#good omens fanfiction
Ineffable Wives (canonverse transfem Crowley / GNC Aziraphale)
Rated E (for 'Explicit,' not for 'Everyone')
3/4 chapters (I lied, there are 4 chapters, & it will finish Wednesday, 4/21)
currently 21k words (this sponge dinosaur of a fic has now expanded so much that it's big enough to have eaten Chris Pratt)
This is a sappy gift fic for the love of my life who encourages my shenanigans, but y'all are welcome to read it, too, provided you aren't going to be an asshole about it.
“I… I love you.”
When she’d made the decision to say those words, Aziraphale had thought it would be for the first time. However, as she felt the shape of them fill her mouth, Aziraphale knew that it couldn’t have been. Thrilling as those words had been to say, they were familiar, too. They rolled off her tongue like she had said them a thousand times before this moment.
Words from another dream, she thought to herself. That’s what they must be. I must have been brave enough to say them in some other dream.
The Apocalypse has been averted, and Crowley and Aziraphale are free to be honest with one another. To put it lightly, Aziraphale is terrified. It had been always easier to tell Imaginary Crowley she loved her, but Real Crowley? She didn't even know where to begin.
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So now I'm thinking of doing Good Omens AU fics from like all the older disney movies, at least the princess ones with love stories in them.
Snow white? Eh I never liked that story so maybe not.
Cinderella? Have an idea
Sleeping Beauty? Maybe
Beauty and the beast? Of course my favorite
Little mermaid? Possibly
Aladdin? If I can figure out how to incorporate it well sure.
Lion king? Well Hamlet really? Ehh no
Hunchback of Notre Dame? In progress
Mulan? If I can figure out a way to do it to where it makes sense sure but it seems a bit culturally appropriated
Pocahontas? Fuck no
Tangled? I can see ways of this working
Lady and the Tramp? ... do I want to do this one or is it just because it's a disney movie? I could work something in here...
The aristocats? See above
Or am I just procrastinating writing the fic that's been in my head as a "To work on" fic?
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Coming...Someday I hope o gawd: Aftermath
One more preview! (Though let me know if you enjoyed these.)
As I was completing “What it Means to Be A Demon” I began working on a Noah’s Ark fic, also part of Sawdust of Words. The idea was that it would be shorter than WIMTBAD and have a more even balance of hurt and comfort (as opposed to a massive hurt fest with about the minimal amount of comfort that still made for a satisfying ending).
At current count, it stands around 25k and is a mess. A mess that has defeated multiple beta readers’ ability to try and get it in order. And tbh I haven’t touched it in a while BUT I still intend to finish it one day!
(Seriously, I even foreshadowed some of it in WIMTBAD, because I do plan things. You don’t even want to know what my brain is like.)
I’ve posted about my issues before, but the main ones are:
1. I started trying to do this in media res/jumping between timelines thing that was really cool in my head. It did not work. I now have a bunch of random scenes with no idea how they’re all supposed to hang together.
2. Shockingly, this is angstier than I expected. The angst also went in an unexpected direction. Specifically, ummm...there’s quite a bit that deals with the psychological trauma of isolation. Hoo boy, did I not expect THAT to resonate so strongly when I started in December 2019!
But! I am determined to finish this, not least because it contains a few puzzle pieces to the larger Sawdust of Words story. And also because we all love our Noah’s Ark Angst.
So in the interest of trying to convince myself, I give you the first two scenes! (Maybe. Depends if I do the in media res thing or not.)
And only the first two. We hit the angst fast in this. If I added the third and DIDN’T have the rest of the fic ready to go you would all hate me forever.
Mesopotamian Floodplain, 3004 BC
It was not exactly the joyful reunion Crawley had been anticipating for a thousand years.
“But they’re drowning everyone else?”
Aziraphale nodded, biting his lips, refusing to meet Crawley’s eyes no matter how they bored into him.
Rain clouds gathered from every direction, boiling in the sky above. Thunderheads miles tall, shading from black to grey to white, stretched from horizon to horizon, looming like a nightmare, while blue-white lightning flashed from one to the next.
It had reminded Crawley of the day they met. As he’d approached the crowd, wondering what the excitement was all about, he’d felt the glowing presence of an angel nearby. He’d been delighted to see Aziraphale again, to find out what he’d been up to for the last three hundred sixty-two thousand five hundred thirty-three days.
That hadn’t lasted long.
The demon glanced down again, taking in the line of animals making their way towards an enormous boat, sat incongruously in the middle of the summer-dry desert. Nearby, a group of children chased each other, blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
“Not the kids. You can’t kill kids.”
And that was it. Aziraphale was going to stand there and watch this happen. Without a word.
He shouldn’t be surprised. He shouldn’t be disappointed. After all, Aziraphale was an angel.
That was what angels did.
“What, precisely, do you think you’re going to do?” Aziraphale demanded, chasing after Crawley, hands waving uselessly at the raging demon. Already the wind was setting their robes to flap wildly, twisting Crawley’s long hair this way and that.
“I don’t know but – I’m not going to just stand there like – like an angel.”
For a moment, he thought that would be enough. He walked away, leaving Aziraphale to glare at him in that superior angelic way, effect only slightly ruined by the way his jaw hung open.
But the next moment, there he was again, clutching at his pristine cream robes and half-running to try and get in front of Crawley. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. The rains will start any moment and then –”
“And then everyone drowns. I hope you have a good seat reserved.”
Crawley spun to pin the angel with his most furious scowl. Aziraphale froze, gulping as if to swallow his own tongue, shrinking back. “I’ll be…I’ve been assigned to stay on the Ark. Watch over Noah’s family.”
“It’s…it’s a great honor.”
Crawley didn’t even know what to say.
“Well. Congratulations, Angel. Good to see you’ve gone up in the world since we last met.” Aziraphale had the audacity to almost-smile at that, and Crawley felt the bile rising in his throat. “So. You’re going to be safe and dry inside that Ark, while all these people die? You’re going to sit there with your head tucked under your wings and pretend it’s not happening?”
“No. I’ll…” Aziraphale was staring at his own clasped hands, as if trying to memorize the way the carefully manicured fingers twisted. “I was…I plan to…to watch.”
“Watch? Watch?” Crawley spun away. “You disgust me, Aziraphale.”
This time the angel made no effort to follow him. But Crawley didn’t get far. Just ahead, he saw a young woman leading a child by the hand, returning to the mudbrick houses in the distance. He spun, pointing at them. “Are you going to tell me these people – this whole village – is so wicked, the Almighty has no choice but to kill them all?”
Aziraphale bit his lips, twisting his head as if trying to find some direction to look. He certainly wasn’t looking where Crawley pointed, or towards the village, or the Ark…
“What? Not just the town?” He could see the angel flinch. “How far?”
“Gabriel…” Aziraphale cleared his throat, re-clasping his hands behind his back. “Gabriel implied…The whole river valley, I should think. All the way back to the mountains.”
“But that’s…that’s thousands of people!”
“Yes, Crawley,” he snapped, finally bringing his cold blue eyes up to meet the demon’s glare. “Thousands of people who are many days’ travel away but it’s…it’s part of the Plan. There’s a Reason for this and there’s…there’s nothing you can do.”
The first drops of rain fell, steaming hot on his shoulders, to be drunk greedily by the parched ground.
“Jusst watch me.”
So uhhhhh yup. Thoughts?
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Chapter 5 is up!
Tony stared at the hem of his pants with disbelief. There was, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, entirely too much sock. Even though he’d just slipped his sneakers on, a full inch of knit fabric could be seen. He ought to have been upset about it. He had plans today, plans that involved looking as cool as possible, but Tony stared at his socks and a smile spread slowly across his face.
If his pants were too short that meant his legs were too long and if his legs were too long that meant he was getting taller.
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I'm super excited to share my friend Sunny's Arranged Marriage Fic inspired by my comic of the same AU! Please do check it out there or on on their tumblr- and to motivate you here's a lil pic of them lovebirds post-marriage when they start falling in love
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This is a Good Omens /Hunchback of Notre Dame AU Fic.
Aziraphale is an apprentice/deacon and has been transferred from Tadfield to Notre Dame in Paris. While there he will be under the guidance of Gabriel and Sandalphon the Vicar and the Judge of the cathedral. While touring the cathedral he longs to see the bells, when the suggestion is immediately forbidden Aziraphale becomes curious, but not as curious as he is about the flaming red hair he has seen by the bell tower.
Crowley lives in the bell tower, hidden away from the world. A skin disease called greyscale has turned his skin thick grey and black and scale-like. He is the bellringer for the cathedral, which let's him carve wood and dance in peace away from jeering eyes. It's where his masters Gabriel and Sandalphon keep him, unbeknownst to them the new member of thr church has made him curious.
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🍊 WIP Wednesday: Dream River 😴
Soooooo, I definitely had to up the chapter count on Dream River. The Wives were having too much fun with their newfound post-Apocalyptic freedom to fit in just three chapters, so now there are going to be four.
Chapter three goes up today, 4/14! In the meantime, please enjoy a snippet of Aziraphale trying to figure out how to talk to the Real Crowley after their dinner at the Ritz. Things were always so much easier in her dreams...
Crowley’s hand was only a few inches away as they walked, and Aziraphale had no idea how to reach out and take it. Her face was right there, too, and as much as Aziraphale felt like she was about to vibrate apart at the seams from the compulsion to dip the demon into a passionate kiss, right here on the pavement, she couldn’t. She hadn’t been able to say a thing to her at the restaurant. Oh, she’d babbled and laughed and chattered away with the lovely familiarity they normally only shared on the sofa in the bookshop after a few glasses of wine, but she hadn’t been able to tell Crowley she loved her.
She’d said it thousands of times by now in her dreams, she was sure. At the very least, she woke each morning with a sense that she’d left no secrets unspoken the night before. Unfortunately, saying that kind of secret to an imaginary Crowley who would vanish like a shadow at dawn was different than saying it to a very real Crowley who would hear it and remember it and react to it. Part of her wanted to keep on as they had for decades now. Crowley surely knew, didn’t she? She must. They could bumble onwards for another few centuries like this, and maybe by then the demon would catch on to the fact that Aziraphale was mad for her.
Except… Aziraphale didn’t want to do that. She’d been bumbling on in uncertain silence for so long she didn’t know another way, but she knew there was another way, even if it felt impossibly out of reach. She wanted to tell Crowley how much she cared for her, that she was happy to have chosen their side and would never regret it. That she desired closeness, intimacy, and time together, as much as Crowley herself wanted to give. That she didn’t want to be parted from her again.
She wanted to say all of those things, needed to say them, even, but more than that, she wanted Crowley to hear all of those things, too.
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Coming Eventually - Perfection
Another upcoming fic!
“Perfection” is a MAJOR angst-fest based on an anonymous prompt that got wildly out of hand, to the tune of 60k and counting. I said I was going to finish the fic before posting anything, due to the level of angst involved and not wanting to leave my readers on a cliffhanger (as I admit I’ve done more often than I’d like the last year). That was when I imagined the story would be 30k at most. This will easily top 100k by the time it’s done. It could be months before I get there, particularly if I work on other projects as I go. :(
I give you a short excerpt, the very first scene of the fic, which is extremely fluffy. Just so damn fluffy. Bed cuddles and ducklings fluffy. How does it turn into angst? Mwahahahaha...
The cottage stood in the middle of a perfect sprawling wilderness.
Every enjoyment one could desire was only a short walk away. A valley, perfect for long quiet hikes with the sun shining overhead. Tangled old woods filled with unusual birds and animals grazing with their young. For days that called for a bit more activity, twisted mountain trails, an exhilarating climb, emerging above the tree line just in time for a glorious sunset and the first stars. Whatever one liked, the cottage had it all.
Then, of course, there were the carefully manicured gardens, impossibly large, with flowers blooming in new combinations every day. Inside, a gazebo dripping in vines that rustled in the wind; a small orchard lining the grassy path leading down to the pond, filled with ducks and swans and brightly colored fish; and a hedge maze that was still only chest-height but would surely be brilliant if they just grew a little taller.
And inside, the most perfectly cozy space one could possibly imagine. Shelves laden with books and old films, works of art hung on the walls, and soft comfortable furniture. There was always music playing, and the smell of freshly baked bread in the oven.
The farthest one would dream of traveling was down to the seaside, a thrilling thirty-eight-minute drive by Bentley, along a road dotted with curious ancient ruins that begged for exploration, or fields where ambling sheep nibbled on grass, watched over by clever dogs that were friendly to kind visitors.
The weather was always perfect: sunny summer days; cool autumn nights around the campfire; merry spring rainfalls tapping on the windows; winter mornings with a fresh blanket of soft, crunchy snow.
And Crowley was there.
Every time Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open, there was Crowley, waking beside him in bed, smiling as if Aziraphale were the most wonderous creature who ever existed. No matter how long they lived together, Crowley never failed to greet him with that joyous expression and a warm kiss, slow and loving, their limbs tangling together under the blankets.
“Good morning, dear,” Aziraphale said when they’d finished. “Did you have another nightmare?”
“Doesn’t matter.” Crowley pressed close, head resting on his chest. “M’here now.” He brought Aziraphale’s hand to his face, gently kissing his palm. “Angel. You’re…so soft…”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Aziraphale laughed, pulling Crowley closer against his round stomach. He glanced down, and for a moment his smile faltered. It wasn’t right for an angel to be soft like that. Body or soul.
“It is.” Crowley kissed his shoulder, then trailed his lips up the curve of his neck. “Soft is good. All the best things are soft.” His mouth hovered near Aziraphale’s. “I’ve had enough of – of hard edges, and coldness, and sharp things and…” He pressed against Aziraphale’s cheek. “I just want this now. Softness. Forever.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your dream?” He never did, but they seemed to come more and more often. Aziraphale found it worrying, to say the least.
“No. Let’s just…enjoy our day.” Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s forehead, and the angel could feel the curve of his smile. “What do you think? Breakfast in bed? Take the path out to the meadow for a picnic? I don’t think we could ever have enough picnics.”
“That does sound lovely. Oh, and we could stop to feed the ducks on the way.”
“Yeah. Found another nest yesterday. Fifteen eggs.”
“Goodness. What were the other two?”
“Ten and thirteen. We’re going to be swarmed with ducklings in a month.”
“A horrifying fate.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s shoulder, bared where his pajama top had gone askew. “Breakfast, ducks, picnic. And a nice cup of cocoa by the fire at the end of the day.”
“Mmmmh. Perfect.” Tossing the blankets aside, Crowley sat up and started to swing out of bed. “I’ll get breakfast ready, you can—”
“Oh, no.” Aziraphale grabbed his demon and pulled him back into the cocoon of blankets, pressing him into the bed to keep him from escaping. “You’re not getting away that easily.”
“But you said—”
“I said it sounded lovely. But you said you wanted softness. And that, I think, I can provide.” Aziraphale enveloped Crowley in his arms, trailing kisses up his neck, slowly and patiently. There was no rush; they had all day.
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First Lines Tag Game!
Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line, then tag 10 of your favourite authors!
I was tagged by @starryfull13 and I appreciate the tag so much!! This game looks so fun ahrdjrdfgh time to expose my lines!! I’m going from most recent to least recent. Also I have exactly 20 works up right now so this is perfect!! :D
1. It was a crying day for our Aziraphale. - Unalloyed Joy
2. “Crowley? I need your assistance with something, if you have a moment!” - A Valentine’s Day Surprise
3. Soho, London. - Ab Imo Pectore (okay this one is literally two words sjrdjrjsr)
4. Anthony J. Crowley was leaning against the door frame to his classroom, sipping his iced coffee and watching other teachers bustle around the halls of the school. - Across The Hall
5. It was Christmas Eve. - But if you really hold me tight... (this one also has like no substance jshdrhd but perhaps dramatics call for such tactics??)
6. Crowley was on his way back to the bookshop. - Sweetly Scented Splendor (ngl I straight up forgot I wrote this fic)
7. There’s a full moon illuminating the sky, accompanied by brilliant stars. - I Want it All
8. Aziraphale was navigating through the city with ease. - Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional (when the title is longer than the first sentence hsheshs)
9. Crowley awoke to an empty bed. - A Sticky Situation
10. Warlock was sitting at the dining room table, playing with his toy cars. - Sunburnt
11. It was a pleasantly warm summer night. - One Sentimental Moment
12. Crowley had seen Aziraphale yesterday. - Eavesdropping
13. “Warlock, dear, it’s almost time for supper! ...” - Once Upon A Time
14. It had been an uneventful two months. - Patience is a Virtue
15. Crowley was taking a walk in St James’s Park. - Is this the real life?
16. Crowley didn’t exactly know why he had driven over to the book shop at 8 pm tonight, but he had. - The Weeping Angel
17. “Oh, Crowley, I’ve frequently visited this shop! ...” - Bubble Tea
18. Crowley burst into Anathema’s cottage, tears streaming down his face. - Morning Porridge
19. “You are so impulsive!!” - An Impulsive Knight In Dark Armour
20. Crowley was with Aziraphale at his bookshop. - More Heavenly Than Heaven
Okayyyyy I am so surprised by how straightforward/simple many of these lines are!! It’s interesting :) I think my favourite is number 7, from I Want it All. I like that I can immediately picture where they are. I also really like the dialogue ones because they get right into the story! :)
I tag... whomever wants to do this challenge and hasn’t been tagged yet!! If that’s you - go for it, I’m tagging you!!!! <3
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Coming Soon - Absence of Words
Great news! The new Sawdust of Words fic is finally ready! I’ll be posting it some time this week (likely Friday, but I might manage to swing it sooner if I have a day where I’m not too exhausted after work).
“Absence of Words” will pick up shortly after the ending of “Finding the Words” - with Aziraphale and Crowley having freshly established that yes, they love each other, that can definitely be a thing going forward.
However, Crowley’s difficulties communicating (as discussed in “Finding the Words” and demonstrated in “Three Little Words”) quickly land them in trouble, as the miscommunication rapidly goes from “kind of amusing” to “annnnngst.”
I mean, it’s me. Was it ever going to be not angst?
The full fic will be a little over 13k. Excerpt below (2 scenes, one of which I posted an early version of...dang...more than a year ago?!)! Feel free to leave a comment/ask/private message with your thoughts!
(Note: because some people prefer to know what kind of ending to prepare themselves for, I’ll give a brief description after the excerpt, as well as CWs for the fic as a whole).
They walked for more than half an hour, hands still twined together.
Aziraphale spoke the whole time, more animated with every step, and Crowley drank it all in. He paid no attention to where they were, how far they walked, how late it was getting. All that mattered was they were here, they were together, really together.
They’d done it. They’d done everything.
Stopped the Apocalypse.
Fooled their sides.
Won their freedom.
And then, in the garden…Crowley’s lips still tingled, recalling the brush of Aziraphale’s. He almost couldn’t believe it had happened, couldn’t believe he’d dared. His breath caught in his throat every time he remembered that he now lived in a world where he had kissed Aziraphale. A world where nothing would come between them ever again. Each time Aziraphale’s eyes drifted over to him, Crowley was certain he’d discorporate on the spot.
The angel waved his arms as he talked. He pulled Crowley’s hand along with each gesture – sudden jerks ahead of them, tugs across his chest, complicated circles as if trying to draw what he described. More than once he nearly pulled Crowley off balance; Aziraphale didn’t know his own strength.
It would have been easier to let go.
He probably should let go – his palm was warm where it had been pressed against Aziraphale’s for half an hour, his fingers stiff and itching, longing to move again. The chills running up his arm, almost more than he could bear, were the most exquisite torture he’d ever suffered. Every time their palms shifted, finding a new position against each other, it pierced him like an arrow, tore through his heart, leaving it fluttering and juddering and palpitating like nothing else ever had. Crowley really, really needed to let go.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, glancing over.
“M’fine.” He gently squeezed the soft fingers locked through his, starting another wave of bliss that threatened to overwhelm him even before Aziraphale graced him with that smile…
Yeah. He wasn’t letting go any time soon.
Crowley’s hand was in his.
Aziraphale could hardly believe it had happened, hardly believe he’d dared. This seemed, somehow, the most momentous thing to have happened all weekend, though an outside observer would probably disagree. Well. That observer didn’t understand.
They’d started walking, the impulsiveness had come over him again and he – Aziraphale – the angel who dithered over every choice, every action – the angel who likely hadn’t taken the initiative on anything within living memory – he’d run his hand down Crowley’s arm and…
Well. Here they were.
They hadn’t spoken about it. Hadn’t really acknowledged it. But neither had let go.
Once he had his bearings, it shouldn’t have taken long to get back to his shop. But Aziraphale put it off as long as he could. They paused in front of dozens of shop windows, remarking on the pastries or clothing or sports equipment on display, but in truth Aziraphale was just looking at his own reflection, a fussy old angel, anxious and overeager, standing beside an exquisite demon radiating suave confidence. Quite the mismatched pair and yet, that’s what they were: a pair.
Perhaps even a couple.
Oh, dear, that seemed far too bold.
Aziraphale stumbled over whatever nonsense he’d been saying, and quickly turned away from the window. He glanced up to see if Crowley had noticed his distress, and oh, through those black lenses he could just catch a glimpse of golden slit-pupil eyes watching him directly, not just a glance from the corner of an eye. He’d been nodding along to everything Aziraphale said, that smirk hovering on his lips, threatening to turn into an actual smile. Crowley squeezed his hand, gently, as if to make sure it was still there, and it sent Aziraphale’s heart racing again.
Finally, after forty-five minutes, they ran out of detours and excuses and reached the last intersection: Soho to the left, Mayfair to the right.
His footsteps slowed as they approached. Aziraphale didn’t want to let go, not yet, didn’t want to relinquish the warmth, the feeling of the uneven heartbeat against his palm, the tiny shiver he felt whenever Crowley’s thumb brushed the back of his hand.
They paused at the corner, Aziraphale looking left, Crowley glaring straight ahead.
“Well.” Aziraphale cleared his throat. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He glanced down at their hands. Oh, dear. He didn’t seem to know how to let go.
“Nh,” Crowley said.
“Come now, dear fellow, you know this is the quickest way home for both of us. Twenty minutes. Fifteen, if you drive like you always do.”
“Nnnnnnh,” Crowley elaborated.
Aziraphale ordered his fingers to let go. Traitorous things, they only held on tighter.
“I could walk you back to the shop,” Crowley pointed out. “Or we could pick up the Bentley together, then drive over. Quicker that way. We can grab whatever you need…”
“What part of it’s a surprise are you having trouble with?” He meant it to be teasing, but Crowley’s lips went tight anyway. Aziraphale put a bit of extra cheer into his voice. “Look, as I understand, it’s proper etiquette for the individual with the car to pick up the other, when two people are…” He trailed off, considering in fascination all the words he could use to complete that sentence. “And…it wouldn’t hurt to have a moment to, I don’t know…”
He honestly didn’t know.
But the longer he stood in Crowley’s gaze, the more certain he was that he needed to step away. A thousand emotions were bubbling up inside him, and he needed space to process them, privately, before they burst out in the most unseemly—
“Aziraphale.” Crowley turned, and his fingers hovered by the angel’s face, as if not sure where to touch. “Do you…want to be alone right now?”
“That’s not…” He swallowed, finding he couldn’t look away from Crowley’s mouth. His lips. Did he want to kiss them again? Or be kissed? Both were terrifying. Both were tempting.
Crowley took his other hand, leaning closer.
“Yes. I do.”
Crowley went very still.
He thought his heart might burst; Aziraphale couldn’t tell one beat from the next. His hands started to tremble, and he stepped back, wiping them anxiously on his waistcoat, tugging it straight. “Don’t be – this isn’t about – it’s nothing like that.” He straightened his tie. “I just – perhaps I could use a few minutes, yes, and there’s nothing – nothing of note about that, I’m sure you could too, but all in all this is the simplest solution, that’s – that’s all there is to it.”
It could be very hard to read Crowley’s expression, but just now his lips twisted, his jaw went tight, and Aziraphale felt his heart begin to ache. The demon circled him, fingers jammed in his pockets, and started towards Mayfair as fast as his long legs would carry him.
“Wait! Crowley, don’t—”
“Fifteen minutes, Angel. Be ready.”
He watched the dark figure until it disappeared around a corner. And only then did Aziraphale realize he’d let go of Crowley’s hand
NOTES AND SPOILERS
CWs: Mentions of past abuse (physical and emotional, very brief/implied); emotional manipulation/gaslighting (from the POV of Aziraphale, still believing what he’d been told); anxiety (low-level but constant, and building across the fic); miscommunication, accidentally hitting another’s triggers. Very brief G-rated discussion of attraction. Swearing.
Ending: This will have a happy ending. Not all communication issues will be resolved in this story, but groundwork will be laid. Future stories will deal with developing healthy communication/trauma coping strategies.
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The Serpent’s House // Chapter Five
Aziraphale scrubbed his hand over his face with a sigh. His glasses had taken up residence in his hair, skewed sideways from the way he’d shoved them out of the way. He’d had headaches before, but this one seemed to have layers. It wasn’t just that he’d been staring at his computer for the better part of four hours — everyone at Heaven’s Gate was a stickler for formatting and grammar on reports, and Aziraphale figured that Gabriel would be especially so — although that was certainly a contributing factor.
Mostly though, Aziraphale was scrutinizing his report at two in the morning because he was concerned that he’d added too much of something. He was worried that he’d put some part of himself into the report, had written something that revealed the fact that he wasn’t entirely as unbiased as he and the Archangels had thought.
It isn’t a bad thing to care for people, said a small voice in Aziraphale’s head.
Keep reading on Ao3
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New fic update: A Study in Hazel - Chapter 5
Title: A Study in Hazel - Chapter 5 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/28812981/chapters/75587354)
Rating: Explicit (for eventual smut)
Tags: Human AU, Time travel elements, Victorian Aziraphale, Modern Day Crowley, Touch-Starved Aziraphale, Developing Relationship, Getting Together
Summary: Aziraphale is firmly of the belief that, according to the old texts, three steps are all that keep one from their heart’s greatest desire. Where is the harm in attempting them? - Everywhere, apparently, as he soon finds out when he’s trapped inside his bookshop, fighting for his life.
All Crowley asks is a little more variety to his daily routine. But coming home to his flat one night to an out-of-this-century person curled up asleep on his couch is probably just the universe mocking him now.
There sure are some strange ways for two people to be brought together.
Just posted a new chapter of my Victorian!Azi and Modern day Crowley fic! :) I think there are quite a few of you here who follow this so just wanted to let you know it’s definitely still ongoing
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Shorter fic but initially it was supposed to be a one shot. Impatient me couldn't wait!
Hope you enjoy it!
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Coming soon - De Amore
I’m excited to announce that I have written a fic for the upcoming @aceomenszine! This is my first in-print zine, and I’m super excited :D - follow them for more information about when to order and how!
“De Amore” - in which Aziraphale and Crowley have a very important conversation in Paris, 1793.
“What’s it like to be in love?”
Crowley stumbled to a stop on the Paris street, glaring at the angel beside him. Aziraphale stared straight ahead, walking with his usual expression: calm, poised, slightly arrogant. As if he were talking about the weather.
“Dunno. S’a human thing, isn’t it?” He scowled at a few gawking peasants, hurrying to catch up. “Romance. Lust. Sex. Nothing to do with us.”
“You could say the same of hunger, or exhaustion, or boredom.”
“Yeah, and I’d be right.” Crowley held out an arm to stop Aziraphale from walking directly into a produce cart. “Neither of us gets exhausted. You’re never tired, and I just like a good nap sometimes.”
“Really?” A flicker of that mocking bastard smirk. “How many nights did you sleep this past week?”
“Nrrg. Five or six, but that’s not the point.” They started walking again, Crowley tossing an apple he’d snuck from the cart. “I could stop if I wanted to — I’d miss it, but s’not the same as being tired. Same with you and eating.”
“But if I desire a food, so strongly I can already taste it, surely that’s…if not exactly hunger, a close approximation?”
“Don’t think so.” Crowley offered the apple, but Aziraphale shook his head. “Spend a couple days in the city, you’ll see what hunger looks like. S’not about pleasure or wanting a particular food. It’s need, desperation. And we just don’t experience that.” He tossed the apple towards a group of children, and a girl in a ragged dress caught it. “Boredom I’ll grant you. I’ve definitely been bored.”
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Make It Stop
This fucking high school au has nearly killed me. I hate it so much. but its out and i give up. it fills the final square of my @goodomensbingo tho so that’s something?
R: Mature - Violence, bullying, abuse
Ship: aziraphale x crowley
Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Gabriel, Michael, others
Tags: High school au, bullying, fake dating, abuse, kiss, fluff, angst, uh ??
Word Count: 5.3k (6/6)
Read it here - but please read the tags first
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Choosing Sides (choosing you)
Written for the Good Omens Fic Writers Workshop Guess the Author for the prompt “chosen”
Aziraphale reflects for a moment about what he's about to do and the choices that have lead him to choose Crowley.
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Chapter two of Raising Adam: Visitors is up! A little breather chapter checking in with Crowley and Adam.
Crowley groaned and rubbed at his eyes until little spots of light sprung up behind his eyelids. He was lying on the floor of the flat, surrounded on all sides by toys and stuffed animals. Exactly how he’d wound up on the floor had already escaped him, but he wasn’t overly miffed about it.
Adam was a solid, wiggling weight against his chest, one little hand clasping at his shirt and necktie.
“Oh, what do you want?” the demon asked, cracking one eye open to glare at the kid.
Adam had his head turned away, looking towards the doorway that Aziraphale had gone through a little while ago. From this angle, Crowley could see the smattering of cinnamon-colored freckles that had started to gather on Adam’s cheek—a new one for each kiss Aziraphale laid there.
He was still whining pitifully at the angel’s departure but had yet to devolve into the full-fledged wailing that had been prevalent the last few days. For this, Crowley was infinitely grateful.
He didn’t think that his headache would appreciate more noise.
“Aziraphale’s just gone down to check on his books,” he reassured Adam, exhaustion creeping into his voice. “I know you probably haven’t mastered object permanence yet but he’s not disappeared. Trust me. He’s not going anywhere.”
Crowley tried to feel annoyed at this final statement but saying the words only caused warmth to suffuse his chest, kindling like the light of a newborn star.
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A small illustration for my Iliad AU fic philtatos, written for the @go-events Book Fest Event! Second chapter is up!
Crowley gasps—Aziraphale’s skin is starting to glow slightly, always a sign of danger that his fury is close to breaking the surface. His divinity about to tear the seams of his mortal body apart. Crowley allows his hand to brush against Aziraphale's in discreet warning, and even that light brush against Aziraphale's little finger where he wears his golden ring is searing hot against Crowley’s skin.
“Angelos,” Crowley murmurs, too softly for the king to hear.
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Haaas anyone done a Hunchback of Notre Dame AU? Or am I going to have to write it?
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Forsaken has been completed!
The epilogue has been posted.
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