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vidavalor · 8 months

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Ineffable Divorce... but it's the OFMD S2 teaser

I was joking with a friend earlier that Crowley would go the opposite route of Ed and the result is this bit of un-beta'd, not-quite-fic crack here.

Aziraphale, in Heaven, has just drafted his 568th handwritten-on-cream-stationary-with-a-quill-pen unsent letter to his dearest Anthony and how much he misses him... everything about him. Being around him. Breathing the same air-- if they really needed to breathe, that is. He winces at his awkward phrasing and magics the letter into non-existence with a sigh. He thinks of him often-- constantly. Does Crowley ever think of him? Aziraphale glances around. No one looking, no one around. He pulls up the Earth Observation Device and whispers nervously:

Ah... hello. I need you to show me Crowley. In the present, please.

Filling the screen is not The Bentley or the bookshop or the pub and Aziraphale blinks, not sure what he expected. He sees a crowded hotel ballroom full of people--humans-- Aziraphale has never seen before... all of whom are having a *suspiciously* great time-- time of their lives, really-- at this wedding reception. The D.J. is currently blasting out some Earth, Wind & Fire and on the dance floor is... Crowley. Formal-wear version of his signature look-- tuxedo version of his vest and his glasses on, jacket off. Snake-patterned bow tie open at his neck-- along with his shirt, almost to his snake belt. Champagne flute dangling out of one hand. Getting down with half the bridal party and guests and... Mrs. Sandwich?!... in the center of the dance floor.

They are surrounded by a throng of humans spanning ages and genders-- ranging from a young groomsman that Aziraphale very much *does not* enjoy observing who seems perpetually stuck in a repeated motion of attempting to get closer to Crowley but not quite getting there... to an elderly woman Aziraphale observes is the groom's mother whose hand Crowley occasionally takes to turn her in a careful twirl... to three elementary-school age children trying to teach each other their made-up dance moves. The kids are the ones who manage to get the occasional slight, genuine smile out from around the perpetual smirk of the demon. Aziraphale can tell the difference between the real smiles and the false cheer covering up pain but still this is at least better than he might have thought and he's grateful to Marla (Mrs. Sandwich) for keeping Crowley company in this... whatever he is doing.

"Oh no!" laughs the maid of honor, audible over the very loud, thumping bebop. She is trying to show alarm with her voice but the crisis turns into amusement in her tone because of the certain... spell... that hangs in the air over this wedding.

"We're almost out of champagne!"

"Yeah, alright," Aziraphale observes Crowley mutter as he stretches his fingers out lazily around his champagne flute and flickers them in the direction of the bar before briefly catching Mrs. Sandwich's hand and dramatically spinning and dipping her, both laughing, before they separate again and continue dancing with one another and everyone else around them in turn. Aziraphale recalls this song as "Let's Groove" from when The Bentley used to play it and Crowley's moves somewhat inspired by those of American cinemagraphic actor John Travolta. (He is not completely clueless, he will have you know.)

"This really is completely mad" is what Nina is saying as Aziraphale manages to drag his eyes off of Crowley long enough to notice her and Maggie. They are not under the spell. The slight smile on Nina's face belays that it might be completely mad, but she is having a bit of fun.

"I know," Maggie grins, her eyes lighting up with a little mischief... and a lot of love as she dances with Nina. "Definitely better than my brother's wedding-- I'll say that."

Nina subtly dances them a little more to the right as Aziraphale frowns, observing her looking nervous as an older man with a dark look on his face approaches them.

"N'uh uh! Love is love, Grandpa," Crowley, still dancing, calls over the music from where he has also observed it. He kisses two of his free fingertips and bats them in the air towards his friends. The older man's angry stalking towards Maggie and Nina suddenly slows to a relaxed gait. Aziraphale watches his expression change from bigoted rage to benevolence.

"Not that we can't fight our own battles but he *can* be kinda useful," Nina whispers with a small smile to Maggie.

"A most pleasant evening, isn't it, Ladies?" the older man smiles as he moves past them to lure someone's elderly aunt who had stopped for more to drink back to the dance floor. To her, the old man says with saucy cheer:

"Come on, Marilyn, let's show these kids how you dance to this bebop!"

Aziraphale observes Crowley toss his head back with a laugh, having heard that supernaturally over the music. Aziraphale knows Crowley might have influenced the older man's choice of words just a smidge. The angel hears what Crowley mutters that no one else quite catches:

"Yeah, fuck you, Aziraphale..." Crowley's voice is less sure and his swallow is thick.

Aziraphale's heart aches. He doesn't see anything in front of him for a minute, lost in pain and the image of Crowley, drunk and dancing, losing himself surrounded by the humans they both love.

When he tunes back in, one of the bridesmaids has managed to get in front of Crowley for a dance and as she laughs, full of a joy that Aziraphale cannot tell is genuine or the product of Crowley or champagne-- or Crowley *and* champagne, Aziraphale thinks, envious-- she asks him over the music:

"How do we know you guys again?"

"You tell me!" shouts Crowley, twisting his fingers in a circle in front of him in a way that looks like a dance move but holds her attention to his eyes long enough for the brief temptation to work.

"Cousin Bildad!" she suddenly cries, as if seeing him for the first time and the dance has just begun, even if neither she nor Crowley have stopped.

Crowley says "sure!" brightly and then growls at the ceiling as she turns away from him. The bridesmaid throws her arms around Mrs. Sandwich, exclaiming her delight in seeing her presumed cousin 'Jemimah' again.

"Hi, hon! Yeah, you look so great! That's your color, girl, looking fantastic," gushes Mrs. Sandwich, ever game. When the bridesmaid isn't looking, she mouths at Crowley: "Jemimah?", as if to say, 'what do you think prompted that one?'

Aziraphale realizes this is not the first wedding that Crowley and Mrs. Sandwich have crashed since he has been gone.

"Long story." Crowley shrugs at Marla. "Might be getting a little loose, Mrs. S," he confesses, still sloppy-dancing.

"A little, hun?"

Aziraphale is relieved to see her toss her dry look also towards Nina and Maggie. Maggie looks concerned. Nina looks at her watch. They make their way over, Nina helping herself to a piece of cake to eat while she watches the other two try to wrangle Crowley into leaving.

"Designated human!" Crowley grins in greeting at Maggie, pointing the finger of his perpetually-full-somehow champagne flute at her.

"You are not driving The Bentley. Not happening."

Aziraphale has the feeling it has happened more than once already.

"Crowley--" she starts.

"Cousin Bildad," corrects Mrs. Sandwich, her eyes flicking to the human wedding party. ("*Bildad*?" squints Nina and she and Mrs. Sandwich exchange 'whatever, it's all weird' looks.) Crowley continues to dance in front of Maggie, trying to get her to join him and everyone else. The spell holds with the wedding guests, who all continue to have the time of their lives.

"It might be time to go before you run out of... your... demonic energy? Is that what we decided to call it?" Aziraphale understands that Maggie means that if Crowley gets drunk enough to pass out, the spell over the humans will break and the four of them will be in trouble for crashing the wedding.

Crowley shrugs while dancing. "Aw, five more minutessss, Mom..."

"Crowley," she gives him a look that feels familiar to Aziraphale and he cannot place why until he realizes that it looks similar to one of his own. She smiles a little, giving in, and dances a little with him, causing him to hiss a victory "yesssss" and for Nina to roll her eyes.

"*Fine*," Crowley spits. "Two more songsss," he hiss-slurs.

"You're a soft touch, ang--," Nina inform Maggie, affectionately.

"NINA!", cry Maggie and Mrs. Sandwich at the same time as Crowley points a finger at her.

"Careful, Coffee Woman," Crowley tries to make it sound like a threat but it comes out like a plea.

"One more song," Maggie tells Crowley softly, in her final negotiation, her look tender, if determined.

Crowley's glare can be felt through his sunglasses but he likes Maggie and Aziraphale knows him. He knows that Crowley--no matter how broken-hearted Aziraphale has made him and Aziraphale can barely breathe with pain over the knowledge of how much he has-- is no threat to humans.

A smirk slips across Crowley's face.

"Alright," he hums, still dancing. "You're in charge, Coussssin Margaret. One more."

Aziraphale watches as Crowley takes petty revenge for his fun ending by choosing the last song. He raises his arms up and points both of his index fingers at the sky.

The D.J.'s music flips mid-song, the sudden change unobserved as strange by the D.J. and the other spell-cast humans, as quickly as if someone has set the needle down on the start of a new record. Suddenly, the humans all cheer and laugh and begin the moves of the dance that goes along with the song that Aziraphale vaguely remembers caused quite an unnecessary stir with some particularly stuffy parents a few decades ago....

When I dance, the woman in the song declares. They call me 'Macarena'...

Nina's eyeroll is slow and as pained as her groan but Maggie's smile turns bemused, her gentleness something Aziraphale is happy Crowley has around him, even if the angel shares Nina's pain. This bebop is especially atrocious. Still, she puts in half-effort and lets Maggie drag her into putting down her cake and half-assing the steps while Maggie enthusiastically Macarenas with Mrs. S and Crowley.

Aziraphale will admit that he can see the allure of this particular dance and his blush is entirely about Heaven's defaulting central air conditioning and has nothing to do with Crowley's hips moving like that.

Aziraphale really has to get Michael on fixing the temperature in here. He blinks away his tears and flips off the device to go get right on that...

#ineffable husbands #good omens #ofmd trailer #ofmd #crowley #mrs sandwich #maggie good omens #nina good omens #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

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i-watched-good-omens-and-broke · 6 months

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Aziraphale: What's my sexuality?! I don't know! I'm not straight, and that's all that matters. Well, maybe that's unfair to the straights. Some of my best friends are straight! Well, one of them. Well, I know them, and Mrs. Sandwich is a perfectly tolerable person in small doses!

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #crowly x aziraphale #incorrect quotes #mrs. sandwich #incorrect good omens quotes #good omens season 2

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amagnificentobsession · 8 months

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My favorite Seamstress and Demon ❤️🔥💋

Got your hat pin? Oh, I’ve got more than that! I’ll bet you do love. 😈

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #michael sheen #david tennant #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #gos2 spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #mrs sandwich

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miss-americanbi · 9 months

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i don’t think we’re talking enough about my fabulous bitch mrs. sandwich. quite literally devoured in every scene she was in and not one fuck was given. i love her.

#more mrs. sandwich WHEN???#she’s my idol #not a single fuck was given #good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens 2 #good omens mrs. sandwich #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x arizaphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #david tennet #michael sheen #americanbi’s posts

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avocado-writing · 8 months

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Heyy I recently found your account and love love love your writing. I would absolutely die if you wrote anymore Jim or Gabriel fics. Would love something like fluffy or domestic between Jim/Gabriel and reader or aziracrow finding out that reader is in a relationship with Jim. No worries if you’re busy though 💕

notes: a sequel to this! a plot? in my drabble? it’s more likely than you think.

pairing: jim x reader

rating: T

“I brought you flowers.”

He has. He brandishes a huge bouquet at you, chock full of sunflowers. You take them with a smile.

“Thank you, Jim. They’re lovely.”

“Mr Fell said I should bring roses, but I liked these ones more, because they’re happy like you are.”

“Oh, Jim,” you say, softly, genuinely taken aback with the kindness of it. You’ve never had someone who’s brought you flowers because they reminded them of you. “That’s so kind. Let me put these in some water and I’ll be right with you.”

Jim waits patiently at your door as you scurry back inside. From across the street, Aziraphale holds up a newspaper to hide his face. He’s cut eyeholes in it, and thinks he’s being very clever. Crowley cringes.

“Angel, at some point, you’re going to have to accept that they’re going to be fine. They’ve had plenty of dates at this point and nothing untowards has happened to either of them.”

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure. You know that I worry.”

Crowley sighs. As you and Jim head off, he and Aziraphale follow at a decent pace behind. Neither of you have noticed that you have hangers-on. You and Jim are quite in your own world. He’s asked you about your day and you’re telling him, he’s hanging on every word without interruption. You walk at a lazy pace and, as you go, your fingers tangle together and you end up holding hands. Aziraphale sees the way he looks at you: as if you hung the stars.

You like walking, and Jim likes being where you are, so you’re taking a turn around the park. Jim’s brought a small sandwich bag full of frozen peas so you can both feed the ducks. He found it fascinating when you told him why bread wasn’t the best option for them, and for the following week spread that fact with anyone who would listen.

Jim’s… a little strange, but honestly, he’s one of the best people you’ve dated. He’s kind, attentive, and happy to take things slow. After the rapid-fire world of app-based romance and online matchups, it’s nice to have someone who just wants to take a stroll with you.

Aziraphale notes with pride that Jim stops to buy you an ice cream from the cart. You grin and thank him and, even though he can’t hear your conversation from here, he’s reasonably happy that Crowley’s right, and the two of you will do perfectly well on your own. He doesn’t want to tell Crowley that, though, or he’ll make him do the dance; for now he’ll just keep observing.

The two of you sit down on a park bench by the pond and eat your ice cream. At one point you get him to hold yours while you get your iPod out of your pocket and offer him one of the earbuds, and the two of you listen to some song and chat in animated detail about it. The ducks are fed, the ice creams are finished, and you lean your head on Jim’s shoulder.

“I’m so glad I get to spend time with you, Jim,” you tell him, softly, taking his large hand in both of yours. “You make me feel like the only person in the world while we’re together.”

“Is that a good thing?”

You laugh, not unkindly.

“Yes, Jim, it’s good.”

“Then I’m glad. I like spending time with you too. I’d do it all the time if I could. You make me feel…warm.”

You look up at him, at his sincere smile, his kind eyes that crinkle a little.

“Jim, can I kiss you?”

“Oh. Yeah, of course.”

Aziraphale and Crowley have explained the basics of kissing to Jim, knowing this would likely be coming. It’s where humans put their lips together and move them around a bit. Jim hasn’t quite seen the appeal, but when you reach up and press your mouth to his, his whole cosmos changes.

Above you, the bulb in the dormant streetlamp pops, and a burst of sonic energy shoots out from between you with such force that it startles all the poor ducks. They take off flying.

He understands. He understands why people like doing this. He takes your face in his hands and deepens the kiss, stealing your breath away from the passion of it. You taste like vanilla and strawberry sauce.

Gabriel pulls back and looks at you with violet eyes. And for a second, he remembers.

“Look at you,” he whispers, deep and longing, swiping a thumb across your lower lip, “you’re gorgeous.”

You furrow your brow.

“Jim?” you ask, perplexed at the change of attitude.

He shuts his eyes, and when they open again, they’re the colour they usually are. You figure it must have been a trick of the light. He blinks a couple of times, clearing his mind from whatever fog just took it over, and smiles at you.

“That was nice!” he says, in the cheerful way you’ve become accustomed to.

“Are… are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great!” he laughs, and there’s no trace that he even realises what just happened.

Across the way, Aziraphale and Crowley stare, having witnessed the whole thing.

“That’s not good,” Crowley mutters. Aziraphale purses his lips.

Taglist: @nix-rose

#Jim good omens x reader #gabriel good omens x reader #Good omens x reader #Request

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ineffablehusbandsrecs · 7 months

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I'm the treasure baby, I'm the prize

Author: stereobone

Words: 9K

Rating: E

Summary:

"Are you working for Mrs. Sandwich?" Nina asks.

"No," Crowley says. "Well, yes. Well, define 'working'."

Or, Crowley is very good at faking sex work, as it turns out.

Find it here: x

#5to10k #go2 #crowley/aziraphale #good omens

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leftduck9986 · 9 days

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To 'T' or No' to 'T': the Glottal Stop

Having recently read this great analysis on Crowley's phonetic choices, particularly his use of the plosive consonant, 't', my ear was suddenly sensitive to whenever he wasn't using them:

Here, Quelin Sepulveda and David Tennant are both skipping over the plosive 't' in "not," speaking informally.

It sounds like Quelin could be using a glottal stop, if not just closing the tongue to the hard palette behind the teeth and instead of enunciating 't' moves on to sound the 'r' in 'really'; but David is opting for the glottal stop, i.e, stopping the flow of air by closing the back of the throat.

A glottal attack feels easier to explain: for words beginning with a vowel, it's a choice to either maintain an open throat (ideal for singing) or initiate the sound with a glottal attack. There is an audio demonstration "uh-uh" on the wikipedia page. The opposite is when cutting off air flow after a vowel and is called a glottal stop.

Looking where the furniture isn't: The Missing 'T'

No, not the disappearing, reappearing 't' from Gabriel's statue, though that could certainly be a subliminal clue, to look out and listen for the missing 't'

I knew that I was hearing a glottal stop (g.s) for what Mrs Sandwich says in her particular British-English dialect for episode five at The Ball, "An' no'(g.s) all the girls do i'(g.s)." "Not" is omitted and so it is incorrectly subtitled, "And all the girls do it."

Then I realised that by leaving out "not" it was actually a nod to the book, Good Omens, as given in this bit of trivia from x-ray episode 2 (especially regarding Mrs Sandwich's profession):

Like the Wicked Bible, 'not' is omitted from the subtitles.

As if planting the seed of thought, not long afterward are examples of the pronounced/enunciated/articulated 't':

Nothing like repetition to secure it in the noggin. Three times, naturally.

Ah, but in case the hint was too subtle - and this is where I first started to realise they were really making a lot out of "not" and the missing 't'; recognising a learning technique from my choir singing days, "this way, that way, this way" or "with-without-with" - let's go full-circle and hear the glottal stop once more:

#good omens 2 #good omens book #Wicked Bible easter egg #connecting hints across episodes #plosive 't'#informal speaking #glottal stop #incorrect subtitles but on purpose #unsure if using these words properly: pronounce/enunciate/articulate???#Good Omens Meta

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bi-bard · 3 years

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Compassion - Supernatural Imagine

Title: Compassion

Pairing: Human!Cas, Crowley, Rowena, and Jack X Reader (all platonic... but Castiel's is hinted at)

Requested: by @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 2,246 words

Warning(s): (Castiel's) nightmares, (Crowley's) violence, death, (Rowena's) violence, death, (Jack's) self-doubt, softness

Summary: A collection of times that (Y/n) could've been described as too kind.

Author's Note: I loved this concept. It was really fun to work with.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

---------------------------------------

Human!Cas: Season 9

When Castiel became human, he suddenly had more personal responsibilities. He had to eat, sleep, and take care of his vessel better than before.

What happens when someone who didn't need to sleep suddenly needs to sleep while also carrying a ridiculous amount of trauma?

Nightmares.

The first night they happened, I was terrified.

I had never really heard Cas scream before. It was ear-splitting. It sounded each time he seemed to wake up. I curled up out of fear, covering my ears. Our rooms were really close together; it was like he was yelling right in my ear.

The second night, I couldn't sit and listen to it. I grabbed my pillow and blanket and walked down the hall. I carefully opened the door and walked in. The door clicked shut again.

Castiel's yelling was sporadic now. It hurt to think of how much pain he was in.

I laid my pillow on the floor and sat on top of it, facing the edge of Castiel's bed.

He was turned toward me, laying on his side. One hand was tucked under his pillow and the other rested on the bed next to him. It was switching between relaxing and squeezing the bed sheet until his knuckles were white.

I bit my lip to keep from sighing.

One hand touched his hair, gently running through it. I pushed it away from his face. I slowly ran my fingers through his hair. It wasn't enough to wake him, it was just enough to comfort him.

My other hand touched his. Anytime he would squeeze the sheets, I would squeeze his hand.

This went on for the rest of the night.

He seemed to calm down slightly. No more yelling or whining or whatever the noise was. His hand was still squeezing the sheet but it wasn't as much. I leaned my head on the bed after a while.

With my hand in his hair and the other holding his hand, I fell asleep against the mattress.

The next morning, I woke up to one word, "(Y/n)?"

I picked my head up and saw Castiel blinking at me.

"Hi," I replied quietly, pulling my hands away from him. "Sorry."

"What are you doing in here," he asked.

"You were having a nightmare and I couldn't listen to it anymore," I said. "I just wanted to help you."

"Does your back hurt," he asked. "You spent all night on the floor."

I shook my head, "I'm fine."

"I did sleep better. Thank you."

I nodded and stood up. I was just about to leave when I decided to speak again.

"I'm gonna make breakfast," I looked at him. "Would you like anything in particular?"

"I feel like I should be making you breakfast, you just slept on the floor."

"I'm sorry, Cas, but I'd rather teach you than let you loose in the kitchen."

"Teach me then?"

"...Come on," I chuckled.

Thus began one of the most chaotic mornings the bunker had ever seen.

Crowley: Season 9 & 12

--Season 9--

I never really supported the idea of keeping Crowley in the dungeon. I understood he had betrayed us but I was never one for imprisonment or torture. I'm sure that's a shocking fact to many (sarcasm).

I sighed at the plate I had put together.

He may not even need it.

I had thrown together a sandwich with some chips.

I decided I would face the potential consequences of giving him a plate of food when he probably didn't want or need it.

I walked into the dungeon and was instantly met by a glare.

"Okay, Mr. Ray of Sunshine," I joked. "I brought you some food."

"I'm a demon... I don't eat," he replied.

"Well, I can't let you go without dealing with the consequences of the Winchester brothers finding out," I placed the plate on the table in front of him. "It's an act of kindness."

"Why," he asked.

"Because some people are just kind for the sake of being kind," I shrugged. "Just eat. I'll come back in like ten minutes to get the plate."

I was about to leave when Crowley spoke up, "I haven't had a real conversation in a while."

I looked back at him.

"Sit for a while," he suggested. "I've been around for a long time. I've got my fair share of stories."

"You're not going to try to manipulate me into letting you go?"

"I don't think I could," Crowley grumbled. I shrugged before nodding.

I pulled a chair from the corner of the room and sat down just outside of the devil's trap.

"Okay... tell me a story."

"Gladly," Crowley said, grabbing a chip off of the plate I gave him.

Thus began my weirdest and best friendship.

--Season 12--

I was crouched next to Crowley and Sam in the apocalypse world as Crowley finished the spell. It was meant to close the door and keep Lucifer locked in here forever. It was going fine until the end of it. It was asking for the sacrifice of one's life.

I could hear Lucifer kicking Dean from our spot. Each noise hurt me.

I looked up at him and shook my head. I silently begged him to find another solution.

He reached over and touched my cheek. He offered me a small smile.

"Thank you," he mumbled. I shook my head as tears fell down my cheeks. "Thank you for being my only true friend. No conditions. I couldn't have asked for anything better."

"Crowley, no," I tried to grab his arm. "Please."

"You were the only one to trust me, even when you shouldn't have. Let me prove that you made the right choice."

"Stop, please," I was basically whispering.

"Goodbye, (Y/n)," he said before standing up.

Sam and I followed him. Sam ran over to Dean, pulling him off the ground, and then grabbed me so I couldn't stop Crowley from doing what he had to. Sam dragged us to the rip

Crowley looked at Sam and Dean, ignoring Lucifer's taunting.

"Goodbye, boys."

He threw an extra look to me, "Thank you... again."

With that, Crowley stabbed himself in the heart with an angel blade.

"No," I struggled against Sam's hold but he started dragging me out. "No, no!"

That's when Cas walked in behind us.

"Cas," Dean yelled. "Cas!"

"Guys, we've gotta go," Sam said, basically throwing me through the portal and dragging Dean out.

I stood up as fast as possible. Sam grabbed me again, pulling me into a tight hug. There was a chance that Cas was still alive, he knew that Crowley was actually gone.

"You let him go out happy," Sam mumbled against the top of my head. "That's the best thing you could've given him."

I sobbed into his chest.

This was just the beginning of the tragedy we would face that night. I would go on to call it the beginning of the end.

Crowley was my best friend, without a doubt in my mind. And I was never going to see him again.

Rowena (kind of a bonus for Crowley): Season 10 & 11

--Season 10--

"Rowena," I said softly.

She straightened up quickly, wiping her eyes before I could see her tears.

She just learned about the sacrifice she had to go through for this spell. It was supposed to take the Mark of Cain off of Dean. I couldn't talk the group out of forcing her to do this and that broke my heart. She was an all-powerful witch that was not our biggest fan but it still hurt to see her in pain.

"Sorry," I added. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to-"

"Then why are you here," she asked.

I took off my backpack and opened the main pocket. I pulled out a plate with some cookies that I had somehow managed to make and hide from Dean so he didn't figure out about our plan to remove the Mark of Cain.

"I don't know how you feel about chocolate chip," I mumbled. I placed the plate on the table next to her. "I can't fix what has to be done... but I can offer a small thank you and an apology. I know it's not a lot but I'm trying other things, I promise."

She just stared at me.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled again.

I only looked at her again as I reached the door. I caught her reaching out to the plate and grabbing a cookie. I grinned as I saw her smile down at the cookie. I walked out before she caught me watching.

--Season 11--

I was with Crowley and Rowena after we had visited the Cage. The others were already sent home. Crowley had taken well to my kindness over the years and asked me to stay for a cup of tea. I'm pretty sure he was convinced that we were best friends, but I didn't mind. We kinda were.

"Here you go," he handed me the cup. "Should calm your nerves."

It was true. I had been shaken up after seeing the boys confront Lucifer.

Then, Lucifer walked out wearing Castiel's vessel. And Rowena stood to join him. I went to walk toward her, believing she was in danger. With a wave of her hand, I was sent to the ground in pain.

I gasped as I was dragged onto my knees by her. Rowena leaned down, smirking at me.

"I... I-"

"Trusted me... was kind to me," Rowena asked.

"You just used me... used my kindness," I mumbled. "I was helping convince Sam and Dean to trust you!"

I knew I had tears in my eyes. She threw me back on the ground.

"I'm sorry, dear, this world isn't for the loving," she shrugged. "You should've learned that by now."

"You'll regret this," I said quietly. "Lucifer doesn't care about anyone but himself. He will throw you away as soon as he sees fit."

"You're wrong," she snapped. "I'm going to be queen."

"Because Lucifer is known for keeping his promises, is he," I asked.

"Shut your mouth-"

"I'm just trying to be 'loving'," I nearly spitted out the word that she had used to mock me. "He's going to kill you."

"He would never-"

I screamed as Lucifer snapped her neck.

"Run," I heard behind me before I was teleported out of hell.

I found myself in the garage of the bunker. Crowley. I didn't know he could teleport people without going with them.

"Sam! Dean!"

I sprinted from the garage and to the library as fast as possible. They went through the portal. They had to drive home. I pulled out my phone, dialing Sam's number. I was shaking and crying at this point.

"(Y/n)?"

"Sam... something bad just happened."

Jack Kline: Season 13

"Let me," I held a hand up to Sam before rushing out of the room.

We had been hiding out after Jack had been born. There were wardings on all of the walls. However, once too much stress had built up, Jack had teleported out of the room. I decided to follow them.

I ran down the hall to the stairs. I made it outside and around the building. Jack was curled up against the wall.

"Hey Jack," they jumped when I spoke. "It's okay. I'm just checking on you. Can I sit?"

They nodded, looking back down at the ground again.

I sat next to them.

"Are you alright," I asked. They shrugged. "Do you wanna talk? About anything?"

There was a moment of silence, "Do you think I'm evil?"

"No," I replied. "I don't think that you've been alive long enough to even attempt to be evil. You aren't born evil. You become that."

"Do you think I'll become evil," they asked. I shook my head. "Why not?"

"Because I know the men taking care of you," I said. "Sam and Dean... however rough they seem on the surface... are good guys. They'll teach you good things."

"Would Castiel be proud of me," Jack mumbled. "I took him from you."

"No, no," I shook my head. I wrapped an arm around their shoulders and pulled them closer to me. Thye rested their head on my shoulder. "You did not take Castiel from us. You didn't hurt him. Castiel was killed by Lucifer."

"Protecting me."

"That doesn't make you a villain," I mumbled. "It just makes Castiel a hero."

"'Hero,'" Jack repeated the word. Like they were testing it. "I want to be a hero like Castiel was."

"You will be... one day," I promised. "You're already brave and compassionate. You don't have to aim for being a hero. You can just be good. You just have to try to do good."

"Like you and the others."

"Like me and the others," I confirmed.

"Thank you," they mumbled.

"You're welcome."

Jack seemed to curl further into my side.

"Do you wanna go inside now," I asked. They shook their head.

"I wanna stay here for a while," they said. I nodded.

So we sat together in silence. After a while, I started humming quietly in the hopes of calming him down a little more.

I kissed the top of their head after a little while.

Jack wasn't evil. I don't think they ever would be. They just wanted to be accepted and loved. I was going to offer him that... unconditionally.

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barpurplewrites · 5 years

Text

Afternoon in Soho

A nice and accurate record of a couple of one book meeting a couple from another. (If she had read these burnt words, mine descendant Anathema, wouldst name these a fanatical fan tail. Know that it is and it is not, for when the butterfly flaps everything comes to be everywhen and where.)

-x-x-x-

Rumple and Belle strolled arm in arm through the streets of London. They had spent the afternoon at the Globe, although Rumple hadn't paid much attention to the play. He'd been far happier watching Belle's reactions, her face a picture of joy and delight at the story unfolding before her, even though she must have read it a dozen times.

“I thought the elephant was a bold choice.”

Rumple blinked, he didn't recalled an elephant. There wasn't even a mention of an elephant in the script, so how had he missed that?

“Erm,” - crossing the road bought him a moment to wrack his brain. Nothing, no memory of an elephant, which would have looked a bit out of place in 'Much Ado About Nothing'. As the reached the curb Belle turned on her heel, moving her hand from the crook of his arm to take his hand. She grinned at him. He sighed and fondly shook his head.

“You're teasing me, sweetheart.”

“A little, you seemed to spend a lot to time looking at me. Did you not enjoy the play?”

He tugged on her hand and pulled her into him. Her free hand came to rest on his chest and he lay his over it; “I enjoyed the play, because I like seeing you so happy.”

She flexed her fingers against his chest, just an echo of how she clawed at him in her passion last night, but enough to send a flare of lust through his body. He almost suggested they head back to the hotel, but Belle had discovered a bookshop in Soho she wanted to take a look at. The place had strange opening hours, not unlike his own shop, one of the many joys of being a sole trader he supposed. He lifted Belle's hand from his chest and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

“Bookshop?”

Belle's face lit up in a grin, gods he could never get enough of that sight. She slipped an arm around his waist.

“Come on, it's not far.”

In his bookshop in Soho, Aziraphale was busying himself with a little dusting. He was expecting Crowley any moment now. The demon had popped to Birmingham to perform a light temptation and a small miracle. Aziraphale would have liked to have won that coin toss. There was a simply wonderful Balti house he adored in Birmingham, and the fantastic farm shop that made brilliant sausage sandwiches. Oh well, maybe next time.

A sudden sensation rippled through his being. Something evil was headed this way. He cocked his head to one side and tapped his feather duster against his hand, scattering the dust back over the shelves. No, not evil as such, but dark, yet contained, contained by love. Aziraphale had never felt a love so deep and true. It made him really quite giddy.

And then love walked in through his door. Arm in arm. Love wrapped so snugly around darkness that he wasn't sure exactly in whom it dwelt.

“Good afternoon.”

A small woman, wearing those tall heels that Crowley had received a commendation from Downstairs for inventing, smiled at him; “Hi, I'm so glad we found you open.”

“We were hoping to have a look around.”

Aziraphale turned his glance to the man. Him, it was in him, whatever this darkness was, he was sure of it. He stood straighter, and gripped his feather duster, not perhaps the best weapon against an unknown darkness, but he was an angel and he would thwart this vile creature.

The women smiled at the vessel of darkness and said; “And maybe buy something?”

“Of course, sweetheart, several somethings I expect.”

The wave of love from the man as he spoke to the woman caused Aziraphale to rock slightly on his feet. Ah, maybe hold off on the thwarting. It appeared that the woman had it under control. But they had mentioned a hideous thing that did need thwarting pronto; buying one or more of his books.

“I stock rather specialized books...”

“Oh I can tell. Is that a first edition of Huckleberry Finn in the window? With the typesetting error?”

All of Aziraphale's well-practised tactics to gently dissuade customers melted away in the face of a genuine, knowledgeable fellow bibliophile. He dropped his feather duster on to a shelf and hurried forward; “Yes, yes it is, in fact it is from the first impression, so it also has the upside down illustration of plate...”

Rumple watched as Belle engaged the store owner, Mr Fell, (although if that was the man's real name Rumple was the Sultan of Agrabah), in enthusiastic conversation. He loved talking books with Belle, not so long ago he would have been jealous to see her share her passion for literature with someone else. He made a mental note to send a thank you letter to Archie. A copy of Dickens' 'A Fairy Tale of Home' caught his eye, or maybe he would just drop a note to Dove to deliver that brass cricket hearth ornament from the pawnshop to the good doctor. Yes, that would work perfectly.

He paused and scratched at his palms. What was causing that? As they had walked into Soho Rumple had become aware of a feeling of evil. He'd figured that it was just the lingering reputation of the area. According to Belle's research Soho had historically been the centre for all manner of vice. Now it appeared to have become home to the kind of raunchy that let people have a thrill without the risk of losing life or limb. Socially acceptable evil wouldn't be making his hands itch.

Rumple took a long hard look at Mr Fell. He wasn't going to judge a man for concealing his true name, he knew the power and weight of a true name better than anyone. This man was a perfect stereotype of a bumbling bookish Brit. It was an act, but there was no threat from him. If anything he radiated a goodness the likes of which Rumple hadn't seen since Snow White was young.

Could it be the books? Mr Fell did say he had a specialized stock. He took a step closer to the nearest bookshelf, and the feeling faded, nothing on this shelf was dangerous. Although he did wince at the copy of 'Barney the Vampire', best keep Belle away from this shelf.

The itching suddenly raced from mild, ignored the stop sign in annoying and intolerable, and skidded to a halt in RUN, RUN NOW!. Rumple found himself reaching for his magic, magic that didn't exist in the quantities it did back home. He could use magic here, but the price tended to be erratic and often left him with a splitting headache. He managed to fight down his flight urge with nothing more to show for it that a few books sliding to one side on the nearest shelf.

Belle's head snapped around, she'd felt his panic. Mr Fell was giving him a curious look as well, but before any questions were asked the shop door burst open.

“Angel! Phew, have you got more books by that Archer bloke? This place reeks of...”

The tall man in black and sunglasses who had just burst through the door slithered to a halt when he spotted Belle. He took a second to swallow whatever he had been about to say and rephrase it.

“... that nasty aftershave the deliver driver wears.”

“Oh hello Crowley, back already, wonderful. Make yourself comfy I'll be with you in a jiffy, or two.”

Rumple needed no magical senses to know for sure there was something other about this man. Were those snake skin boots on his feet? Pfft, poser. Rumple's feet shifted, his fingers flexed, and it wasn't until he glanced at Belle and caught the amused look on her face that he realised he'd started to slip in to what she called his Imp stance. What was he thinking? Why on Earth would he need to intimidate this, this black-clad, flame-topped being? He relaxed and gave Belle a reassuring smile that said he was fine, that everything was fine. Belle blew him a kiss in return and turned back to the book Mr Fell had been showing her.

Once her attention was engaged he fixed the man in black with a stare. If he twitched in Belle's direction it'd be goodbye snake skin, hello snail shell.

Crowley was a bit miffed. He driven to Birmingham, a city whose road network proved that humans could create Hell on Earth without any help from him. He had been supposed to tempt someone in town planning to increase the road works, but after seeing the mess that passed for transport, he'd decided not to bother. He'd put the paperwork in and claim the chaos as a result of his influence, job done as far as Hell knew. Then he'd done the miracle, there would be no trouble from the fans during the next big football match between the top two local teams. Now that would get him into serious trouble if Downstairs found out, they were rather keen on mindless violence. On the drive back he decided to tempt Aziraphale out to the little bar that did those fru-fu cocktails. And what happens, he gets here and gets told to wait a jiffy or two. What in the hell was a 'jiffy'? Looking at Aziraphale he had the feeling that a jiffy was going to turn out to be an hour or two. He was talking to a customer, for pity's sake. He didn't even like customers, they did stupid things like try to buy his books.

With an annoyed huff Crowley turned on his heel and finally spotted the other customer. His tongue flicked between his lips to taste the air. Oh, yeah this man was the source of the evil scent in the air. Interesting, he wasn't one of Hell's. He had a brilliant stare, very intimidating, and that was a real compliment coming from Crowley, he knew stares. This could be fun, he'd not had a decent staring contest since Rasputin.

Rumple kept his gaze steady on Crowley, that was what Mr Fell had called him. He'd heard that name somewhere before and that he couldn't recall where was as irritating as a pip stuck in his teeth. That this Crowley was dangerous and evil wasn't in question, but it was hard to really fear someone when they were trying to out-stare you while wearing sunglasses. When the light hit them right, a tiny glimpse through the smoky lenses gave the impression that Crowley's eyes weren't human, that was a nice touch, but it would take more than reptilian eyes to unsettle him.

At this point an impish idea occurred to Rumple.

From the corner of his eye Rumple could see that Belle and Mr Fell were engrossed in their conversation. Both had their backs turned. The windows of the shop hardly gave a clear view into the shop, so the only witnesses would be two beings who he was ninety per cent certain weren't fully human, and Belle, who knew him and loved him, warts and all. It was hardly magic at all, just giving his body a nudge to recall how it had once been. And, of course, there needed to be a touch of dramatic flair in the reveal, just to show this poser how it was done.

Crowley blew out a sigh when the man dropped his head after a measly three minutes. Great stare, no staying power. Shame. He was about to go and pester Aziraphale when the man shifted his weight. Something about the way his right foot edged forward and his hands moved from his side caught Crowley's attention.

And then he raised his head, and grinned directly at Crowley.

“Woah!” - Crowley whipped off his sunglasses, - “Those are amazing. Totally fuc...”

As Crowley's colourful expletive echoed around the shop, several things happened. It is difficult to understand the order of events unless one can slow time down. So, let's do just that and take it step by step.

First; … we go back a moment … Rumple had just dropped his chin to his chest. In the time it takes for Crowley to express his disappointment via a sigh, Rumple has performed the magic to necessary to remind his brown eyes they were once different ...

Second; … on the other side of the room Belle feels the familiar tang of Rumple's magic in the air. She stammers over the name of a Shakespearian scholar ...

Third; … Aziraphale doesn't notice Belle stammer, but he does feel the swell of the darkness he had identified as residing in her husband ...

Fourth; … Rumple shifts into Imp stance and raises his head ...

Fifth; … Crowley swears and whips off his sunglasses revealing his demonic eyes ...

Sixth; … Rumple blinks at Crowley's eyes and begins to return the compliment the man had given him ...

Seventh; … Aziraphale draws in a shocked breath that he doesn't need, (because he is an Angel), and shouldn't do, (in Crowley's opinion), because doing so makes him look like an eighteenth century grandmother ...

Eighth; … Belle spins around on her skyscraper heels, (not twisting her ankle because she has completely conquered the insane shoes that give her both height and a weapon to use against any one who compares her unfavourably to a dwarf), at this point she also swears, more colourfully than Crowley and in the privacy of her own head so no one comments …

Ninth; … Aziraphale sternly says; “Crowley!” and in the same instant Belle sternly says; “Rumple!” ...

Tenth: … (At this point we can rejoin the normal flow of time. Hold on tight) … Both Crowley and Rumple wince and say …

“He started it!”

Belle and Aziraphale sighed in unison, and in the same synchronicity walked towards their respective men, and asked;

“Did he?”

Snake-like eyes met lizard-like eyes and they both rapidly agree to support each other to get them out of a telling off.

Rumple smiled at Belle; “We were just comparing eyes.”

Crowley nodded; “Yep, that's it, and you two were busy with books and...”

Sensing that Crowley was about to jump into his own mouth with both feet, Rumple quickly said; “...we were just chatting, and well, it's not often either of us met someone else with lizard...”

Crowley butted in; “Snake.”

Rumple hardly missed a beat; “Reptile eyes.”

Aziraphale knew perfectly well that Crowley had been showing off, but no one had been incinerated, so everything was tickety-boo. He turned to Belle, and saw she was having similar thoughts about her Rumple. Between them they came to an accord that could be best summed up as 'let them play, as long as they don't start blowing things up'.

Belle knew perfectly well that Rumple had been showing off, but no one had been turned into a snail, so to her mind everything was fine. She turned to Mr Fell and saw that he was thinking along the same lines as her about his man Crowley. (She doubted he was worried about a sudden snail event, that was Rumple's signature after all). Between them they shared a look of 'yes they are idiots, but they are our idiots'.

Belle caught Rumple's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek, she also whispered in his ear; “Nice to see those eyes again.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley; “By some miracle a very good bottle of single malt has just appeared in the back room...”

Crowley folded his sunglasses into his jacket pocket as he leaned in close to softly say; “No worries Angel, I'll keep him occupied while you and Belle geek out.”

In the back room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, a demon and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, as they waxed lyrical about the book-loving centres of their universes currently in the front of shop, no doubt enthusing about everything author under the sun.

In the front room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, an angel and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, (Aziraphale had two bottles of the good stuff), as they waxed lyrical about the dark hearts of their existence currently in the back of the shop, no doubt trading tales of every temptation under the sun.

#rumbelle #ineffable husbands #fanfic

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4llmywr1tings · 5 years

Text

Babied Part 2

Characters/Pairing: Dean X reader (eventual) Cas, Crowley, Donna, Jody Words: 1,414 Summary: Some fluff between Baby Dean (in an adult body) and the reader when he's sick. Jody comes up with the "why", now y'all need to figure out "how" to fix it. A/N: (Y/N/N): your nickname. This is part 3 of a 6-part series Warnings: swearing Tagging: @autoblocked @organicpurplepants

“I just don’t get it.” You sigh, slamming the book you were reading closed. “I do not get it at all. If I kill the witch, the spell breaks. That’s how it has always been.”

“What did she say again?” Jody asks. She lifts her head from her hands and yawns at you sleepily.

You sigh. “Caelum miles, fortis in tarram, ne amplius servus est infernum. Google translated this to “heaven’s soldier, earth’s warrior, hell’s slave no more.” Although I’ve been staring at these words for the longest time and I can’t. I just can’t. Maybe Rowena needs to help us.”

“Should we trust Rowena to help? I mean, sure. She helped remove the mark from Dean, but she helped unleash the Darkness. Sure she helped with the soul bomb, but she made the soul bomb. And she’s a witch.”

“I for one agree with Jody, you know?” Donna walks in to the library, bouncing Sam on her hip. “Witches are what got them in this mess.”

“So what do we do?” you sigh, rubbing your fingers in circles over your temples. You were starting to get a headache, and you weren’t sure if it was due to the witch problem, or if it was taking care of three grown up men acting like kids. “Because I am out of options or ideas or patience.”

“Why don’t you take a break, you’ve been up a while.” Jody responds.

“Yeah, go check on the grown babies. Get something to eat. Well come at it with a fresh set of eyes. You don’t have to do all of the work (Y/N).” Donna gives you a smile as she rocks Sam back and forth. You nod, but give in at Jody’s “mom look,” and you stand.

After quickly chugging a cup of scalding hot coffee and taking two bites of Dean’s uneaten sandwich, you walk slowly to the boys’ rooms. After assessing that Castiel and Crowley were in fact sleeping soundly, you walked slowly to your room; the room that Dean had made his own.

He was comfortably sleeping, features relaxed as he gripped tight to your pillow. His snores got louder as he turned, eyes and nose red from his head cold. He whimpers as he tries to breathe and lets out a cough.

He blinks slowly, opening his eyes to see you there. “(Y/N/N).” he whines reaching for you. “It hurts.”

“What hurts buddy?” you ask walking to him slowly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Everything.” He whines once more, “my head. My nose. My throat.”

“If you would take the medicine I got you buddy, you’d start to feel better.”

“Noooooo.” He purses his lip and tries to sniff.

“Please, for me? It would make me so happy. We have to have you strong so we can make you better.”

“Better, because the stupid bitch changed me to a baby?”

You chuckle and shake your head, not even bothering to correct him. “Yup. Because we need you to be grown up Dean again.”

To be honest, you missed Dean too much; you were just too proud to admit it. To admit any type of feelings for him.

“Will you cuddle with me if I take the mebicine?” from his stuffy nose he cleared his throat and coughed into his pillow.

“Of course I will, now are you okay if I go and get you a few things?” you run your fingers through his hair, damp from a sweat and his fever. He nods hesitantly and his head falls back to his pillow. His arms tighten around your pillow and he blinks his eyes slowly. You kiss him on the forehead and stand, not expecting two full grown men standing at the door.

“Castiel, Fergus.” You sigh. “How long have you been standing there?”

“I can’t sleep. Dean’s coughing woke me up,” Crowley snottily replied. He was the typical snarky ten year old, and you felt as if he was secretly a teenage girl in a previous life. He sticks out his tongue and folds his arms in front of him. “And don’t call me Fergus.”

“Yeah, and what is your excuse Castiel?”

“I can’t sleep either.”

“What, is Dean bothering you too?” you sigh motioning towards the door. They back out and follow you towards the kitchen.

“No.” Castiel sighs with a sad look. “I just can’t sleep. Monsters are in my room.”

He looks to Crowley and sticks his tongue out at him.

“Well, unfortunately you have to share a room. So I can keep an eye on you all. How about some warm milk and maybe that can help you sleep?” Castiel nods and reluctantly follows after you and Crowley.

Castiel and Crowley are halfway through their third cup of milk when Jody rushes in, a piece of paper in her hand.

“I think I figured it out. Wrap everything up.”

“Dean Winchester, if you do not stop shaking that gift for Jody, it might break. Knock it off.”

Dean pouts, but listens to you perfectly, putting the red and green wrapped package under the tree. He reaches for his present testing your limits. You didn’t care if he shook his gift. Toy cars wouldn’t break as easily as a glass statue you had found.

“But I wanna know what she got.”

“That’s not how Christmas works bud. We’ll open our gifts on Christmas day, now do you want to help me make cookies?” Dean nods hopefully, his attention shift for the time being. “Good, go wash your hands and we’ll make cookies until Jody and Donna get back with Crowley and Castiel and Sam. Maybe they got another tree for your room?”

Dean gives a nod and smiles hopefully, and all but runs to the sink, making more of a mess for you to clean up later.

Jody had come to the conclusion right before Halloween that the spell had to be played out. She thought that it only meant that Dean, Sam and Castiel had no childhood, and the only logical reason she could come up with was that in some odd way, the witch was helping them.

Castiel was known as a heavenly soldier, a grunt. From the time of his creation, the great warrior was set to do God’s bidding. That was all he knew. From the time Mary Winchester had died, to now Dean and Sam were their dad’s little soldiers. That meant no Christmases, no Halloween’s. No fun. So you felt it was logical that they reverted to children.

You weren’t really even surprised with Crowley. You knew how much of a mother Rowena was, and when it came between Rowena and Crowley, everyone knew you could stand him better.

So here you were with an almost two year old, and three overgrown men playing a ten, four and three year old.

“They all asleep?” Jody asked quietly.

“Yup,” Donna sighs following you in to the library. “After a few temper tantrums Fergus laid down.”

“And Sam and Castiel were the easiest to get to sleep.” You replied.

“What about Dean?” Jody asked with a laugh. She took a swig of her beer and looked up to you with a tired smile.

“Wouldn’t sleep until I sang to him. Tried ‘Hey Jude,’ but he wanted Christmas songs. So I had to sing ‘We wish you a merry Christmas,’ ‘Joy to the World,’ and ‘Silent night.’ The little butt head wouldn’t let me leave until I had finished all of the versus of Silent night.”

“You really do love him. Don’t you?” Jody asks watching as you picked apart a sugar cookie that Dean had made. It looked somewhat like an overly large reindeer, plastered with reds and whites, and a mix of who knows what. You take a bite and slowly nod. “Of course. The brothers have been my family for a long time. It’s weird to be without them.”

“No. If I remember hearing her correctly.” Donna puts a bottle of Absolut Vanilla in front of you and a small shot glass. “She asked about Dean. Not the brothers.”

“This is a conversation I’m not drunk enough for Donna.” You shrug and take a drink of the alcohol. “maybe if I’m drunk.”

“Come on, just admit it.” Jody goads you on.

“Okay, sure. I like him. Love him in fact, but Mr. One-Night-Stand wouldn’t feel the same.”

“Sometimes you need to make the move. And at least you’re headed in the right. Acceptance.

#dean x reader #dean winchester x read #dean winchester one shot #dean fan fic #dean fanfic #dean fan fiction #dean fanfiction #supernatural on shot #supernatural fan fiction #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fan fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural x reader #spn one shot #spn fan fic #spn fanfic #spn fan fiction #spn fanfiction #spn fandom

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