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greenthena · 1 year ago

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Ineffable Lapels: Our Side

I've seen some stellar breakdowns and analyses of the costuming for Good Omens, and I'm personally blown away by the consideration afforded to each element of the visual production of this show. I even appreciate the anachronistic elements that Claire Anderson chose to use in the 537 A.D. Kingdom of Wessex flashback, because aesthetic was more important than historical accuracy (Oscar Wilde would support me here, I am certain.) And to be perfectly honest, 6th century European armor was not going to cut it. So much quilting.

This discussion is just a little traffic circle spin that I wanted to address with no larger point than to say how much I adore Anderson's work on this show. That's a lie. This post has actually gotten out of hand, so grab yourself six shots of espresso in a big cup and get in. We're going for a ride.

It's the smallest detail, but have you noticed the Ineffable Idiots' lapels? Crowley's lapels always point up (not the case with any other demons). Aziraphale's lapels always point down* (again, not the case with other angels). *I'll address the one divergence at the end of this post. It's kind of the whole point. It'll be worth it. Just drink your espresso and listen.

Lapels are a fantastically subtle way to express characterization when costuming an angel and a demon. Perhaps Aziraphale's lapels are an echo of his wings? Maybe Crowley's lapels symbolize devil horns? Maybe their costumes are just reaching out trying to give each other a hug. I dunno.

I'm going to start with promo shots from both seasons that show Crowley and Aziraphale's present day wardrobes. The first promo shot pictures the costumes for all of present day S1. It's perfect for demonstrating the most pronounced expression of the lapels. Consider this a baseline or something like that.

The close up of the promo for S2 (featuring nakey Gabriel and the migrating nightingales...I'm not crying, you're crying) shows pretty similar costumes to the first season. Yes, the hairstyles have subtly changed (Crowley's not so subtly, perhaps), but the lapel positioning for both characters remains consistent.

Going back in time. (Let's call this the Baby Antichrist Era, shall we?) Crowley's collar is quite a bit narrower than in the present day, but the lapels still point up. Obviously, Aziraphale is still wearing the same coat. Obviously.

I will never recover from this John Lennon bastardry. But still, check out those lapels. And the brocade is so 60's and so over the top.

And here's Michael delivering his favorite line from S1, whilst breaking Crowley's (and literally everyone else's) heart. Do take a gander at those downward-facing lapels, though, and 'scuse me while I go have a quick cry.

I'm going out of order with this next image, back to the start of the Holy Water incident. (Don't worry, we will get to 1941. It requires more attention and will have to wait its turn.) Not a whole lot I want to pull from this image other than Aziraphale's fuzzy top hat and Crowley's snake-handled cane, which I believe he's using as he recovers from his recent trip to Hell. These costume pieces have nothing to do with lapels, I just think they're neat. But the lapel pattern holds: up for the demon, down for the angel.

A few decades earlier, we see Crowley in Edinburgh just hours before being sucked into an infernal whirlpool. The lapels here are more parallel than distinctly upward-pointing, but the extravagant shoulders on this overcoat demand a balancing lapel line.

Likewise, on Aziraphale's overcoat we don't see a defined downward-pointing lapel, so much as a wide horizontal collar, but the layers of wing-like capelets create an impression of flowing down. With these two stunning overcoats from the Edinburgh flashback set, I think the unusual period elements take the place of the lapels in demonstrating the upward tilt in Crowley's ensembles, and the downward pull in Aziraphale's.

Okay, now we can discuss 1941. Because this is where the cookie crumbles. Originally, these costumes vexed me. As usual, Crowley wears his upward-pointing lapels. But Azirapalala, goddamnit, also has upward-pointing lapels to match Crowley. But am I gonna' let a little thing like this destroy my thesis? Don't shit with me when I am analyzing costumes, because this is also the night when Aziraphale realizes he's in love with Crowley (this is Sheen cannon and cannot be disputed).

Their lapels match because of Aziraphale's revelation--he finally understands what it means to be on "Our Side," because he's finally admitted to himself that he is head-over-bloody-heels in love with the wily demon. The matching lapels in 1941 is some St. John of Patmos-level stuff, I think, their matching collars revealing their synchronicity. Even if it's only for the one night, they're one the same page, heading in the same direction. I know many of us in the fandom are pretty preoccupied with the idea of a third 1941 flashback in S3 because this night seems to be the hinge in their relationship. It's the night when everything changes. It's not just Crowley swooping in to rescue his angel, as he's done in the past. They're mutually dependent on one another to make it through the night alive, well, at least to avoid discorporation (it's romantic, okay?) Crowley diverts the Luftwaffe plane; Aziraphale protects them from the blast of the bomb; Crowley saves the books; Aziraphale saves Crowley's ass from an irate Mrs. Henderson; Crowley saves Aziraphale's magic show (by literally not discorporating him on stage); and Aziraphale saves both their asses with some surprisingly successful prestidigitation when he swaps out the incriminating photo Furfur had managed to snap of the Ineffable Morons.

Crowley and Aziraphale's matching lapels in 1941 isn't a fluke or a costuming blunder. I think it's a very subtle head nod to what we all know actually happened that night: Aziraphale took a tenuous step forward in their relationship. A step 6000 years in the making. A step that, if noticed by their respective superiors, could mean the actual and eternal end to them. He couldn't shout it from the rooftops--he couldn't even speak of it directly in private (I mean he tried, but "That's what friends are for" was as painful for the viewer as it was for Crowley and Aziraphale.) He couldn't disclose through words or direct actions what he needed the demon to know, so he used what avenue he had available to him. Through the subdued symbolism of his bloody lapels, Aziraphale communicated to his demon, "I am on Our Side."

For reading to the end of this post, you get a very special reward! Here is The Amazing Mr. Fell. I love him. I'm not going to address right now the fantastic costume because this beauty deserves a post of its own--the cape with the stars! THE CAPE WITH THE STARS! HE'S SWATHED HIMSELF IN CROWLEY'S CREATION...I'm fine.

#good omens #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #costumes #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #amazing mr. fell #I just wrote a whole post about lapels #aziraphale is in love #crowley is in love #can i get a wahoo

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jims-strap-on · 1 year ago

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ABOUT:

hi i’m ash!! 27, any pronouns, genderqueer/bi/ace. i’ve been rping since 2009, and have been on fbrp since 2012. i decided to try out tumblr again. im married and have four cats.

i’m a multimuse rp account in the our flag means death, acotar, supernatural, good omens, marvel, phantom of the opera, and harry potter fandoms. my main fandoms are OFMD and ACOTAR, and my main muses are Jim, Izzy, Rhysand, Azriel, and Feyre. OC and crossover friendly.

I love writing angst, hurt/comfort, and romance, including (optional) smut. i can do either canon or AU. i especially love themes like enemies to lovers and mafia AUs.

I’m okay with dark themes such as violence, blood/gore, self-harm, drugs and alcohol, etc.

I don’t reply terribly consistently so writing with me requires patience, I work full time and suffer from PTSD/depression and can’t reply while in funks. I will not tolerate my partners nagging me for replies.

i’m not picky about reply length, there is NO need to match mine. sometimes I tend to rant and reply length gets away from me, I don’t expect the same detail in return. however I do prefer para/lit. usually I’ll write a couple of paragraphs.

𝙁𝙀𝙔𝙍𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙊

𝙍𝙃𝙔𝙎𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘽𝙄𝙊

𝘼𝙕𝙍𝙄𝙀𝙇 𝘽𝙄𝙊

OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH:

Muses: Izzy Hands, Jim Jimenez, Edward Teach, Archie, Stede Bonnet

Izzy/Stede

Izzy/Ed

Ed/Stede

Stede/Izzy/Ed

Oluwande/Jim

Jim/Archie

Oluwande/Jim/Archie

A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES:

Muses: Feyre Archeron, Azriel, Nesta Archeron, Rhysand, Eris Vanserra

Feyre/Rhysand

Nesta/Cassian

Azriel/Elain

Azriel/Gwyn

GOOD OMENS:

Muse: Crowley

Crowley/Aziraphale

SUPERNATURAL:

Muses: Sam, Dean

Dean/Castiel

Sam/Ruby

Sam and Dean (NOT shipping NOT as a pairing!! but I love brother interactions!)

HARRY POTTER:

Muses: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger

Draco/Harry

Draco/Hermione

PHANTOM OF THE OPERA/LOVE NEVER DIES:

Muses: Erik, Raoul

Erik/Christine

Erik/Raoul

MARVEL:

Mus𝙚𝙨: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

Bucky/Natasha

Bucky/Steve

Bucky/Sam

Bucky/Tony

Bucky/Zemo

Bucky/Clint

Steve/Tony

AU WISHLIST:

enemies to lovers mafia boss AU: our muses are both leaders of rival organized crime rings. they are both alone in the world and have spent their lives looking out for number one, falling into a life of crime desperate for money with no other options left. could take place in the present, or 1940s brooklyn.

sugar baby AU: my muse is a successful, professional business owner searching online for a baby to take care of long term and spoil. the arrangement is strictly platonic and sexual, until feelings start to develop.

sugar baby mafia AU: our muses meet on a sugar baby website. my muse is a crime boss who is interested in your innocent muse as a live in submissive in exchange for a handsome monthly salary. your muse is interested in the world of organized crime, letting my muse show yours the ropes while providing sex as a stress relief. bonus points if your character ends up joining a life of crime and running the crime ring with mine

BDSM club owner AU: my muse is a BDSM club owner who meets your submissive character at the club and frequently run scenes in my character’s private room at the club. it turns out they compliment each other in the bedroom well; your muse is the brat who likes to work for their rewards, while mine is the brat tamer who has all the time in the world. possible kinks include degradation, masochism, knife play, bondage, spanking, ropes/cuffs, cock warming, voyeurism, praise—open to suggestions. i’m also open to a pleasure dom and eager submissive dynamic.

mafia boss/police officer AU: our muses match on bumble, meeting up at a club my muse owns for a first date. your character works as a police detective, not knowing that their date is actually the owner of several clubs which secretly are coverups for sex work and drug dealing. the very same crime ring that your muse is assigned to taking down.

slave auction AU: your muse is sold to mine at a slave auction, only my muse only purchased yours to take them away from this life, gain their trust, and slowly heal them over time. maybe my muse is also just a little lonely and wants companionship. my character keeps yours safe while only ever treating them with gentleness, which your muse is not used to after such a hard life. this could also be sunshine x grumpy, my muse being the brooding grump who has a not-so-secret soft side.

Other plots:

enemies to lovers, our characters hate each other and have frequent hate sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism to serve as a distraction. they are in deep denial about their feelings and keep the arrangement strictly physical, until they can’t any longer.

good omens only: crowley and aziraphale decide they want to explore the human act of intercourse, exploring what each other like in the bedroom as they learn about their boundaries and various kinks, leading to BDSM. they are only friends wishing to indulge in a new human interest they realize they really enjoy, leading to eventual relationship. dom!aziraphale

These are only possible specific plot ideas I enjoy, of course i’m open to anything; as mentioned earlier, my favorites are angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, found family, fwb to relationship… feel free to come to me with ANY of your own ideas! shipping/NSFW is not a necessity, i’m open to a lot!

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stromuprisahat · 1 year ago

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#bro was in it for 3 minutes and was somehow the gayest character in the show #in the very gay show

black-rosegold:

#also pete davidson ie. david’s father in law was job??? #had me cracking up

exeunt-pursued-by-a-bear:

#they brought this kid in and said hey flirt with your dad's co-star #and he said ok bet

cptnvers:

#that finger brush to aziraphale's chest. quite literally he came he served cunt and committed to the bit #WAIT it's even funnier bc apparently david didn't know he auditioned for good omens in this role. #he auditioned and went on the set and said. im about to be hilarious

song-spero:

#making hearteyes at michael sheen is apparently a dominant genetic trait

vyeoh:

#all nepo baby actors should be required to hit on their parent's work bf in front of their parent #to prove themselves

they really brought david tenant’s son in and said hey do you want to play a gay little boy in good omens 2. just a little camp mf. nepotism done right.

#Good Omens (TV series)#02×02: The Clue #Ennon #Good Omens cast & creators #Ty Tennant #👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so

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scrapheapchallenge · 4 years ago

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So I’m currently working on a project where some of this is relevant, and found some interesting parallels/easter eggs between two works by the late Sir Terry Pratchett - “Good Omens” vs Johnny Maxwell series (”Only you can save mankind”, “Johnny and the dead”, “Johnny and the bomb”.)

Written close to Good Omens - possibly being worked on at least partly at the same time. Good Omens released in 1991. OYCSM - 1992, JATD - 1993, JATB - 1996. Similar dynamic between Adam Young’s friends and Johnny Maxwell’s friends:

Pepper - similar to Kirsty, outspoken, bold strong young intelligent feminist character who intimidates the boys. Red haired like book Pepper.

Wensleydale - Yo-Less - both quietly intelligent lads who are practical and clever, if percieved as slightly boring by the others. Yo-less even gets nicknamed “voodoo god of chartered accountancy” at a halloween party. Wensleydale on the other hand is described as “the only thing that separated him from chartered accountancy was a matter of time.”

Brian - Bigmac (real name Simon Wrigley) - not as much similarity here, but both are chaotic messy kids.

But then we get to someone who isn’t Adam’s friend, but his childhood adversary - Greasy Johnson, aka the 3rd baby in the baby swap, versus Johnny’s best friend, Wobbler….

…. Wobbler JOHNSON…. (First name Stephen)

Although in Johnny and the bomb, it’s Bigmac who breeds tropical fish. BUT - (spoiler alert) At at least one time in his existence, Wobbler does indeed breed fish. (In Good Omens book - Greasy Johnson breeds tropical fish).

Wobbler is a geeky fat kid who “writes a computer game entitled “Journey to Alpha Centauri.” The game is meant to be played in real-time, meaning it would take three thousand years to finish the journey. If the game were actually played for three thousand years, the player would be rewarded with a message saying “Welcome to Alpha Centauri. Now go home”. This inspired an interactive fiction game developed by Julian Fleetwood, Journey to Alpha Centauri (In Real Time). It was released in 1998, with the same premise of requiring three thousand years of game play to complete”

(Explanation was copy/pasted from wikipedia page for expediency.)

(Side note - I absolutely want to write a fic wherein Crowley bought the real game and has a computer set up in his flat somewhere that’s playing it in real time for the next 3,000 years. In the year 4998, he’s going to get all excited and yell “AZIRAPHALE, GET IN HERE, IT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN!” Aziraphale will wander in about 3 seconds too late to see the “winning” message and Crowley will just about tear his hair out in frustration that now he has to play it all over again for another 3,000 years just so he can show Aziraphale the end of the game.)

Anyway, I digress… As an aside, “United Amalgamated Consolidated Holdings” is a business that crops up under various similar guises in a few Pratchett works, including the Johnny Maxwell series, where they have bought the graveyard and threatening to dig it up to build offices. They are also a variant of who Newt works for briefly in the TV show of Good Omens, and who has the paintball team building experience in both book and TV show Good Omens. They’re also mentioned in the Bromeliad Trilogy (“Truckers”, “Diggers” and “Wings”). The kids even have rambling conversations about witches and Spain and briefly drops in a mention of the Spanish Inquisition a couple of times later on. Prattchett also drops the joke about them saying “Chow” for goodbye, in a nod to Crowley’s “Ciao” in the churchyard and Hastur saying he thinks it means “food.” Johnny’s group also discusses the lost continent of Atlantis and UFOs,what would happen if one landed in your garden, not to mention a rain of fish. Pratchett even drops an “Aardvark” in there. Another crossover reference between them is mention of “Power Cable, Nebraska” - where in the book, Aziraphale briefly possesses the body of televangelist Marvin O. Bagman (who was going to be in the series but was cut from production.) In “Only You Can Save Mankind” it’s the location of the printing company that printed Johnny’s encylcopaedia. In Johnny and the bomb we get “Tickety Boo” dropped in by Mrs. Tachyon, the resident crazy cat lady and interdimensional time travelling plot device, who as an aside, also drops a very Discworld-ish Foul Ole Ron “millennium hand and shrimp” as evidence of her presumably being tuned into other worlds in the mind of Pratchett. Notably, there’s also a big black Bentley in Johnny and the bomb. The bomb in question being dropped in 1941 as it happens, although not on a church.

In place of Aziraphale’s magic show you have Mr. Vincenti in “Johnny and the dead,” a children’s entertainer who even has a ghostly dove with him. The children used to shout out ‘it’s in your pocket!’ Echoes of Crowley and Aziraphale on the park bench here.

Johnny leaves the dead a radio to listen to. On the radio we briefly hear a line from Bohemian Rhapsody.

One of the ghosts in Johnny and the Dead is Addison Vincent Fletcher, who invented a better telephone - he flies through the phone wires much as Crowley does in Good Omens.Anyhow, that’s all the easter eggs/crossovers/parallels that I can find for now, but if you know of more, let me know!

#pratchett #terry pratchett #sir terry pratchett #good omens #johnny maxwell #Only You Can Save Mankind #Johnny And The Dead #Johnny And The Bomb #easter eggs

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wyvernquill · 5 years ago

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WyvernQuill's GOOD OMENS Works - Masterpost

Hello everybody, hope you're doing well in these turbulent times! I figured now would be as good a time as any to compile all my GO fics here, so anyone affected by quarantine/social distancing measures can treat themselves to a bit of Ineffable Goodness if they're so inclined. (All of these are Aziraphale/Crowley, with the occasional side pairing thrown in, and all of them have/will have a happy ending, no matter what!)

So, without further ado:

Good Endings (56k, completed, T): humorous post-canon slow burn with ensemble cast matchmakers, angst, and Pratchettisms abound; book canon, mostly written pre-show, with plenty of illustrations!

Flies and Furniture (<1k, completed, G): Ineffable Bureaucracy gets lost in an IKEA. That's it, that's the fic. More than a bit cracky, obviously.

Marriage and Misery (10k, completed, M): Regency-era marriage of convenience, lots of pining and misunderstandings; human AU, but pointed avoidance of period-typical homophobia - Aziraphale has many struggles to overcome, but being gay ain't one of 'em!

Team Ineffable - A Pokémon GOmens Story (3k, completed, G): humorous meet-cute fluff with a bit of a crack twist, in which Crowley and his one (1) braincell try to pass him off as a Pokémon Go expert to impress Aziraphale; human AU, no real knowledge of Pokémon Go required.

By Any Other Name (12k, completed, T): soulmate names AU with a bit of a twist, full of pining and misunderstandings. Crowley's name reads "Aziraphale", but Aziraphale's doesn't read "Crowley"...; follows canon through the 6000 years of slow burn, part of a Soulmate AU pact with Lurlur and Pearl09 - do read their fantastic fics here and here, too!

All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing (10k, completed, M, graphic violence): serial killer/cop AU that is far cuter and sillier than that premise suggests - apparently I can't write anything without a twist to it; human AU, mind the warnings, minor character death but only bad guys, unreliable-narrator!Crowley.

Yes and Please and Thank You (19k, ongoing, T): lots of angst, Crowley has been under an obedience curse since before meeting Aziraphale and it causes Problems(tm); first two chapters follow canon, everything after is post-canon, some Adam&The Them feels thrown in for flavour.

AN ANTICHRISTMAS CAROL (7k, ongoing, T): retelling of A Christmas Carol but with more of a romance plot; human/Victorian AU, written in the style of Dickensian prose.

Born To Take Care Of You (18k, completed, M): reverse!Omens mutual pining and mistaken identity, featuring Azirafell, Baron of Eternal Torments, and the Archangel Raphael pretending to be merely a demon called Crowley; reverse AU, obviously, follows the 6000 years of slow burn.

Tied Up With String (comic, completed, G): silly little fluff comic for the Christmas season, featuring atrocious self-knitted sweaters.

The Whole Damned World Seemed Upside Down (102k, completed, M): my GOBB fic! Crowley in opposite-world, humour, second apocalypse, lots of angst and pining with a happy ending. Ensemble cast, but, y'know, OPPOSITE ensemble. Main selling points include: Death doting over an adorable kitten, the Not-Them, Notziraphale actually selling his books, and secret library parties!; one-year-post-show canon. Also has beautiful art, and a fantastic mini-sequel by @rosiepaw!

Here's some more fics that I can only take partial credit for, so to speak:

COLLAB WORKS WITH VARIOUS OTHER AUTHORS:

Correction Fluid (16k, completed, E): very very smutty, and very very kinky. Doing your taxes (yes, really) has never been so hot - I was mostly involved in the form of 50+ humorous footnotes, all the wonderful sex is the work of... entirely too many fantastic fellow authors who just went feral in a Google doc.

Correction Fluid [ART] (art, completed, M): see above - sexy collab art for sexy collab fic, coloured by the awesome robynthemagpie!

Līgfāmblāwende (5k, completed, G): St. George and the Dragon, except it's Crowley and he's really just playing along with it for laughs. Light-hearted and fun!

Of Good Books & Black Omens (11k, completed, T): crossover with Black Books - Aziraphale and Bertram strike up a friendship over hating the customers of their respective bookshops, and Crowley feels replaced; Manny, meanwhile, is just along for the ride. Knowledge of Black Books enriches the experience, but possible to read just for Aziraphale and Crowley, as well.

My Fair Angel (14k, completed, G): writing all done by the amazing @handlebarstiedtothestars, I only did the illustrations. Retelling of My Fair Lady, in which Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to pass off the Them as little heirs and an heiress; includes lots of delicious, delicious pining and genderqueer!Crowley in Audrey Hepburn's beautiful dresses.

Miami Ice (3k, ongoing, T): a present for @aughtpunk, built around their prompt of Aziraphale and Crowley being responsible for the Under Pressure sample in Ice Ice Baby - now with extra Florida, alligators, NASA, and space!

And, I only drew for these, but can personally vouch for their fantasticness, so what the Hell, they get included in this list, too!

GOBB FICS I DID ART FOR:

Panem Et Circenses (89k, completed, T), by @thelittleblackfox: Aziraphale and Crowley take part in the Great British Bake-Off. Need I say more? Absolutely brilliantly written and downright delicious, and you'll LOVE Mel and Sue!!! Not a human AU, but canon divergence - slown burn, and lots and lots of mutual pining.

Butterflies In A Bell Jar (31k, completed, T), by @still-not-king:two office workers meet, hit it off, and fall in love, almost as if they've always known each other... but why is the office's non-fraternisation policy so unforgivingly strict, and what's the deal with their odd bosses? An absolutely wonderful office human!AU... or IS IT!?!? ;)

All The World's A Stage (16k, completed, G), by @ifeelbetterer: theatre students Adam and Warlock are matchmaking between their professors Crowley and Aziraphale, and maybe, possibly, perhaps, growing fond of each other in turn... adorable, full of pining, and some big misunderstandings all around!

Tadfield Heat (15k, completed, M), by @vodkertonic: do you like Hot Fuzz? Then you'll love this one! Crowley and Belle (Beelzebub) are detectives in a tiny little village, and their respective crushes, bookshop owner Aziraphale and the strange new American in town may or may not actually be spies... Ineffable Bureaucracy and Ineffable Husbands, an absolute delight!

Roman Holiday (30k, completed, G), by @percyjacksonfan3: beautiful, touching retelling of the movie, featuring genderfluid!Crowley (and a less bittersweet ending than the original, rest assured!)

All of these five are absolutely fantastic fics I am honoured to have had the privilege of drawing for, and I promise you're going to enjoy every single one!!!

That's all of them for now, though rest assured I have more planned - I'll update this list if any of the ongoing fics get completed, or if I start a new one. Please enjoy, and stay safe everyone!

^-^ <3

(And here's some dancing book!Husbands for you, just because!)

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fic rec #fic masterlist #fic masterpost #aziraphale #crowley #thelittleblackfox #still-not-king #ifeelbetterer #vodkertonic #percyjacksonfan3 #aughtpunk #handlebarstiedtothestars #WyWrites #WyDraws #good omens fic #fan art #fanfic

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asideofourown · 5 years ago

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Happy anniversary to the Good Omens TV show! I didn’t get the chance to write a fic specifically to celebrate (where did May go? Perhaps I’ll do something in June for my own go-versary), so instead here I am with 25 recs :D Thanks so much to @forineffablereasons for the bingo board (here is her original post)! And thanks so much to the Good Omens fandom for countless hours of incredible fic to read and enjoy <3 Obviously, this list barely scratches the surface of what’s out there, but here are some of my favorites!

A fic you’ve read several times: South Downs University series by @nieded

I’ve read this series probably... ten times, and I still love it. It fits (one of my absolute favorite) very niche categories with Crowley and Aziraphale being cryptid professors and utterly confusing their students, and i am HERE for it

A fic not abt Aziraphale and Crowley: Bridge over troubled water by @moondawntreader

LISTEN this fic is so good, I’ve read it probably four times and it’s incredible. Short, but so powerful in so few words. Leslie/Maud is the true otp ;D

A fic published before the show aired: Slytherin Vaguely Downwards by @saviobriion

This fic is really, really well-written, and does a fantastic job transporting many Good Omens characters into the HP universe in a way that works really well!

A fic you followed as a wip: on the same page by @thechekhov

Still a WIP, and still incredible! Az and Crowley as authors with their own Arrangement is already fantastic, but add in the fake-dating-while-pining-desperately? Incredible!

a human AU: secondhand smoke by @paintedvanilla

This is probably my favorite fic in the entire good omens fandom tbh... human au set in the 1990s, and so so so well done-- this is another fic I’ve read several times, and every time i notice something new. The characterization and prose is fantastic, the development of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship is really sweet and realistic, and this was also the fic that definitively got me on board for Newt/Anathema as well!

A fic shorter than 2k: For Holding by theycallmeDernhelm

Ahh this one is really soft! Post-apocalypse hand holding is my jam, and the author does a lovely job of saying so much in so few words <3

A fic you stayed up way too late reading: Not So Different by effing_gravity

I stayed up until maybe... three in the morning reading this fic? After every chapter I would tell myself to only read one more, but it was so gripping I read it all in one sitting! Reverse omens meets the canon husbands in a super interesting and thrilling fic!

A south downs fic: The consciousness of loving and being loved by yolkinthejump

This is like... the platonic ideal of a South Downs fic imo. The author does an absolutely incredible job of conveying the depth of their relationship, and it’s so sweet and soft and <3

A fic with a favorite trope: There goes the neighbourhood by @jasmine-cottage-uk

so technically I’m cheating because the ‘favorite trope’ in this one is ALSO south downs (like above), but. This fic is so funny, and the author does a great job of capturing Aziraphale and Crowley’s voices and the way the care for each other, it’s very sweet <3

A dowling years fic: Floriography by Frenchmeister

This fic is very cute! Excellent Dowling-era pining, complete with misunderstandings and veiled communications :D And the author does such a lovely job weaving the narrative to show Aziraphale and Crowley’s growing relationship

A historical fic: Phersu by JCutter

This fic. THIS FIC. Is so fucking incredibly detailed and immersive, oh my god. I’m still (admittedly) in the process of reading it, but it’s a GEM. The characterization is on point and the whole thing is beautifully written and wonderfully interesting! It’s super clear the author knew what they were writing about, and that knowledge and passion really shines through

A favorite canonverse fic: England's pleasant pastures seen by @heavens-bookshop

this fic is my JAM-- overhearing a conversation, implicit marriage proposals, post-canon sweetness... this one’s got it all! And, as with all of their fics, squiddz does an incredible job of writing Aziraphale and Crowley in character and so wonderfully in love <3

MY FIC: A Guide to Fame for the Enterprising Demon by me!

This is my favorite fic I’ve written for Good Omens, and quite possibly my favorite fic ever. Listen, Crowley getting accidentally famous is SO funny to me, as is outsider pov, so if I write about it a lot... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

A fic that made you cry: reasons wretched and divine by @stammiviktor

Allison has been one of my favorite writers for a good long while, and this fic is just one of her amazing works. It’s touching and meaningful and so moving even in only a few thousand words, and between her characterization and writing style... this one packs a punch in the best of ways

A fic that inspires you: The Name of the Star is Wormwood by LusBeatha

So technically this could have gone up above, in the ‘stayed up too late reading’ category, because here’s another that was just too exciting to put down From beginning to end, the author does and incredible job connecting the past and present, and introducing characters in such an engaging way that, even though the fic is quite long, it goes by super fast. Probably my fave take on Raphael!Crowley :D

A fic you’d recommend to someone new to the fandom: Shotgun Wedding: sometimes a first date requires paperwork by @charlottemadison42

Still a wip, and absolutely amazing! Charlotte is an absolutely incredible author, and from the very beginning this fic does an amazing job of integrating canon characters (and even little nods and references to canon!) into an entirely different human au setting in a super engaging and clever way. 12/10 would recommend to someone new, and the slow burn is incredibly satisfying right up to the (current) resolution!

A comfort fic: it's a new craze by @areyougonnabe, [podfic] it's a new craze by @niceandaccuratetheatre

I’ve read this fic a few times, and it never gets old. attheborder’s humor is on point, and the conception itself- aziraphale and crowley on an advice podcast- is incredible! I would highly, highly recommend listening to the podfic if you can; it’s excellently performed, and in all honesty the podfic that got me onto podfics ;D

A fic that found you at the right time: two dad shaped beings by @jarchivism

i....... cannot express how much I love ineffable parents. And this fic seriously, seriously hits the spot. It’s super cute, super funny, and a really sweet and engaging read! The author did a lovely job with keeping Az and Crowley in character even as they raise the antichrist together

A fic you’d love to see as a movie: All's Fair In Love And Serial Killing by @wyvernquill

[Mind the tags] This fic does an incredible job of balancing darker content with humor. The whole story is fast-paced and exciting, keeping the suspense right up until the last moment, and the author does a fantastic job of constructing a satisfying ‘mystery!’ Most of all, the more morbid moments are countered by Wyvern’s clever writing style and narrative voice, making this fic interesting and even surprisingly fun!

A fic by a favorite author: Four Cups of Wine by borealowl

I really, really love this fic. The whole concept, of Aziraphale and Crowley getting to know a family of humans and learn about their cultural heritage through celebration is wonderful, and the author does a wonderful job of portraying the growth of their friendship! The entire series (both main fic and the one-shots that come after) is incredibly fun and interesting, and one of my faves in the fandom

A fic that made you laugh out loud: What's in a Name? by @rosen-ritter

The first time I read this I was in public, waiting at a car rental place for my grandparents. So the fact that I couldn’t stop laughing out loud was... honestly worth it. This series is so fucking funny from beginning to end, especially on reread, and has such a fun take on who the archangel Raphael really is ;D

A fic longer than 20k: Dad Omens by @pookaseraph

have I mentioned I love ineffable parents??? Because I really, really do. This fic is hilarious, sweet, and adorable, and I absolutely love the progression of Crowley and Aziraphale’s relationship as they raise Adam together-- and, despite not being human, raise him well :D An absolutely wonderful take on what if the baby swap had been even more confused?

A fic with the them: and i don't care if you don't want me (i'm yours anyhow) by @quidfree

The main focus of this fic is Warlock, but the Them are featured pretty heavily and in a really important way! It’s a lovely exploration of kids growing up and going to college, and learning who they really are, and written so well and with such nuance that I really couldn’t put it down!

A fic with a line you still remember: A More Nourishing Love by @qorktrees

This fic is just. Really powerful. It’s so, so clear how much Aziraphale and Crowley care for each other, how much they love and support each other, and their unconditional love for each other makes me tear up every time <3

A GO: Lockdown fic: New slang by @carishouldbesleeping

This fic is super super cute! A lovely take on Aziraphale and Crowley’s reunion post-lockdown, complete with fluff and love confessions <3 So well-written and absolutely adorable!

#good omens #ineffable husbands #fanfic #long post

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our-smooty · 4 years ago

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Flowerbeds and Fertile Soil: Chapter 14

Fandom: Good Omens

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens, )Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer

Tags: Kidfic, Mpreg kind of, they can choose to present however so idk, Crowley Has A Vulva (Good Omens), Crowley Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has A Vulva (Good Omens), OCs Galor, parenting, using your snake form to avoid confrontation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pregnancy, if I missed a tag lemme know

Summary: They could do anything, go anywhere, all without the worry of Above or Bellow making a fuss. Even so, they mostly kept to their little patch of Eden, their cottage and garden and the simple life they’d carved out among the locals. Aziraphale opened a book shop in town, where he only occasionally sold any books (and the ones he did sell, were all modern and stocked specifically for that purpose). Crowley focused his attentions on the garden, and if he occasionally helped their elderly neighbour with her disobedient willow tree, then that was a secret no one needed to know. Lately, however, they had both been feeling rather restless, unbeknownst to each other. Aziraphale tried reorganizing his store, changing the way he tied his bowtie and even ate pizza –something he considered to be far too messy for him personally. Crowley had branched out into birdwatching, and then car maintenance (the human way), and even reading. Nothing scratched the itch for either of them.

Ao3 Link

It was Beelzebub’s turn to pick the meeting spot, so of course they were standing in a dark, damp back alley somewhere in the American Mid-West at three in the morning. Seemed a little out of the way to Gabriel, but the Prince of Hell had said something about an on-going project with the American political system that they couldn’t leave for a even a second, so here he was.

“We couldn’t meet inside somewhere? he sneered, eyeing the way his designer shoes were getting ruined in the disgusting sludge coming from a dumpster a few feet away.

“Don’t want you and your lot closer to this project than necessary. You’d just fuck it all up,” Beelzebub answered, rolling their eyes at him. Gabriel huffed and straightened his collar, though it of course wasn’t at all out of place.

“Well let’s make it quick then. Did your humans…?”

A dangerous growl that Gabriel was glad wasn’t directed at him. “No. Idiots got scared off by whatever the bastard had set up. They all ran off anyways.”

“Well mine got the job done. They sent a little… encouragement, to that ratty bookshop Aziraphale insists on keeping.” Gabriel was practically preening and he knew it. Being able to show up Beelzebub in any way always put him in a positive mood. Thwarting the enemy and all that.

“It’d be easier if we could be direct,” Beezle growled. The flies swarming around the dumpster began to make their way over and Gabriel had to swat a few away with the back of his hand.

“Get a hold of yourself, Beez. You were there, you know the almighty was clear that neither one of us could interfere directly!” Using humans as a loophole had been Michael’s idea and so far there hadn’t been any repercussions. But this had only been a test, and since things had gone well…

“We can escalate though, yes?” they buzzed, the flies zipping around excitedly and a grin breaking out on their face. “My contacts from before have been... reprimanded appropriately, and we’re ready to move on whenever you are.”

Gabriel’s face morphed into a tight smile of his own. He always had admired his demonic counterpart’s willingness to get a job done, no matter the cost. Beelzebub was shrewd and cutthroat and if they hadn’t been one of Satan’s damned, Gabriel might have hired them for a position Upstairs.

“Yes, we can move on to phase 2. Give it a few weeks, I’ll send you a memo, and a calendar invite for the pre-briefing. It’s Heaven’s turn to cater so…” Which was a good thing, since last time when it’d been Hell’s turn the lettuce on the tea sandwiches had been mouldy. Gabriel didn’t partake in the gross matter but it was the principle of the thing! “Are we still on for that event in Berlin next Saturday?”

“You’re the one who said it’d be in both our best interests if it went well, so yeah, I’ll be there. Don’t get in my way.” Beelzebub threw up a rather rude hand gesture then disappeared through a door in one of the buildings. Gabriel spent a few extra minutes in the ally, pondering whether contacting the demon to make sure their chosen apparel didn’t clash, or if that might get him in more trouble than it was worth.

The hunger didn’t really go away. Crowley woke up almost every morning with a strong desire to get to the breakfast table that persisted throughout lunch and supper. Aziraphale enjoyed it as an opportunity to exercise his cooking skills, even if it did require him to spend more of his day in the kitchen than was usual. Crowley repaid him for his kindness of course, he’d bring in fresh flowers (though with the changing seasons, he was going to have to switch to gourds), or later in the day bring him cocoa and biscuits while the angel was working on restoring a book. Sometimes, after a particularly good supper, Crowley might drop to his knees under the table and thank Aziraphale in a different way that the angel liked just as much as any of the others.

The change of season brought on a change in their routines as well. Since it was getting colder, Crowley spent a lot more of his time indoors curled up in front of the fireplace watching reality TV, or in bed taking long indulgent naps. When they’d first moved in together Crowley had tried to stay awake and active through the colder months, scared Aziraphale would be upset with him for lounging about. But after 10 years they’d come to an understanding. As long as Crowley made an effort to spend at least a little bit of time-conscious with the angel every day (barring very long naps, which were usually discussed beforehand), Aziraphale was happy. And Aziraphale being happy made Crowley happy which in turn made the colder months of the year much more pleasant for the demon.

On a blustery November afternoon, Crowley was making a significant effort to be awake as Aziraphale showed him pictures of cribs on his own laptop. He never should have shown the angel pinterest, or Amazon.

“So what do you think? I thought something traditional would be nice, and of course money isn’t really an object, and maybe there’s someone in town who does carpentry? But what about safety?” Crowley browsed the collections of cribs, and rocking chairs, and various baby paraphilia, trying to keep himself from drifting off. He’s set an alarm to wake him up just after midday in case he didn’t wake up naturally. Of course, he’d snoozed it a few times before dragging himself out of their bedroom and into the sitting room for a cuppa.

“Think we’ve seen thousands of babies make it just fine, even without all these fancy cribs and chairs and baskets. You know we can make just about anything safe if we want to, with wards and a good talking-to.” He paused on a simple crib made of light pine with gently scalloped finishings. “I know I’ve seen signs for ‘rustic’ furniture around the village, m’sure you could find someone to make one like this.”

“That would be lovely, wouldn’t it? It’s been a very long time since I had to make use of any woodworking skills, but I’m sure I could sketch something up for a professional to take a look at. Would you like to help, darling?”

“Sure, go get us a pencil and paper then, and maybe a refill?” There’d be no more coffee since Aziraphale insisted he keep to under a cup a day, but maybe the angel would allow him some tea. Aziraphale gave him a beatific smile then rushed off to his stacks of stationery. Crowley secretly thought it was sweet how Aziraphale still wrote letters on his own custom paper, with fountain pens and a personalized wax seal. Over the millennia he’d gotten thousands of letters from the angel, and he kept each one in a lockbox that was now hidden in the back of their closet. Outwardly, Crowley rolled his eyes when Aziraphale returned, playing the part of out-upon husband as usual.

“Alright, you get a start on here then, while I make more tea. You’ve always been better at the arts than me anyway.” Debatable, but Crowley was too sleepy to really argue. He took a pen and some paper and began to doodle out crib-shaped creations. As the kettle whistled and Aziraphale hummed to himself his drawing moved towards the more specific, detailing little flower engravings for decoration along all the legs. When Aziraphale came back with the tea and some biscuits, Crowley had less of a sketch and more of a fully fleshed-out design.

“Oh Crowley! It’s gorgeous love,” Aziraphale exclaimed as he sat down to take a look. Crowley had barely been thinking about what he was drawing, instead letting his hands take over while his mind coasted in a half-dreaming state. “I love the flowers, and the wings on the corners. “You’re so creative.”

“Thanks angel,” Crowley murmured, looking at his own drawing like he was seeing it for the first time. He took a sip of tea from the cup Aziraphale passed him, relaxing back against his angel. “But I’m sure you can do it better, if you try.”

“Nonsense. I think it’s perfect. Maybe we could do a little more research, just to make sure it’s up to safety standards, just in case, but otherwise, I don’t think I’d change a thing.” Crowley would have argued if he wasn’t already half asleep again, his teacup leaning dangerously to the side. “Are you really so tired my dear? You should have said.”

“Wanted t’spend some time w’you,” he mumbled. The teacup was gone from his hands, presumably taken by Aziraphale, and a warm blanket draped around his shoulders. “Don’t want you t’be lonely.”

“My sweet demon,” Aziraphale cooed. “Thank you, you’re always thinking of me. But I think I’m going to read for a little while, if you’re like to take a nap. You can use my lap, if you’re like.” Crowley was already sliding down so he was horizontal, his head cushioned against Aziraphale thighs. The angel used one hand to turn the pages of the book resting on the arm of the sofa, the other slung low on Crowley’s hips. That hand wormed its way under Crowley’s sweater--soft cotton, with little devil horns on the hood--so he could touch the bare skin of his belly.

“Love you,” Crowley hummed. Aziraphale wiggled a tiny bit, either in happiness or to get more comfortable, and sighed happily.

“I love you too, dear. Get some sleep.” And Crowley drifted off.

At first he was dreaming about the garden. Not the Garden, but his garden in the South Downs, at the cottage. It was summer, peak flowering period for some of his favourites and he was down on his knees at one of the smaller flower beds pulling weeds. The sun was exceedingly warm at the back of his neck but that was alright, he was nearly done. Then he could go inside and drink some of the lemonade Aziraphale had made earlier.

The dream oozed forward at a leisurely pace and he enjoyed every second. The sun slowly sank towards the horizon and the wind got a little chilly; it must have been later in the summer than he thought. Even though the weather was turning, he still felt warm though, an unfamiliar heat spreading from his core and out to his limbs. He looked down, almost expecting to see something silly like a hot water bottle--dream logic of course; even when he knew he was dreaming Crowley’s imagination got away from him--but instead saw his own body. And the baby bump.

“That you, Sprout?” he asked, his voice echoing strangely in the hazy dreamworld. “You’re very warm, taking after your Papa?”

A familiar wriggling, and something Crowley struggled to define. It almost reminded him of when we was still an angel, and he could sense love, a glowing joy from inside, spilling out through his cracks. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation, the dream’s slow pace lulling him into a sense of security. Here in his garden there was just him, the baby, and what felt like pure joy.

Crowley didn’t notice the dream shifting. The garden slowly getting darker and colder, the flowers wilting, shriveling, dying. Their cottage faded away, becoming an empty field, the sky a roiling grey. When Crowley opened his eyes and saw his surroundings, the oncoming storm whipping the dead grass and flowers all around, he knew. The warmth in his stomach pulled away and Crowley felt cold.

Something was coming.

Aziraphale was startled from deep in his reread of Frankenstein’s Monster by Crowley’s shuddering. Normally when the demon had a bad dream the first sign was a noise; a whimper or a shout that would alert Aziraphale to the situation so he could intervene. But even lacking the normal markers, the angel could tell something was wrong. Crowley was a very still sleeper, even if he did cling, and the erratic shaking and shivering he was doing right now certainly wasn’t normal.

“Crowley love, wake up. Shhh, it’s alright,” he said, loud enough to wake the other but softly enough to avoid startling him. He set his book aside and brought both hands into the equation, caressing and petting Crowley’s hair and shoulders. “Come on darling, time to wake up.”

“‘Zira? S’dark.” He didn’t sound upset, or panicked and Aziraphale let out a breath of relief.

“You were only asleep for an hour, but the suns already set, given how late in the year it is,” Aziraphale explained, still petting Crowley’s hair. “Were you having a bad dream?”

Crowley rubbed his face against the angel’s belly, dispelling the sleep from his eyes. “Strange. I was in the garden, and then it was dark out. Could feel…” He stared down at his stomach. “I think I could feel them there.”

“Really?” Aziraphale meant to ask more about the dream, but was easily sidetracked by the news of the baby communicating. “In what way did you see them?”

“Not see, just felt them. They were warm. But then it got dark, and I felt like I was freezing, and the cottage was gone--” his voice got faster and faster, his breathing more shallow. To stop him flying off into a panic attack Aziraphale thread his fingers through Crowley’s hair again, not really tugging but still a firm presence. “And then I woke up. That's it, nothing exciting angel.”

Aziraphale hummed lowly, in the way he knew relaxed Crowley. “I’m a little jealous of you. For getting to feel them, not for having a nightmare.”

Crowley wiggled so that instead of just his head resting in Aziraphale lap, his entire upper body was laying across his legs. Then he grabbed the hand the angel didn’t have woven through his hair and pressed it to his stomach.

“S’the best I can do. Maybe if you concentrate you’ll feel it too?” Aziraphale tried his hardest, willing his entire celestial self to focus in on that one small area. Underneath his hands Crowley shuddered, but Aziraphale kept on searching until--

“Oh!” He could feel something, at least. It wasn’t really warm, like Crowley had said, but there was movement. It was reassuring to know they were there, and alive, and growing. “You’re amazing Crowley.”

“What, me?” Crowley laughed, thoroughly pleased with himself. The anxiety from the dream didn’t stand a chance against praise from Aziraphale. Still, Crowley looked like he was done sleeping, because he sat up and stretched languorously. “S’a bit late to go out, but we could order in?”

“If you want. You’ll have to take a look at your application and see what’s available.” Somehow, despite being a ways out into the countryside they always had plenty of options for takeout. And they were well known by all the delivery persons as excellent tippers, so their food usually arrived on time or earlier than expected. “I’m not craving anything in particular.”

“Good, ‘cause I am. I want fries, and maybe a ceasar salad. Oh and falafel.” Crowley was already tapping wildly at his phone, presumably making his order. “And maybe something sweet, for after…”

“Cravings dear?” Aziraphale teased, nudging Crowley with one elbow like he used to do years ago, when they would walk through St. James’ Park. That was before the end that didn’t happen, when even the smallest contact between them was taboo. Now they could touch whenever they wanted, and so Aziraphale didn’t stop at just one nudge, instead choosing to lean heavily against Crowley so he could look at the screen, “The poor delivery person is going to have an awful lot of trouble carrying all that.”

Crowley just rolled his eyes and continued scrolling through his options. “So you don’t want bubble tea? I was going to get you taro flavour but if you think it’s too much--”

“Now now let's not be hasty love. I'm sure a large tip will make up for any trouble on the driver’s end.” Crowley giggled. Aziraphale tucked the sound away in his memory with all the other cute things Crowley did but would never admit to.

“I thought so. You can never resist, can you?” Refusing to be needled, Aziraphale decided to fire back. Crowley was so cuddly and soft; so completely unworried now that the nightmare had faded that he couldn’t resist. He nuzzled right underneath the other’s demon-sigil where he knew Crowley was extra sensitive and revelled in the full-body shudder it produced.

“Why should I? There’s no shame in liking nice things.” Aziraphale let the implication hang. Crowley could still be touchy about being called nice or good outside of the bedroom depending on his mood. This time however, Crowley sighed and shimmied away a bit so he could show Aziraphale the screen.

“Whatever you say angel. Does this look good?” The order list was expansive, and probably much more than either of them would be able to eat tonight. But that was alright, leftovers wouldn’t last long given Crowley’s new and voracious appetite.

“Splendid love. I’ll go set the table?” It was really an excuse to get up and move. As much as Aziraphale loved cuddling and pampering his husband, he did tend to get restless. Now that Crowley was awake and relaxed he could get up and bustle about, working off all the energy that had built up while the demon napped. With the excitement of the baby coming Aziraphale had been finding it difficult to sit still and not rush about, preparing everything.

“Can’t we just eat here?” Crowley asked, sprawling into the warm space on the sofa left behind by the angel. Aziraphale smiled and passed his slothful demon the telly remote.

“No, I won’t have you drop tahini and falafel bits all over the carpet. You can eat at the table or not at all.” Crowley glared but there wasn’t really any real anger in it. In fact, it was quite cute, not that he’d ever say that out loud. Crowley would not tolerate being called cute, no matter how happy he was.

“Fine, stuffy angel.” He turned the TV on and quickly navigated to NBC where Aziraphale knew they’d be playing Golden Girls at this hour. After one last fond look Aziraphale couldn’t stand still any longer, so he hurried off to get everything ready for their impromptu feast.

#fanfic #good omens #crowley #crowziraphale #aziraphale/crowley #aziraphale #tw mpreg #trans male pregnancy #gomens #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #fbafs

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we-dont-have-a-side-anymore · 5 years ago

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Of Birthdays And Binders

Ship: Agender!Aziraphale x Genderfluid!Crowley x FtM!Reader

Content Warning: Gender dysphoria, mention of transphobia, reader had been disowned and kicked out prior to the story (brief mention, but might as well throw it out there.)

Summary: His birthday, and only two people cared. Not even people, two beings cared. No people. Don’t question why a legal adult with his own apartment can’t afford a new binder...? Convenient plot device. This can be read as FtM OR masc!nb. I use he/him the whole time.

—————

He woke up alone. Not only in the literal sense of being alone in bed, but no one had made any attempts to contact him. The street was unusually quiet too. It was like the one day where he wanted to be surrounded by people, he was…

Alone.

His second alarm rang, and he rolled himself off of his bed and onto his pile of plush pillows. His phone buzzed. Twice. Reaching for his phone, he yawned, expecting it to be a notification from Twitter or Instagram. So naturally, it wasn’t.

It was two texts.

‘Hello, darling! Happy birthday! I have a surprise for you, so if you could pop on by the bookshop at noon, that would be lovely. I love you, (y/n)!’ Azi’s texts never failed to make him wiggle with joy. They were full of gentle, affectionate words, oh so different from what he was accustomed to.

‘Someone told me it was my favorite baby goat’s birthday today. <3 So I figured I’d stop by in 30. You don’t need to do anything, just be in your flat. Love you, handsome ;)’ If someone walked up to (y/n) and said that the demon Crowley invented emoticons, he would believe it. Nonetheless, his texts were always flattering and made him feel appreciated.

He sent them both a heart emoji, and went to get dressed. Dressing didn’t really require much effort. He slept in his clothes, with the noteable exception of his old, beat up binder.

He had bought it in secret when he was sixteen years old. Had it shipped to his friend’s house, and paid for it with his birthday money. He almost got away with it, too, until his parents walked in on him washing it.

They were quick to start yelling at him. Calling him a sinner, a disgrace. They told him that if he was going to be a tranny, that he would do it far, far away from them.

So he packed his duffel bag, bought the cheapest ticket to London that he could find, and he left Massachusetts for good. Cut all ties with his blood relatives, and texted his friends goodbye.

Now, four years later, he had two loving boyfriends, and his life was getting back on track. Every weekday he worked a nine to five job at a diner, which paid just enough to pay rent, buy food, and pay his cell phone bill. He had some money set away for education, and medical expenses. But he still only had his old, beat up binder. It didn’t bind very well anymore, it was so stretched out. He couldn’t really afford to spend so much on one thing, no matter how happy it would make him. Money was tight, but what did he expect, being a high school dropout? He would give anything to have completed high school back in his hometown, but life didn’t work in his favor.

He sighed and shrugged it on, then pulled his oversized T-shirt back on. Five minutes until Crowley said he would arrive. Then, three knocks. Quick, sharp raps on the thin plaster door. (Y/n) rushed to open the door, and his boyfriend blew the birthday song on a tacky kazoo.

He laughed and opened the door wider so that the redhead could step in, playfully slapping his ass as he sauntered towards the couch.

“Happy birthday, hot stuff!” Crowley smirked, the pointed tips of his tongue showing slightly. He pulled out a small box. There was wrapping paper on it, but he could hardly call it wrapped. An attempt at wrapping was most likely made, but that’s really the extent of it. “I think you’re gonna like this.”

(Y/n)’s eyes softened. “Oh, you really didn’t have to.”

The look on Crowley’s fact could only be described as offended. “Oh, baby goat, I know I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. It’s your twentieth birthday, and the first birthday since we started dating. This is special. Now, take the box and open it, hm?”

He laughs and grabs the box, pulling it sharply and sending the demon flying into (y/n)’s arms. “I love you, my love.”

The tape was slowly peeled off, and the box flaps popped open. Inside was a full-tank, nude binder. In his size.

He stared in silent shock, eyes wide and teary. “Oh my God.” He pinched himself twice, before tackling his boyfriend into the old couch. He tenderly kissed the tip of his nose, smiling widely. “You got me a new binder. You actually got me a new binder. Oh my goodness.”

Crowley ruffled his hair affectionately. “Well? Go try it on!” His smile only got wider as (y/n) sprinted into the bathroom to put it on. After a couple minutes of silence, (y/n) yelled from the bathroom.

“Erm...sweetheart, darling, sweetcheeks, pretty boy, love, sexy ass, hottie, aha, erm…” he trailed off, and Crowley knew immediately that he had done something stupid. “How would you respond if I said I was stuck?”

Biting back a laugh, Crowley started walking towards the bathroom. “I’ll come help, hot stuff.”

He was indeed stuck in the new binder. It had been quite a long time since he had put on something so tight, and while he was euphoric, he had forgotten how difficult it was. Most of the binder was on properly, except for his arms. Somehow, he managed to get his arms stuck along his torso, and it was too tight for him to wiggle them out. Crowley’s face scrunched in a snicker that was met with an indignant pout.

“Oh poo, love.” He sticks his tongue out, and attempts to cross his arms (this doesn’t go well).

Crowley mock gasps. “So you don’t want my help?” Immediately, (y/n)’s eyes switch into a very persuasive puppy dog impression.

“Please?” He wriggles pathetically, in an attempt to invoke sympathy. “Pretty please?”

Crowley deadpans. “The physical appearance of the please has no effect on me.” But with a snap of his fingers, (y/n)’s arms were through the proper place, and he wasn’t stuck anymore.

Immediately, he ran up to the demon and tackled him. The twenty year old peppered his face with gentle pecks until he was breathless, finally pulling away to bury his head in Crowley’s shoulder. “Thank you, Crowley. Thank you so much.”

They spent the next couple hours cuddling on the couch, spooning with Crowley whispering sweet nothings to his boyfriend. Before they knew it, it was a few minutes to noon. Crowley pulled him up, and snapped his fingers. Instead of being in a small, musty flat, they were standing in an alleyway next to an even mustier bookshop.

A. Z. Fell & Co. Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Where his other darling boyfriend lived. As the clock struck noon, Crowley burst into the bookshelf and held the door open for his more timid boyfriend.

His eyes lit up when he saw a cake, and three mugs of cocoa. By no means was it small, in fact, it was the size of a traditional wedding cake. Large and extravagant. Aziraphale burst out of the back room and jogged over to his boyfriends. “Oh, happy birthday my darling boy!” He reached over (y/n)’s shoulder and pulled him into a tender hug and kiss on the top of the head. “Now come, else the cocoa will get cold.”

The three of them sat at the table. The angel pulled out a daintily wrapped, but rather large package. It was covered in a creamy white paper, and tied with little blue bows. Crowley nudged (y/n), prompting the boy to blush and tug the box from his boyfriend’s hand. “Gosh, you guys, you really shouldn’t have done all of this stuff.” He carefully untied all of the bows, and peeled the tape away. Everything was perfectly intact, except Crowley’s patience. “Honest, I don’t deserve any o-” (Y/n)’s eyes widened as Crowley leaned over and kissed the human until he had to pull away for air.

Wordlessly, the redhead poked the brown box, and his boyfriend got the message. He opened the box eagerly, and his eyes widened once again. Tears welled in his eyes and an infectious smile spread across his face. The box fell to the floor as a trans flag emerged.

Aziraphale’s eyes closed in a giddy giggle. “Look in the box again!” His bright eyes opened, and it was clear that watching (y/n) open gifts brought him joy. He did what he was told, picking the box up, only to drop it again.

“Oh, wow!” He cooed, awestruck. A hand-knit throw blanket, that doubled as a rainbow pride flag. “Oh, I love it! Did you-?”

Aziraphale cut him off with an excited hug. “Oh, I did hope that you would like it! I learned how to knit right before we began courting, and the day we, er, performed coitus, I knew exactly what to do!”

Crowley’s mouth dropped. “You didn’t use miracles? When you said you were going to make a blanket for him, I didn’t think you would spend a year making it.” Aziraphale blushed, and twiddled his thumbs. (Y/n) kissed both their cheeks lightly.

“I love you two, so much. I don’t deserve you, honestly.” He tugged them over to the plush couch and threw the blanket over the trio. Safe, warm, and happy. Just how life should be.

#crowley good omens #crowley #good omens #gender neutral reader #good omens fluff #aziraphale good omens #crowley x reader x aziraphale #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #dysphoria #binding #ftm reader #nonbinary reader #masc reader #fluff #fluff fanfic #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction

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qobiin · 5 years ago

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weekly fic rec hoard

here's what i've been enjoying reading (and re-reading) this past week for different fandoms across the board! this week features: atla, bnha, good omens, harry potter, marvel, naruto and stranger things ♡ means: all-time fave, (m) means: 18+ themes

avatar: the last airbender

♡ first rule of earth kingdom fight club... series by ohmygodwhy zuko, his stubborn inability to die, and finding himself thru getting his ass kicked

The Most Ragged Edges by twinfinite In hindsight, Zuko really should have seen this conversation coming. He can almost hear Li and Lo chanting wickedly about the magic of Ember Island, about waves smoothing away rough edges…

♡ ribs by ohmygodwhy The first thing Zuko tells him during their first lesson after the whole Sun Warrior ruins ordeal, is “Fire comes from the breath.” a lesson in learning, and re-learning.

♡ see your son rising at last by aloneintherain When Zuko dashes into the sitting room, it is with the same wide-eyed panic that he ran from Azula’s smoking hands when he was a child. Iroh bites down on a smile. Zuko looks the same, even now, a decade later with a scar blossomed over one side of his face, green and brown robes replacing the solitary reds of his childhood. His hair is puffed up around his face. He looks like a very frightened, very windswept turtle-dove. Zuko dives behind Iroh just as Aang breezes to a stop in the doorway. Five times Zuko hid behind Iroh, plus one time Zuko stood proudly in front of him.

♡ the beginning of a new and brighter birth by aloneintherain “I’m so proud of you, my nephew.” Uncle cups Zuko’s face in his lined hand. The gesture is so tender, his palm so warm, that Zuko has to take a fortifying breath against the sudden swell of emotion in his chest. “I want to be a good leader, Uncle,” Zuko says. “I want to look after my people.” “You will,” Uncle says. “You are, nephew.” In a new era of peace, Zuko works to be a very different Fire Lord than his forefathers.

boku no hero academia

the stars are floating and we are flying by lunalou Aizawa starts walking towards the exit, obviously expecting Shouto to follow him, but Shouto's feet are frozen in place. His eyes flicker from the distorted reflection of himself in the ice to where All Might is giving him a long look, eyes kinder than anything Todoroki has ever been deserving of, and he feels sick. “Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says gently, squeezing his arm in what Shouto presumes is meant to be a reassuring gesture. “It’s going to be okay.” He doesn’t think Midoriya is in any place to tell him what okay is, all things considered, but he chooses to keep quiet on the matter.

♡ I’ll share this with you, so leave it behind by yabakuboi For the sake of the story, All Might is never in need of a successor, and, when Izuku saves Katsuki from the sludge monster, encourages young Midoriya down a different path. Thus, Katsuki and Izuku part ways after junior high, as Katsuki enters U.A. and the Midoriyas move overseas. It’s later that Katsuki realizes that there’s something missing, that he drove that something away. Years after, Katsuki finds him in the last place he looks, in the cereal aisle at the local grocery store of their childhood neighborhood.

Loose lips Sail ships by Yousayhun Bakugou is at war with his own fucking mouth and everyone else just seems to be having the time of their lives.

♡ flare guns go off in my head saying not to call you this late by youreanovelidea Midoriya beams at him and Tokoyami is suddenly hit with the urge to look away. “So bright,” he mutters under his breath, low enough that Midoriya can’t hear him. (or, Midoriya is a problem child who just really loves his friends)

(m) The Devil Blues by iknewaman The 78th precinct's police captain, Toshinori Yagi, has volunteerd his squad to help implement the mayor's wish of increasing the successful cooperation between the city police and active Pro-Heroes. Each detective is to be assigned a Pro-Hero who will shadow them for two weeks, and the operation has been dubbed the 'Station Cooperation Operation'. Although it is not well-received by those involved, Izuku Midoriya, current detective at the 78th precinct and loyal follower of captain Toshinori's ideals, believes that the operation will be a success. If his captain says it will succeed, there isn't a doubt in Izuku's mind that it will. That is until he meets his assigned Pro-Hero.

♡ someone is wrong on the internet by rhenna It’s been a long day. By all rights, Izuku should be falling into bed, half dead. But instead of sleeping, he’s hunched over his laptop at 2 in the morning writing a dissertation about why exactly Ground Zero’s pecs are the best pecs to ever pec, and how dare anyone insinuate that he should lose some of that muscle because don’t you even understand what kind of physique a quirk like that requires? Amateurs. (Izuku has two jobs in this world: pro-hero and anonymous president of the Ground Zero fan club. What could possibly go wrong?)

good omens

♡ Divine Intervention (aka God ships it) by TheLadyZepher There’s a battle strategy devised by humans many millennia ago that's designed to overcome an adversary who is particularly well entrenched. Some walls are too tall and thick for a frontal assault, and must instead be bested through sheer dogged stubbornness. Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t know it, but they were about to be put under siege. Fed up with an angel and a demon who are still avoiding any talk of Feelings, God starts to interfere. When it comes to the ineffable plan, sometimes things need a bit of a push.

♡ Slow by write_away It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions. You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart. Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

♡ Eziraphael’s Gifts: A History of Queer Faith and Longing, by Natasha Marie Johnson (Beacon Press, 2019). by actualbat "If Eziraphael has come to be known--in today's language--as the 'guardian angel of sad queers,' then it makes sense for him to have shown up more regularly in the past once that became a recognizable historical category." Natasha is really glad that she's given this talk enough times to be able to do it on autopilot, because those two funny-looking men in the back just made the most absurdly astonished faces. (Or: Not all historians ignore gay subtext, and not all immortal celestial beings have their shit together. Also, voodoo.)

harry potter

♡ Apple Slices and Cocoa by FeathersMcStrange Harry Potter is an abused kid with not an adult in the world on his side when Molly Weasley meets him. She decides right then and there that if nobody else is going to try and take care of this boy, then dammit, she's going to.

hello goodbye (’twas nice to know you) by tamerofdarkstars Draco Malfoy thinks he might know whose thoughts are scrawling themselves on his skin, but that's crazy. Impossible, even. It has to be a mistake. - Self-indulgent soulmate AU where the thoughts of your soulmate inscribe themselves on your skin in a shifting magic tattoo

♡ (m) Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by fencer_x, IDoodleForNoodles ‘Kill Albus Dumbledore’ is less a challenging task and more a suicide mission, so when Draco Malfoy is presented with the option to either dispatch his Headmaster or suffer an excruciating and most ignominious death of his own, along with his parents, he reaches deep into his black little Slytherin heart and manages to scrape together enough courage to go with option C instead: Spend Sixth Year secretly studying Animagecraft in the hopes he’ll turn into something sufficiently imposing even the Dark Lord himself won’t be able to keep Draco under his thumb. But just his luck, his Animagus form turns out to be a dragon, and a rather randy juvenile at that, intent on finding its mate: one Harry James Potter.

marvel

♡ Hard to Love by Gruoch If someone had told May that Iron Man himself would one day occasionally show up uninvited to her quiet little apartment and intrude into her quiet little life, she would have laughed them out of the room. But then her life seems chock-full of unpleasant surprises these days. Or, Tony Stark wants a bigger piece of the pie. May Parker learns to accept help. Peter just wants to keep the peace.

♡ Mr. Parker Declined to Comment by apisdn The events leading up to the embarrassing moments during the Doomed Field trip, and how Peter Parker accidentally ended up in charge of things. All the while the political machine moves on, the Avengers do not kiss and make up, and the future draws ever closer.

Another No-Good Field Trip by Muimor Peter Parker is not having a good day. AKA, Where Peter's decathlon team take a field trip to the Avengers Compound, Vision's a menace, and Peter really doesn't want to go.

naruto

(m) Resonance by flailinginlove After being hit by a missing-nin's jutsu, Kakashi's chakra is never the same again.

♡ (m) What Otter Nonsense by DarkAuroran “Is that an otter?” Iruka asks as large, sable eyes blink at him and a little whiskered nose twitches curiously. “That’s an otter. Why do you have an otter?” “I can’t tell you,” Kakashi says with a great amount of dignity for a man cradling a baby otter in armoured gloves. “Classified Jounin mission business.”

♡ Learning Curve by ishiryoku This is the life she chose: the path of the shinobi. It's either roll with the punches or be left behind by her team—and Sakura's not about to let them go off on their own.

♡ Roots and Wings by ideaoforder When Naruto is kidnapped from his orphanage at age three, Kakashi is so done with this shit. He gets Naruto back, tells the Hokage where to go (politely, because he isn't suicidal), and raises the boy himself. Or, you know, tries and is proud when there aren't too many explosions. Then everybody starts to copy him and it's a whole thing.

stranger things

In Which Starcourt Is a Pun by asexual-fandom-queen (writeordietrying) “Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. Do you know what you want?” Nancy and Jonathan visit the Starcourt Mall and corner Steve at his place of work with their feelings, but in an awkward, this-is-still-the-1980s-so-we-can't-be-too-direct kind of way.

♡ my father comes and he goes by mjolnirbreaker So, for Max, he doesn’t punch Billy Fucking Hargrove. He just sits there in sweltering heat and listens to the C’s being announced, and when parents cheer for their kids he tries not to think about how his parents are currently in Colorado.

♡ it’s a risk, it’s a gamble by nondz (pinkjook) “I think we should pretend to date,” Robin says. "What?" Steve answers.

one of those new wave boys by glorious_spoon It probably should feel more awkward than it does. (Or: Steve and Robin go on a road-trip, drink, listen to music, and look after each other. And yeah, maybe there's some cuddling involved too.)

wanna rec me something? head over to my ask or submission boxes! message me even, i don't really mind (:

and to all my fellow authors who may feel a little down about not getting onto rec lists, this is for you:

#fic rec hoard #bookshelf #fic recs #atla #bnha #good omens #hp #marvel #naruto #stranger things #the gaang #bakudeku #ineffable husbands #drarry #irondad #kakairu #stoncy #mostly gen stuff honestly

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luckyspike · 5 years ago

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No neighborhood is free of sin - a good omens fanfiction

Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Kudos appreciated!

Nextdoor.com had been Crowley’s idea. Crowley had always liked neighborhoods - there were just so many opportunities for humans to enrage one another when they lived in such close proximity and had to pretend to be nice. In the early days, before the internet, Crowley had reveled in town hall meetings, neighborhood watch councils, and local book clubs. He’d embedded himself in his Mayfair neighborhood, sowing dissent and discord among the community. For years, he had been the quiet voice in someone’s ear - oh, you know you probably would have gotten that promotion at work if you hadn’t been so tired, eh? Shame about the neighbors playing the music so loudly the night before - the stolen package off someone’s doorstep - of course it was those dirty millenials next door that took little Billy’s Christmas present - or the upturned rubbish bin in someone’s front garden. He’d been stray cats and dropped hardware from a neighbor’s DIY project that just happened to puncture someone’s tire on the way to work. He was footballs breaking through windows, and screaming babies next door during a romantic night in. His Mayfair neighborhood was among the most contentious in London, and walking into the fog of evil at the end of a long day was like a balm to his burned and aching (and barely-existent) soul.

But nextdoor.com, oh, what a stroke of brilliance that had been. He took the idea from the humans, of course, with their clever Facebook idea and MySpace and social media. But the concept of a neighborhood media site followed so smoothly, that aside from a few whispered words into the ears of some young programmers in America*, he’d barely had to lift a finger. Nextdoor.com had burst to life, and since then, Crowley had fallen in love.

[*Or rather, carefully-typed “thought experiments” sent via email from one of his multitudinous email addresses that, typically, appeared to belong to very wealthy tech investorsI.]

His favorite thing was, of course, the people who always had to have the last word in an argument. Pride, after all, was a sin anyway, and online media really provided him with a shining chance to provide one-on-one temptation to multiple people at a time by way of arguing with them on the internet, one of his favorite activities.

He was up late tonight doing just that. He’d had a lovely dinner with Aziraphale - an Ethiopian restaurant that Aziraphale had been wanting to explore, with food so spicy that even Crowley had a few bites - and come home, unwinding by logging into one of his several accounts and promptly starting to complain about the barking dog one building over.

‘listen its my bloody dog and hes allowed to bark in my flat if he wants to’ replied Crowley’s victim for tonight - based on his profile picture, he appeared to be a young solicitor with political aspirations in the future. Crowley figured he might as well start working on the young man now in the early days - no sense in putting his inevitable hellish corruption off when it would be so easy to do now.

‘i’ll have you know that i have a very important job,’ Crowley started his reply, considering where to go from that point. ‘i work 90 hours per week. i make more money in five minutes than you make in a year. shut your dog up or i’ll sue.’ And, send reply. And wait. He sat back in his chair, and savored a mouthful of wine.

Yes, this was proper demonic work. Fuck Hastur and Ligur, fuck craftsmanship, this was easy - he was in pajamas and drinking wine, for someone’s sake - and it was fun. His phone binged with a reply notification.

‘good luck suing, knobhead, i’m a solicitor and i’ve been in numerous trials - too numerous to count. feel free to try to take me up in court, i look forward to the day i get to let my dog bark straight in your smug face, whoever you are, Jacob.’ Ah yes, Jacob Coppersmith, one of Crowley’s favorite online aliases. The demon smiled and crafted his reply.

‘yeah I bet you are, law lad. shut your fucking dog up or i’ll come do it for you. i’ve tracked your IP address, i know where you live.’ Crowley did not elaborate further. In reality, he rather disliked the thought of harming dogs - they were true innocents, unless they were hellhounds or chihuahuas, and even he felt profane trying to hurt them - but his reply would hopefully get a rise out of the young solicitor. He waited.

And waited rather longer. He refilled his wine glass, and paced around his office, and still his phone did not alert to a new message. He refreshed the page, nothing. He had nearly given it up for the night - there would be another opportunity in the future, there always was - when his level of Amber’s Airline was interrupted by a push notification from the neighborhood app. He abandoned the level immediately to read it.

‘don’t call me law lad you fucking knob’

Crowley replied quickly. Quickly, quickly, it was late, the humans would be going to sleep soon ... hurry, hurry. He narrated the entire reply into his voice-to-text feature** and, forgoing a quick proof-read, sent it.

‘ok solicitor shithead’

[** Snake eyes were wonderful for menacing humans and striking the fear of the Devil into their hearts. They were not so wonderful for reading, typing, sewing, or anything else that required any significant level of visual acuity at all, really.]

The reply came quickly: ‘fucking delete this you fucking dick!!! what gives you the right!’ Crowley cackled out loud. Yes, yes this was the end goal. He could practically taste the low-grade evil, smooth like a finely-aged wine, sliding over his tongue. He raised his phone to his mouth and dictated: ‘no law lad’

There was not a reply immediately. But quickly - as soon as the app indicated he’d posted - he heard a frustrated scream, followed by alarmed barking. And then a door slammed open.

“I know you live around here, Jacob!” someone - the solicitor, oh, Crowley, could have hissed it was so wonderful - shouted into the late-night air. “I know you can hear me! You hear me? I won’t shut up! My dog has every right to bark in my home! I won’t tell him to stop! Log off you idiot! Log off and leave me alone!”

Crowley heard the door slam again a moment later, and he slid lower in his seat, taking a self-satisfied sip of his wine. Oh, yes, that was the stuff. He weighed the options, and then smiled gently, dictating his reply and then, after an aggressive two seconds of squinting to ensure the construction and grammar were to his liking, he sent: ‘who the fuck is scraeming “LOG OFF” at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off’.

The enraged scream that followed gave him such a warm tingle of infernal rage that he very much doubted he’d be able to sleep that night. But it was alright, he reasoned, as the screaming continued from another flat nearby, and then was met with shouts of ‘shut up!’ and ‘people are trying to sleep here!’ Ah, yes, the beauty of the internet. The true stroke of genius of nextdoor.com. Three angry people, three weakened souls.

Crowley sighed, satisfied with a terrible job well-done, and waved the TV on, although he wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking, rather pleasantly, about fireworks. Yes ... perhaps tomorrow. Plenty of fireworks. At two AM, yes. He would time a complaint post for the neighborhood too, just to get the ball rolling. He finished his drink, and refilled the glass, and settled back as the sound of a cricket match washed over him, entertaining thoughts of fireworks and burnt garbage and very angry neighbors.

#good omens #crowley is an internet troll #dril quotes #side eye reference to marine meme #the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley

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angelofrainfrogs · 5 years ago

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Serendipity (Part 3/3)

Fandom: Good Omens

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley (but not the main focus)

Other Characters: Warlock Dowling, Adam Young

Description: Seven years after Armageddidn’t, a boy wanders into A.Z. Fell and Co. and finds something more priceless than a first-edition novel- a reunion he (and his childhood caretakers) never thought possible.

Rating: G

Genre: General/Family/Mild Hurt/Comfort

Read on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20432192/chapters/48473378

Part 3

"Of course it's him!" Crowley hissed, standing and beginning to pace next to the couch.

"Now, dear, we can't be certain it's the same child," Aziraphale said, though his tone betrayed the fact that he didn't believe his own words.

"Oh yeah?" Crowley stopped mid-step and twisted on his heel to point a finger at Warlock. "Hellspawn, any idea where this Adam Young grew up?"

"Uh..." Warlock frowned, trying to remember what he'd considered an insignificant detail amidst all the facts he'd learned about his roommate during the past few months they'd lived together. He was also very curious as to why Aziraphale and Crowley were suddenly freaking out at the mention of Adam's name. "I think it was, like, a little town in the countryside? Tedfield, maybe?”

“Tadfield?” Aziraphale supplied.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

"Called it, Angel!" Crowley exclaimed. He placed one hand on the back of Aziraphale's chair and the other on the armrest, leaning towards the angel conspiratorially. "That can't be a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Part of the Ineffable Plan?" Aziraphale questioned, gazing up at Crowley with a raised eyebrow.

The demon nodded. "Must be."

"Um, hey," Warlock interjected, and the pair instantly snapped their gazes to him. "Not to interrupt your conspiracy theories or whatever, but what does my roommate have to do with me not being the antichrist?"

"...Quite a lot, actually," Aziraphale responded after a moment, sparing another glance at Crowley. The demon pushed himself away from the chair and planted his hands on his hips.

"Alright, long story short-" He paused, making sure he had Warlock's undivided attention, as if the boy could even think about focusing on something else at that moment. "I brought the antichrist to a hospital run by satanic nuns about eighteen years ago, but there was a baby mix-up, sort of like what you'd see in those stupid prime-time dramas your mother would watch incessantly."

The demon sneered, reliving the many times he'd been required to watch Warlock because the child's mother was "busy" vegging herself out in front of sappy daytime television shows. Not that he ever minded taking care of the boy, of course, but it was the principle of the thing that bothered him.

"Anyway," he continued, sauntering over to the couch and sitting down. He leaned forward, arms resting on his knees with his body angled towards the boy who was staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. "The baby mix-up happened- not my fault, blame the nuns- and we thought the antichrist was going home with the Dowling family. When the antichrist turned eleven, he was supposed to bring about Armageddon, and, well..."

"We'd grown rather attached to humanity, you see," Aziraphale chimed in, giving Warlock a soft smile. "So, Crowley and I made an arrangement-"

Warlock heard Crowley snort next to him and saw the demon's mouth twitch, unsuccessfully trying to hide a grin.

"We would look after the antichrist and give him equal doses of heavenly and hellish influences," Aziraphale continued. "Our hope was that he would grow up perfectly normal and, when the time came, would decide not to end the world."

"And... that kid was me," Warlock ventured, and Aziraphale nodded. "Wow. Shit, wow, that's- oops, sorry." Aziraphale had frowned at the curse, but Warlock noticed Crowley give him a subtle thumbs-up under the table where the angel couldn't see. Warlock let out a disbelieving sort of laugh, trying to process the true explanation behind his unnatural childhood. "So that's why you two always told me that stuff about me someday being the leader of the world? And gave me completely opposite advice on everything?"

"Yes," Aziraphale answered with a nod. He grimaced a little guiltily. "We're very sorry about that, dear boy; it must have confused you terribly."

"I got used to it after a while." Warlock shrugged. He took another sip of tea and was surprised to find it still perfectly warm. He stared at the cup pensively, and Crowley and Aziraphale remained silent, letting him sort out his thoughts.

"But... you said I'm not the antichrist," Warlock said eventually, looking from Aziraphale to Crowley. The demon shook his head.

"No, unfortunately, we got that part wrong," he admitted. "Baby swap, remember?"

"Although it worked out in the end, since the true antichrist was raised to be completely human, at least in the way he thinks and sees the world," Aziraphale chimed in, wanting to point out the positive side of things. He took a delicate sip of tea and smiled.

"Okay, well, that explains my bizarre childhood, I guess," Warlock said, slowly. "I mean, you know I'm gonna ask you both tons more about all this and, like, every memory I can think of, but I don't think my brain can handle reliving some of that stuff right now."

"Of course; you've been through a lot of emotional strain this afternoon," Aziraphale said, leaning forward to briefly take one of Warlock's hands and give it a reassuring squeeze. "From now on, you can give us a call anytime if you would like to speak to us- I'll give you the number of my bookshop, although I've heard you can find it online. Oh, and Crowley can give you his cell phone number!"

"Already done," Crowley said with a grin and a snap of his fingers.

Warlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, opening his contacts lists to find a new number in the address book under "Ashtoreth J. Crowley."

"Thanks!" Warlock said, grinning back at the demon. He was about to say something else, but at that moment a chime alerted the room that he'd received another text message. Crowley's lip curled as Warlock instinctively clicked on the message and began typing a reply.

"That boy knew exactly what he was doing, didn’t he?" Aziraphale murmured, and Crowley responded with a roll of his eyes. Warlock paused his typing to look at the angel quizzically. "Oh, not you, Warlock; the boy I presume you are texting right now."

"Adam?" Warlock questioned, and Aziraphale nodded. When the angel failed to elaborate, Warlock shrugged and returned to his message. Then, suddenly, a wave of realization crashed over him so strongly that he dropped his phone into his lap with a small gasp.

"Oh dear," Aziraphale said, carefully setting his teacup down on the table.

"You said there was another baby," Warlock said quietly, his eyes growing wide again.

"Three, actually, but yeah." Crowley shrugged nonchalantly, though his face was wary, gauging the boy's reaction.

"And the baby that was really the antichrist went... somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't supposed to be."

"Right."

"Like... a little town in the countryside called Tadfield?"

"Bingo."

Warlock's face paled. "You can't be serious."

"Crowley, maybe we should hold off on this part of the discussion for another day," Aziraphale said hesitantly, noting the boy's change in demeanor.

"Too late," Crowley replied with a shake of his head. "He's figured it out."

"Adam?!" Warlock exclaimed, his face screwed up in confusion. "You're telling me that Adam is the antichrist?!"

"Well...yes," Aziraphale admitted. Warlock looked from him to Crowley, who nodded.

"'Fraid so, hellspawn; you roommate is the Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast-"

"I believe he gets the idea!" Aziraphale cut off the demon and gestured to Warlock. "Look at the poor thing; as if learning about us wasn't enough of a shock!"

"You alright?" Crowley asked, cautiously, tempted to reach out and shake the boy out of his stuperous gaze. Warlock blinked slowly at him, shaking his head.

"There's no way," he said. "Adam is so... chill. Normal, I mean, not... trying to destroy the world or whatever."

"That's precisely the point," Aziraphale said calmly. He leaned across the table again and this time placed a hand on Warlock's knee, leaving it there. "Remember, because we focused on raising you- not that we minded, dear, you're a lovely boy and we wouldn't exchange our time with you for the world- Adam was raised without any divine or hellish influence. He grew up completely human, and therefore when it came time for him to end the world, he simply decided not to because he was raised to love it."

Warlock stared at the hand on his knee for a moment, then slowly rested his palm on top of it. He reached towards Crowley with his other hand, not necessarily expecting a response, but the demon instantly grasped Warlock's warm, slightly-sweaty palm within his own.

"Okay, we're gonna come back to the fact that my roommate is the literal antichrist," Warlock said, matter-of-factly. He paused, let out a huff of air. "But, for now, what I'm getting is that, because you spent eleven years with me... Adam was able to not let the world end?"

"Exactly," Aziraphale responded with a smile, giving Warlock's knee a squeeze.

"And so, in effect... I kinda helped saved the world, too, didn't I? I just... didn't know it."

Crowley and Aziraphale blinked at each other, stunned by the revelation.

"...I suppose you're right," Aziraphale said with a light nod. Crowley merely trained his gaze back onto the boy next to him, watching closely. Warlock was getting at something else, something that- and Crowley hoped this issue with verbal expression hadn't been his unintentional influence- the boy found hard to put into words.

"So... so then." Warlock swallowed, then cleared his throat. When he spoke again, there was a mild tremor in his voice. "So then, I do have a purpose, besides what my parents want for me. Er, well, I did.”

“Come again, dear?” Aziraphale questioned, frowning. Crowley bristled with a flash of anger so intense it made the angel flinch, though he knew it wasn’t directed towards anyone in the bookshop.

“I mean, since you guys left and my life wasn’t special anymore, I… I didn’t know what I was supposed to do,” Warlock admitted slowly. “Nobody was telling me that I’d rule the world anymore- which, honestly, I didn’t really believe but it was still a goal besides ‘become a politician.’ But… I didn’t want to do that. I don’t want to do that, but I have no idea what I am supposed to do if it’s not what my parents want. And I can’t make my parents focus on something else anymore when they start bothering me about it or change their mind or- well, I guess I never could anyway, right?”

Warlock glanced at Crowley, who grimaced through the poorly-composed hellish rage lurking in his expression. The demon couldn’t believe that Warlock had grown up thinking like this and was mad at both the boy’s distant parents and himself for leaving Warlock unchecked for so long.

“But now,” Warlock continued, shifting his gaze to the old carpet. “Since Adam grew up normal because you two were busy with me, then I did have purpose other than... o-other than trying to live up to my parents' dumb expectations."

"Oh, my dear boy-"

"Of courssse you have a purpose!" Crowley hissed fiercely, cutting Aziraphale off, but the angel didn't bother pointing this out. Instead, he quietly took his hand back and sat up in his chair, knowing his place in the upcoming conversation was an observer, at least for a bit. Crowley grasped Warlock by the shoulders and looked into his eyes, his intense gaze boring through the sunglasses.

"You do have a purpose," Crowley continued, gripping the boy tightly. Warlock felt a twinge of uncomfortable pressure where the demon's nails pressed down, but he paid this no mind; his nanny had only gotten riled up like this a handful of times, and whenever this happened it was because Warlock needed to be told something very important. "Your purpose is to do whatever the hell you want with your life. You're not meant to live up to your parents horribly out-of-touch expectations of what you should be, and you definitely weren't meant to be some sort of 'distraction' from the antichrist, so don’t start thinking that either!

"You're meant to be who you want to be, and don't you dare let anyone tell you what you can't do- essspecially your parents. Do you understand?"

Warlock nodded frantically, the constriction around his arms having grown tighter as Crowley spoke. He was afraid of losing circulation in his limbs when Crowley’s suddenly hung his head, lessening his grip as well.

"...I would've taken you away from that place if I could, I want you to know that," the demon continued softly, staring hard at the floor. "Aziraphale and I, we would've... we talked about it a few times, just leaving with you and hoping you'd turn out alright. 'Course, we still thought you were the antichrist then, so..." The demon trailed off with a soft chuckle. He sat up, finally releasing Warlock's shoulders.

"What I'm trying to say is, we may be shit at it, but Angel and I are technically your godparents, so... from now on, if you ever need us, just give us a call, like Aziraphale said earlier. No more getting stuck in your own head and not having anyone to talk to. Got it?"

Warlock could only nod again, his vision hazy. When he'd set out to explore Soho this morning- after bidding the antichrist, apparently, goodbye-, he'd expected to maybe find a mysterious bookshop and, if he was lucky, spot the cryptid owner that resided within. What he found instead was something almost inconceivable. He'd found his former gardener, the man with the inexhaustibly sunny disposition who always lent a helping hand or listening ear when Warlock needed it. He'd found his former nanny, appearing quite different but still the same inside, her snark only improved (so Warlock thought) by the new accent.

But Warlock found something else, too. Or, really, he rediscovered it- a missing feeling he hadn't appreciated until it was gone, and he'd been left alone in a cold house with even colder parents. As the angel and demon wrapped themselves around him in a tight hug, for the first time in seven years he truly felt warm.

It was the feeling of safety-

"Don't worry, my dear boy, we'll always be here for you."

It was the feeling of reassurance-

"It's okay, hellspawn; we’re not going to leave you again."

But most of all, it was the feeling of-

"We love you, Warlock," Aziraphale said, maneuvering one arm out of the embrace to gently cup the boy's face in his hand. The angel's smile shone through Warlock's hazy vision like the sun peeking through the rainclouds. "Truly, we do."

Then, suddenly, the sunlight disappeared as Warlock was tugged sideways and buried for the third time that day into a chest that smelled of an ever-burning fire, nanny, and home. The boy felt the low voice more than heard it say, "And don't you ever forget that. I mean it."

“Y-Yes, Nanny Ash,” the boy choked out. His response was acknowledged by a firm squeeze from the demon and the angel’s warm fingers brushing through his hair.

A moment later, Warlock was released and he sat up, wiping his eyes with his shirt collar before looking around to reassure himself that yes, this situation was really still happening and wasn’t part of some crazy dream. Brother Francis had moved back to the plush armchair across the coffee table, gazing at him with a loving smile on his face. To his right was Nanny Ash, whose concerned frown slipped into a grin at Warlock’s now-relieved expression.

“Uh… thanks,” Warlock said awkwardly, looking down at his half-empty teacup. “I guess I still have some stuff to work through.”

“Don’t ever apologize for showing emotion, dearest,” Aziraphale said, treating Warlock to an even brighter smile.

Warlock nodded and then reached for his phone where it had fallen onto the floor in the commotion of Crowley’s aggressive speech. A notification that he had three messages from Adam lit up the screen.

“Alright, I can get around the fact that you two are an angel and demon,” Warlock said, with a smirk that said his own ability to process that fact amazed him. “But Adam really doesn’t seem like the son of Satan or whatever…”

“Technically, he isn’t anymore,” Aziraphale said, which prompted Warlock to raise an eyebrow. “Ah, I suppose that’s a story for a future conversation.”

“Facetime him,” Crowley suddenly said, perking up and gesturing to the phone.

“What?” Warlock questioned.

“Facetime him.” An eerie grin slid across the demon’s face. “If he’s so interested in your time at the bookshop, you should let him see for himself. Plus, I have something to say to that kid.”

“Crowley, be ni- er, don’t be too harsh on him,” Aziraphale chided. Crowley merely rolled his eyes and gestured to the phone again, wordlessly asking Warlock to comply with his request.

“…Okay,” Warlock said with a shrug. Whatever conversation was about to happen, he doubted it would be as emotional as the one he’d just had- if anything it would just be very weird. He sent a quick message to Adam simply saying Facetime? A few seconds later, the phone began to ring, and Warlock accepted the call.

“What’s up?” Adam asked in a cheery voice as his grinning face and mop of curly blonde hair filled the screen. There was a glint of something in his eyes that Warlock couldn’t quite place.

Demonic energy? He thought, then shook his head at the ridiculous notion. Out loud, he could only manage, “Uh, well…”

“You know exactly what’s up,” Crowley said, leaning close to Warlock in order to be in the phone camera’s viewpoint. Adam’s face lit up and he let out a hearty laugh.

“Hey, Crowley!” the boy said, and the demon let out a small hiss.

“Don’t ‘hey Crowley’ me, you little monster- you ssset this up, didn’t you?!”

“Absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Adam responded, shaking his head, though the grin on his face said the opposite.

“A little warning would have been nice is all, Adam,” Aziraphale said, raising his voice to be heard from across the table. At this, Adam laughed again and gave up all composure of being unaware of the current situation.

“So, I guess my hunch was right,” he mused, then addressed the boy holding the phone. “Warlock, are they just like you remembered?”

“Well, um… not exactly,” Warlock admitted, finding it strangely easy to talk to Adam despite the dozens of questions racing through his mind. He realized that Adam always seemed to have this effect on him- even though he really hadn’t known the boy for long, Warlock had opened up to him more than he’d ever thought he would over the past few months (hence the reason Adam found out about Warlock’s unusual upbringing by his probably demonic nanny and angelic gardener).

“But they’re still the same deep down?” Adam prompted when Warlock drifted into his thoughts for a moment too long. Warlock glanced at Aziraphale and Crowley, then back to the phone.

“Definitely,” he responded with a grin.

“Good. With all the stories you told me and the fact that those two were definitely not taking care of me as a kid, I figured you were the one they’d been watching.”

“Um, yeah, about that…” Warlock let the sentence hang awkwardly, unsure of how to bring up the fact that he knew his roommate’s true identity as the near-destroyer of the world.

“I’m sure they told you about me, too,” Adam responded, his smile now calm and reassuring. “Don’t worry, the world is staying just as it is; there’s no point in ending it when we can all work to fix it!”

Aziraphale let out a noise of approval and placed a hand placed over his heart, a fond expression on his face. Meanwhile, Crowley let out a resigned- though not necessarily displeased- sigh and sprawled back onto the couch.

“I’ve still got my powers though,” Adam spoke up. His smile had turned absolutely mischievous. “I’ll show you some cool tricks on our next day off.”

“Adam!” Aziraphale exclaimed, hands now clenched worriedly in his lap. Warlock flipped the phone camera so Adam could see the angel. “I thought we agreed that you’re not to use your powers unless it’s a life or death situation!”

“Eh, let the kid do what he wants; he’s got supernatural abilities, he should use them,” Crowley said with a shrug and a vague hand gesture towards Warlock’s phone.

“Crowley, that’s not what we should be teaching him!”

“He can control them; what’s the problem?!”

“The problem is-”

“God, they bicker like they’ve been married forever,” Adam remarked with a roll of his eyes, and Warlock nodded with a snicker, turning the phone camera back to selfie mode. “How did you deal with that for eleven years?”

“Well, it wasn’t that bad since they tried to hide it, but they really sucked at keeping it a secret…”

“Figures. You coming back to the dorm soon?”

“Oh, crap.” Warlock’s eyebrows shot upwards as he looked at the time. He’d spent much longer than anticipated in the bookshop. “Yeah, I guess I’ll head back before it gets too late. Uh, do you wanna say goodbye to them, or…?” Crowley and Aziraphale were still arguing, though Warlock could tell by the light atmosphere in the room that they weren’t actually upset with each other.

“Nah, I’m sure I’ll see ‘em soon, especially since you’ve all reconnected,” Adam replied. “Text me when you’re back on campus; see you in a bit!”

With a wave, Adam disconnected the call. Warlock slipped his phone back in his pocket and cleared his throat, instantly stopping Crowley and Aziraphale’s discussion about the proper use of Adam’s supernatural powers.

“I should get back to my dorm,” Warlock said slowly, not really wanting to cut his visit short.

“Of course, dear boy,” Aziraphale said, standing and smoothing out his vest. He gave Warlock a kind smile as he and Crowley stood as well. “Please, don’t hesitate to visit us whenever you wish; we’re merely a phone call away. Now, it’ll be rather dark out at this time of the evening, so we’ll walk you to your car; where did you park?”

“Oh, I took a cab,” Warlock responded, pulling out his phone again. “I’ll just call another one-”

“Nope, don’t even think about it,” Crowley said, and with a snap Warlock’s phone disappeared from his hand and went back into his pocket. The boy glanced up at the demon to find an excited grin spreading across his face. “We’ll give you a ride; remember the Bentley?”

Warlock did, in fact, remember the Bentley- more specifically, the way the Bentley would travel at ungodly speeds as soon as it cleared the driveway and the sightlines of anyone who would have an issue with Nanny Ashtoreth’s driving style. Their trips into town had been both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I’m not sure if we should put young Warlock in that sort of peril,” Aziraphale said, his lips twisting into a frown.

“It’s not ‘perilous;’ I’m in complete control,” the demon responded, sounding mildly offended.

“No one can be in control at the speed you like to travel.”

“It’ll be fine!”

“…Oh, alright.” Aziraphale sighed heavily. “Just please try to drive a little more reasonably than usual, dear; Warlock won’t do well with inconvenient discorporation.”

“Discorpor-what?!” Warlock yelped, but was hurriedly pushed towards the door before Aziraphale could clarify.

“Don’t worry about it, hellspawn!” Crowley said, guiding Warlock through the towering bookshelves. The boy glanced up at him quite worriedly, in fact, and in response Crowley lifted up his glasses to give him a serpent-eyed wink. Seemingly before Warlock could take another breath, the three of them were piled into the sleek black Bentley, Crowley in the driver’s seat, Aziraphale in the passenger side, and Warlock taking his usual place in the back rightmost seat. Though he hadn’t been in the car for nearly a decade, the leather seemed to mold itself around his lean frame almost as if the Bentley itself remembered him.

Based on all Warlock had learned that day, a sentient car wasn’t too far out of the realm of possibility.

“Do you need directions?” Warlock asked, and Crowley shook his head.

“We’ve met up with Adam at his university a few times, so we know the way,” the demon responded, glancing at Warlock through the rearview mirror.

“Honestly, it’s a wonder we haven’t run into you before today,” Aziraphale mused. Crowley let out a derisive snort. Then, the demon flashed Warlock a grin and with a rev of the engine, they were off. The melodic sound of a familiar song drifted from the radio, and Warlock’s mouth lifted into an automatic smile; even after all this time, his nanny still listened to nothing but Queen.

After such a long day, Warlock should have been content to sit in silence and process all he’d been through. But, he had one more pressing question that needed an answer before his curiosity would be satiated for the time being.

“Hey, Nanny Ash?” Warlock said, and though he couldn’t see either of their eyes, he knew that Crowley and Aziraphale were giving him their full attention. “You and Zira never answered my question from earlier.”

“What question was that, hellspawn?” Crowley responded, noting Aziraphale’s face light up fondly. The angel didn’t usually like nicknames, but he’d apparently made an exception for Warlock.

“Are you two together or what?”

The two supernatural beings gazed at each other for such a long time Warlock wondered how the Bentley didn’t run off the road. Then, in unison, they both began to laugh- a hearty sound that drowned out the radio and made Warlock smile so much his cheeks hurt. Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley took it without hesitation, squeezing it tightly.

“I knew it!” Warlock exclaimed triumphantly.

As the Bentley sped through the evening darkness, Crowley humming along to the radio while Aziraphale rubbed small circles on the back of his hand, Warlock allowed himself to settle comfortably into his seat, close his eyes, and relax. Brother Francis and Nanny Ash were back in his life, and they were here to stay.

With an angel’s presence bathing him in warmth and a demon’s familiar, lilting hum filling his ears, Warlock drifted off into a peaceful sleep. Through an equal touch of divine and hellish influence, he dreamed about what he loved the most: a being with fiery red hair, another with brilliant blue eyes, and an overwhelming feeling of finally being home.

***

Read Part 1.

Read Part 2.

Read Part 3. (You are here.)

#good omens #fanfic #fanfiction #warlock dowling #aziraphale #crowley #adam young #ineffable husbands #found family #reunion #hurt/comfort #serendipity #ao3 #phantomhivemast3r #midna3452

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iris-writes-things · 5 years ago

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Two Guys and a Baby: Day 7 part 1

Read on AO3, FF.net or under the cut, or read up to 2 chapters ahead as a $1 Patreon patron!

You smoked to hide your shaking fingers. You wore sunglasses to hide the fact that the very sight of his shining smile made you tear up. You dressed in black to mourn something that never was, but could have been. Should have been. You got up and tried again.

Or, Crowley asks Ezra on a date. But not that kind of date.

Chapter 9 of 20 Ongoing 2700 words Romance/Humor

That morning, Adam didn’t wake to bright rays of sunshine warming his soft cheeks, nor did he wake from his internal clock telling him it was time to get up and give Crowley an earful about requiring breakfast ASAP.

Instead, he woke from sweet tones coming from Crowley’s ancient tape deck.

‘I can dim the lights and sing you songs full of sad things…’

This was because Crowley was really much better at brainstorming when he was in the right mood, and nothing quite set the mood like just the right Queen song. After all, Queen had at least one song for every possible human emotion, so desperate times often called for Best of Queen.

‘We can do the tango just for two…’

His mum had given him the cassette tape on his tenth birthday and he had been over the moon. They didn’t have much to spend at the time for reasons Crowley would rather not think about and his mother had been too busy for much of anything for those same reasons, but when he woke up that fateful morning in 1997 he found a neatly wrapped, brittle plastic box sitting on his nightstand and the gesture had meant the world to him. It was in those years that Crowley learned that true love isn’t proclaimed; it’s shown. Not in grand gestures or melodrama, but in the mundane. In a birthday present waiting for you on your nightstand, in packed lunches sitting in the fridge, in bringing your crush chocolate croissants after a massive cock-up.

‘I can serenade and gently play on your heartstrings…’

But as effective as actions were in expressing one’s soul crushing love for another, they were terrifying. They had terrified. Two years ago, he had almost kissed the love of his life, but he’d hesitated. He didn’t know if Ezra wanted it too. He hesitated and was met with Ezra’s painfully blue eyes darting around the bar. He was nervous. He was shaking. And then he paid the tab and booked it out of there. How do you come back from that?

‘Be your valentino just for you…’

The answer to that was, you didn’t. You tore down everything you had painstakingly built up in one fell swoop, and then pathetically, when everything slotted together again, you started pathetically building things back up again, like some kind of wonky Lego castle. You smoked to hide your shaking fingers. You wore sunglasses to hide the fact that the very sight of his shining smile made you tear up. You dressed in black to mourn something that never was, but could have been. Should have been.

‘Ooh love, ooh loverboy…’

You got up and tried again.

Ezra had always had a way with the written word. Not so much the spoken word. This was why he had Gabriel for communicating with potential publishers, and his pseudonym to hide behind. It was why he couldn’t convince his family that writing novels was a perfectly respectable pastime, and that, despite not being the most virtuous, Anthony was actually a genuinely good person.

‘Dearest Anthony…’

But what good were words, even the written ones if you couldn’t find the right ones? Because how did you tell a man you’ve known for a decade that you’ve been in love with him all that time? How would he explain that he hadn’t told him earlier? Why he had wasted their collective time by being a coward? It didn’t bear thinking about; it just wasn’t justifiable.

‘I’m sorry about the way I’ve failed to act on my feelings before…’

He grunted as he hoisted a stack of books from the box in the doorway of his shop and placed it on the new arrivals table, rearranging it as he tried to worry about other things. Things had been slow for the shop lately, but he’d been keeping afloat well enough. The recession hadn’t forced him out of business; the dawn of the ereader hadn’t, either; a slow month was nothing. People would be gearing up for their beach vacations any time now and his books would sell like anything. Well, his books… He chuckled. It would still take well over a year until his, or rather, Aziraphale’s book would hit shelves, which was a tremendous relief. Sure, he had read the book and project Anathema had left at the shop, but he would have to revise almost the entire story, especially now that he knew who his subject’s last surviving descendants were. He wanted to do right by Anathema, her mother and Anthony.

‘The simple facts are these:’

Everything always seemed to gravitate back to him, like the universe revolved around him. Creative Anthony, who found joy in drawing things for him and, once upon a time many years ago, would sneakily sketch him. Happy Anthony, who made his chest swell and burst with butterflies with every dorky, snarky, nervous laugh of his.

‘You are my sun; beautiful, bright and blinding. You caught me in your orbit many years ago and I would be forever unable to escape. However, a satellite,’ no, that’s not right, ‘a moon of all of my accumulated fears eclipsed your light that warmed my world…’ No. No, that won’t do, either.

Ezra wondered briefly if his books, should they suddenly become sentient (he hoped they wouldn’t), would be jealous of his feelings for the other man. In fact, he hoped they would be happy for him, and quickly decided that they would be more than okay with a break from his fussing, but his admittedly odd train of thought was interrupted by the jingling of the bell over the door.

‘Dearest Anthony, I love—’

“Ezra Fell, you absolute genius, you’ve done it again!” Gabriel cried as he strode into the shop.

“Ex-excuse me?” he stammered.

“The publisher. They want your book. Turns out ‘medieval, strong female-led with a touch of the supernatural’ is exactly what they were looking for. They agreed to all of our terms in regards to royalties and compensation.”

A feeling of pride swelled within him. His book. Exactly what they were looking for. He couldn’t help but grin as even Gabriel seemed to smile down on him. “Well, did they give you any notes?”

“They wanted more from the witch’s perspective, which I told them you can do,” Gabriel started.

“Yes, of course, that will be no problem at all,” Ezra confirmed excitedly.

“And they want you to do some public appearances to promote the book. Mostly just signings.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ezra, it’s in the conditions.”

“I don’t care what’s in the conditions, I won’t do it!” Ezra cried. Just now noticing that he was growing slightly lightheaded, he drew in slow, deep breaths to steady himself. His mouth set into a thin line. Gabriel frowned at him.

“If this is still about your family,” the American tried. “I suggest you let that go. You’re forty-one, what can they do to you? Really?”

Ezra shrugged but looked down in defeat. There was nothing they could logically do to him, and yet he was afraid. The feeling of pride he felt before was as good as gone. Drained completely by the idea of having to be publicly known.

He didn’t write for the attention, for the fame, even less so for the fortune. He wrote because he loved it and there was no other option for him than to write. “I just don’t like being in the spotlight…” he mumbled, and Gabriel would have to take his word for it.

“Okay, fine, I’ll try to negotiate it out of the conditions.”

“Thank you,” Ezra mumbled faintly.

“Right, so, in other news,” Gabriel said, trying to turn the mood around. “Ever found out if ‘he was really into you’, or whatever that silly magazine said?”

Ugh. This again. Ezra buried his face in his hands, not really wanting to answer, but he nodded nonetheless.

“So? What did he say? Did you ask him out?”

He shook his head, face still firmly planted in the palms of his hands.

“Oh my god, you’re unbelievable. You asked him if he liked you, didn’t you?”

He shook his head again.

“Then how? How do you know?” Gabriel asked, some exasperation in his voice.

Finally, Ezra looked up, frowning. “His niece told me, alright? She told me all sorts of things. That he loves me. That he’s loved me for about a decade, and, you know, I’ve loved him just as long. But she said he loved me too much to want to risk our friendship, which nearly did go down the drain the last time we almost acted on our feelings. And then—”

The bell over the door jingled.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Speak of the devil and he appears.

In the doorway of the shop stood Anthony. Adam on one arm, a carton with two paper coffee cups in the other hand, and a paper bag clamped between his upper arm and his chest. Ezra recognized the logo on the bag from a few days prior. It was undoubtedly filled with more chocolate croissants and other delectable baked goods as their smell slowly but surely filled the shop.

Ezra glanced up at Gabriel, whose eyes were fixed intently on Anthony. He didn’t show much of a reaction, but his lips didn’t curl down in disdain. He quickly glanced at Ezra, quirked his lips, then turned his gaze back to Anthony.

“You must be ‘him’, then?” Gabriel asked, extending his hand to Crowley, who gestured his full hands. Adam recoiled slightly.

“I must be ‘who’, then?”

“Ezra’s—”

“Artist!” Ezra interrupted. He got up from the stool behind the counter and hurried up to them, taking the carton and paper bag out of Anthony’s hold. “He’s the artist I want to make the cover. Anthony Crowley.”

Finally, Gabriel shook his hand. “Your reputation precedes you.”

“I mean, I guess,” Anthony almost stammered. “I hope Ezra hasn’t been overselling my work too much.”

“Not at all. I look forward to reviewing your portfolio with Ezra and the publisher. Anyway, I gotta fly. Ezra, we’ll discuss those re-negotiations later. You gentlemen have a nice day.”

Anthony turned and stared at the man as he walked by the windows, before looking to Ezra and mumbling “Well, he’s a character, isn’t he? Your agent?”

“How did you know? You’ve never met before.”

“No, but you’ve talked about him before. ‘This unnatural glint of perpetual jolliness in his eyes’.” Anthony impeccably imitated his tone and speech. “Or something, you said. Well, he fits the bill,” he mumbled.

A shudder ran up Ezra’s spine.

“See? Gives even you the chills.”

Adam giggled.

Ezra shrugged. “Perhaps that’s how he does his job so well. Anyway, will you have some of this today? I’d feel horrible to eat all of it,” he said as he held up the bag.

“If you insist.” Anthony waved his hand noncommittally.

“I do.”

He walked over to the counter and put down the carton with the cups to open the bag and see what’s inside, but not before he breathed in the rich, decadent scent of the food inside. There were definitely chocolate croissants in there.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile at the look of sheer delight on Ezra’s face as he dug into the pastries. There was a child-like sort of honesty about him that made him such an open book. When Ezra liked something, you knew, and if Ezra hated something, you knew. Currently, as far as Crowley could tell, he was on cloud nine, and therefore, so was Crowley.

This was much to the frustration of young Adam, for who Crowley had been picking bits off a regular croissant, feeding them to him. He made a noise.

“Ngk.” Crowley tore his gaze away from Ezra to turn to Adam. “Sorry to keep you waiting, your highness,” he mumbled as he tore off another bit of the croissant and fed it to Adam’s waiting mouth before taking a larger chunk for himself. He hadn’t realized he’d been staring until Adam made him painfully aware.

Painfully aware of the eyes burning holes in him, Ezra nibbled on one of the chocolate croissants. Anthony was definitely staring at him. There was no denying it, as alien as it felt. Ezra wasn’t much of a looker and he was well aware of that fact. He was never stared at, no, ogled so openly… so… so… obscenely. Did Anthony always look at him like this? How had he not noticed before?

It wasn’t a bad feeling per se, but it was quite overwhelming to experience for the first time. Ezra wasn’t sure how much he could take of it in the long run. He had to speak up. Had to say something. Come on Ezra, he thought, how hard could it be? He may be the man that you fancy an awful lot, but he’s also your friend, and friends trust each other and tell each other the truth. He took a sip of his lukewarm cocoa to calm his nerves.

‘He cares enough about you not to want to risk what you have.’

Then what kind of friend did that make Ezra, who would give anything for Anthony to be his?

There had been a change. Something was bothering Ezra, Crowley could tell. Even when he’d been so happy just moments before. Something would have to be done about that. He gave Adam the final bit of the croissant and settled him down in the windowseat before getting up and walking up to the counter. Whatever it was that was dragging Ezra down would have to square the fuck up.

“Angel, what’s wrong?”

‘Your staring makes me nervous,' Ezra wanted to say, but didn’t.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Ezra mumbled instead, trying to keep his cool. He swiveled in his stool and wiped his hands on his trousers. They were growing sweaty.

“Are you sure?” Anthony asked. He tilted his head. With his dark clothes and shining, amber eyes, he looked all the more like a concerned black cat. “There’s nothing I can do to make it better?”

Ezra felt a blush creep to his face and he quickly broke eye contact. “S-silly Anthony, you know you don’t have to do anything for me. You know I’ll be quite alright on my own.”

This, Crowley doubted.

“Ezra, what would you say if I, after this whole business with Adam, took you out for dinner? Properly. Like back in the day. We could go to the Ritz,” Crowley suggested as casually as he could. Ezra’s gaze snapped back up at him.

“How would you— Can you even—” Ezra stammered, but finally summarized his thoughts in a single “Why?”

Crowley’s gaze turned towards the floor. “Because I want to make things better with you. I went too fast, I hurt you, and then I didn’t even call the next day.”

Ezra took a shaky breath as he tried to formulate an answer. “Well, it’s not like I contacted you either…” he trailed off.

“Well, yes, but I scared you off—”

“You didn’t! I—” Ezra started, but he caught himself, glanced further away and took a moment to reorganize his thoughts. “Alright, perhaps in that moment, you did. But… It was just, you know…” He gestured his hands wildly in hopes of illustrating the point he was trying to make. Anthony nodded, but his eyes told Ezra that it didn’t really land. “I’d very much like for things to go back to the way they were before.” Ezra said, lying, but knowing it would keep them within the safety of their comfort zone, he settled for it. “I’ll go to the Ritz with you after all this.”

Anthony smiled the brightest he had all day.

“On the condition that you let me return the favour some time after. It’s a real pleasure just seeing you again, and if you’re going to treat me to thank me for barely helping you at all, I feel like I should get to do the same.”

Anthony looked taken aback, but tried very hard not to show it. It didn’t work out. “Sure?”

Ezra smiled. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

#fanfic #Good Omens #Ineffable Husbands #human AU

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