#Crowley is completely speechless and frozen

[cynicaesura]

Okay so you know that scene in New Girl when Nick kisses Jess for the first time?

This one? This one right here?

Yeah that's what I need in S3

[lineffability]

in which God gives them the happy ending they deserve!!!! (and the best one i could think of) This is set in the bookshop. It is also set during the second coming/advent of the final war storyline that will be s3. I'm starting very much in medias res bc i needed to write this scene specifically first or my body would have IMPLODED, so this is where we are: Aziraphale and Crowley have reconciled --and just decided that, if they have to join the war, it will be on the side of the humans--when the Metatron arrives in the bookshop with the intent to kill. The armies of heaven and hell stand united and ready for the war, and he cannot have his plans thwarted by THEM. But then, someone else appears. @gooodomens i agree i think she is Her

The doorbell chimed. It was the lady from the shop next door. The jeweler.

"Oh. Bad time?"

The silence that greeted her was an unmistakeable answer.

"Well. Always a bad time." She smiled. Looked at the old man.

The Metatron suddenly stood frozen in fear.

The implications of this fact slowly dawned on Crowley and Aziraphale.

By sheer instinct alone, Aziraphale reached for Crowley. Caught his arm, slid his hand blindly downwards until it reached Crowley's. Heard him suck in a breath. Their fingers slid into each other and combined into a strained fist, so close that every last atom was squeezed out of the space between them. Don't you dare let go.

The lady looked at the metatron, sighing inaudibly. She looked him up and down, and when she looked up again he was a little boy. She motioned for him to leave, which he did, slightly confused but without objection or malice, and with a skip in his step that seemed so innocent he might have been playing in the park with his friends. "Will have to start that one again," Azirapahle thought he heard her say, but she had not talked at all, had she? She just stood there.

"Is this--" Crowley hissed.

"Believe so." Aziraphale somehow managed to squeeze out between pressed lips, and swallowed.

"Fuck."

"YES" God said. And suddenly there was no sound in the room, no air, no static, just the idea of a bookshop. Her gaze now moved towards them, and when it hit they could do nothing but stare back like deer in the headlights of a car--a Bentley, perhaps.

"AZIRAPHALE" He stood perfectly still, the weight of her word, his entire being, resting on his shoulders. It did not feel heavy. She turned her head. Almost smiled. "CROWLEY." His eyes were wide, sunglasses gone. He stared back. His name. His self.

She looked at them. Fixed them with a gaze human eyes could not comprehend. And in it was everything. God smiled. An unreadable expression.

"SO?"

And for once, both of them, the angel and the demon, were completely and utterly speechless.

And then God asked them a question.

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"

They stood there with their hands clasped so tightly together that one began where the other ended. They stood there, together, before God. Not a judgement, but a question. Crowley moved his lips, shaking, finding his voice. He held on to Aziraphale for dear life -- and love, too. Aziraphale held on tight.

"Answers," said Crowley.

God smiled, and gently shook her head.

"Peace," said Aziraphale.

God continued smiling. And lifted a hand. Gently moved a finger. Understanding passed between them, settled deeply in their souls.

"VERY WELL. GOODBYE."

And a million bells softly chimed. The sound was all-encompassing, everywhere, in every crevice and every atom and the spaces in-between, too. It was light and it was blinding, and when it faded away, God was gone.

A low rumbling, gone, too, a sound they never even knew had been there, all this time, under everything. Then a groan, a sigh of a billion voices, a laying down of arms, relief, nothing, nothing at all and yet the world, still. After everything.

God, gone, the angels and the demons, too. Gone from earth. Completely. Forever.

(Not from existence, never that, but from this universe. Crowley's creation. The stars were still shining. A home he had built.)

They were all alone.

They knew this with utter certainty.

"It's just us," Aziraphale breathed. Slowly, finally, he turned his head to look at Crowley.

"It's just us," he confirmed. Looked at Aziraphale.

They looked down at their clasped hands.

"Well." Crowley cleared his throat, tried to find some ease in his tone. "That went better than expected."

"Crowley, God has abandoned the earth!"

"Not abandoned, Aziraphale," Crowley breathed. "Left the earth alone. Has given it actual freedom. And...and we, I mean us, we're still here. Angel--" And he suddenly stopped, tripped over the word. It carried a different weight; it felt lighter. There was something gone from it. He tried again. "Angel."

For the fraction of a moment, he was terrified. If Azirapahle was no longer an angel, did that mean--?! No. No, that was not it. His terror was reflected in Aziraphale's eyes, but it slowly drained out as he raised their clasped hands. He let go gently, opening up their palms.

"I feel it, too," Azirapahle whispered, except his face was suddenly joyful. "I'm not an angel anymore. But I'm not--"

"You're not fallen, no," Crowley breathed, and the relief he felt could have moved mountains.

"Crowley, you're-- you're not --"

"I know." Relief gave way to confusion. Crowley groaned. This felt entirely new. But they knew who they were, they remembered everything. "Are we human?"

"I'm not sure. No."

"You're right." Crowley knitted his brows. Felt into his being. "I think we could be. If we wanted. But we're not. But I don't have any powers. You?"

"No. No, I don't."

"What does this mean?"

"I don't know."

They stared at each other. The war was over. There would never be another, save from the many that humanity would inevitably wage. As was their choice. And when they died, they would be dead. Nothing more, nothing less. Earth and decay and the natural cycle of life. And they would be good, too, and insurmountably kind, and would receive no divine reward for it.

They knew this to be true with utter certainty.

"Gonna have to tell the atheists they're finally right," Crowley said and laughed incredulously. He stopped when he saw the expression on Aziraphale's face, who was staring somewhere far away. For once in his life, he could not read it.

There were too many emotions on it at once.

Then his eyes snapped back to Crowley's--and his emotions singled in on one feeling alone. "Crowley-- it's just us. We're, we're here. On earth. Together."

The words hit Crowley like a pile of bricks, the joy in them almost toppled him off a cliff. Yet there he stood, in front of Aziraphale, who had been abandoned by God, stranded on earth forever, and had never looked happier. It was too much to bear. He wanted to bear it forever.

"I would like to do something very human," Aziraphale said. There was no doubt in his voice, no question. His smile was pure, angelic. He was not. (At last, at last.) He lifted his hands and gently grabbed the collars of Crowley's jacket. The softest of fists. Happy tears teetered at the edges of his eyes.

The way Crowley's heart clenched and released felt wholly human. He forgot to breathe.

And then Aziraphale kissed Crowley. No angels and no demons, only them, together, so close. It was fervent, and devoted, and joyous. And it was good.

[dipperdc]

Backstabber

Ace x Reader

Synopsis: Ace is a cheater

Ace was your everything. He was one of your first friends in this world of villains, and he's been there for you. He was there holding you when you were sobbing so hard you fell to the floor, your body curling in on itself. He was there on your happiest moments making you smile brighter than before with his little quirks. The way he looked at you with shimmering, lovesick eyes. His excuses to always be around you. He would defend you even when you weren't around because he doesn't allow anyone to disrespect you. He would do anything for you, he made that clear. Epel had even made fun of him, calling him a simp. And even though Ace scowled at him he couldn't say much cause it was true.

So how did you get here?

You felt the pain wash over you in heavy waves after the realization hit. That was Ace. With another girl, arms wrapped around her waist, their foreheads touching. And he's looking at her like she's the best thing the universe has to offer.

You stay frozen in place for a moment. Tears you don't even realize are there fall down your face uncontrollably as you watch them. He says something to her and her little giggle makes the sharp pain in your chest worse. You see them lean in to kiss each other when you snap out of your stunned state. You wipe your tears and turn to speed walk back to Ramshackle.

A million thoughts rush through your head making you light headed. Why? Why would he do that? Did you do something? Is she better than you? Did he love you?...

By the time you finally get to Ramshackle and close the door behind you, you collapse against the door. Shaking violently with heavy breaths and your knees up to your chest. Your heavy sobs rack through you. The room feels suffocating but maybe it's just your struggle to breathe properly. The overwhelming feelings rushing through you is too much, making you grab at your hair, yanking it. Grim must have heard your cries as he cautiously looks around the corner. He looks alarmed by the sight and rushes over to you. "O-oi, henchman?! What's wrong?!" He exclaims standing right infront of you now.

"Ace…" you managed a barely audible squeak of his name. Grim seems to wanna ask more but he doesn't. He just moves next to you and rests his head on your leg.

"It-it will be okay…" is the only thing he says as he lets you cry it all out.

The scene of Ace looking so happy with someone else still has your mind spiraling. You continue to sob for God knows how long. Eventually you pass out from exhaustion with Grim following along. The next morning feels like hell. Your body hurts from falling asleep on the floor. Your hair is a mess and your eyes are crusted over from tears. Plus the bags under your eyes. You remember Ace, and the dread immediately consumes your body. You try to push down the thought. You feel tempted to just stay there but you know you have to get ready for school. If you missed a day Crowley would give you an immense amount of work to do. So quickly you get ready for the day, you tried to look for Grim but he wasn't there. Odd.

On the way to school you see Grim and Deuce and Ace. They seem to be fighting? Ace is backed up against a wall and Deuce is yelling in his face with Grim interjecting Him. You debate whether you should stay or just leave when Ace spots you. He immediately runs up to you and hugs you tightly. "Babe! I'm so happy to see you, I'm so sorry! That girl meant nothing to me I swear! I-"

You push him off of you and impulsively out of a rush of emotion you slap him across the face. And not a light slap either. That shit echoed and Deuce and Grim just paused, completely stunned. Ace was stunned too. With his hand on his cheek he looks at you completely speechless. You wanted to scream at him and hit him some more but you restrained yourself. For now at least you thought.

"Fuck off" was all you said to him before walking past and grabbing Grim and Deuce with you.

[thesmalltowngal]

COC Snowbaz 30- Silver or Wedding Bells? (Both?)

COC #30: Christmas Celebration

Simon has some plans in the works for Baz’s Christmas gift this year... and it’s a big one. 

~ This has been the most stressful month or two, but I’m so so glad I did it. I feel I’ve really improved my writing, and I’ve loved getting all the comments and feedback on these prompts! So, here’s the last one for our boys. And happy holidays/merry Christmas Eve to whomever celebrates it! Enjoy! ~

Baz is staring contentedly out our bedroom window at the freshly falling flakes like he can’t take his eyes away. I’m laying in our bed, watching him watch the snow. He sighs and then turns to glance at me. “I love Snow.” (He doesn’t love the real snow- not really.) He says it every year. I asked him about it once, last year. (You always tell me that the snow can kindly fuck off. What d’you mean you love the snow? He just laughed and said, different kind of snow, you git.) It had me puzzled for a few days before I figured it out. He means he loves me. We’re not that good at expressing our feelings- it’s his way of telling me he loves me. At least, I think. He never actually confirmed it. 

I get up from my place on the bed to go to wrap my arms around him from behind and nuzzle my face into his neck. “Love you, too.” I say, but it’s muffled by his neck. He chuckles and leans down a bit to rest his chin on my curls. 

“What was that, Snow?” I look back up and peck him on the lips. 

“Nothing, love.” Then I go back to my spot on the bed and keep watching as he looks back out the window. It’s Christmas Eve today- we’ll be opening presents in only a moment. Right now Penny is celebrating with her mum and dad at their house (and Shepherd), and Baz and I will be celebrating with his family tomorrow. (Penny opened our presents yesterday, and vice versa. She got me baking classes. Now you can bake sour cherry scones on your own she had told me.) But Baz and I decided that we wanted a more private Christmas Eve, with just ourselves in our flat. Crowley am I nervous for present opening. But also bloody well excited. 

I got him a jumper, a stuffed vampire, the DVD Frozen 2 (I know he’s been wanting to see it for forever, though he’d never admit it), and a… a ring. I’ve been thinking a bit (although considered to be dangerous- good, this time) and I think… well, I think I’d like to marry Baz. We’ve been together for five years, even though it feels longer than that. I love him, and he loves me. We’ve been through everything together, and I just figure, why not make it sealed? The ring is wrapped and under our fake little tree now, waiting to be opened and put on. 

“Alright, Snow. How about a cuppa and then we can open presents?” Baz turns to me, and I take a moment to admire the way he looks. He has a bit of stubble on his chin (I would never fucking admit to it, but I quite like it) and his long hair is pulled into a bun. He’s right fit, filling his pyjama shirt and sweatpants. (His arse looks nearly as good in trackies as it does in jeans.) Fuck if I don’t love him. (It was so hard for me to admit that for a long, long time. Too fucking long. And I don’t just mean after Watford. Should’ve known earlier.)

“Works for me.” I haul myself out of bed, jittering the whole way. Baz notices and takes my hand as he makes and pours the tea for us. 

“Everything alright, love?” I nod my head and smile like I don’t think I’m going to shit out butterflies or knots at any second. He nervously looks at the cups of tea in front of us and then turns back to me. 

“Y’know, I could think of some… other ways to warm you up, Snow.” I can’t help the smirk that creeps across my face. (Crowley it took a long time for us to talk to each other like… this. To do anything like this. All because of my fucking problems, which I still get sometimes.) 

“Oh?” I cock an eyebrow (not nearly as well as he can) as he nods and pulls me closer. I can feel my tail whipping around behind me, so I tell it to still and then wrap it around Baz’s leg. He leans in and presses his lips to mine- I still wonder how it can feel like coming home after all these years. He’s cold, and soft, and perfectly Baz. I open my mouth to let his tongue in, and we snog like that for a long while. (I’ve got a right hard-on, which Baz offers to fix for me. I tell him I can wait until after presents.) (If all goes according to plan, we’ll need plenty of shag energy for after the proposal.)

Finally, after we’ve… settled, we’re under the tree, presents in front of the both of us. I go first and see that he got me a jumper. The same exact one as the one I got him. I can’t help but laugh out loud, prompting him to open up his jumper. When he does, his face is alight, completely fucking full of joy. (I love it when he gets happy like this. When I make him happy like this.) We both pull our jumpers on over our pyjama shirts (Well, his pyjama shirt. I haven’t got one on at all) and he’s grinning like an absolute nutter. 

“What’s so funny?” Seeing him laugh makes me laugh by extension- even if I don’t know what he’s on about. (It’s just so rare, these happy moments. First there were my problems, and then we got to his. Then his dad dying, and Fiona getting paralyzed… it’s been a hard few years.)

“We look horrendous!” I may not have ever been good at maths, but I’m fairly bloody certain that that isn’t something to laugh about. 

“And you… like that?” (S’pose I’m laughing, too. We do look well ridiculous.)

“I love it.” He moves his presents closer to me and climbs into my lap.

“Why?” 

“Because we match.” I remember what Baz’s mum - Natasha - used to tell him. Light a match in your heart, and blow on the tinder. That’s how it feels to be with Baz. Like sparks. Like fire. Strong and passionate and resolute. He lights a match in my heart, and every day with him is just another blow on the tinder. (S’why I want to marry him, I s’pose. That and the fact that he’s well fit.) I give him a sound kiss and then move my open my next present. (An ornament for our Christmas tree- a sour cherry scone!) Then it’s his turn again. (He loved the vamp- called me a prat.) 

Now it’s my turn, the last present to open before he gets to the big one. It’s small and boxed shape, and as I unwrap the silver from around it, I’m stunned bloody speechless. It’s a ring box. Fucking tosser, always trying to steal my ideas! He’s down on his knee now, which is a bit awkward because I’m still sitting. (Just like us- awkward and clumsy, but still wildly romantic.) 

“Simon, I-”

“No.” He stops in the middle of his speech, eyes dropping. His whole body sags, but before he can go too far, I say “Well, er- not no, I mean. Just- oh for Merlin’s sake. Just open your next present.” I shove it into his hands and he looks like he’s heartbroken. (I hate myself for doing that to him- but it’s for good reason!)

He runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “But Simon, I think we should talk abo-”

“Hush up-” I put my hand out to tell him to stop. He looks utterly taken aback. “Just open it, love.” He still looks hesitant as he slowly unwraps it- every movement is torturous. When he fucking finally gets the god forsaken thing opened, his face lights up. Like a (pardon the pun) Christmas tree. 

“I don’t know what to-” I’m still holding the ring he got for me, and he’s still holding mine. I cut him off and get on my knee, too. (Now we’re just lunging in front of each other- which’d be plenty more normal if we were in a… different situation.)

“Listen, you prat. You’re always trying to one-up me with your big romantic gestures, and well. I’m bloody sick of it, yeah?” I glance down at the box I hold in my hand. “Your bloody gorgeous ring you bought, how well fit you are, and just- all of it. So let me try for once, yeah?” This is the longest I’ve gone without stumbling over my words, and I thank Crowley for it. He nods and smiles a bit, letting me go on. “We’ve been together for five years now- this marks our anniversary. Five years ago today, I stumbled back onto your doorstep and told you I wanted to tumble around and be happy boyfriends. I told you I wanted to be your terrible boyfriend-”

“You did a right job at that, Snow-”

“Oh piss off,” I laugh. “And for some reason, you accepted. You make me feel, um- well this is bloody hard since I don’t talk about this, but, er- after all of the Humdrum, America and Watford stuff, I didn’t think we’d make it. It was hard and tiring, and I never knew how to just talk to you. But in that year, there were these… pockets. Of happiness. Times where I’d look over and see you reading, and I’d go over and we’d snog a bit. Times where we would be in public and I wouldn’t hold your hand- and instead of raising a bloody fuss, you just cracked jokes. You made me laugh when I felt like I never would again. I held true to my promise of being your terrible boyfriend. Now please, would you let me be your terrible fiance until we get married? Er- would you marry me, I s’pose is what I’m s’posed to say.” I look at him- really look at him as I lay my heart out. The love in his eyes, that I had always convinced myself wasn’t really there. The way he softened when I talked about how hard things were for me. Just… him. 

“Well, Snow. That was lovely. And as promised, I won’t one-up you this time, even though I do have a bloody perfect speech all prepared,” I laugh and he smiles back at me, his eyes shining with tears unshed, and words unsaid. “But I do want you to know that I love you more than anything in this world. I would gladly get staked for you. Through all the things we’ve gone through - that I’ve gone through - my dad, mainly… you’ve been there for me. Every time I felt I hadn’t a shoulder to cry on, there yours was. You’re always there, so bright, so… alive. You make me feel alive, Snow. So, well. Marrying you… it’s never been a question of if for me. Always a question of when. So of course I’ll marry you, dumbarse- but will you marry me?” I’m laughing through my tears. Even when we’re bloody proposing, we never cease to insult each other at any chance we get. (Old habits die hard.) 

I launch myself into his arms, making him fall backward onto his back. I snog him senseless (I knew we’d need post-proposal shag energy) on top of him, and he holds me there, pressing back like I’m the air he breathes. I pull back for a beat and say, “Obviously I’ll marry you, wanker.” He smiles back up at me, eyes gleaming. (I’m sure I look the same.) (I can’t wait to tell Penny the news.)

I’m marrying Baz.