked when Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open, and you had to hide your amusement when his eyes widened in genuine surprise. You evidently hadn’t been fast enough because Aziraphale quickly attempted to reel himself in, blinking and clearing his throat. He swallowed audibly.

“So…you…what I mean to say is—” He cut himself off. He bit the inside of his cheek, but you could tell that he was trying to hide the way his lips had begun to tremble ever so slightly. “After everything, you aren’t…you…you want to see me again?” Your heart broke at how shyly hopeful he sounded. You grinned, lifting your hands to frame his beautiful face. One of his hands flew to cover yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles absentmindedly.

“Of course, you silly man. Though I suppose I should call you Angel, now, huh?”

“I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am about that, Y/N. I wanted to tell you, truly I did. I even planned to more than once, but I could never summon the courage. I will never forgive myself for what they did to you, those horrible, vile—” He broke off when you lifted onto your tip toes to press your lips to his cheek. He stared down at you in shock.

“We don’t have to talk about any of that right now, Azi. Really, we don’t have to talk about it at all, although I know you’ll need to get it off your chest eventually. I’m just glad that I have my boys back. All the rest, we can deal with later.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself. He had waited all these months pinning for you, never once thinking that you could possibly feel the same. And then, on the night he had tried to force you to leave him by saying all those wicked things, you’d told him that you loved him too. After weeks of not knowing where you were, but not being able to look for you, after seeing what the angels had done to you, after feeling you here, alive and in his arms and looking at him like that, he couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head and leaning down to (finally) plant a kiss on your lips.

Your reaction was instant. Your hands dropped from his face to go around his neck, pulling him farther down so that you could feel his lips more fully against your own. He pulled you in closer, feeling the desperate urge to never let you out of his sight again. You sighed into the kiss, prompting Aziraphale to put a slow and reluctant end to it. You were still in public, after all, with an audience. The both of you pulled apart, unwilling to end the moment.

Aziraphale opened his eyes before you did and took great joy in being able to watch your serene face for the few moments your eyes stayed shut. He felt a sharp pang in his heart as your eyelids fluttered open, almost as though you had just awoken from a very pleasant dream. Your smile could have lit up a room, and it was all for him. He almost couldn’t take it. He could feel Crowley’s excitement radiating off of him, but he ignored his friend. You were the only thing that mattered. He raised a hand to tuck a bit of your hair behind your ear, smiling serenely down at you.

“So…what does this mean, then?” You asked, hating that you had to interrupt the moment that you were having, but needing to know the answer. After everything, you needed Aziraphale in your life more than ever, and if he didn’t feel the same, now was the time to break it off. You couldn’t wait around for him to stop being afraid to love you, you needed it to happen now.

Aziraphale wanted to say many things, but something was holding him back. He frowned inwardly, confused. What was making him hesitate? Every inch of his body wanted to fly to you, to stay wrapped protectively around you until the Universe finally burned into nothing. But there was some small, wriggling thing trying to grasp his attention, fluttering around on the wind—

That damned prophecy! “When alle is fayed and all is done, ye must choose your faces wisely, for soon enouff ye will be playing with fyre”. Fire…Aziraphale had to talk to Crowley about it. He couldn’t quite parse it on his own, although the “faces” part was fairly straightforward. He refocused his attention on you, and felt his heart twinge at the mix of emotions on your face.

“My deepest apologies, dearest, I was lost in thought. What this means—” he took your face in both of his hands, holding you as the precious gift you were, “Is that Crowley and I unfortunately have one very small thing that we must take care of to ensure that any loose ends get tied up. After we have finished with that…”

Aziraphale trailed off. All of his insecurities, all of his doubts that he wasn’t good enough for you, that you would turn him away, especially after what his kind had done to you, raced to the forefront of his mind and stopped his mouth. You frowned a little, but slowly, realization dawned on you and your expression turned sad. You lifted your hands to cover his.

“Aziraphale, listen to me. I love you. I will continue to love you for the foreseeable future. I want to be with you. I just…I need to know if that’s what you want, too. If it’s not, I will understand, but I can’t keep waiting, Azi. I need you to tell me what—”

You were interrupted by Aziraphale’s lips crashing into yours once again, this time with much more urgency, like he was trying to answer you with the kiss. Before you could sink into the kiss, he pulled away, his eyes wide.

“Of course that’s what I want, my darling. I will stay by your side for as long as you will have me. I love you too, and I am so very sorry for everything—” You stopped him with a finger to his lips.

“Shh. I said I don’t want to talk about that right now.” You dropped your hands and grinned. “Well, I suppose you’ll be stuck with me forever then.”

The smile that Aziraphale gave you was so utterly pure that it almost broke your heat.

“Then I suppose I am fortunate that there’s no one else I’d rather be stuck with, aren’t I?”

________________________________________________________________

The swap had gone perfectly. Each side was completely bamboozled by their trick, and equally terrified of the possibilities it implied. Crowley had been absolutely chuffed at how well his plan had gone off. Aziraphale was equally pleased to be done with the whole situation—that is, at least until the next Big Thing showed itself. But for now, everything was put to rights.

Nearly everything, that is.

Crowley hadn’t even needed to ask before dropping Aziraphale off at your apartment, where they had left you. Even after your conversation on the airfield, Aziraphale could feel his nerves skyrocket as Crowley pulled into park in front of the building. He tried to even his breathing, but it didn’t seem to be working.

“Angel, you’re going to hyperventilate” said Crowley, unhelpfully. Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I know that, thank you.” Aziraphale loved Crowley, he really did, but sometimes the Demon’s lack of a bedside manner really irritated—oh. Aziraphale looked down to wear Crowley had put his hand on top of Aziraphale’s trembling one. He looked over at his friend, whose head was turned away from Aziraphale, towards the driver side window.

“Listen, Angel. You’ve made a lot of mistakes. I’m frankly surprised that she still wants you after everything—” Aziraphale yanked his hand out from under his friend’s and moved to get out of the car.

“Really, Crowley, you’re not helping.”

“No, Aziraphale, listen to me.” Crowley sounded annoyed now, and when Aziraphale looked back at him, the Demon was staring back at him.

“She loves you. Despite everything that has happened, she wants to stay with you. That means a lot, Angel. You’ve got something real special with her, you know. Almost as special as us. I know you’ll want to have a therapy sesh with her, but promise me you’ll hold off on that until you’ve had a proper reunion alright? She just needs you to be with her right now. She doesn’t need Aziraphale the Angel, she needs her Azi. Make sense?”

Aziraphale didn’t notice until Crowley stopped talking, but he had apparently started crying during Crowley’s speech, and now he reached up to wipe his tears away. On pure impulse, he reached out to pull his oldest friend into a tight hug, putting all of his love and gratitude into the embrace. After a few moments, he felt Crowley awkwardly tap his shoulder and Aziraphale pulled back, knowing how important personal space was to the other being.

“Thank you, dear boy.” With that, he got out of the car and headed to the apartment, pausing to wave goodbye to Crowley. Aziraphale took a deep breath and rung the bell to your flat.

Tag List:

@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @caligirl1992 @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @laszlossssss @fayeriee @okay-j-hannah @plantsbringhappiness

PLEASE tell my if you want to be added/taken off/have asked before but I’m stupid so you don’t see your name here!!!!

#mine #Aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale imagine #crowley #good omens

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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I’m sorry for people waiting for the next update of Miracle. I’m battling with some serious depression right now, and my motivation to write is nowhere to be found. I’ll be starting uni soon (next two weeks) and I would like to have it complete by then, but we’ll see. Again, I’m so sorry for not having a better writing schedule. Just know I appreciate everyone who has read my story! I will not abandon it, I promise ❤️.

When my readers finally catch me posting memes rather than updating my fic after I told them, 6 months ago, I'll be back in a week:

#aziraphale x reader #aziraphale #one monstrous miracle #mine #good omens #aziraphale imagine

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

Note

Vader! Pretty please :3

Added! The updated counts are now:

Vader- 7

Lupin- 3

I’ll keep these posts up for another week, during which I hope to finish my current fic (if you’re interested in an Aziraphale x Reader story, you can read it here). I’ll make another post announcing the winner then. Check out the original post where I talked a little about my ideas for each story, and you can totally ask me questions if you’re curious about them! Know that these are going to be serious-length fics. Vader will be probably a series, and the Lupin fic will def around 15 or so chapters (which is a lot for me!). Let me know which you’d like to see most!

#harry potter #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader #star wars

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

Note

hey, for your last post, i prefer vader x reader!! i loved you idea :)

Acknowledged! So far I’ve gotten:

Vader- 3

Lupin- 2

The story ideas are:

Vader x Reader arranged marriage

Remus x Reader post-Hogwarts Marauder’s Era

Inbox me or reply to either this post or the original one to let me know which one you’d like!

#darth vader x reader #darth vader imagine #darth vader #star wars #harry potter #marauders #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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For my next multi-chapter fic, would you prefer a Vader x reader (arranged marriage) or a Remus Lupin x reader (post Hogwarts Marauders Era) ? Two very different ideas but that’s what I got rn. Let me know in the comments or my inbox!

#darth vader #star wars #darth vader imagine #darth vader x reader #remus lupin #remus x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #harry potter

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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One Monstrous Miracle (Part Six)

Ugh this chapter did NOT want to be written. I hate it, I am not happy with the way it turned out, but I needed to write it. I’m also visiting with some family at the moment, so I didn’t really have that much time to sit and force myself to write it, which is why I took so much longer than I had promised. We are coming up on the end of this, folks. The next chapter covers the events at Tadfield airbase, so it’s going to take a bit of time as I rewatch the episode etc. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy! (Here’s the AO3!)

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Gabriel is bored and then not bored. Aziraphale takes Crowley on a field trip. 3rd person throughout.

Warnings: A tiiiiiny bit of torture mention but nothing graphic at all. Let me know if I should mention anything else. This was also written in haste because I did NOT want to write this chapter, so please forgive (but still let me know about!) any mistakes you may find.��

Word Count: 3234

The Archangel Gabriel was bored. With Armageddon well underway, it was only a matter of letting things take their course, so there really wasn’t anything for Gabriel to do. It was exhaustively tedious. There were only so many games of piggaloo (a game invented by angels sometime during Earth’s Golden Age. I won’t explain the rules to you, as it’s far too complicated for any mortal to understand. (Off the record, it is strikingly similar to Uno.)) one could play before one’s interest completely flew away from them. Gabriel was not used to feeling bored. This was an entirely new position for him to be in, and he did not like it one bit. That was part of the reason that he was so overjoyed when Michael came into his corner office one day. Gabriel had been playing Flappy Bird on his phone when the other Archangel tapped on the door to get his attention. Gabriel threw his phone down and straightened up, trying to give off the impression that he had been Very Busy Indeed. He failed.

“Ahem! Michael! What can I do for you?” Michael smiled widely, and Gabriel thought, not for the first time, that there was something…off about the other angel. He had often dismissed the idea as nonsense because that’s exactly what it was—no heavenly creature could possibly be less than perfect. They had all been made in the Almighty’s image, after all. To criticize an angel would be to criticize God herself and, well, one simply did not do that. No, whatever Gabriel saw in Michael’s smile that put him off was nothing more than his imagination. He smiled back at them, wondering what flavor of ambrosia he would absorb after this was over.

“Well, Gabriel, it’s not really what you can do for me, but rather, what I can do for you.” This piqued Gabriel’s interest. As a business-minded individual, Gabriel was always on the look out for opportunities such as these—Quid Pro Quos that delivered the goods. He was rather good at negotiating, after all. Gabriel motioned for Michael to continue.

“Explain.”

Michael grinned their disturbing grin. With a snap of their fingers, Michael had miracled them both out of Gabriel’s office. When they reappeared, they were standing in a dark corridor that was largely empty save for one of those prison doors with a sliding window near the top. Gabriel turned and frowned at his fellow Archangel.

“Am I supposed to know what this means?” he asked them, confused. Michael was typically much more ‘to-the-point’ than this, very rarely resorting to puzzles or guessing games. Whatever they had to say, they came right out and said it. The feeling of unease he’d felt earlier when Michael had started smiling grew tenfold.

“It turns out that Aziraphale is in deeper than we ever could have imagined,” Michael began, putting their hands behind their back and affecting a very official-looking pose. “Not only has he been fraternizing with the enemy, but he has been seen, on multiple occasions, to be in the company of a mortal woman.”

Gabriel’s frowned deepened, and he found himself wishing that he’d kept his door closed that day, as was his usual custom. Lately, Michael and the other angels had been pestering him about Aziraphale, questioning every move he made with suspicion and derision. Gabriel knew that Aziraphale had probably been on Earth for too long, that he had probably been going native for quite some time, but Gabriel didn’t really mind. You see, Gabriel knew that if Aziraphale was reassigned to Heaven, the possibility that he would quickly rise through the ranks to oust Gabriel himself would be far too realistic. Gabriel remembered Aziraphale in the olden days when he served as God’s personal Enforcer. None of the angels would dare to cross either one of them, such was the sheer power that Aziraphale and his flaming sword wielded. He was terrifying, full of righteous anger and so strong and beloved by their Lord. Bring him back to the source of his power, especially after such a long time away, and there was no telling what could happen. No, Aziraphale was much better off with his dirty little pets. Far, far away from posing anyone a true threat. Gabriel gave a long-suffering sigh.

“Michael, you know that means nothing. He’s around those things every day, for God’s sake! Now, if this is all—”

“He’s in love with her, Gabriel. He said it himself, I heard it. They’ve been…cavorting with each other for months. She goes to his shop every day. You know what” They pointed up towards Heaven, “would think about that, don’t you?”

Gabriel knew exactly what ‘up there’ would think about that. The first word out of her mouth would be “abomination”. Aziraphale’s mission was to monitor the humans, to keep track of their progress throughout time, and to keep tabs on the Demon Crowley. The one thing he was forbidden to do, above all else, was to fall in love with them. He had failed in the past, Alexander the Great and William Shakespeare being two outstanding examples, but neither incident had lasted for too long and, as far as Gabriel was aware, none of them had gotten more serious than a weekend trip to the Alps. This new information was unsettling, indeed.

“I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, Michael, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s just pop down and ask him, okay? And this whole thing will be worked out—”

“I have something much better than that.” Michael interrupted him again. Gabriel was getting more annoyed with them by the second. No one interrupted the Archangel Fucking Gabriel and got away with it. The only reason that Michael was still standing there was because of God’s pesky “Angels can’t kill other angels without the consent of the Most High God” rule. And, Gabriel had to admit, a tiny sliver of curiosity. Gabriel kept his mouth shut.

“Now, I need you to promise me that when this door opens, you’ll give me the chance to explain. You’re going to want to object, I know, but just hear me out.” Tired of the game that Michael was playing, Gabriel nodded, cursing them inwardly in 75 different languages. Michael nodded and stepped forward, waving her hand over the door’s lock. The door opened to reveal a square, stone room with a single bulb hanging down from the ceiling. It was swinging, though what moved it was a complete mystery to Gabriel. As it moved side to side, the eerie yellow light it cast down moved as well, making shadows dance along the walls and around the lone figure sitting on a chair in the center of the room.

The figure was not moving, but Gabriel could sense their soul, thrashing and fighting and still very much alive. There was what looked to be a potato sack drawn over the figure’s head, so Gabriel couldn’t see what they looked like, only that the figure seemed feminine. They were wearing what had clearly once been a nice outfit, an objectively pretty skirt and blouse. Their feet were bare and dirty, like the rest of them. Gabriel could assume what had happened to them. He turned to Michael, who had been watching him expectantly.

“Please don’t tell me that you’ve captured that poor woman.” Michael raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’m afraid that I cannot do that, Gabriel.”

Gabriel was not usually a murderous angel, but Michael had proven time and time again that there was always an exception to every rule. He could feel his power gathering within him; it had been so long since he’d been able to truly test himself. He was sure that having a subordinate scurry underneath his nose like this, kidnapping and mistreating a mortal would be more than enough of a reason for some good, old-fashioned punishment, if not a full smiting. THe paperwork would be dreadful but oh so worth it—

“Gabriel, wait. Let me explain, you promised me that.” Michael had taken a step back, wisely. They held their arms up, palms turned outward in defense. Gabriel hesitated, a Michael-less life of bliss flashing before his eyes, before he slumped. He had promised them, barely, and an Angel’s word is as good as law.

“Alright, fine. You have five minutes to explain yourself.” He glared down at them. “This had better be good, Michael.” The figure, Aziraphale’s girlfriend, Gabriel supposed, stirred and groaned, but soon stilled. Gabriel crossed his arms and waited for Michael to start talking.

“Imagine. We have something that Aziraphale wants. We’ve never been able to bargain with him, and so he’s been able to do whatever he bloody well pleases down there, and She lets him. Well, not anymore. He’s going to start looking for her, and once he does, we can use her to reign him in. None of this…kerfuffle about the humans. We will finally be able to control him.” What a devastatingly appealing notion—taming this disaster of an Angel, whilst keeping him down on Earth for the time being. Gabriel was nearly sold, there was just one thing.

“What have you been doing to her? She looks…well, she looks awful.” At this, Michael sighed, directing their next statements towards the girl.

“Yes, that was mostly Sandalphon. You know how it gets carried away with these things, takes it right back to its glory days.” Gabriel jerked in shock.

“Sandalphon? You’ve been torturing her!” He watched in complete horror as Michael shrugged, that same ugly smile playing on the sides of their mouth.

“I’d also had the idea that since she spends so much time with Aziraphale, she might have picked up some information about the Demon Crowley as well. Sandalphon…volunteered.”

Freezing bursts of ice raced down his spine, making him shudder. Gabriel had never, ever been good with the thought of harming others, especially when he had to condone it. He would much rather send someone else to do it, rather than to have it on his own conscious. “Isn’t that what’s happening, though?” A voice whispered softly into his mind. “You won’t have to do anything, just know that damned Angel is out of your hair. And maybe even that demon, too”. Gabriel didn’t know where that voice had come from, but somewhere deep inside of him he knew that it was right. This was a perfect plan, and if Sandalphon got a little overzealous, well. At least it definitely wouldn’t kill her. Gabriel was pretty sure of that last part.

“Does anyone else know about this?” He asked.

“Only Uriel, and that’s only because she was there when I found the girl. I couldn’t kick her out now, and she can be so terribly useful sometimes.” Michael shifted their weight from one foot to the other and looked straight up at Gabriel. “So? What do you think?”

Gabriel paused. He still had doubts—the smear of blood on the woman’s arm made him want to gag—but something was pushing him to agree to this plan. His brain seemed to disconnect entirely from the rest of his body for a moment and he felt himself nod, even as he was trying to think of more questions to ask. His eyes trailed to the figure on the chair, lit only by that swinging light. There was only one answer he could give, would give.

“I like the way you think, Michael. Let’s give it a try.”

“So what, Aziraphale, you’ve had a nightmare—”

“Angels don’t have nightmares. We don’t even dream for Heaven’s sake!” Aziraphale interrupted, holding the phone to his ear so that he could wring his hands anxiously. As soon as he had awoken from his dream, he’d telephoned Crowley, hoping against hope that the demon would have some advice or comfort from him. He should have known better, but still. He sighed heavily.

“Not ever? Not even naughty dreams?” Crowley was teasing, but that didn’t stop Aziraphale from essentially blooming with a shockingly pink blush, traveling from the tips of his ears down to his neck and chest. He may not be of this world, but he had certainly been in it long enough to know what his terrible, awful, maddening friend was referring to. He refrained from sputtering indignantly, but only just.

“No. Not ever.” Aziraphale told him firmly, leaving no room for argument or further prodding. Crowley tsked but said nothing, thankfully. “Whatever it was, it means one thing and one thing only.”

“Which is?” Crowley drawled. Aziraphale bit his lip and looked down, the memory of that wretched place washing over him. The things he knew that Sandalphon wanted to do, that Michael would undoubtedly let it do, ignited the same fire from before in his bones.

“Y/N is in danger.”

Within moments, the two of them had appeared in front of the door to Y/N’s flat. Aziraphale had only been there a couple of times, so it still felt odd to be in her home. Well, he supposed that he wasn’t really in her home, not yet. That was going to change, if Crowley had any say in it, which he did. The demon knocked loudly on the door. No answer. He knocked again, twice as long and twice as loudly. No answer. Aziraphale’s heart had begun to pound in his chest, his fear and anxiety rolling in his belly. Although the logical part of him knew, without a doubt, that Y/N had been taken and that his dream had truly been a reflection of reality, some small sliver of himself wanted to ignore that and believe that she was safe, sleeping soundly in her warm bed.

After a third knock, Crowley was at the very end of his patience. He hissed, his forked tongue slipping out for the briefest of seconds before he shook his head.

“I smell angel, Angel.” Aziraphale nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. Supernatural beings give off a kind of energy that can be used to track them down, if need be. Each creature has their own, unique signature, and angels are no different. What Aziraphale had said to Michael in Crowley’s flat had been true: an Archangel’s trail was nearly impossible to miss. And here, in this hallway, though it was very faint, Aziraphale could definitely sense the presence of an Archangel. The two looked at each other, not even needing to communicate to know that they were both on the same page. Crowley lifted his hand and lazily waved it in the direction of the door’s lock, which promptly melted away, letting the door swing open into the apartment.

Aziraphale was not at all surprised at what he saw upon crossing the threshold. Everything was exactly how he had seen it on his last visit. Not a single piece of furniture was misplaced, no Knick-knacks broken. Everything was perfect.

Everything except for the long, almost blindingly-white wing feather lying on the rug in front of them. Crowley bent to give it a closer look, but Aziraphale could see it just fine from where he was standing. The white was run through with little streaks of silver, giving the owner of the feather away almost straight away.

It was Michael’s feather.

Crowley was in a rage. The thought that the angels could have taken Y/N, a person that he had grown to care for dearly over the past months, the only person aside from Aziraphale that he could call “friend”, turned his insides to acid. Time and space were rippling around him as he tried to control himself, but he could feel his true form slipping through. Without one word, he began to march out of the door, his hands itching to feel feathers being ripped apart. It had been a very long time since the War, but Crowley had yet to forget how it felt to kill. To truly decimate, not just bumble around with on Earth. He could taste the fire and brimstone. He was nearly to the door when he felt Aziraphale grab hold of his arm. Crowley spat and hissed at this ridiculous obstacle to his goal.

“Crowley. Stop.” Crowley shook his head in disbelief, refusing to believe what was happening.

“What the Heaven do you mean, ‘stop’?” He demanded, wrenching his arm out of Aziraphale’s grip. “Your guys have Y/N. They kidnapped her, Aziraphale. Don’t you want to get her back? I thought you loved her! You should be the one running after her, not me!” Crowley knew he was crossing all sorts of lines, but he didn’t give a damn. The angels had his friend. The angels were going to give her back or die. He watched Aziraphale close his eyes and take a deep breath. Somewhere, in the back of Crowley’s mind, he might have realized how close he had come to being discorporated in that moment. When Aziraphale reopened his eyes, Crowley was slightly startled to see how steely they had become. He hardly seemed to be the same person who melted over pictures of cute puppy dogs. In that moment, he saw a flash of how Aziraphale had been in the olden days, far before they had met each other. It was terrifying.

“Don’t you ever question my feelings for her again, do you hear me?” Crowley nodded, swallowing thickly. Aziraphale’s voice was low and dangerous, like nothing that Crowley had heard from him before. “Of course I love her. But as much as I want to find her and rip those bastard angels apart, you know we can’t. We must find the Antichrist, whatever happens, or none of this will matter at all. Michael did this on purpose, to get to me, to throw me off course, but I won’t let them. We will find the true Antichrist, we will stop Armageddon, and I will get Y/n back.”

The outburst had taken a lot of energy out of Aziraphale, and when he was done, his knees buckled and he fell back onto one of Y/N’s sofas, hands coming up to cover his face as he breathed deeply. Crowley could do nothing but watch his friend try to gather himself, processing what had just happened. That had sounded nothing like the Aziraphale that Crowley knew, but he had certainly understood where all of that had come from. Aziraphale was frightened, he was stressed and frustrated. There was too much going on for him to focus on the love of his life and Crowley knew that it must be eating him up inside. Aziraphale hadn’t told him exactly what he had seen, only that some high-up angels had taken Y/N someplace and had her tied up. He could imagine the rest, and he could tell that it was taking everything in his celestial friend not to drop everything to search for her. But he was right, of course he was. Correcting the mistake that had been made all those eleven years ago had to be the priority, because if they didn’t the would as they knew it would literally end. Aziraphale gave one last, great exhale and lowered his hands from his face. He looked older and more tired than Crowley had ever seen him.

“I think I know where the Antichrist might be, actually,” he informed Crowley listlessly.

And off they went.

Tag List:

@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @caligirl1992 @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen

PLEASE tell my if you want to be added/taken off/have asked before but I’m stupid so you don’t see your name here!!!!

#mine #Aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #crowley #good omens #One Monstrous Miracle #michael sheen #bad angels

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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FUCK

Are you telling me that in order to write this really epic love story between a Royal Reader and Darth Vader i will have to watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the cartoon series that I have been avoiding for years???? Is that what you’re telling me?????

#darth vader #star wars #darth vader imagine #darth vader x reader #clone wars #cw

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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Hello, Lovelies!

I hope everyone is having/will have a wonderful day! Unfortunately, I will probably not be updating Miracle today because I’m doing some packing for a long trip in addition to cleaning my house et cetera et cetera. I will, however, have plenty of time tomorrow to work on the next chapter, so if I haven’t posted anything by the end of today, then it will definitely come no later than tomorrow. Thank you for all your wonderful comments, they encourage me to no end.

--Jay

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@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @caligirl1992 @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen

#mine

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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Okay, I will be writing some daddy drac but first I need requests!! Please send me some Dracula requests (preferably drac x reader, but I will write almost anything)

Specifically, BBC Dracula x reader. I am working on my current WIPs, but I just binged the Netflix show and I’m all about daddy Drac.

#bbc dracula #bbc dracula x reader #dracula x reader #netflix dracula #netflix dracula x reader #claes bang #dracula imagine

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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One Monstrous Miracle (Part Five)

Okay. So. This one got away from me. It got unexpectedly dark, and I’m not sure how I feel about that but I’m going to post it and move on with the story. I am not a happy author about this chapter, for many reasons. Nevertheless, I love each and everyone of you and I hope you find it within you to enjoy this <3 (Pst! If you’d rather read on Ao3, here ya go!)

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!Reader

Summary: Michael takes some initiative. So does Sandalphon. Uriel is basically the emotional support nerd ig. Aziraphale has a nightmare. Reader does NOT have a good time.

Warnings: Okay listen closely. I have written a non-graphic description of a kidnapping, and subsequently a heavily-implied violence segment. I might be overstating or understating (please tell me if I am understating!), but I just want to keep you lovelies safe.

ALSO: This is NOT a warning, but while you’re here I might as well tell you that I have used they/them pronouns for Michael, and it/its pronouns for Sandalphon (from the script).

Word Count: 2730

(@gif, shits going down)

Michael was not stupid. They were not dimwitted, or blinded by heavenly goodness, or any of the things that they could very easily accuse their fellow celestial beings of…being. They had been paying the Angel Aziraphale very close attention these past millennia, and they had seen exactly what they had expected; the Angel had gone native. Worse than that, he had gone native and he was fraternizing with the enemy. THE enemy. El Numero Uno. The Demon Crowley.

Because Michael was none of the things mentioned above, they had quite a bit of room to be some other things, like cunning, vigilant, and good at waiting for just the right moment. They didn’t bring the aforementioned knowledge to Gabriel’s attention straight away for the sake of…strategy. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that the Archangel-Fucking-Gabriel wasn’t the only gosh darned Archangel around (and that’s with a capital ‘A’, thank you very much), and so there really was no pressing need for Michael to give the information in the first place, now that they thought about it. They could investigate on their own, build up a solid case, and then work from there. Maybe get some respect around the elitist promotion trap that was their Heavenly home. If only.

Michael enlisted Uriel, knowing that she would be invaluable when looking for documents or anything paper related. She had the memory for things exactly like that. Michael brought Sandalphon precisely because they knew that Aziraphale was still terrified of it after what happened at Sodom and Gomorrah. Together, they monitored Aziraphale’s every move—although the angel had somehow devised a way to keep the group from ever being able to overhear any of his traitorous conversations with the hated Crowley, they weren’t deterred in the slightest bit. They could follow the pair, take pictures, perhaps the odd selfie when the mood hit. Michael was building their case against Aziraphale, and it was only a matter of time.

Armageddon threw everything into quite a pretty mess, now didn’t it? Aziraphale was openly discussing his meetings with his “wily adversary”, reporting on the current status and whereabouts of the Antichrist (Warlock. What a revolting name). Things were starting to get fun for the first time in about a hundred years, and Michael simply didn’t have the time for their surveillance missions anymore. Not to mention that Gabriel was demanding that they all stay together as often as possible, which was a nightmare in and of itself. Michael was rather looking forward to the end of the world, not for the gargantuan blood bath that would ensue, as most of their angelic associates where no doubt panting for, but for the endless peace that comes after a job well done.

One day, when the Antichrist (still Warlock, despite Michael’s very best efforts) was 10, nearly 11, Michael noticed something very strange about the familiar bookshop that they and the rest of the group had been watching for the last couple of centuries. There was a woman, well-dressed (Michael assumed. Angels, proper Angels, that is, Aziraphale not included, have no real sense of human fashion), practically cantering down the pavement, apparently towards Aziraphale’s shop. “No, that can’t be right,” Michael thought to themselves. Although, thinking back, that woman did look strikingly familiar. So familiar, in fact, that—

“Uriel! Take a look at this.” Michael had rolled her rolly chair away from her workstation and towards the cubicle to the right of hers. Uriel popped her head around the weird, cloth divider separating their “offices” with a curious expression.

“Yes, Michael? What is it?” The other angel asked from her rolly chair. Michael gestured that she should roll her rolly chair into Michael’s cubicle.

“I’ve found something strange in the Eden files, take a look at it.” The Eden files was their special code name for anything pertaining to Aziraphale that was not, strictly, on the books. This strange something happened to be a livestream of the street where Aziraphale lived. The woman was getting closer to the shop, although not quite close enough to tell if that was, indeed, where she was going. Michael pointed the woman out to Uriel.

“Now. She looks awfully familiar to me.” Michael’s gaze drifted from their finger to Uriel sitting beside them. Uriel had her thinking face on, which could mean one of a million different things and by this point in their long, coworker relationship, Michael had learned to just let her think. Uriel frowned slightly, moved closer to the screen, tapped a single key on the keyboard in front of them on Michael’s desk, and rewound the feed. She paused it. Zoomed in. Michael wondered why it was so difficult for the Management to install some touchscreens on the ground floor, at least for the Archangels and Possibly a few of the Principalities. They’d seen inside of Gabriel’s office (Yes! A whole, bloody corner office with glass windows instead of walls so that he can survey the worker bees in their nest and not one but TWO whole touchscreens!), after all. Uriel snapped her fingers in front of Michael’s face.

“Michael? Were you listening?” Michael, as you know, had not been listening. At all.

“Of course, Uriel. What was that last bit, again?” Uriel sighed and pointed at the woman zeroed in on.

“She visits the shop almost every day. She might be important.” Michael leaned forward in their rolly chair, squinting at the grainy image despite the fact that every angel had perfect 100/100 eyesight. They hummed.

“Yes. I quite agree. Sandalphon?” They called out the name of the coworker whose cubicle stood on the left side of theirs. They heard the familiar sound of the rolly chair growing nearer until Sandalphon sat beside the two other angels. Michael pointed to the woman on the screen.

“Let’s keep an eye on her.” They all watched as Uriel unpaused and the woman entered the shop.

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They did not have to wait long for the woman to make another move. Only a few hours later, she was hurrying out of the doors, clutching onto her purse and…crying?

“He doesn’t hold on to them long, does he?” Sandalphon remarked, rubbing its forefinger across its teeth diamonds. Uriel giggled but sobered when Michael glared at her. This was not the time for making jokes. That woman was certainly a human woman, there was no doubt about that. Why was she spending so much time around Aziraphale? Why had she run sobbing from his shop? Was this like that holiday Aziraphale took with Alexander the Great? Michael very dearly hoped not—Aziraphale had positively ruined that poor boy.

“Keep your focus on that woman. We need to learn more about her.”

The kept the feed trained on her as she made her way home. She didn’t live too far from Aziraphale’s shop. But just far enough that walking was just slightly out of her way. Uriel, the more softhearted of the bunch of angels huddled around the screen, wondered whether they should miracle her a taxicab, but she was quickly shut down.

“What, and give ourselves away? Gabriel would have our halos!” Michael exclaimed, shifting in their chair. Once the woman was in the door, Michael cut the feed, gaining the attention of the others. They cleared their throat.

“Ahem. So. Not only has Aziraphale been seen consistently in the presence of known Demon Crowley, but he also appears to have developed some sort of relationship with a…mortal woman. Once again, Aziraphale proves that he does not have the strength required to walk among them. Instead, he cavorts with them, befriends them—”

“Runs a bookshop,” Sandalphon growled helpfully. Michael nodded appreciatively.

“—and runs a bookshop. Clearly, he is no longer fit for his position.”

“That’s all well and good, Michael, but he can’t be removed from said position. Only the Almighty can deal with that level of personnel change.” Uriel reminded them calmly. Michael sighed deeply.

“I know that. We all know that. The only problem is something must be done about it. Aziraphale can no longer be allowed to continue this way. It’s heinous.” All the angels nodded their head in mutual agreement. They all tried to think of something they could do, but nothing seemed to jump out at anyone. It stayed like this for a few long moments before suddenly, Sandalphon gasped loudly, startling the other two.

“I know!” it said. “The girl. She’s important to him, right?” Uriel scoffed.

“She did just run from his shop in tears, Sandalphon, did you miss that part?” It was unfazed by Uriel’s goading.

“Exactly. It’s Aziraphale! He’s so soft, he’ll go groveling for her forgiveness within a fortnight. And when he does…”

“They’ll make up with each other. Where are you going with this?” Michael interjected impatiently, not in the mood for idle chatter. Sandalphon grinned, its teeth glinting in the Holy light.

“We kidnap her. Get us in Gabriel’s good books, get some information, and, of course, to scare powe ickle bitty Aziwaphawe. Perfect plan.”

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It was not, as it happens, the Perfect Plan. However, credit is due where credit is due, and that credit goes to Sandalphon for thinking of a Nearly-Perfect Plan. It would have been the Perfect Plan had Aziraphale and that blasted woman not been so stubborn and stayed apart for so long. The days until the Antichrist’s birthday were slowly running out, and the time during which the angels could execute said plan was drawing thin. Thankfully, the two made up just in the nick of time, so it had worked out in the end.

The trio had made the trip to Crowley’s flat, knowing that they would find Aziraphale there. Aziraphale had been flustered, but his story about checking about in the demon’s abode appeared to check out. Michael refused to take their eyes off of him the entire time. After they miracled away, they appeared in an alleyway not far from the woman’s home, and on her usual route. Michael had decided, because Michael was a little bit of an ass at times, to make the mystery just a smudge more difficult by abducting the woman outside of the home BUT simultaneously leaving a single, white wing feather on the floor of her locked flat. It really was quite devious for such a pure-hearted creature. Hmm.

The kidnapping went swimmingly. Uriel snuck up behind the woman, Sandalphon had thrown the bag over her head, and once everything was settled (or as settled as can be with a kicking and struggling woman in tow), Michael miracle them into a top-secret location. I’m afraid that I, as the author, am not at liberty to disclose the location of the following events, because of course I’d have to kill you afterwards, and I’d rather not do that.

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Angels do not have dreams. Angels cause dreams in other people, they take away dreams from other people, and they may, upon occasion, serve as conduits for messages from the Almighty, which often appear to other people as dreams. But Angels themselves do not dream. Except for Aziraphale, evidently, whose subconscious had decided to do away with the natural order of things to just…you know…spice it up a little. Aziraphale frowned deeply in his sleep and rolled over, sniffling.

He was in a corridor. There were no lights, only a faint glow that seemed to come from nowhere at all. There was one door, ahead of him, but the rest of the corridor was bare, empty grey concrete. He began to move towards the door, but the corridor seemed to get longer the closer he got, until he was nearly running, trying to make some progress down the hall but never moving one inch.

The scene changed, the corridor erupting into grey and black smoke that smelt faintly of saltwater taffy. The scene reconstructed itself as a square room lit with an old-fashioned lightbulb swinging slowly back and forth from the ceiling. There was a figure shivering on a metal chair in the center of the room, hands tied behind their back and a sack over their head. Aziraphale heard whimpering from the figure and made to rush over to help them but he found that his feet were rooted to the ground, as though someone had glued them straight to the floor. Aziraphale looked up from his shoes and gasped.

Surrounding the figure were Michael, Uriel, and Sandalphon. Michael stood directly in front of the figure, bending over slightly. Sandalphon stood directly behind the figure, fingers grasping at the sack. Uriel stood apart from them both, in the corner opposite to Aziraphale. Michael made a motion at Sandalphon and it yanked the sack off of the person’s head to reveal—

Y/N. Eyes red from crying, hair a mess, makeup smudged and beyond repair. Aziraphale felt his heart stop beating. What the hell was going on? Was this some kind of joke? A voice, nagging at the edge of his consciousness told him that no, it was not a joke. Aziraphale struggled against whatever was holding his feet down with renewed vigor. He stopped when he heard your voice, hoarse and trembling. It broke him to hear you like that.

“W-who are you? What do you w-want from me?” You coughed, and Aziraphale felt a miracle dance along the tip of his fingers. He would make you well again, he would heal whatever has happened to you. You continued. “I have m-money if that’s it! It’s n-not m-m-much but—”

“Silly girl, we don’t want your money.” Came Sandalphon’s voice.

“Mmm, that’s right.” Michael responded. They leaned in closer to you, and you sank deeper into the chair to escape them. “What we want is information.”

“Wh-What? What information? I don’t- “

“What do you know of the Angel Aziraphale?” Azriaphale’s blood went cold. He had been so close to telling you himself! After all of the Armageddon mess was straightened out, he had promised himself, he would march right up to you and tell you the truth. But not now! Not when he couldn’t be there to explain, when you were hurting, being hurt, tied up like some criminal. A noise horribly like a snarl erupted from Aziraphale’s throat, startling him. Was he truly invisible in this room? After a couple of seconds of pure terror, Aziraphale’s pulse began to slow and he realized that this was most likely a vision dream, a message from someone showing him something that was either already happening, or about to happen. He prayed to anyone who would listen that it was neither of those two options.

“I swear I don’t know!” The sound of your terrified voice brought him back. Sandalphon laughed its ugly laugh and Michael chuckled.

“Should we really be doing this, Michael?” Uriel inquired softly from her spot in the corner. Aziraphale was sure he was just projecting his terror onto her, but he thought he could almost see a hint of concern in her deep black eyes. Michael just shook their head.

“It’s not as though she’ll have very long to remember it, will she?” At this, your body seized in horror, eyes open wide in shock. Fresh tears were streaming down your cheeks. Aziraphale wanted to burn this room to the ground.

“Are…are you going to kill me?” you whispered through your crying. Aziraphale held his breath to listen for the answer:

“Oh, dear me, of course not. Do you know how much paperwork that would be? Oh no. Definitely not killing you. As long as you give us the information we need.” Came Michael’s reply.

Aziraphale felt that old rage bubble up inside him, and his sword hand itched, as though the missing sword were a missing limb instead. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists. He would not debase himself in such an appalling manner. He had grown since those days, and he would not be brought to his knees by a dream.

“I told you, I don’t know anything!” you pleaded desperately. The room was beginning to fade away, smoke swirling at the edges, illuminated by the swinging bulb. Aziraphale cried out, reaching out for you only to be met with empty air.

“Oh, we’ll see about that, now, won’t we?”

The last thing Aziraphale heard before waking was the sound of Michael’s laughter.

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

Text

One Monstrous Miracle (Part Four)

Hey guys! I’d meant to get this out earlier today, but I’d also meant for it to be about 3,000 words shorter, so there we are. As always, give this chapter a cheeky little vibe check, and let me know if you find any mistakes! I love you all, enjoy, all those good things. Yay, melatonin! (Pssst! Also, if you’d rather read on Ao3 instead, here it is).

Previous-Next-First

Pairing: Aziraphale/Human!reader

Summary: Tender ANGST. Very angsty, might make you cry, i dunno.

Warnings: Aziraphale says a word that Microsoft Word told me may offend my readers, but other than that, I think we’re good. Let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: A WHOPPING 5295!! They’re getting loooooooonger.

This day, like many days, started off deceptively the same as always. Aziraphale had gotten up on the right side of the bed, the weather was not particularly noteworthy, and there was no string of minor accidents that would lead anyone to believe that this was going to be a Very Bad Day Indeed. Nevertheless, unbeknownst to most parties involved, this day was, in fact, going to be a Very Bad Day Indeed, possibly even The Worst Day Ever.

Aziraphale had been feeling happier than he could remember ever having been in his whole life. After you had shown up in his shop after weeks of not speaking to him, the two of you had spent very little time apart. You had resumed your habit of stopping by after work, much to Aziraphale’s great relief. He had missed you dearly, and he was enormously grateful that you had found it in your heart to forgive him. He shuddered when he thought of that night, remembering how terrified you had looked. Aziraphale had truly never felt quite as angry as he had when Crowley had insulted you, and it brought him right back to his younger days as a fiery agent of the Lord, smiting all who dared to cross Her. He had locked that part of him away, and until that fight with Crowley, he had all but forgotten about it. He’d decided very firmly that you would never again see him like that.

Today, Crowley had demanded that Aziraphale come over to his flat to make what he called an “Apocalypse Plan”. Things were getting rather sticky lately, and their search for the true Antichrist seemed fruitless. It was time, Crowley said, to bring out the “big guns”. What those guns were Aziraphale had no idea, but he could only hope that it wasn’t anything too drastic. He had just bought his new coat, after all. He’d made a quick call to you before closing his shop and heading over to Crowley’s.

“I’m terribly sorry my dear, but I’m afraid I don’t know when I’ll be home. Crowley is rather—”

“Difficult. I know, Azi, it’s okay. Take your time.”

Warmth bloomed over Aziraphale, and he couldn’t help the tender smile that worked its way across his face. You were so full of understanding, something that he’d had precious few encounters with during his time on Earth. As much as he loved humans and all their little quirks and flaws, it sometimes bothered him that for most of his life, he had been completely alone. Sure, there was Crowley, and he was absolutely infuriating but somehow endearing, but he was a demon, after all. There were fundamental things that they just would never understand about each other, no matter how long they’d been friends. You were different. You accepted Aziraphale, never questioning him or teasing him (of course you teased him, but never about his weight, or his obsession with books, or how the noises he made when eating sushi) or making him feel the way that the other angels invariably did. It was one of the many reasons he’d found he loved you for.

“Thank you, Y/N. I will call you if I get back earlier than I expect.”

“Thanks, Aziraphale. Have fun with Crowley! Give him my love.”

That was another thing. Aziraphale had been terrified that after such a disastrous first meeting, you would hate Crowley. Somehow, the exact opposite had happened, and after the two of you had gotten used to each other’s presence, you’d become fast friends. Aziraphale hadn’t realized how close the two of you had gotten until Crowley had yanked him into the back room of his shop one night and given him the sternest dressing-down the demon could probably muster, and promised that Aziraphale would regret ever having been created if he hurt you again. “Aren’t you meant to be on my side, dear boy?” Aziraphale had asked bemusedly, feeling very wrongfooted. “Oh, I am. I’ve already talked to her, she’s good. I just need to make sure that you don’t fuck this up, Angel.” Aziraphale had, through his tears, assured him that he had no intention of intentionally hurting you as long as you would have him (as a friend, of course).

“I will. See you soon, my dear.”

“See you. Bye!”

Aziraphale hung up, already missing the sound of your voice. He shut the lights off and headed out of the shop, locking the door behind him. Although he was a celestial being, and most definitely could make himself appear at Crowley’s door with little more than a thought, he found he enjoyed taking public transport. It was blessedly slower than riding in Crowley’s car, and it allowed him time to sit and watch the people around him. Aziraphale found himself strangely emotional as he looked around him at all the advances humans had made over the thousands of years he had walked among them. All the subtleties, the headphones in a young man’s ears, a little girl reading a book half the size of her head, a woman applying hand sanitizer. All these things made his heart ache with admiration. Yes, despite all the atrocities that humanity had perpetuated, Aziraphale knew that the vast majority of them were worth saving. He shifted in his seat, waiting for his stop.

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Aziraphale hadn’t expected the absolute destruction that awaited him when Crowley opened his door twenty minutes later. Papers were littered everywhere, plastered on the wall, hanging from bits of string from the ceiling, and covering nearly every surface in the flat, including much of the floor. Aziraphale tilted his head, surveying the inexplicable damage.

“Are you…quite alright, dear boy?” Aziraphale inquired as Crowley shut the door behind him. Crowley came to stand beside him, and Aziraphale took the opportunity to look his friend over.

Crowley had always been obsessed with his appearance, even in the early days when self-grooming hadn’t quite been invented yet. Crowley was even worse than Aziraphale himself was at times, which was truly frightening. Today, however, seemed to be rather a large exception to the rule. Not one item on the demon’s body matched, even down to his feet, the left of which sported a thick, woolly sock, while the other was covered with bright green fabric with miniature snakes all over. “At least he’s wearing trousers,” Aziraphale thought gratefully. Crowley turned his wild and un-sunglassed eyes towards Aziraphale, and he quickly retracted his gratefulness. The day was not over yet.

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I’m perfectly fine, nothing to worry about. Shall we sit?”

Aziraphale stared, feeling the gears turning almost painfully in his head. What on Earth had happened to Crowley? He had never acted this way, even during the chaos of the witch trials of the 16th and 17th centuries. He seemed…unhinged. As most people are no doubt aware, and if not, they can at the very least assume, an unhinged demon is a very dangerous demon. Aziraphale could do nothing but watch his friend as he pranced over to the desk at the center of the room, trying desperately to think of his next course of action. Crowley gestured impatiently at him and Aziraphale had no choice but to acquiesce. He was nearly to the desk when he was distracted by the sound of rustling leaves in the next room. He tilted his head, listening. His lips pursed in response to what he heard.

“Crowley, I’ve told you before that you simply must take better care of these creatures!” Aziraphale gasped, forgetting everything else. Crowley clicked his forked tongue dismissively.

“They’re just plants, Angel, I don’t understand why you’re always so concerned about them. And I don’t see any problems with them, anyway. Look at how green they are!” Aziraphale could tell that he had directed that last part to the plants, because they all gave a collective, terrified shudder. Aziraphale sighed in resignation and turned to the poor things, cooing and soothing their frayed nerves.

“Don’t mind him, my dears. You’re all lovely, no matter what the evil demon says—”

“I can hear you!”

Aziraphale ignored Crowley in favor of sending cool, calming thoughts to the plants. He didn’t leave them until their leaves stopped trembling. Feeling very satisfied with himself, Aziraphale turned back to the desk. He strode over and sat at one of the (significantly less ornate than Crowley’s own “throne”) chairs, shifting uncomfortably. He waited for Crowley to start explaining himself.

“As you know, the Antichrist is…missing—”

“You could, possibly, skip that bit seeing as we both know this part of the problem,” Aziraphale interjected. He was the very epitome of patience at the best of times, but this was decidedly not the best of times, and he was quite eager to fix this mistake that was all Crowley’s fault and had absolutely no connection to Aziraphale whatsoever. The fate of the world as we know it was at stake, after all. Crowley huffed, clearly upset that Aziraphale had cut off his carefully practiced speech, but Aziraphale really couldn’t find it in him to care (This was a lie: Aziraphale cared a great deal).

“Fine.” Crowley hissed. He opened his mouth to say more, but he was interrupted by insistent knocking at the door.

Silence. Neither of them moved a muscle, staring wide-eyed at each other. Nothing happened for a moment, but then the knocks came again, louder than before. Aziraphale barely kept himself from letting out a pathetic whimper, earning him a deathly glare. Aziraphale started bouncing his leg, trying to resist the urge to open the door. As an angel, it was just not in his character to ignore someone, no matter the context. Crowley knew this about him and was trying to ease his anxiety.

“C’mon angel, leave it be. They’ll leave. It’s probably some teenager trying to sell magazine subscriptions.” Crowley thought at the angel. He knew immediately that he had used the wrong words because Aziraphale’s expression turned into one he knew well—it was the exact one he wore when complaining about how Crowley treated his plants. Aziraphale’s eyes were so full of compassion it nearly made the demon gag with its intensity.

“The poor child! They’re probably selling to provide for their family, or the like. Oh, Crowley, you know I can’t leave them out there!”

Before Crowley could stop him, Aziraphale had jumped up from his chair and was rushing towards the door. A feeling of growing doom washed over him as Aziraphale disappeared behind the wall separating the front door from the rest of the flat. Something was horribly wrong.

Perhaps because he hadn’t been paying enough attention, or because his mind had been so preoccupied with the vision of the poor, snotty-nosed, raggedy youth swimming in his mind, but whatever it was, Aziraphale hadn’t picked up on the same ominous feeling as his demonic counterpart. Guileless, Aziraphale turned the doorknob and swung open the door. The sight that greeted him turned his stomach to lead and set his heart beating faster than it had the right to even think about working. He schooled his features into his usual, easy going smile, all the while thinking desperately at Crowley from across the flat.

“It’s angels. Stay quiet.”

“Michael! And Uriel.” There was a flash of diamond-studded teeth, and Aziraphale felt his throat constrict. “And, ah, Sandalphon. What a surprise! W-What brings you here, exactly?”

“We could ask you the same thing, Aziraphale,” Michael responded, a terrifying glint in their eyes. “It is rather odd to find you here, of all places.” Aziraphale had no idea what to do. He had been caught out, finally, after all these millennia, and he was going to be discorporated, or worse, and there was nothing he could do about it. He was finished. He would never eat sushi again, never dance the gavotte, never see Y/N—

“Here? Whatever do you mean?” Aziraphale inquired, trying to look as innocent as a very clearly guilty person could. Sandalphon snarled but Michael silenced him with a look.

“Here as in the known residence of the demon Crowley, the very same Crowley that you have been providing reports on for last 200,000 years. How very interesting that we would find you here, in his home.” Uriel had always had such a knack for quiet intimidation, and she used it now. Aziraphale gulped, shifting from one foot to the other. He had to think of something, and quickly. Sandalphon broke from the group and moved closer to Aziraphale, so close that Aziraphale nearly went cross-eyed looking down his nose at the shorter being. The angel sniffed at his coat, taking one of the worn lapels and rubbing it in between his clawed fingers.

“Hmm. Smells evil.” He stepped back into rank, glaring at Aziraphale. Aziraphale swallowed hard, praying for strength.

“Well, ah, that would be because…” He trailed off, wracking his brain for anything, literally anything, to tell them. As they were essentially Gabriel’s innermost circle of confidantes in Heaven, Aziraphale knew that if he let them leave this place thinking that he had been working with the enemy instead of against, that would be the end of everything.

“What’s going on?” He heard Crowley thinking at him.

“Shut up! And stay that way.” He could feel Crowley’s indignation, but he obeyed.

“’Because’ what, Aziraphale?” Michael demanded. Aziraphale looked between the three angels, and suddenly, out of nowhere, the words flooded into his mind.

“Because I was doing surveillance!” Aziraphale blurted before he’d had the chance to think about it. The angels frowned, skeptical.

“Surveillance?” Uriel repeated, sharing a look with Michael. Aziraphale nodded, feeling his heartrate slow as his anxiety left him.

“Surveillance, my friends. I have been monitoring Crowley’s actions more closely since the birth of the Antichrist. I decided to have a bit of a peek around here to see if he had any…”

“Information?” Sandalphon supplied.

“That’s the ticket! Information. Unfortunately, you arrived not long after I did, so I haven’t been able to find anything of note just yet—”

“Well, then, let us help you, Aziraphale!” Michael interrupted, moving to push past him into the flat. Aziraphale grabbed their arm, keeping them from moving any further. “What in—”

“Crowley can’t sense my presence, with me being but lowly principality in comparison to you. You, being an Archangel, I can imagine that even Crowley would be able to tell if you’d been in his flat. Your imminence.” Aziraphale saw the slight blush that appeared on Michael’s face at his words. They had always been a bit of a narcissist, and the fastest way into their good spirits would always be cheap and simply flattery. They stepped back, straightening their blazer and clearing their throat.

“That is true. Even so low a demon as Crowley would be able to sense my power. Very well, then, Aziraphale, I’ll leave you to it. But know that we” they gestured to their companions. Uriel smirked at him while Sandalphon grinned, showing off his sparkling, sharpened teeth. “are watching you.”

With that, the three of them vanished. Aziraphale was left in corridor alone, still trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Slowly he realized that the taste of miracles lingered in his mouth, dancing on the tip of his tongue. This was no ordinary miracle, however. This miracle tasted of mana, of saltwater taffy and just a hint of last week’s winning lottery numbers. How odd. Aziraphale spun around and raced back into the flat to relay everything to Crowley.

“So your people are onto us. Of course it would happen now, of all times. We’ve just gotta be more careful…Angel? What’s wrong?” Crowley had caught sight of the expression on Aziraphale’s face; one of complete and utter despair, like all his dreams had come crashing down around him all at once. Alarmed, the demon pushed out of his chair and came closer to his friend. “Hey, it’s not that bad, we’ve prepared for this—”

“Y/N.” Aziraphale lifted his head to look Crowley in the eye. “She’s in danger. If they’ve been watching me, then they know about her and if they don’t already, they will know soon enough.” Crowley slumped, knowing it was true. He also knew what Aziraphale was about to do next.

“I can’t see her anymore.” If Crowley had had a heart, it would have broken into a million tiny pieces at the raw despair in the Angel’s voice. He knew how you both felt about each other, and how, after spending all that time apart, having to break off your growing relationship off once again would destroy both of you. He said nothing. “They will kill her, Crowley.”

“I know.” Neither of them said anything after that. Aziraphale took a deep, shuddering breath, opened his mouth as if to talk, but then shut it again. Crowley put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“But I also know that if you push her away like this, after what happened before, she might not come back,” When Aziraphale met his eyes, he knew that that didn’t matter to the Angel. He loved you so much that keeping you safe meant more to him than being near you. Crowley gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze and nodded.

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You were running late, not that it truly mattered. Aziraphale had called you an hour ago to tell you that he had, in fact, gotten home from Crowley’s earlier than expected and that you could come over for a spot of cocoa if you wished. You had spent almost 45 minutes trying to get dressed. For whatever reason, you’d decided to try and look nice for a change, rather than your usual scrubs or wrinkled work clothes. A random idea had popped into your head, making you wonder how Aziraphale would react to seeing you in make up for the first time. So, wearing one of your nicest blouses and skirts with your least favorite pair of achy heels, you were speed walking down Aziraphale’s street. The familiar feeling of butterflies in your belly increased in intensity the closer you got to the shop. Maybe today was the day you would finally tell him how you truly felt about him. Then again, maybe it wasn’t.

You weren’t expecting to see Aziraphale standing in the middle of the main room of the shop. Usually he was off in the back or upstairs even, but it was rare to see him out front. Especially when he wasn’t shelving books, which he definitely wasn’t. You frowned, closing the door behind you and moving to stand in front of him. There was something…off about the man today, something that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but you knew it was there regardless.

“Azi, wha—”

“Hello, Y/N. May I get you some of that cocoa?” Aziraphale started, as though you’d never opened your mouth. You could tell that something was well and truly wrong now—Aziraphale didn’t have an impolite bone in his body. He would never cut you off when you were trying to speak. Your frown deepened as you tried to look him in the eyes, but he stared resolutely at a point just above your head.

“No, Aziraphale, what’s the matter?” He tilted his head to the side, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked down at you.

“’The matter’? Nothing’s the matter. Everything is fine, my dear.” He paused. You watched as his expression, already more shuttered that you had ever seen it, darken even further, making his face go blank. You were shocked. You had never seen Aziraphale like this, and you had no idea what had happened to make him so…angry? You couldn’t tell. All you could do was wait for him to continue.

A war was raging inside of Aziraphale, as it had been for the last few hours. A million possibilities floated around his mind, each one more ludicrous than the last. He could tell you that he was going on holiday and that you would see him in oooh…never because the world was doomed to end within the year. He could tell you that an old relation had passed away and that he needed to go home to Wales to settle the…whatever it was that humans settled when a loved one died. He could tell you the truth, that he loved you too much to keep you, that he was of the second-highest choir of angels and that some very bad angels were hunting for his golden blood as you spoke. Or he could say nothing, invite you upstairs for some telly and cuddling and continue living in this little bubble that the two of you have lovingly and tenderly created for yourselves. You could go on living in happiness…until, of course, Gabriel found out and smote you quite dead. The thought sent a trail of ice racing down his spine. He shook his head violently. Crowley’s lie it was, then.

“Actually, there is something that I need to speak with you about.” On instinct, your had shot out and reached for his but he pulled his hand back out of your reach. Hurt, you stared at him in shock. What the hell was happening? Was he breaking up with you? Not that the two of you were in a real relationship just yet, but after your talk, after everything, was this the end? Before it had even started? You refused to believe that your Azi could be so cruel.

“I…I can’t. I can’t do this.” Came the harsh nail in the coffin of your dreams. Tears sprang to your eyes but you held them back valiantly. Aziraphale could see them, trembling on your bottom eyelid, threatening to fall and to ruin this whole thing. His next words came out in a hurry, as though he was afraid if he didn’t say them quickly, he wouldn’t say them at all. Perhaps that was true.

“This. Us.” He gestured between the two of you. “Its…superfluous. I’m done with it and I am done with you. You were convenient, naieve and willing at a time when I was bored and lonely. That’s over now, and so is this. You can’t come to the shop anymore. Don’t call me because I won’t answer the phone. We’re done.”

Now, it is important that you know that angels don’t need to breathe. Well, perhaps that is a bit extreme. They do breathe, they have working cardiorespiratory systems that pump their golden blood throughout their bodies, just not with the same frequency as other life forms. In fact, an angel can hold their breath for years, which you may take anyway you wish. But in this moment, Aziraphale struggled to draw breath. As he watched the tears fall down your cheeks, ruining the liner and mascara that you had no doubt spent a great deal of time perfecting, he knew that there was no coming back from this. You would leave him, you would grow to hate him, if you didn’t already. He would never see you again.

But at least he knew you would be safe.

Aziraphale turned, unable to torture himself any further by watching you cry in front of him and not doing anything about it. His fingers itched to take you into his arms and hold you, to take back everything he had just said, but he restrained himself. This was how it had to be. He squared his shoulders, speaking without turning back,

“I’m sure you can show yourself out.” That was it. The last time he would ever lay eyes on you and he couldn’t even bring himself to look you in the eye. Gabriel was right, he had always been right. God had made some terrible mistake, appointing him a Principality. “Angel of the Eastern Gate” his divine bollocks. More like sniveling, fat coward who fails at everything and—

Aziraphale looked down to see your hand, smaller and softer than his own, covering his. He frowned at it, his grief-addled brain taking longer than normal to come up with an explanation. Surely you had stormed out of the shop in angry tears, vowing to hate the thought of him forever. How could your hand be here, slipping its fingers through his and intertwining themselves together as though they belonged that way? He turned his head, seeing that your hand was, in fact, connected to your arm, which was, surprise upon surprise, connected to you. You were still there, blotchy faced and bright-eyed, but still there, standing in his shop, stubbornly refusing to leave even after he had said all those terrible things to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, feeling faint headed.

“Do you hate me?” You asked, feeling very brace. Aziraphale turned around to face you fully, unable to believe what you had just asked him.

“No! Not—”

“Did I do something to offend you? Or to make you angry with me?” Aziraphale shook his head. He had to force you to leave him, but he found that he couldn��t let you leave thinking that he felt those awful things about you.

“Then why are you doing this to me? Is someone forcing you for whatever reason. Just tell me the truth, Azi,” At this, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I will try to understand.”

And it was then, that Aziraphale finally understood. Of course you would . You were kind, and patient, and the most forgiving soul he had ever met on Earth. Of course you would see through his veneer and into his true self, the one that called out to you even as he tried to push you away. He didn’t say anything at first, trying to filter his words and find the right things to say. Being as perfect as you always were, you stood there, eagerly waiting but not pushing. He did not deserve you in his life. He stepped forwards, bringing his free hand to grasp your other hand. He brought them up to his chest, resting over his heart.

“Alright. Alright, I am going to tell you something, but I cannot explain, and I cannot tell you anything more than what I am about to say. You must promise me that you won’t ask any questions until I tell you to.” “When will that be?” Aziraphale cracked a small smile, but it melted away as soon as it had appeared.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, my dear. But you must trust me. Please.” He could see the familiar fire of defiance in your eyes as you hesitated to respond. But once again, he stood in awe as you nodded.

“Yes. Of course I trust you, Azi. Tell me what’s wrong.” He was not able to stop himself from bending his neck to press a grateful kiss to your hands. You gasped quietly but said nothing. He began.

“Thank you. You’ve no idea how much that means to me. I’ll get straight to it: being with me puts you in a very real, very serious sort of danger. Know that I wouldn’t dream of putting you through all of this unless it was so serious. I cannot bear the thought that your life may be in danger because of me.” He paused, watching your face, trying to figure out what you were thinking. He could read your mind, of course, but that would be terribly improper. Instead, he had to deal with this the hard way—difficult conversation.

“So…my life is in danger?”

“When you are with me, yes. I am truly sorry, Y/N. I wish things were different. I find that I…” He trailed off, caught in your beloved gaze, and he found that he could no longer hold back. Not when this was the last time he would be with you. It was now or never, and never was certainly not a legitimate option. “I find that I have fallen in love with you. Yes. I…I love you, Y/N, and that is exactly why I must keep you as far away from me as I can. I need you to be safe, and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me.”

Your face did the most extraordinary thing. For a second, you stared at Aziraphale, understandably overwhelmed with all of this new information he had thrown at you. He waited, as courteous as ever, for you to piece it all together. When you did, your face bloomed into the most radiant smile Aziraphale had ever seen. His heart leapt in his chest at the sight, so wholly unprepared for something so beautiful.

“I understand. I really do understand, Aziraphale.” You said, inexplicably. Aziraphale felt on the verge of tears as he looked at you and saw that you were telling the truth. Hope flooded him, fierce and intense, and for the first time in hours, he thought that maybe he didn’t have to lose you forever. Maybe this wasn’t goodbye. You kept going. “I can’t say that this doesn’t hurt, because it does. Because…I love you too. I have done for months and I’ve always been too afraid to tell you. But I might as well tell you now, so you don’t go moping around without me.” You both chuckled at that. You stayed still for a few moments, drinking in this last bit of time together for the foreseeable future. You knew it couldn’t last, however much you wanted it to, and so eventually, you pulled your hands gently out of his and took a step back.

“So this is goodbye, I suppose?” You asked, already missing his warmth. He nodded, feeling much the same way.

You stood and watched each other, trying to commit the other’s face to memory. Neither of you knew when you would be seeing each other again. Impulsively, you sprung forwards, startling Aziraphale with your sudden movement towards him. He wasn’t sure what you were up to, but he found out almost instantaneously, as he felt your soft lips press a small kiss against his cheeks. Heat rushed through his body, but he was able to control himself—barely. He blinked stupidly as you pulled away, smiling mischievously at him. You were still very close to him, so close that he could see the flecks of gold in your eyes that he adored so much. You fidgeted with his coat, and Aziraphale had to keep himself from wincing at the thought that you were fingering the same place that Sandalphon had earlier. He let you continue, content to watch and wait. You eventually did what you had set out to do, which was straighten his lapels and collar, and you patted his chest in satisfaction. You sighed and looked up at him.

“Come back to me, Azi, okay?” Aziraphale’s hands came up, entirely of their own volition, to grip tightly around her waist in response.

“Of course I will! I promise, my love, I will come back to you once all of this…kerfuffle is over.”

A little while later, you were leaving, turning, walking out of the bookshop and away from Aziraphale.

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“There she is!”

“Hush, you’ll get us caught!”

“Sorry, I’m just so…”

“I know. One my mark…now!”

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“Authorities are asking for anyone who has any information about the possible whereabouts of the missing person to please call 999. Can you repeat that information for our listeners, Bob?”

“Of course, Janet. Her name is Y/N L/N, and she is believed to have been kidnapped on her way home late last night. Please, keep both her and her family and friends in your prayers tonight.”

“Thank you, Bob. Now on to the weather. Sue?”

Tag List:

@chelsfic @lordbeezyprinceofhell @bi-andreadyto-cry @petalduck @dreamerkim @stripedbugs @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @caligirl1992

PLEASE tell me if you want to be added/taken off/have asked before but I’m stupid and I never added you!!!

#mine #aziraphale x reader #Aziraphale #crowley #michael sheen #good omens #One Monstrous Miracle

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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someone, reading my writing: wow great story!

me, sticking my hands in the plotholes: thanks it has pockets :)

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

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Hello Lovelies!

I know I’ve been in and out on this blog, but I want to assure everyone that I am still here and still ready to write!! In an effort to be more regular and to hopefully write more fics, I’ve decided to try out a new writing schedule. On Tuesdays and Fridays, I’ll be updating any WIPs I have (right now that means One Monstrous Miracle, a Good Omens reader insert that you should totally check out if you haven’t already). On Wednesday, I’ll post one shots or the like. I have a couple of one shot ideas lined up but I need more ideas!! Please PLEASE request stuff, either from fandoms I’ve written for already or from those on my fandom masterlist.

I’ll be updating Miracle later today, just FYI ❤️

#mine #good omens #doctor who #one monstrous miracle #game of thrones #harry potter

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i-write-and-therefore-i-am · 4 years

Text

Long Day

Pairing: Twelfth Doctor x Reader

Warnings: I don’t see any here!

Summary: The Doctor’s spouse has had a very long day and comes home to the TARDIS. Little bit of angst, hopefully a lot a bit of fluff.

Word Count: 1,122

Notes: I LOVED writing this! If you all want me to write more Twelve x Reader, please request!!! I also write for a multitude of other fandoms, which you can see here, in this ever-growing list. I am open to writing ships as well as reader-inserts!

(PS: I tried to make this gender-neutral, so if you find any mistakes in that department, PLEASE let me know! I want my stories to be as accessible as possible to everyone who wishes to read them, regardless of who they are or how they identify <3.)

You stepped into the TARDIS, and all the tension that you had been holding throughout the entire day seemed to melt away, leaving you exhausted and somewhat empty it its absence. The TARDIS hummed in sympathy, and your lips quirked upwards in something that could only be described as an attempt at a smile. Normally you would’ve stayed to at least say hello, but not today. You ventured further into the one place that you had ever truly thought of as your home, wondering where its main occupant was.

You didn’t have to wonder for long, the faint sound of his electric guitar leading you up the stairs and deeper into the machine. Despite how big the TARDIS was, you weren’t worried about getting lost—you knew that she would never trick you, and that was enough. The music slowly got louder, and you were able to identify it as a song he had played a few times before. It was a slow, somber number, one that he had once told you was written for a girl he had forgotten a long time ago.

Your quest led you to the bedroom that you shared with the Doctor. You wanted to stand outside the door for a moment and just listen to your husband play, but it seemed that he was, once again, ahead of you. He stopped playing the moment you stopped walking. You sighed, knowing what was coming next. Sure enough, the sound of footsteps followed, and the door opened, revealing the Doctor and his guitar. He stood there, staring at you and you stared back, not in the mood for small talk. He sighed.

“You look awful.” He stated, no room for disagreement. Not that you would’ve disagreed; he was probably right. You certainly did feel awful enough, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to hear it said so bluntly.

“Thanks, love.” He didn’t respond, instead, he leaned his guitar against the wall and reached out with his other hand to pull you through the door into the bedroom. He shut the door behind you, dropping your hand and striding over to the dresser.

“Sit on the bed.” He ordered, not looking back at you.

On any other day, you would’ve given him shit for this, but today was not any other day and you were just so, incredibly tired. You sat down obediently, watching him tinker with something that you couldn’t see. You heard the sonic go off and then soft, soothing music filled the room. He spun around, clearly more than pleased with himself. When you could barely twist your mouth in response, his grin dropped, and you could see the moment that he realized exactly how bad you were feeling. He came over slowly and knelt in front of you, keeping eye contact. He slowly reached for your hands, giving you plenty of time to tell him that you didn’t want to be touched, before taking them gently in his much larger ones.

“Do you wanna talk about it, Darlin’?” He asked, giving your hands a little squeeze.

You hesitated. Did you want to talk about it? You opened your mouth, but closed it just as quickly, shaking your head furiously. Just the thought of explaining what had happened earlier made tears well in your eyes. It wasn’t that you were ashamed to cry in front of your own husband, (the both of you had cried multiple times in front of the other, that wasn’t really an issue anymore), it was more that you knew that you just didn’t have the energy to deal with that at the moment. The Doctor understood immediately.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to, I just wanted to be sure.” He squeezed again and let go. His hands went to your jacket, tugging at the sleeves like he wanted to take it off. Panic filled your mind.

“No! Doctor, I don’t want—”

“Neither do I, you daft person.” He interrupted, frowning. “Honestly, I’m not an animal. Obviously, you’re exhausted. I’m just helping you get ready for bed.”

You blushed, feeling embarrassed that you had leapt to that conclusion so quickly. The Doctor knew you much better than that, you knew that. You felt guilty that you had even thought that of him, and you knew that it showed on your face because he gave a heavy, frustrated sigh. He crooked a finger under your chin so you were forced to look up at him.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” He assured you, looking deep into your eyes. “I know.” He placed a chaste kiss to your lips and went back to tugging off your jacket. When it was gone, he bent down and started to unlace your boots, much to your chagrin.

“Stop fighting me! Do you really think you could’ve undone all these bloody buckles and strings and bows and whatnot? You’re welcome to try, sweetheart, but I think it’d be faster if you just let me do it, yeah?”

You acquiesced, allowing him to pull off your shoes and manhandle you into bed. When the both of you are finally settled, he’s laying on his back and you’re laying half atop him and half belly-down on the bed. Your head is resting so that your ear covers one of his hearts, and his hand is entwined with your hand on top of his over one. His other arm holds you close, and you can feel his fingers playing idly in your hair. It’s well and truly cuddling, a rare treat indeed. That he’d volunteered himself for it, and actually seemed to be enjoying it without a half-hour of token protests first was a wonder in and of itself.

“Thank you,” you whispered, listening to his hearts beat. He shifted uncomfortably but made a sort of grunting noise that you took to mean “you’re welcome”.

You smiled, moving up to press a sleepy kiss to his lips as further thanks, unable to stop smiling long enough for the kiss to develop into anything more. You pulled away, pleased at the hint of pink working its way across the Time Lord’s cheeks. You laid down again snuggling into him. Although you knew that you’d still have to talk about what you were feeling at some point, you were feeling much better thanks to your own personal mad man. You would deal with everything tomorrow, but for now, there was only this—you, and him, and the wide, enormous expanse of space and time. And the TARDIS, of course.

The music he’d turned on earlier drifted into your consciousness again, lulling you into a deep and dreamless sleep. You felt, very distinctly, the Doctor pulling you even closer as you drifted far away.

#doctor who #doctor who imagine #twelfth doctor x reader #twelfth doctor imagine #twelfth doctor #12th doctor #dw #12th doctor x reader #12th doctor imagine #sad reader

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