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becca-is-not-well · 1 year

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Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley (platonic)

Summary: you had a rough go of as of late, so you go to your favorite husbands

Warnings: fluff, no use of (Y/N), gender neutral reader (they/them) R has hair but not specifically long or short or whatever

You had had the worst day ever.

Scratch that, you had had the worst week ever.

Between your anxiety and the workload, along with the person you hated most in the world seemingly being around every corner; your nerves were shot. There was only one thing that could make you feel better, but you always hated bothering Zira and Crowley with it.

"Angel, where has the little demon been all week?" Crowley asked his husband, finally realizing what had felt so off the past few days.

"I don't know, dear, they're probably just busy. And they're not a demon," Aziraphale walked into the room, setting the tea down on the coffee table.

"Eh, they're an honorary demon. And it's too bloody quiet without that menace around," the demon declared, sitting up from his previously reclined position on the sofa. Now that he'd finally realized what was wrong, an antsy feeling had settled in his gut.

"If it's really bothering you so much, why don't you go find them?" Zira said as he poured himself a cup of tea, trying to remain unbothered.

"Maybe I will-" Crowley was cut off suddenly by the bell on the shop door ringing.

Both sets of eyes snapped to look at the door, seeing the person in question standing there. You.

"Speak of the devil," Crowley exclaimed happily. The smile on his face quickly left as he took in the appearance of their young friend.

You were soaked, having apparently forgotten an umbrella on your walk over. The expression that graced your features was one of anger to the untrained eye; but the ineffable husband's knew you better than that. Really, the malice was just hiding the anxiety that lies beneath.

"Oh, darling," the angel got to his feet, immediately walking over to you. "What's happened?"

"It would be faster to tell you what didn't happen," you reply, shaking your hair to get any drops of rain out.

Crowley stopped right behind where Aziraphale was now fussing over you. The angel had taken your wet jacket and bag, having them up on the coat stand.

"You look like hell, kid, and I don't say that lightly," yellow eyes giving away the concern he truly felt.

"Gee, thanks buddy," you sassed; though it gave no real bite as you held back tears.

"Oh, you know I don't mean it like that," he bit back as he magically dried your clothes and hair.

"Be nice, Crowley, they've had a rough go of it lately," Zira scolded, gently leading you back to the sofa.

"I am being nice!" Crowley argued, following them to the sofa. The angel sent his husband a pointed look.

The couple was so busy arguing that they hadn’t heard your soft giggles until it turned into full out barking laughter. The way they acted like an old married couple despite only being married for about six months entertained you endlessly.

They both stopped in their tracks when they heard the laughter; joining you in the display a moment later.

“Oh, my dear, I’m sorry for our banter,” Aziraphale apologized.

“C’mon, angel, they live for our mindless little spats, don’t you, darling?” Crowley cut in, making you laugh again.

“Yeah, pretty much. You guys never had a honeymoon phase and if nothing else it makes me feel better,” you admitted. The two looked at you and each other with poorly hidden affection as they sat in a comfortable silence for a moment; the only sound being Zira serving tea for the three of them.

“Is there anything else we can do for you?” The blond asked, yet again stepping into the parental role he often took with you.

“Could we read together?” you suggested softly, sipping your tea.

“Ohoho, yes! Let’s read the one about us!” Crowley rubbed his hands together excitedly.

“You already know exactly what happens in that story, Crowley,” Zira reasoned, but there was no reasoning with his husband, really.

“He just likes that you being hopelessly in love with him for thousands of years is documented,” you quipped, laughing as both their faces went a bit red.

“No, I like hearing about how badass I am,” Crowley argued, trying to save face.

“Mhm,” you hummed, obviously not convinced.

“Okay, quiet you two,” Aziraphale interrupted the good natured argument. “I’m going to start reading.”

The angel opened the book Romeo and Juliet, knowing it's one of your favorites.

“‘Two houses, both alike in dignity’-”

“Oh a gloomy story for a gloomy day, really angel?” Crowley huffed.

“Yes, it’s one of their favorites. Now please; do listen. ‘In fair Verona, where we lay our scene…’”

Aziraphale continued to read the play in his soothing voice with Crowley interrupting with a snarky remark every so often. You smiled, the banter still entertaining you and making you feel safe. It was a cozy afternoon with your favorite found family, filled with laughter, tea, comfort, and shakespeare.

Just like that, all your troubles melted away as you sat between an angel and a demon who loved you just as much as you loved them.

#aziraphale #crowley #crowley x y/n #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #Aziraphale x Crowley #platonic!reader #ineffable husbands #ineffable parents #found family

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ventismfsblog · 6 months

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Hello.....If you don't mind me asking (again), who are your favorite romantic relationship's couples in books/ manga/manhwa/ anime/movies/tv series (can be canon or non-canon)? And why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before....Thanks.

shipping is one of my fave hobbies, I could ramble abt it all day. 🙏

I usually like ships that haven't sailed the most, because pining is the best part 🤭

how popular the ships are is also important to me hence I like to have a variety of fanfiction to choose from so I can keep on thinking about them😭💕

that being said, soukoku from Bungou stray dogs has been my OTP for years- the enemies/rivals, ex-partners, short/tall, bickering, anger issues, hate relationship but insane trust, mafia/detective dynamic just does it for me. not to mention how both of these characters are insanely well-written and can be appreciated by themselves, even tho they were literally created to complete eachother. (confirmed by author) (other ships i like from BSD are ranpoe, fyolai and sskk)

mizuena from Project Sekai is my favorite wlw pairing, again with the banter. but they deeply care for eachother, adore one another and just their dynamic as friends is wholesome. they understand eachother, help eachother grow and heal with truly inspiring stories. their relationship just feels real. (other pjsekai ships I rly like are ruikasa, anhane and akitoya.

xiaoven might be a very hated Genshin Impact ship but it has a chokehold on me.. the immortal demon/deity troupe is just immaculate. (some of my other ships are haikaveh, cynonari, eimiko, beiguang)

mitsukou from TBHK. they had me when Kou to wanted to die together with Mitsuba so they could live on together as spirirts.. such a platonic thing to want isn't it. all jokes aside, what they have is so precious. Mitsuba is a lonely guy but Kou is always there for him through it all. I'm also a sucker for the human/ghost dynamic.

I'm just gonna mention a few more: aziracrow/ineffable husbands, spideypool, lumity, shadowpeach, bronseele, vanoé, wangxian, hualian, sherliam, marcanne, bubbline, stolitz, hananene, homumado, mikayuu, renga

thanks for your question !

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jenanigans1207 · 4 years

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Okay so today is my birthday and I really wanted to be further along with this fic so I could comfortably start posting it today, but life got in the way. As it stands, I want to at least share a snippet of it! So I hope you guys enjoy this preview of my ineffable husbands, enemies to lovers, fake marriage AU!

—

“I’m sorry,” Beelzebub cuts in from across the table. “But who is this?”

Aziraphale watches as Crowley’s smile grows, sharpens and turns distinctively dastardly. And even though Aziraphale knows what he’s in store for, he’s entirely unprepared for the words that slip out of Crowley’s mouth next. “Name’s Anthony Crowley, Aziraphale’s husband.”

Aziraphale is eternally grateful that he wasn’t taking a sip of his tea at that exact moment for he would’ve surely choked on it.

“Husband?” Beelzebub repeats, eyebrows raising.

There are two courses of action that Aziraphale can take and he knows it. The respectable thing to do is to correct Crowley, to insist to Beelzebub that it’s some ridiculous practical joke, or to explain that Crowley seems to make a living out of irritating Aziraphale to the fullest. Beelzebub probably wouldn’t appreciate the joke Crowley was trying to play, but they’d understand nonetheless, most reasonable people would. The second option is to be petty, stubborn and equally dastardly. There’s a part of Aziraphale that does not tolerate being shown up by Crowley, that doesn’t like letting him have the upper hand or the last word. There’s a part of Aziraphale that wants to throw Crowley off of his game, the same way he’s trying to throw Aziraphale off of his.

He knows he absolutely should not do that. It’s hardly proper and it’s entirely unfair for Beelzebub to get in the crossfires of their petulant relationship.

He does it anyway.

“That’s right.” Aziraphale smiles warmly, reaching out to place a hand on Crowley’s knee under the table and giving it a tight squeeze. Crowley stills beside him. “My dear husband. He’s also a writer, though we write… different subject matters. He was just on the other side of the cafe doing an interview for his most recent article.”

Crowley, who is always moving in some way, is very, very still next to him, his leg like a stone under Aziraphale’s palm. Aziraphale has a moment of feeling incredibly proud of himself for catching Crowley so off guard and returning the favor.

Beelzebub is glancing between the two fo them, eyebrows drawn together. “You don’t seem like a good match.”

“I hardly think you can tell after only a few seconds—” Aziraphale starts to say.

But Crowley finally comes back to life next to him, his grin sliding back onto his face. He looks elated that Aziraphale decided to join him in this lie and it makes Aziraphale’s blood boil. “Opposites attract, isn’t that the saying? I assure you, we’re well fitted for each other.”

“Quite.” Aziraphale agrees as evenly as he possibly can, refusing to move his hand from where it’s placed.

A silence stretches on for a long moment before Beelzebub’s attention zones in on Crowley. “Anthony Crowley, you said? Lead writer for Hellfire?”

“That’s me.”

“Very interesting.” Beelzebub replies, a smile tilting up the corner of their lips. Something about it is unnerving and Aziraphale doesn’t like the sight of it at all. Somehow what had been a perfectly normal conversation had gone entirely off the rails and Aziraphale feels like he’s speeding downhill in a car with no brakes. He should’ve known better than to latch himself onto Crowley like this. “Well, I won’t keep you. Thank you for letting me interrupt your research, Aziraphale. And please do consider what we were talking about earlier. Anthony, I’ll be seeing you very soon.”

And then before either of them could reply, Beelzebub was up and out the door, their short stature helping them blend into the crowds on the sidewalks with ease.

“What the hell was that?” Aziraphale whirls on Crowley immediately, yanking his hand back so fast someone might think he’d been burnt. “What were you thinking?”

“What was I thinking?” Crowley fires back, but he looks utterly delighted. “You’re the one who agreed with me! Plus, they were hardly your type.”

“This wasn’t a date, Crowley!” Aziraphale feels dizzy with frustration. He feels jittery and angry but he’s not sure if he’s mad at Crowley or at himself. Likely both. “They wanted to talk to me about my work and to offer me a position writing for them and their website.”

“What website?” Crowley asks, like that’s the only part of what just happened that needs to be talked about. He asks it like everything else is inconsequential and they’re just having a normal conversation over a cup of tea, like nothing else had happened. Aziraphale considers storming out without even answering.

He doesn’t, but only because he’s fuming too much to leave without properly shredding Crowely to pieces. “They didn’t get a chance to say before you so rudely interrupted.”

“Whatever, angel.” Crowley waves it off, his other hand cupping the back of his neck and squeezing. A headache, then, Aziraphale knows. And then he hates that he knows. “If you ever see them again you can just tell them that it was just some practical joke.”

“I absolutely cannot!” Aziraphale replies immediately and it becomes apparently clear that he’s more mad at himself than he is at Crowley. “How am I supposed to explain why I lied if it was some practical joke that you were playing?”

“I don’t know, angel. Why did you lie?” Crowley bites back and it’s clear that his temper is running thin.

Aziraphale takes a steadying breath in. He doesn’t feel any better. “Just go home, Crowley. Go write your article and go to bed. I’ll scold you suitably once you no longer have one of those headaches.”

“Care about my wellbeing, do you?” Crowley teases, but he’s already gathering his bag again.

“No use scolding you when you’re like this. You won’t learn your lesson.” Aziraphale replies, flustered by Crowley’s comment.

“I assure you,” Crowley stands from his chair and slips the strap to his bag over his shoulder. “I won’t learn my lesson when I’m feeling better, either. Have a good night, my dear husband,”

“You are a wicked man!” Aziraphale calls after him, but he gets nothing more than a dismissive wave in response.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #fanfic #enemies to lovers #fake marriage au #human au #snippet #wip

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salamencerobot · 3 years

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Gomens: Song edition

ok this is mainly gonna be ineffable husbands BUT there is one for a different character that I’ll stick in here

ALSO THIS IS TV ONLY, and im also ignoring any songs i got introduced to through the show/fandom (so like old fashioned lover boy isn’t on here cause it’s like.. canonically their song)

Ok so starting off is Tongues and Teeth by The Crane Wives. This is Crowley. You cannot tell me this guy doesn’t have anxiety over being not good enough for Aziraphale after literally everything that happened in the show. the entire song is “It hurts to love me” HELLO????

“Allies or Enemies” by the same people is kinda the anthem for their entire relationship but i especially think it applies to how Crowley feels after the bandstand theme.

Human by Christina Perri is Crowley. look. I know he’s a demon. but listen to this. “But I'm only human/ And I bleed when I fall down/ I'm only human/ And I crash and I break down/ Your words in my head, knives in my heart/ You build me up and then I fall apart/ 'Cause I'm only human” him at the 1964? scene where Aziraphale goes “you go too fast for me” AND after the bookshop fire. he’s emotional. it does however, apply to both, because they’re both more human than the other angels and demons, even if that’s not literal.

Hard Sell by Crane wives is, again a Crowley song (Im sorry i just only listen to crowley songs i swear). It’s all about pretending to be ok, or pretending to be something you’re not, and hiding emotions (look i know “canonically” the reason he doesn’t wear the glasses is cause of his eyes but shhhhhhhh he doesn’t want to be seen having emotions).

A Good Song Never Dies by Saint Motel is... Bentley. LOOK SHE’S A CHARACTER IN MY HEART. plus it’s funny. keep playing Queen, you have fantastic taste!!. Oh also Aziraphale cause of his whole “it’s still fashionable!” shtick.

Karma by AJR is Aziraphale. generally anytime before the bookshop fire but it applies mostly to after the antichrist’s birth. He has so much faith in heaven and it’s just dashed on the ground and it’s so sad.

Wings by Hurts is the Ineffable husbands from the POV of Aziraphale, specifically in the idea the entire fandom has explored of “ok but what if he DID fall, maybe even willingly???” anyway here are some lyrics that kill me. “Say you'll catch me when I fall/ Wrap your wings around my body/ When I'm lost in the storm/ And I'm calling” UGH ITS SO SAPPY

Burn The House Down by AJR is interesting, because by all accounts it should be a Crowley song for how much it references the internet and the culture of fast news, but it really fits Aziraphale. The entire song is about “should i call out these bad things when nobody is gonna listen to me, and when i could just ignore them” THATS HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH HEAVEN IN A GODDAMN NUTSHELL

ok that’s all i have for now but i will be back eventually

#good omens #gomens #good omens tv #crowley good omens #aziraphale #bentley #shush she deserves it

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talltree-writes · 4 years

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I Didn’t Mean to Fall // Ineffable Husbands

Gabriel and Beelzebub try to pit Aziraphale and Crowley against each other by revealing some old information.

Genre: fluff, a little angst, f2l,

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (Ineffable Husbands)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.2k

Author’s Note: This has been sitting in my docs since a few months after the show came out. I think I was going to try to write it all out in a formal style, but I like this better, honestly. There are most certainly many fics with some of these same tropes, but I just really like them. I have not read the book (yet!!), so if something is wrong in regards to the written canon, I’m very sorry.

-Basically Gabriel has seen what’s going on and he’s here to sow discord for C/A

-Aziraphale is in his bookshop organizing his shelf of first edition poetry books

-In comes gabriel, smug little grin on his face

-Obviously he startles Zira because baby boy is no longer under Heaven’s thumb and doesn’t expect a visit from the archangel

-“Aziraphale! So good to see you.”

-Zira just frowns at him because he knows the opposite to be true

-Gabriel just goes on

-He’s here to stir up trouble

-“Listen, why don’t we talk in the back, we have some private things to discuss”

-He grips Zira’s shoulder a little to hard in order to tell him it’s non-negotiable

-They get to the back and the smirk becomes a hard grin

-“I hear you and the demon Crowley have been getting pretty cozy”

-Zira, stunned, can only think ‘We successfully hid our friendship for 6000 years and they only find out once we no longer work for them?’

-But he says

-“Crowley is a friend, yes”

-There’s no point in hiding it, after all, both Gabe and Beezlebub saw them at that air base

-Gabriel’s smile falters for a split second

-He wasn’t expecting that

-But he can work with it

-“A friend, really?”

-He levels a gaze at the other angel

-Zira’s not about to admit it right then and there,

-So he looks at Gabe likes he’s lost it and says yes

-“There have been whispers, Aziraphale, that there is much more between you and the Fallen… that, perhaps, you’re even in love with Crowley”

-Aziraphale’s heart drops into his stomach

-‘How could he know? He hadn’t told anyone, had never written it down, had never even expressed anything to Crowley?’

-“I am not in love with Crowley.”

-Gabe raises an eyebrow

-“If you say so.”

-He shrugs and starts for the door.

-But then turns around to look at the barely-concealing-his-shock angel

-“You know, She always intended for you two to be together.”

-Aziraphale became confused. Very few angels had intended mates, it was one of the few things She allowed them to choose for themselves.

-She usually only had intended mates for...archangels

-Gabriel took advantage of the moment of confusion

-“Oh? He hasn’t told you who he was before the fall?”

-Aziraphale’s mind flashed through all of the times he had brought the subject of the Fall up, and Crowley had gotten a distant look and changed the subject, or said “I didn’t mean to fall” or brushed it off

-Then he thought of the few clues that Crowley had given him over the years. One in particular stook out. Alpha Centauri.

-He hadn’t made the connection when Crowley was screaming it at him (to be fair, they were in quite the stressful situation, and were both focussing on the Antichrist)

-She wouldn’t have entrusted the creation of an entire system to just any angel

-Only an archangel would hold that power

-There were only two archangels who fell

-Lucifer, obviously, and…

-Raphael

-Raphael, who was never mentioned again after the fall

-Raphael, who’s loss hurt almost as much as Lucifer’s

-Raphael, who had never spoken out against Her

-‘I didn’t mean to fall’...

-Aziraphale’s face lights up with recognition

-Gabriel sees this

-“I could never figure out why he Fell. Perhaps it was all apart of your beloved ineffable plan”

-Shoots a final grin

-And leaves Zira to his thoughts

-Meanwhile

-Unbeknownst to Crowley or Zira, Gabriel had gone to Beezlebub, who was also salty about being shown up by Crowley, and colluded together to throw them off and pit them against each other

-Crowley has a recording of Much Ado about Nothing playing as he reads along

-(He’s trying to surprise Zira with some knowledge and quotes and the last time he’d seen/heard anything pertaining to it was when the bard himself was alive)

-The recording scratches to a stop

-“Crowley…”

-Crowley froze, he hadn’t heard that voice since the Apocalypse that wasn’t

-Feigns nonchalance

-“Beelzebub! To what do I owe the displeasure?”

-He doesn’t work for Hell anymore-- he doesn’t have to refer to anyone as Lord -unless he wants to

-“I have heard rumors of you… consorting… with the Angel”

-Crowley knows exactly what angel they’re talking about

-(obviously, it’s his angel)

-“Which angel would that be exactly? I’m told Heaven has a whole host of them.”

-“The angel Aziraphale, of course.”

-“Oh that angel! No, I’m afraid we see each other as little as possible. Really only meet to discuss our mutual operative”

-“Are you denying that you see each other every day?”

-Crowley didn’t know how or why they kept an eye on them. He thought that they would keep even less surveillance on them as they were no longer agents of Heaven or Hell. Apparently he was wrong

-“Our mutual operative has been having issues lately. We’ve been discussing, at length, whether or not the operative is worth keeping on either side. The goody-two shoes, of course, thinks we should, since the guy is such an imbecile that he maintains a perfect level of good and evil. I, obviously, no longer see the point in it, as we no longer work for either side. The sooner we dismiss him, the sooner we can go our separate ways.”

-It hurts to refer to his angel as anything other than absolutely wonderful or to even pretend that every moment he spends with Zira wasn’t the most fulfilling thing in his life since… well, since he became a demon.

-Beelzebub, knowing the truth, doesn’t buy it.

-“Drop the act, traitor. Both sides know of your little friendship. I just thought you should know that the angel is being informed of your… former self as we speak.”

-Crowley’s brain, and therefore, his mouth, stopped working

-He had spent so long attempting to keep his former identity concealed for so long.

-He had never met his intended mate, and even though he knew he loved Aziraphale, he didn’t know whether or not his meeting Zira was apart of the Ineffable Plan, or just superb luck

-Then, he realized something Beelzebub said

-“Have you been in contact with the other side?”

-Beelzebub goes silent. Crowley is afraid he had disconnected the conversation

-He forged on anyway

-“You have, haven’t you? I’d wager you’ve been in contact with the head halo himself. Tell me, have you told Gabriel of your former identity? I’m sure he’d love to hear that his intended is not only fallen, but, in fact, the prince of hell, themself.”

-When there was no response, instead the voices from the play filtering through his speakers, he knew the other demon had heard him. And he was definitely scared.

-Nonetheless, Crowley was also terrified. If Aziraphale knew, it could change how the angel thinks of him. An archangel? Fallen? It was practically unheard of. Sure, Lucifer himself had fallen, but no other Archangel had uttered any kind of alliance to their brother.

-His own falling had been a separate, private affair. He had approached God Herself (back when God still held audiences with her children instead of sending them straight to the Metatron), and innocently brought his questions before her. When he could bring himself to think about the occasion, he thought he recalled an air of regret and sadness in Her throne room. Almost as if She didn’t want to make him fall. Though, he supposed She’d be loathe to see any of her creations become her enemies.

-Truth be told, he’d never understood why he fell. His questions had never been drastic, and not nearly to the extent She allowed Lucifer’s to get to. But perhaps any questions were grounds to fall after Lucifer’s rebellion

-At any rate, he had to get to the bookshop to explain everything to Aziraphale. His musings on Her decisions could wait until his next drunken pity party

-He grabbed his jacket and miracles himself into the Bentley

-He speeds his way through London to the Soho-based bookshop. The lights on the first floor were dark, and for a second, he thought that Zira was out and about.

-He parks around the corner anyway and got out to walk to the front door. He had no idea if Gabriel was still there

-He got his answer when he spotted the front door open. He went back around the corner and peeked to see a smug looking Gabriel step out of the shop

-Figuring both sides already knew, and they therefore had nothing to lose, he approached his former brother

-“Gabe! What a coincidence to run into you! I assume you’ve just come from telling Aziraphale my former identity. I’m sure you can imagine how grateful I am for sharing an incredibly personal piece of information with someone else without my permission. But how could I return the favor? Hmm… Did you ever meet your intended?”

-Gabriel froze

-Crowley continues

-“No, I suppose you didn’t. After all, your ceremony came after the Fall. Suppose they had to cancel it, then. Must have sucked, knowing your mate fell, but not knowing who they were. Almost as much as never knowing who your mate was in the first place. I, of course, knew, because I told them. But you already know this, y’know, since you were supposed to tell mine. Now that you’ve revealed information that was truly none of your business, I shall return the favor. I assume neither Michael, nor Uriel, have been ballsy enough to tell you who your mate is.”

-He didn’t receive an answer, but continued anyway.

-“You are familiar, of course, with our mutual companion, Beelzebub.”

-Silence

-“I’m sure you’ll be pleased to finally know who your mate is. Now if you would please fuck off and stay out of our lives, we won’t meddle in the matters of heaven and hell- especially your love lives.”

-He pushes past his former brother into the shop.

-“Angel?”

-No response

-He heads into the back

-“Angel?”

-He finds Aziraphale sitting, pensively staring at the wall

-“...Angel…?”

-“Is it true?”

-Crowley knew what he was talking about, there was no use beating around the bush

-“Yes”

-“Why wouldn’t you tell me? Things could have been so much different. Were you ever going to tell me?”

-Aziraphale looks up with a pained look

-Crowley takes a deep breath

-“Eventually… when I accepted what happened.”

-“It’s been 6000 years! Didn’t you think I deserved to know I was your intended?!”

-That stopped Crowley in his tracks.

-“You- you’re my intended?”

-His eyes are blown wide with shock

-Now Zira is confused

-“Yes… I thought that’s what we were talking about. You didn’t know either?”

-“Angel… I thought we were talking about me. I never found out who my intended was. I mean, I had hoped it was you, but I was never sure.”

-“How did Gabriel know?”

-“He was assigned to tell you.”

-Zira’s face scrunched up.

-“I can’t imagine Gabriel being the deliverer of such happy news.”

-“He wasn’t always such an emotionless prick. I’m afraid losing one’s intended in the Fall is rather jarring to an angel. And a demon, to be honest. Beelzebub hasn’t been the same since they fell.”

-“Were they someone’s intended?”

-“Believe it or not, they were Gabriel’s. Obviously, their name wasn’t Beelzebub, but Anabiel and Gabriel were supposed to be very happy together, in fact every archangel was very happy with their intended until they fell. Only Lucifer, Gabriel and myself were left to have our intended ceremonies.”

-Aziraphale got a thoughtful look

-“Don’t you think it’s odd that half of every intended couple fell?”

-Crowley shrugged

-“I’ve been thinking about it for years, and I can’t come up with anything concrete.”

-Zira muses for a second.

-“It’s not worth thinking about, Angel. It all depends on several hypotheticals of what was happening in Her brain this whole time. Something neither of us are privy to.”

-“No, I suppose you’re right, my dear. Besides, I think other matters are slightly more pressing.”

-Crowley raised an eyebrow at his angel

-Who rose

-“What matters, Angel?”

-“The matter of our relationship, my dear, and how it progresses from here.”

-“...Oh”

-Soft BoiTM becomes super anxious

-“Of course, if you would like to remain friends, that is okay. I do vaguely remember some archangels who kept their relationships platonic, and if that is what you wish, I will gladly-”

-Crowley stands up quite quickly and hugs his angel

-“Aziraphale, I would like nothing more than to create a life with you, together as mates. Romantic mates.”

-When Aziraphale’s smile lit up the entire room (literally, he was allowing some of his ethereal form to slip through the veil), Crowley had to shield his eyes

-But when the light dimmed (with a sheepish look from the still very excited Aziraphale), Crowley allowed a genuine smile to alight onto his face

-Now, here’s the thing about Crowley and smiling

-Aziraphale can count on two hands the amount of times he has seen a genuine smile when Crowley was sober

-He smirked, or scowled, sometimes he would let a grin pass

-But rarely would he truly, genuinely, smile

-But this was the best one Zira had ever seen in all of his 6000+ years

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malereader-inserts · 5 years

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Love is a Fragile Dance

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader x Aziraphale Summary: The two were very respectful of your boundaries, but it seemed like everyone was dancing around each other Word Count: 1,836 Request: (1) So after just finishing GO, I would start armageddon for Ineffable Husbands X Reader where the reader has to get used to affection (Especially from Azira). Thank you! (2)If you want angsty here is some. I’m hella mad at this guy I like because he said why are u so guarded and closed off like seriously!!!! I have reasons and I don’t have to fucking tell him. You can put this in whatever fandom I just had to get this off my chest. Warning: Mentions of past relationship abuse, touch starved A/n: yes, I would also start the end of the word for Ineffable Husbands. Also, fuck that guy, I was gonna make Crowley the bad guy but I just couldn’t. asdfghjkl so frustrated my angst isn’t working out well.

You were a standoffish person in general.

And it didn’t help that you were a touch starved person, yearning and craving affection. You just didn’t know how to cope with it because sometimes in the back of your mind, even just the simplest of touchest repulsed you. You knew you weren’t touched repulsed because any sensation didn’t make you feel sick or like it was some burning sensation.

Everything is complicated when you are a closed-off person, you had a rough past and it’s hard to connect to people, coming to terms with people you like was even tougher as you think about the past, you’re terrified to let yourself out there and be free.

Which is why you’ve been ignoring both Crowley and Aziraphale’s advances towards you.

You love them, your heart had decided, but your mind was feeding too much to your demons which sat on your shoulders whispering the dirty things. They’ve told you that they would love to pursue a relationship with you, but you always come apprehensive, were you ready to be loved again?

And you were apprehensive about the two being entities, and one of them being a demon. You’ve seen it first hand and heard it from Aziraphale, Crowley is somewhat “nice” for a demon, but nevertheless, he sometimes loses himself and slips up.

But, you realise, sometimes, humans are just worse than demons.

“Does it matter to you?” You asked bitterly as your friend, Gryffin, sat across you with a look, “You know exactly why-”

“No, I do not!” He exclaims as you scoffed - some friend he was, “All I want to know is why you just don’t put yourself out there anymore, one bad relationship-”

“It was more than bad, Gryffin,” You hissed as Aziraphale and Crowley enter the dessert shop, immediately turning when they hear your voice. Despite the place being busy and loud they could always trace your voice which was slowly turning upset, “You can’t just tell me to get over it.”

“Why not?”

You’ve been friends with Gryffin for a few years now, but tonight he was truly showing you his true colours. You don’t know why you were even meeting him, you could tell it was going to go sour the moment he was about to mention your love life.

“You’re so guarded and closed off,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as you cowered down and locking your jaw, both in anger and in fear.

This movement was not missed by Crowley, who was watching you whilst Aziraphale was quickly ordering, Crowley was feeling the negative vibes from you, he was a demon so he could feel the strongest negative emotions and currently, it was coming from you rather than the crying girl who had been broken up.

“I barely know you anymore (Y/n),” He continues, shaking his head as he continues to sip on his milkshake whilst you timidly sink lower into your seat, “We want to be updated in your life, what’s good?”

“I-” You looked at him in disgust, yet Crowley could see from afar that you were masking the fear of slipping up around your friend.

Aziraphale returns with drinks and immediately turns to see what Crowley was staring at. He immediately picks up how you’re tense, shoulders stiff, yet cowering away. He sees that you’ve closed up your bubble and he looks his boyfriend in concern.

“I’m going to run that man out, I don’t care if (Y/n) says anything...” Crowley grits his teeth, “It’s unbelievable, Angel, the negativity is all from them.”

You looked at your friend who was still talking, “What’s up with your relationship status? I’ve noticed that you’ve been single for two years now.”

The two supernatural entities kept their ears peeled as they hear you take a sharp intake of air. Your hands tremble as you try to prepare yourself for the next vicious blow of judgement and you couldn’t even attempt to stop it.

“Get’s hit once by an ex-boyfriend and suddenly you’re screaming abuse,” He scoffs, shaking his head and that was the final snap for your actual friends as you froze in the spot, “Get over yourself (Y/n).”

“Hey, dick!” Crowley growled, making you snap your head at his direction, “That’s really shitty behaviour.”

You were surprised to see him there but Aziraphale couldn’t help but noticed how you flinched at the tone of Crowley. He carefully taps you, and motions for you to move out of the conflict.

Aziraphale doesn’t want to touch you, he sees how you jumped when he touches you. He follows you out, giving Crowley a look, before keeping an eye on you. He noticed that you sit down by the curb, by the Bentley. Your arms wrapped around yourself in the cold harsh autumn weather, London was facing.

Aziraphale shrugs off his coat and gently puts it on you, you smile up at him with softness as he sits next to you. He smiles wider when he sees you tug on his coat closer to him.

“Thanks, Azira,” You softly say as he nods, “You probably want to eat your crepes whilst we’re waiting for Crowley.”

Aziraphale blushed as you hummed, looking anywhere but him. Crowley comes out after five minutes and sits on the other side of you, he lets out a huff and turns to look at you and his boyfriend.

“Well,” His tone is softer, and his heart breaks when he sees you relax because you shouldn’t even be afraid around him, “He won’t be bothering you anymore, think you’re better off without him.”

“Yeah...” You breathed out, sending him a tired sad smile, “Thank you, Crowley.”

There was silence between the three of you, the two entities not wanting to push you. But, their presence was just enough for you.

“Sorry about that,” You mumbled at the two turns to face you but you were comfortable at least not making any direct eye contact to them, “I-”

“Hey,” Crowley soothes you before you worked yourself up, “You don’t need to tell us anything unless you’re ready. We’re patient.”

You nodded before smiling, “Of course, you waited for Aziraphale, didn’t you?” Crowley and Aziraphale blushed but smile at each other, “I just want to say thank you again, I’ve been trying but it’s hard.”

“And no one is forcing you to do it, my love,” Aziraphale says, you were safe in the nickname he’s decided for you, “We’ll be by your side until you’re ready.”

“Come on, love, we have to get home before you get yourself hypothermia,” Crowley teased as he stands up, lending you a hand with caring eyes. You looked at Aziraphale, who nods.

You were safe.

Aziraphale was quick to pick up how much you wanted affection, but you were so hesitant into asking. Whilst he hadn’t known much of your past, he could infer that it wasn’t the best so he tried to do it in small doses, sometimes you would barely notice, but by the reaction of your body - it seems to give good reviews.

There would be times he would drape a blanket on you, comfort and smells like him and Crowley, which you subconsciously coo. He smiles at you when you turn embarrassed but he noticed how grateful your eyes shine.

Aziraphale made it benefit you and him, he likes seeing how your eyes sparkle happiness.

Sometimes, he would offer his hand and you two would hold hands walking in St James Park when Crowley wasn’t around. Sometimes Aziraphale would open his arms to invite you for a hug, he offers but never forced. He initiates the affection but waits for you to be comfortable, and never feels offended when you decline.

You barely decline the offer as you thrive in his affection like when he holds on longer than usual in a hug, when he softly kisses your temple. Even a simple brush of the hand.

Crowley gets told by Aziraphale about your situation, and like you, he was in the same boat. Craving and wanting affection but afraid to ask. Yet, when he’s around you, he never fails to at least give you something. Like when it’s just you and him, he would have his arm thrown over your shoulder like he was your shield of protection.

Like Aziraphale, he has a tendency to open his arms to offer your hugs, no words spoken as you dive into his embrace. Sometimes Crowley turns into your snake and sits upon your shoulders and wrapped around your neck, hissing at anyone that seems to come with negative energy towards you.

Between the three of you, there was an unspoken agreement about dating.

You couldn’t hide that you loved them when Aziraphale can detect love radiating from you, you were all dancing around each other. In respect to you.

When you come bouncing into the bookshop with the brightest smile, the two entities cannot help but smile and melt at your sunny aura, in the winter of England.

It had been a few months since the incident, you’ve got back on your feet and you were radiating such love and happiness that Crowley cannot but help to almost vomit due to his demonic nature.

“What’s got you all happy?” Crowley asked, scrunching up his nose in disgust as you rolled your eyes.

“Don’t listen to him, boy, he’s just happy to see you happy,” Aziraphale waves his boyfriend off, whilst Crowley sticks his tongue out in all good fun nature.

“Well, I’m ready,” You announced as the two paused to look at you, making sure they had heard you right, “I ready for us and to tell you everything about me, if you would have me?”

The two broke out grins as Crowley picks you up and spins you around, you laugh out loud that the two supernatural entities feel at ease.

“Of course, we’ll have you!” Crowley shouted, putting you down and squeezing your cheeks before kissing your nose, “We’ll forever have you!”

“I’ll get the kettle running, it’ll be a long afternoon!” Aziraphale exclaims, “And some snacks.”

“I’ll get the blankets and pillows,” Crowley announced as the two rifles through the bookshop as you found yourself beaming at their antics.

“You two...” You hummed softly, shaking your head in amusement.

“Oh, my love?” Aziraphale says as you stare at the two of them who stand side by side. Aziraphale on the right whilst Crowley occupied the left.

“We’re proud of you,” They spoke in unison as you tilted your head and eyes soften at the words.

“Damn it guys, I shouldn’t start crying now, we haven’t even-” You chuckled, sniffing, “I love you guys.”

The two let out a glorious noise of happiness as they motioned you to the backroom. You found yourself wedged in between the angel and demon, comfortably safe. You relaxed as you held your mug of hot beverage. The two listen carefully, love is a fragile dance but in the end, it’s worth it.

#crowley x male reader x aziraphale #good omens #good omens imagine #good omens x male reader #x male reader

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wanna-b-poet31 · 5 years

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Aziraphale Addresses His Abuse

In case anyone cares, here are some more musings about the significance of Aziraphale’s confrontation of his abuse in Good Omens. This is an extension of a segment in my longer piece: An Angel in Recovery

Needing Closure

After Aziraphale finally admits that Heaven is like an abusive parent, he needs to come to terms with the fact that he’s got >ALOT< of shit to deal with. Not least of which is his internalized self-loathing as evident in the above gif where we can see his association with “soft” as a negative trait. And we all KNOW Crowley would fight Gabriel for personally helping to instill the belief that he’s a “bad angel” for being kind and compassionate, and loving humanity >and Crowley<.

But, choosing a side is not closure.

What it is, is a support system and a promise to help build up Aziraphale’s confidence. Choosing his side provides safety, and it strengthens his relationship with Crowley, but choosing Crowley alone will not address his underlining trauma. While he now acknowledges that his 6000-year treatment is fucked up (like really fucked up), it is but only one step on his journey towards recovery.

Once Aziraphale chooses Crowley, to be his partner, to stop Armageddon, to defend humanity, he indeed realizes that the line between Heaven’s abuse and the threat of Hell’s is a fucking thin one. Both adversaries team up to actively destroy everything the Ineffable Husbands love, employing gaslighting, physical attacks, or emotional traumatizations to achieve their goals.

In order to have the closure that he desperately needs to properly cope with his trauma, he needs to confront his abusers and reclaim his sense of self, reaffirming his choices to pick the healthy support system that is Crowley.

There are four distinct moments where he gets his closure: With Heaven, With Shadwell, with Gabriel, and finally, with Hell.

Defying Heaven

I didn’t note this before, but Aziraphale’s first direct act of defiance is to his duties as a leader of Heaven.

After Aziraphale has picked a side, he is...inconveniently discorporated...and sent into the den of lions that is Heaven. Now, having realized that no one in Heaven has Earth’s best interests at heart, he walks in with his eyes wide open to the abuse and unhealthy nature of Heaven. Once he is face-to-face with his “duties” as an Angel thrust upon him. And how is he, a principality, an angel of heaven, treated?

Like dirt.

The Quartermaster >yup weird mustache guy is named “quartermaster”< berates him for losing his body (that up until that point had never been discorporated before) and being a “pathetic excuse for angel”. The verbal abuse is strong in this scene because, as the above gif shows, Aziraphale flinches at his words, visibly becoming uncomfortable with the treatment. And, instead of denying the problem or repressing his feelings, he sees Heaven for the nasty “parent” that it is.

And then we see Aziraphale finally. fucking. snap.

For the first, but not the last, time we see Aziraphale assert his own desires to heaven. Although in the garden he clearly asserts his desires and kindness by giving Eve and Adam his sword, he lies about where it’s been to both God and Gabriel. He does not lie here. He makes a choice and he does not back down. He deflects blame somewhat, but he admits that the sword is gone, and righteously asserts that his actions were just.

When the Quartermaster yells abuse at him, then tries to control Aziraphale, promising to overlook his “indiscretion” if he gets in line “now”, Aziraphale fumbles for a second but then comes out in full force.

He. says. no.

Not only that, he tells Heaven, on no uncertain terms, that he wants no part in waging war against humanity or Hell. This act of agency defies the hold Heaven has on him, and where, in the past, he would have suffocated on his own repression instead of acknowledging Heaven’s actions as wrong, he won’t be silent any longer. Heaven isn’t used to being told they’re in the wrong, and it lends to their overall power over all angels. But, Aziraphale does it anyway, knowing full well what the consequences are if they retaliate.

But, he’s chosen his side and damn it all if they think he’s not going to see it through until the end.

Instead of denying there’s a problem with Heaven’s behavior, he demands to be returned to Earth so he can call/contact Crowley and stop the war from starting in the first place. Finally!!! His own wants and needs above the toxic, controlling parent that is Heaven.

And more than that, he tells Heaven the truth. Up until this point he had repressed his misgivings about Heaven’s actions, lying through his teeth to Heaven about his true feelings towards humanity. But here, when faced with an ultimatum, he tells the truth and DEMANDS to be sent back to Earth.

Heaven, it seems, now is not worth the effort. He has a support system he trusts implicitly and without question -- Crowley. The control Heaven used to have on him has been replaced with defiance and anger because of their cruelty to him, to Crowley, and to humanity.

He has some closure!

Handling Homophobia

Then there is Shadwell.

So full disclosure. I haven’t really talked about Shadwell in many of my metas because of all of the abusers in Good Omens, I'm most triggered by his homophobic behaviors. I grew up closeted and queer around people like Shadwell (although they were admittedly less dooms-day focused). I have some family like him and his constant usage of homophobic slurs towards Aziraphale hits close to home. Sorry if this isn’t as detailed as my other sections, disregarding Shadwell is a form of self-care.

It is clear with his introduction that Shadwell is dismissive of most people. For example, he elects to call Tracy “Jezebel” and other derogatory terms for her profession, only treating her kindly after she retires. For Aziraphale, he calls him “Southern Pansy”, which is a major slur in the UK for gay men.

With Crowley, Shadwell is less brash. Sure he still fanatical about abusing witches, and wants to milk the situation for as much money as he possibly can, but when he approaches Crowley at the diner, he speaks with a kind of timidness that looks like he’s seeking validation for his actions. I assert this because he’s not scared of Crowley but genuinely sees him as an ally. While it could just be a ploy to get more money out of Crowley, he doesn’t talk back or insult Crowley around him.

However, I firmly believe Crowley would absolutely beat the shit out of Shadwell for his treatment of Aziraphale.

When we look closely at how Shadwell talks to Aziraphale, he is clearly directly manipulative and verbally abusive. He purposefully takes advantage of Aziraphale’s kindness to better line his own pockets by falsely reporting the existence and death of his “soldiers”. Then, out of earshot, he berates Aziraphale for what he presumes his sexual identity is. While Aziraphale is canonically a queer masculine-presenting non-binary entity, Shadwell percieves Aziraphale’s behavior as a net negative (which it absolutely isn’t!!! Fuck Shadwell’s transphobia and homophobia). He uses his prejudice and homophobia to show that he does not view Aziraphale as worth the same respect that Crowley (who somehow Shadwell does not read as genderqueer) is shown.

Shadwell’s abuse is less all-encompassing than Heaven’s, but it’s just as significant because of his dismissive attitude towards Aziraphale devaluing non-normative gender presentations and is generally meant to be hurtful. He is meant to be Aziraphale’s ally, or perhaps his employee. But the homophobic slurs shows malice. Although not as hidden as Heaven, the abusive nature of Shadwell is just as damaging, and the insult is intended to belittle and demean Aziraphale.

This all comes to a head after finding Madame Tracy is angelically possessed by Aziraphale, Shadwell verbally attacks Aziraphale with the slur again. And Aziraphale, who just faced Heaven and walked backward into Hell, is not having any of the homophobic behaviors.

This whole interaction is a relatively “small” moment compared to his defiance of Heaven, but it shows he’s one step closer to confronting the bigger, more direct, abusers in his life. Defying Heaven was monumental but vague, it’s one thing to defy an organization, or even defy expectations, but to defy individuals is harder, more personal, and confronting the struggle helps give Aziraphale closure against homophobia.

The One Where Gabriel’s a Dick

The next confrontation is with Gabriel, the primary abuser for 6000 years. While all of Heaven is abusive, Gabriel specifically singles out Aziraphale, belittles his interests (even when Gabriel himself indulges in some less than angelic behaviors like wrath and indulging in nice, expensive human clothing). He is a vehicle for many of the specific actions that traumatize Aziraphale.

Although I don’t doubt Aziraphale could cut Gabriel with his flaming sword, the most powerful weapon in his arsenal is his words. He defends Adam’s choice to not destroy the world and confronts Gabriel’s use of the “great plan” vs. the ineffable one. Aziraphale knows that poking at Heaven’s excuse for destroying humanity won’t hold up. Adam’s right, there is no rationale for waging war except “to see whose gang’s the best”. Speaking up like that, against a director of war, is ballsy, but Aziraphale does not care. He needs to confront the horrendous way Gabriel/Heaven has treated him, humanity, and Crowley.

And who supports him through this cathartic moment?

Crowley.

With a single glance, Crowley interjects and comes through, supporting Aziraphale’s (extremely clever) plan to protect Adam and the world. Based on Gabriel and Beelzebub’s confused reactions Crowley realizes Heaven and Hell don’t actually know what they’re doing. Aziraphale has them dead to right with his cleverness and devotion to humanity. Stepping closer to Aziraphale, protectively behind Adam, he pushes until Heaven and Hell are forced to admit defeat.

It’s a beautiful confrontation. A perfect FUCKKKKKKK YOU to the embodiment of his abuse, with his support system helping give him the confidence he needs to push past his insecurities and execute his plan.

Facing His Fears: Hell or Highwater

The last distinct moment is the switch.

While Hell specifically hasn’t actually targetted Aziraphale, they have done something worse. Attacked his support system. So, Aziraphale returns in kind, confronting his partner’s abusers head on. And look at the absolute GLEE he takes in showing off how indestructible to Holy Water his partner is. He’s making a performance of daring all of Hell to come after them, terrorizing them like they terrorized Crowley and him.

It’s also him coming to terms with the fact that yes, it’s him and Crowley against the (divine) World. The switch is so significant for so many reasons, but the primary one is that it allows Aziraphale the ability to face his biggest fear -- Hell -- and not flinch.

The Threat of falling (like from Uriel/Michael/Sandalphon) and going to Hell terrifies our loveable bastard angel. He knew that he was disposable to Heaven, but he’s indisposable to Crowley. This confrontation allows him to come to terms with the unhealthy power dynamic of Heaven and begin the rest of his life with Crowley as equals.

Once he returns home, to Crowley, he’s not fully recovered (recovery is a process, not a finish line) but he’s faced all of his abusers.

He has closure.

TLDR: Aziraphale is on the road to recovery with Crowley. #lovewins

Thanks for coming to my Ted talk

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ineffablecolors · 5 years

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The Wife [22/?]

The Wife || Ch 22 ~ 4.4k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 Ch11 C12 Ch13Ch14Ch15Ch16 Ch17 Ch18 Ch19 Ch20 Ch21 ||FF.NET&AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: Hey, guys, sorry for the longer wait. Currently hyperfixating on Ineffable Husbands but I'm not leaving those babies right before the end point so no worries ;)

Upon Alice and Robyn’s arrival, Emma’s life seems to settle for the first time in what is in reality less than half a year but feels very much like a couple of lifetimes. It’s a peculiar feeling to associate with the girls who, more often than not, move like little pocket hurricanes through the house and leave traces of themselves like debris behind.

Emma expects, is almost familiar with, Alice’s uncontainable energy, the childlike capacity for wonder and the safety to be herself and even a bit wilder, a bit freer – somehow more than the self that she presents to most of the world. It’s all Killian’s presence boosted even further, made sweeter, by Robyn’s.

It’s this other young lady that has surprised Mrs Jones. Robyn is all propriety and politeness at first, somewhat quieter than the vague image Emma formed in her head based on Killian and Alice’s stories, somewhat more subdued – her hair always pulled back and her movements strong but contained, her blush fierce whenever Alice’s hand would brush against hers or Alice’s lips would peck her cheek in front of Emma and Killian.

In all fairness, Emma knows – knows from personal experience – that it makes perfect sense for Robyn to be a bit more reserved, a bit more cautious. It just isn’t what she expected. Which is probably for the best. Since it lasts all of a week.

A week and some gradually warmer weather is all it takes for Robyn to start cajoling Emma into trying her aim at one of the practice targets that Killian put up at the very back of the grounds for the girls. A week for Robyn to accept Emma’s offer to take Buttercup out for a ride with Jolly and Alice. A week for her to start coming down to breakfast with her hair in a state that makes Ruby groan in near pain. A week for her to settle hip to hip with Alice in the library and another to rest her head in Alice’s lap while they race each other over the identical copies of whatever book Killian has bought them last.

“You do know this is all on you, don’t you?”

Emma looks away from the dissolving clumps of cinnamon in her cocoa and picks both mugs, heading toward the door and inclining her head in an invitation for her husband to follow. She and Killian retiring to their bedroom before midnight is another development that has been, at least partially, brought on by the girls’ presence and their love for lazing around in the library late into the night. Emma has settled into that without too much protest as well.

“What is?” she asks on her way up the stairs and grins at the way Killian glances down the corridor, toward the library door – part guilt and part suspicion that Emma has decided only parents can imbue with quite so much fondness and frustration at the same time.

“This. The usurpation.”

Her laughter makes a little bit of cocoa slosh over the rim of one mug and she bites her lip and glances guiltily at the spot on the stairs but Killian waves a dismissive hand and urges her up the stairs. Emma likes to think she would have normally protested and made them stop and clean up but his urging takes the form of his hand fitting neatly under her bottom and almost lifting her toward the next rung so she feels decidedly overruled on this one.

“Usurpation?” she giggles again as Killian crowds her against their bedroom door for a moment before turning the handle.

“Aye. I’ve been going to bed at a time befitting a gentleman quite a bit older than myself for weeks now.”

“Ah, yes, because it is all peaceful rest that transpires in this room.”

Emma does so love the way she can still make her eloquent husband sputter with barely an allusion to bedroom activities.

“That is entirely beside the point, love. I adore my daughter and I’m absolutely delighted how at ease you have set Robyn. But frankly, a father is happy with the abstract knowledge of his daughter’s successful romance, not very concrete encounters with it.”

There is a barely restrained current of amusement under Killian’s words and Emma makes sure that he sees her eyeroll and her knowing look before she sets their mugs on the floor before the fireplace and sits down with her back to him.

Killian’s knees press under the small of her back as he lowers himself behind her and works his clever fingers beneath the laces of her dress.

Of course, he is not entirely unjustified in his indignation, however playful.

When the library was usurped, as he put it, they tried sequestering themselves in his study but Killian found the idea of spending his evenings where he spend the majority of his days understandably less than appealing. Any period longer than the time required for the manifestation of some hot chocolate in the kitchen earned them Granny’s vocal displeasure and, as soon as the world outside started thawing, the chances of them running into Alice and Robyn in the garden were just as good as stumbling on an intimate scene in the library. Alice maintains that her father built that swing in the back for her so really it is them who have been trespassing.

And Emma has to agree with Killian – she is overjoyed to see the girls happy and in love but the image of her step-daughter loosening a corset is not one she needs imprinted on her mind. So, their bedroom it is – the last stronghold that they haven’t happily relinquished control of.

“What do you mean I have set Robyn at ease?” she twists her head to look at Killian over her shoulder.

He gives her a look that says he can answer her immediately but instead takes his time to finish undoing her dress and run his fingers through her hair a few times even though it has been free and loose all day.

“I’m confident in the very amicable relationship I have with Robyn,” he starts eventually, when Emma turns around to face him and takes a sip of her drink. “But surely you realize that it is you who has made her feel comfortable and at home here, my queen.”

“I wouldn’t say— That is I have…”

She has been trying to do exactly that actually, she just never connected the desired result with her efforts.

“I think it was the horse,” Killian says with a light in his eyes that she suspects has much to do with her own expression of realization. “I’d never let her ride my horse.”

“You’d never let anyone ride Roger and thank god for that. He’d probably kill just about anyone else.”

Killian hums as if the idea has quite a bit of merit and he is perfectly alright with that. When he moves to kiss her, the vision of him astride his gorgeous and equally dangerous beast is not far from her mind.

*****

She is already naked, still kneeling in front of the fireplace but now with her husband pressed fully –intimately – against her back, his hand low on her stomach, holding her to him and upright and grounded – she is already half gone by the time the thought crosses her mind – of the possible consequences of this, of the desired consequences.

At first, Emma was almost afraid that it will spoil it, that the constant hope and expectation and wondering of maybe this time will erode some of the sheer enjoyment of making love to Killian. She thinks maybe it did, the first few days – not so much erode as strain, add a particular weight to the act, send vibrations of anticipation along the link between them. But it is rather difficult to anticipate anything else when she has Killian all around her, inside her. The answer of him outweighing any question of anything else.

And then, a couple of weeks after she convinced her husband that they should at least try, on a night when they came to bed late, after too much food and some wine, and came together with the minimal amount of movement and effort and removal of nightclothes required, Emma realized that if they never get there, if she never gets anything but this, it will be alright. It will be more than alright, it will be enough for her to be iridescently happy for the rest of her days.

And now, as Killian’s hand slips lower and she can feel the scratch of his hair and the cool points of his nipples against her back, as he whispers things that make her bite her lip and try to swallow down the tidal wave in her chest, she forgets there is any point to this other than chasing that hill that Killian has shown her how to climb and making him jump off with her.

*****

None of that can quite keep down the instinctive longing she feels when she holds Mary Margaret’s newborn son for the first time but it certainly helps her smile and coo at him in genuine delight instead of masked resentment.

He is healthy and lovely and Mary Margaret looks so splendid and relaxed that Emma has a hard time imagining Leo’s birth including anything but her friend smiling serenely and sighing happily as she coaxes her baby to join her into the world with just a few whispered words. It’s a preposterous image, of course, but the more Emma listens to Mary’s lilting voice and watches her cradle her baby, the more she cannot picture anything else. There is a vague thought at the back of her mind that, even if she were able to bring a child into the world, there is no way she is able to do it as gracefully and seemingly effortlessly as Mary Margaret.

So she spends all her joy in the Nolan’s picturesque home and she stares unseeingly out of the window on the ride back home and then, as soon as she sets foot on the stones leading to the house, she has another vision in her mind. One of her finally taking one of Robyn’s bows and shooting arrow after arrow at the target, each one sinking it with satisfying success, perfect execution, perfect control. She starts walking around the house before she has had time to scoff at herself.

And Robyn is exactly where Emma imagined she would be, alone like she imagined she would be. It fuels Emma’s fantasy.

“Emma!”

The girl smiles brightly at her. She stopped calling her Mrs Jones around the time she stopped glaring at Alice every time she tugged on Robyn’s braid to try and bring her cheek to Alice’s lips.

Emma’s dramatic response is to throw her hat to the damp grass, pulling a few hairs on the way and squaring her shoulders. She doesn’t ask, she just takes one of the bows Robyn is not using. Emma has always been good enough with her hands, she only needs to see something done once or twice to be able to replicate it almost exactly. This is probably the reason she actually manages to cock the arrow properly. The adrenaline in her veins and the vision in her mind’s eye is probably the reason she manages to pull her arm back, a tremble going down her spine as she lets the arrow fly.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, it should be anything but, when the arrow dives down and falls impotently to the grass before even reaching the target.

Some part of Emma hears Robyn make a sputtering, helpless sound but all the rest of her is focused on keeping her muscles from shaking off the bones of her arm as she pulls another arrow back and watches it sail far to the left.

“Emma, let me at least show—“

The third one she can’t even pull all the way back and it takes everything inside her not to throw the bow to the ground and stomp her foot like a petulant child.

Then Emma feels a pair of arms wrap around her and with a little twist, a strangled sound and a hum that almost manages to settle her trembling hands, half of her weight is no longer on her feet, her fingers grapple with unfamiliar fabric and her face is buried in blonde curls. For the next few minutes she just clings to Alice.

“First time around, I couldn’t even pull it all the way back.”

The words are warm against the side of Emma’s head, the levity inside them isn’t really forced and there is a thread of admiration running through them that Emma doesn’t deny herself from picking up.

“Oh, yes, I’m a natural.”

She feels the vibrations of her and Alice’s laughter undulate against each other and flow together.

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Robyn’s voice is tentative behind them and Emma lets one of her arms drop away from Alice so she can turn around and give her an apologetic smile. “It’s not really… an emotional sport.”

Emma manages to chuckle a little and nods.

“Maybe you can give me a proper lesson and demonstration. Tomorrow?”

Robyn’s smile is bright and excited and Alice’s hand tightens on Emma’s waist and Emma feels the little pockets of emptiness that tried to fit themselves into her heart filling again.

“I think papa was just going for a ride.”

Emma gives Alice a grateful smile and Robyn one last hopeful look.

“Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow. Go on before I make you gather the arrows you shot.”

She doesn’t feel all that childish when she runs off or perhaps she just doesn’t care.

*****

Killian has just swung into his saddle when she rounds the corner of the stables. She supposes the pinkness of her face, the labored breathing and her hair flying all over the place justifies the startled look on his face but she lifts her hand to stop him from getting off his horse and makes her way to him at a slightly more reasonable pace.

“Take me with you, my heart?”

She holds her hand towards him and doesn’t squirm or doubt when Killian looks her over with a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes before he nods and helps her settle behind him. Roger makes a noise that seems to indicate that this is a one time thing that they are being allowed and then they are off.

They ride in silence until the house looks like she can put it in her pocket. Killian knows where she was, he offered to go with her, she thinks next time she will let him. But she doesn’t regret going alone now, she doesn’t even regret her display with the bow and arrows, she doesn’t regret anything at all as she presses her breasts firmly into Killian’s back, her hands into his sides and her nose into the hair on the back of his neck.

It’s so different from leaning into Alice’s softness and hanging onto a frame no bigger than her own but the certainty that they will hold her up and keep her until she grows warm and sure again is almost identical.

*****

They come back when the sun has almost completely disappeared, both starting to shiver a little from the early spring wind. The damp patches on his trousers hardly help, he has missed one leaf in Emma’s hair and quite a few little twigs that embedded themselves in her coat, so Killian squeezes her wrist and drags his wife up the stairs before anyone can catch sight of them. He will have to forsake the right to grumble and roll his eyes at Alice and Robyn if either sees them in this state. Though they might go easy on Emma today from what she told him – he squeezes her soft hand again and pulls her closer to his side as they rush into their room and start the process of making each other presentable again.

He watches her carefully still, trying to spot a certain rigidness in her shoulders or a tightening around her mouth but it’s all gone now. He runs his hand down her spine as she takes off his brace and kisses the corners of her lips while she tries to tame his hair, just to make sure.

It’s mostly habit that makes Killian peak into the library when they make their way back downstairs and he does a double take when he finds it empty. They exchange a disbelieving look but make quick work of spreading themselves over the pillows left in front of the fire. The look Granny gives them upon entering the room makes it quite clear that she still hasn’t decided who is the most immature individual living under this roof.

“Supper will be another hour, seeing as the Misses decided to take a bath.”

Killian honestly has no idea what possesses him to arrange his features the way he does or say what he does – no idea other than the warmth of the fire and Emma’s head on his thigh where she has buried her nose in a novel she has been trying to snatch from Alice for a week, no idea but wanting to see Granny put her hands on her hips and huff and storm out.

“Ah, that is quite alright. Perhaps, in the meantime, you can bring us some of those biscuits Ruby was making earlier.”

Granny doesn’t disappoint him.

*****

Killian Jones has spent a likely disconcerting amount of his 40 years of life on the floor.

When he was young, the day the summer firmly turned the tide and the heat overpowered even the night coldness, he would sneak a blanket from under his mother’s nose and go to sleep on the still warm grass outside, trying to read words in the stars until his eyes betrayed him. He doesn’t count those years on the grass.

When he was in the Navy, few things rankled more than sharing space with men that were as far from the title of a “gentleman” as one could get and yet, space on a ship was scarce and sharing it was not really a question of preference and sensibility, so he would trudge up from the crew’s quarters and find himself a square of planks that looked almost as fine as the bunks below them and try to remember what stories he used to read in the stars when he was young. He doesn’t count those years on the planks.

When he returned from sea, the concept of earth under his feet at all times seemed preposterous and yet, the sight and feel of chairs and settees seemed even more so, and when he could get away with it – meaning not around Liam or anyone they did business with and not around any ladies (not until Milah) who felt it an offence to be in the company of someone so queer about such a simple matter as sitting – he would much rather sit on the floor than on any furniture designed for that express purpose. He doesn’t count those years on the floor.

When Alice was born, with all her quick little limbs and her devious little mind, with her innocent baby face and all her ideas defying gravity and logic, he found it much sounder to spread his papers and books on the carpet around her, to keep pen and paper and baby all within the reach of his hands – not to mention, how much better he could delight in exactly those devious little tricks of hers when they were sharing almost the same height and surface. He doesn’t count those years on the carpet.

When they came back from the war, it was Liam who would grab two pillows and throw them before the fireplace whenever Killian stayed over after dinner dragged on too long or the rum kept flowing a bit too late, and Killian never quite figured out if his brother did it for him or for himself and perhaps he was reluctant to ask because it was the best sleep he got for the first couple of years after and perhaps because, whoever it was for, they both needed it. He does count those years in front of the fire.

When he got married, nothing felt quite right – not taking her arm when they walked down the street, not introducing her as the mistress of the house to staff and guests alike, not sharing a table with her on the occasion when he slept in too late or got lured into the dining room around supper, not raising a child with her – to whatever degree what she did could be called raising anything, rather than bringing down things that Alice had cultivated herself or Killian had carefully, secretly, nurtured, and certainly not sharing a bed with her, so he was rather glad for all the practice he’d had of sleeping on grass and planks and carpets alike so that, when he couldn’t stomach the thought of lying down beside her and couldn’t escape the room altogether, the floor felt like no big sacrifice. He does count those years on the floor.

When Milah was gone for honour and Eloise was gone because the world had decided to finally let him breathe a little and Alice was gone because he loved her too much, he had all the rooms and beds and linen that one could wish for and that, most likely, was why every other week he would still find himself sleeping on the floor before the fireplace – not with his brother because his brother had grown up and then he’d healed and then he’d found love that he could keep – thinking that maybe the following night he would take a blanket and sneak out into the back garden and see if there has been anything new written in the stars. He does count those lonely years on his own.

Now he remembers the last time he slept on the floor. A month ago? A bit more? They hadn’t made love on the floor the way they had a number of times before, hadn’t even taken more than one pillow and the throw from the armchair a couple of feet away. They hadn’t meant to stay there that long at all and then, the next thing Killian was aware of was the sunshine hitting his face at an unusual angle and his back feeling stiff beneath him and his neck doubly so, and then he opened his eyes to see his bedroom ceiling from a point that he hadn’t in a while, since some weeks before Emma first set foot in the house, with the woman in question, lying on his chest, her arm wrapped uselessly around the only pillow that neither of them seemed to have used and snoring lightly in a way that made him want to laugh and wake her with kisses to the back of her neck all in the same breath. He does count that morning.

All in all, his time lying on the floor has vastly improved as of late but this – this is by far his favourite. So he tries to catalogue and store away all the details – the soft depths of the pillow under his head, the scratch of the carpet under his right elbow where Emma rolled up his sleeve as he was preparing drinks; the smell of chocolate and cardamom tea and something stronger that he and Robyn spiced their respective beverages with; the quiet, random popping of the logs in the fireplace and the faintest traces of smoke in the warm air; the texture of the book he keeps splayed open with his fingers and the light rasp of the page under his thumb; the feel of Emma’s toes digging into his shoulder as they all lie in a circle of their own making, their shoes lined perfectly under the table.

It feels like a scene from a children’s book, he would bet it looks like one as well. He feels his skin itch from the joy of it.

“Now, how does this work exactly, darling?” he tries to introduce some reluctance into his tone but is afraid it comes out just painfully fond.

“You read a page and then I read the next and then Robyn reads the next and then Emma reads the next and then it’s you again.”

“Right. Splendid. But what precisely is the purpose of this orchestrated reading?”

“The purpose is that we all read at the same speed and I do not find out that Beth is going to die because Emma gasped in horror ten pages ahead.”

Killian tilts his head back to watch in amusement as his wife’s face floods with color.

“And I reckon it would be rather nice, don’t you?”

He drops his chin to his chest so he can now catch his daughter who has propped herself on his knee, her eyes bright and wide and so earnest that he can’t do anything but agree.

Before the night is through, the book makes ten full turns around their circle, passing from hand to hand, sighs and grumbles and indignant exclamations when it is dropped and the page lost, but mostly the pleasant change of tone and tempo as they take their turns and experience the story together.

Killian doesn’t know when he falls asleep – it might have been Alice’s too gentle voice or Robyn’s somewhat unadorned reading or perhaps the calming sound of Emma’s tones that his mind associates with safety and rest. He imagines she went to pass him the book, keeping her ring finger carefully marking the page, only to not find his hand waiting to receive it. He imagines Alice rolled her eyes and made a comment and Robyn shushed her and urged her up with a squeeze of her ankle and Emma marked the page and shuffled closer to him. He is quite certain about that last one because he wakes up on the floor, to the fire almost dying and the girls long in bed, with Emma’s front pressed against his side, her fingers running absent-mindedly though his hair and her breath teasing his throat.

He most certainly counts this one.

*****

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#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfics #cs au #mad archer #the wife

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years

Text

@thecorteztwins

I wound up writing a little thing based on those panels you showed me of villains “rehabilitating” (but actually being mind-controlled) at Clear Mountain Center in X-Men 92. This was meant to be a funny story about Fabian in rehab learning how to talk to women, but it got a little disturbing because of the mind-control aspect, and also Avalanche tells a grim little story about baby murder, so warnings for that. But now I’m really tempted to write something about Haven taking the place over and actually Doing It Right.

“So,” Fabian began, speaking in the halting tones of someone attempting to wrap his mind around a difficult concept. “You’re saying you’re not attracted to me?”

“Not in the slightest,” said Tabitha Smith, the mutant known as Boomer (and also Time Bomb, Boom-boom, Meltdown, and whatever other code-name caught her fancy). Her tone was firm, but she smiled at him, as if to soften the blow. “I mean, you’re obviously good-looking, just not my type.”

“Oh, of course, you prefer women. I understand. I am open-minded about such things –“

“Nooooo…..” Boomer cut in, with some slight irritation creeping into her voice. “I’m mostly into guys. Just different types of guys.” Fabian thought hard. He was tempted to spread his legs out wider, to give her a better look at what she was rejecting, but he’d gotten enough tiny power-bombs to the crotch to learn that that was a bad idea. (The low-powered bombs did no real damage, but they certainly stung.)

“I get it, I get it. You are holding yourself back. You are maintaining a professional relationship because you are my counselor.”

“No!” Boomer held her head in her hands for a moment, sighing. “Look, not every woman will find you attractive, okay? Everyone has different preferences. Like, people think Leonard Decaprio is super-hot, and he just doesn’t do anything for me, I’m more of a Brad Pitt girl. It’s not something you need to feel bad about, it doesn’t mean you’re like, ugly, or anything like that.”

Fabian’s mind whirled. This girl was young, beautiful, a powerful mutant, and had showed him such kindness as his mentor. She had a surprising amount of wisdom underneath her shallow and flippant demeanor. And yet, her judgement was so unsound. Perhaps she had some kind of psychological condition, like a strange form of face-blindness? But then, Fabian had been learning to accept many ideas that had previously seemed impossible. The idea of living with the humans in peace. The idea of answering hatred with understanding, not violence. The idea that he should treat others with kindness and respect, instead using them as stepping stones in his quest for status and power.

“Very well,” Fabian began again. It was difficult to force the words out. “I…accept that you do not find me attractive. I….accept that some people…..may….not find me attractive. After all, there are many different preferences in this world.”

“Yeah, dude, exactly. It’s like…some people like Cool Ranch Doritos? And some people prefer Nacho Cheese. There’s no right or wrong, except for the people who like Funyuns, because that shit is nasty.” Fabian wanted to roll at his eyes at her rather low class tastes, but instead he found himself laughing good-naturedly.

“Ha, ha, yes, that is a funny joke,” he said, beaming. It was strange. His mind felt so….slow. Like there was this weight pressing down in it. But at the same time, it was oddly pleasant. A bit like Anne Marie’s more enthusiastic hugs, which always threatened to break the recipient’s back.

“In Spain we have jamon flavored potato chips. Perhaps you would find them interesting to try. I will bring some back the next time I visit home.” He did not add that he had never eaten those chips, they were junk food for peasants, but if this girl found them enjoyable, he would indulge her. It was a nice thing to do, and he found that he wanted to be nice lately. He didn’t entirely understand why.

“Oh dude, that would be amazing!” Boomer exclaimed. “I love trying junk food from other countries. There’s so much cool stuff out there. Did you know that they have, like, a whole ton of Kit-Kat flavors in Japan?”

I don’t care, Fabian wanted to say. I spent my time in Japan eating Kobe beef and blue-fin tuna, not wasting my money on cheap candy.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he said aloud instead. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t intended to sound so interested, but his mouth and brain did not seem properly connected. The pleasant feeling hung over him, almost suffocating.

“OMG, there are like, so many! There’s strawberry, and sweet potato, and soy sauce, and wasabi – which is like, better than you’d expect – and sake, and…”

Fabian wanted to tell her to stop prattling, but he couldn’t quite find the words. He looked around the outdoor area while she rambled on. There was Blob pruning rhododendron bushes with Storm, the blossoms tiny in his huge, clumsy hands.

“….and blueberry cheesecake, and apple pie, and brown sugar syrup, and cantaloupe which sounds totally disgusting but apparently it’s pretty good, and…”

The Kleinstock brothers and Frenzy were tossing a Frisbee around with Feral and Cannonball, while Vertigo and Arclight were playing scrabble with Polaris and Multiple Man. Ruckus was strumming a guitar, pausing occasionally to sweep his hair back dramatically, and clearly looking around for an audience. Ugh, he was singing “One Tin Soldier.” Fabian hated that song. Fabian hated……a lot of things that were happening at that moment.

“….and maple, and pumpkin, and chestnut, and green tea, and Tokyo Banana, because apparently that’s a thing, and..”

He hated listening to this stupid girl spew out every thought in her empty brain. He hated sitting in group therapy and listening to the peons that he shared the facility with whining about their inconsequential problems. He hated having to hug people. He hated being stuck in this adult daycare while he should be leading his Acolytes to victory against humankind (and racking up a few kill points for the Upstarts while he was at it.) Something in his mind was breaking free.

“Enough!” he snapped, jumping to his feet. “This isn’t right! I shouldn’t be here!” Boomer paused in her Kit-Kat flavor recital.

“Whoa, dude. Chill out. You need a time-out, or something? Maybe you need some time in the Angry Room.”

“No, I do not need some time in the Angry Room,” Fabian snarled. “I don’t belong here with the rest of these losers, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m….I’m so much better than the rest of you. I’m practically a god! I should be….should be –“ His eyebrow twitched. His body shuddered, and a fixed grin came over his face.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be saying things like that. What am I thinking? We’re all special in our own way. I just want us all to be friends,” Fabian continued. A single tear leaked out of one corner of his eye.

“Hey, good job, man,” said Boomer, patting him on the shoulder. “You recognized a negative thought pattern, and then, like, stopped it. That totally deserves a Hershey Kiss.” She tossed him the silver wrapped chocolate.

“Thank you.” Fabian shuddered again, and then his body seemed to relax, his tense smile softening into one that seemed genuine, if a bit dazed. “I like Hershey Kisses.”

“Don’t we all, buddy.”

“They are good,” Fabian continued, pulling the foil off and popping the chocolate in his mouth absent-mindedly. “This place is a good place. We are all good here.”

At the table, another group was mid-way through a fairly intense game of Uno. Most of the group (X-Men included), would have preferred poker, but apparently that wasn’t wholesome enough the rehabilitation process.

“I’m just saying, we didn’t start the war.” Avalanche slapped down a card, perhaps slightly too hard. “Humans want to stomp out anyone who’s different. That’s the whole damn history of the human race.”

“But nothing will change if we continue the cycle of violence,” argued Colossus.

“We must ‘turn the other cheek,’” agreed Nightcrawler. “Send out a message of peace and love.” He betrayed that sentiment by tossing down a Draw Four card.

“Yeah, and the guy that did that got nailed to a cross, didn’t he?” Avalanche retorted. “Didn’t work out so well for him.”

“You can’t be expecting us to imitate Christ, can ya?” Pyro put in, throwing a Reverse on the stack. “He was all flawless and perfect and ‘ineffable,’ right? And he had a get-out-of-death-free card. We ain’t got that.”

“You could have that, by the Grace of God –“ Nightcrawler began, than stopped, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, this is not the right place for that conversation. I know religion is very personal, and everyone must make their own choices. But I will talk about it with any of you privately, if you want.”

“All I’m saying is, humans have tried to bloody kill us,” Pyro continued. “Are we supposed to just lie down and take it? I’ve had people turn on me, even back before the Brotherhood, before I committed any crimes. People that I thought I could trust.” The cards in his hand crumpled as his fist clenched.

“Humans are fucking brutal. I’ve seen…..” Avalanche shook his head. “There was a woman back on Kalymnos, gave birth to a baby with gills. Nothing wrong with the kid otherwise, it was just a cute baby. But people acted like it was the damn anti-Christ. Her husband moved out and wouldn’t have anything to do with her. And one day….” A slight tremor rippled across the table as he continued. “One day some guy just snatched the baby out of her arms and threw it down on the rocks. I’ll never forget how she screamed. And nothing ever happened to the guy. He was a murderer, and the police did nothing. Everyone just pretended that it never happened –“ The table shook visibly now, the vibrations spreading out into the ground around them.

“Tovarish, please calm down. I understand how that memory must pain you, but –“

The vibrations suddenly stopped. For a moment, Avalanche looked confused, then a dull smile spread across his face.

“I’m sorry, friends. I just get upset sometimes, thinking about that. I shouldn’t dwell on such horrible memories.”

“Yes, we should just think about good things,” Pyro agreed, wearing the same sickly smile. “We are in a good place. We are all good here.”

Sitting in the sun on the roof, Toad wrapped his arms around himself, smiling. He felt….good. For the first time that he could remember, he was entirely at peace with himself. He wasn’t plagued with anxiety at every social interaction, waiting for the inevitable rejection, wasn’t miserable when he looked into the mirror. No more flashbacks or sudden fits of sadness or anger. He woke up and was actually eager to get out of bed in the morning, eager for a day that he knew would bring good things. And people were actually being nice to him! There was no superficial politeness or poorly hidden disgust, no cheap pity. Just genuine kindness. His counselors and the other former super-villains actually seemed glad to see him every day.

Of course, sometimes it felt too good to be true. Sometimes he would look around and everything would feel slightly off, like one of those hyper-realistic dreams where you can only tell that you’re dreaming because something in your room is out of place. He felt like he was constantly wrapped in a blanket of warm air, and it was so good and comforting, but it made him dull and sleepy. (Perhaps this was what being drunk was supposed to be like? For the normal people? When Toad tried alcohol, it only seemed to make him sad.) Things were very hazy, and it was hard to put his thoughts together. But that didn’t matter, did it? Because finally he was safe and happy, and everyone was so nice.

“This is a good place,” he said aloud to no one in particular. “We are all good here.”

#fabian cortez #dominic petros #avalanche #pyro #st. john allerdyce #toad #mortimer toynbee

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toadink2005 · 5 years

Text

Good omens fandom

I don't even watch good omens, I dont know where i would watch it l, like what platform it's on no clue, I probably will eventually watch it as it seems like a really good show but as of right now? Nope never have even seen a full scene that wasn't made of gifs

But seeing fanart of it still makes me so happy?

And I've read multiple ficlets that come across my dash

Cosplayers I follow on tiktok all gravitating towards good omens? Love it, I don't know how many beezlebub cosplay videos I've watched or how many videos labeled "ineffable husbands" but I think it's too many to count at this point

And I don't know who warlock is but he sounds like the type of character that I would say "not to be dramatic but I would die for him"

And beezlebub (even though canon and fanon are almost always separate in characters like this) seems like relatable in the weirdest way

Azipheral (I can't spell and I'm so sorry) and Crowley's relationship? Seems? So pure? Like obviously again canon vs fanon but even in canon gifs and stuff it doesn't seem like the rival lovers fandom ship that I end up not even liking, it seems like genuine friends and probably lovers

It's probably one of the biggest fandoms right now and one of my favourite right now despite the fact I've never seen the show

Even though I have never seen a single episode, I would die for the good omens fandom

Keep making cool stuff

Keep making cosplay videos

Keep drawing fanart

Keep writing fanfics

Keep being awesome guys

#good omens

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maxiswriting · 6 years

Text

Writing Masterpost

Last updated: 11/23/2019

Undertale

A Cup Of Sugar

Pairing: Alphyne

Warnings: None

Words: 578

Summary: "Person A and B are roommates that are together in a dorm. Their neighbor (whom Person A finds hella cute), Person C, knock on their door and asks if they have any sugar. Person B pushes Person A out of the dorm, stating that “They’re as sweet as can be”. BONUS: B locks the door and refuses to let A in until A and C talk to each other." by @otpprompts

Time For Judgement

Pairing: Platonic Frans

Warnings: Implied Character Death, Angst all around.

Words: 498

Summary: He never actually minded the place. After King Asgore choose him as his Judge, he often found himself there, meeting with the ones who wanted to advance to the throne room. Some had simple, good intentions. Others, not so much. But he never had to fight –really fight- someone: they always gave up after the first turn. Heh. He still can’t understand why people never use their strongest attack first.

Yuuri On Ice!!!

All I Want For Christmas Is You

Pairing: Viktuuri

Warnings: Implied Homophobia

Words: 676

Summary: Viktor always loved Christmas. He loved it when he was a child, and his family was still whole and happy and he had nothing to worry about. He loved it when he was 14, when his parents basically threw him out of the house and told him to never come back because he had fallen in love with someone "he wasn't supposed to", and he found himself with nowhere to go in the middle of the night. He loved it when he became the best skater of Russia, and his only companion was Makkachin and sometimes Mila or Yakov. He loved it every passing year, without any exception. And this year, he loves it even more.

Voltron Legendary Defender

Yeah, We Can Find Love, Just Like That

Pairing: Shklance

Warnings: None

Words: 3.556

Summary: In which the Paladins need a break and land for a few days on a planet where, for Lance's absolute delight, there is an ocean. A purple ocean with deep blue sand, but he'll take it. Also, maybe sneaking out in the middle of the night for a late-night swim wasn't one of his brightest ideas, but in the end, he certainly gets more than he bargained for. Not that he's complaining, mind you.

Blue

Pairing: None

Warnings: None

Words: 1.008

Summary: Black is Air, the leader, always calm and collected in the face of danger. Red is Fire, temperamental, impulsive, the wild card that would sacrifice everything for his friends. Green is Nature, adventurous, inquisitive, an endless pit of new ideas and creations in endless evolution. Yellow is Earth, a kind, gentle giant, the rock that supports them and keeps them grounded. And Blue? Blue is Water, Blue is an ocean, Blue is the night sky full of stars so far away. Blue is protection, warmth, the laughter that dissipates the darkness trying to take over the room. Blue is the glue that keeps everyone together. But who’s there to protect Blue?

Haikyuu!!

Middle Of A Moment

Pairing: Daisuga

Warnings: Some swearwords, nothing major.

Words: 770

Summary: When Daichi wakes up, neck and back sore from falling asleep on his desk, he already knows it’s going to be a long day. His coffee maker breaking down on him certainly doesn’t help things. And later, when he bumps with another person while hurrying to his first lesson and spills coffee on himself, he’s sure somebody out there has it out for him. But maybe the universe just wanted to say sorry, because Daichi is sure that the cute guy in front of him must have sprouted out of some fairy tale or something. God, he’s too gay for this shit.

It’s Called: Freefall

Pairing: Kuroken (Kuroo/Kenma)

Warnings: description of a panic attack and its aftermath, anxiety, some self-deprecation, Hurt/Comfort

Words: 1.113

Summary: When Kenma steps out of his college dorm, all he wants is to get away from his very enthusiastic teammates for a few minutes -he only needs to get some fresh air and then he'll be as right as rain in no time. But when everything feels like it's crashing down on him and his frantic thoughts threaten to drag him under, Kuroo sudden appearance might just be what Kenma needs to fight against the falsehoods running through his brain and find his balance again.

Harry Potter

Harry Potter And The Rise Of Memes (Long Fic)

Pairing: Canon pairings

Warnings: Crack. Pure Crack. Do not take this seriously kids.

Words: 457

Summary: In which the Hogwarts population is formed almost completely by students between 11 and 17 years of age and honestly, you can't tell me that after all the Shit™ that went down during Harry's school years people didn't start making memes out of it. Featuring a tired Harry potter, confused professors, Fred & George enjoying the chaos around them and Ron being the true Mom Friend™

Good Omens

Sick Of Losing Soulmates (So Why Don’t We Begin?)

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands, background Anathema/Newt

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst With A Happy Ending (the angst isn’t that prominent but still), insecure Aziraphale, both of their families are composed by pricks, swearing

Words: 2.391

Summary: Everyone always asks Crowley what he thinks his soulmate might be like. Little do they know, Crowley has already met him -it was a long, long time ago, when they were still children and everything still felt possible. Little do they know, the very same day Crowley found his soulmate, he was ripped away from him. (What Crowley doesn't know, is that the universe always finds a way. And if the universe's way includes giving him a killer headache, well, who are we to argue with the Ineffable Plan?)

Sanders Sides writing masterpost

#maxiswriting #masterpost #writing masterpost

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