#ineffable dads

[ineffableparents]

Sorry for the late update my lovelies!

GLOW Book 2, pages 21-28

[floofle-universe]

Just a father and his beautiful children

[natflorezz]

Ineffable dads

[ineffableteeth]

I just realized, Aziraphale has been renting out that space for Maggie’s family since the 1920’s so he literally watched Maggie grow up

I can just imagine her getting so excited every time he would show up to buy some records and just running over to Aziraphale then Aziraphale would pick her up and baby-talk her to death because he’s happy to see her too

[pagandaddybutart]

Two types of parents 🙄🙄

Ft. @ineffableparents azicrow babies Cherub & Jay :>

[youidiotwecouldbeenus]

I'm sorry I had to 😭🫴✨

[ourtubahero-blog]

Aziraphale in profile should be a painting or on coins.

[goodomens-memes]

34 DAYS LEFT !!!!!!!!

OMG I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS SCENE IN THE SEASON 2 😭😭

LZBDPSBSKZNPABZBZKVDLWKSVZSJDJD

[darinafox]

The Thunderstorm ⛈️🌩️👣🫄💓💞

[hretoprvdthepltnx]

Hihi !! Before i request I just love your writing so much and I couldn’t resist to request this!!

Could I request a teen! Reader (angel) who’s sees crowley & aziraphale as their parental figures who is trying to make something nice for them?

The reader is super silly and innocent so like the stuff they make look like something else 💀

Handmade

Ineffable Husbands x teen!angel!reader

Summary: Y/n wants to do something special for their favorite angel/demon duo. So, they try their ethereal hand at the human art of crafting.

Content: y/n uses they/them pronouns, improper use of miracles,

Note: Anon, you're such an absolute sweetheart. I appreciate you so much. Unfortunately, I didn't realize what you meant by 'something else' until after but hopefully you still enjoy the fic.

Rating: 14+ || 500+ w.

Gifts were important. Gifts were a way of expressing profound love for an individual, at least that is what Aziraphale had taught you. Gifts meant a lot; they were a language all their own. Gifts meant I love you.

Gifts were hard.

You stared at the heaping pile of crafting utensils Maggie from the record shop had leant you. There were a lot of options and she had even been kind enough to make you a list of ideas, the only problem was that none of it seemed quite right for Aziraphale and Crowley.

You stared at the felt and the streamers and silently willed yourself to come up with an idea, but nothing happened. Sighing, you sat back with your shoulders pressing against the side of Aziraphale's desk. It was lucky that they were out, the sight of you sitting on the floor surrounded by confetti might raise an alarm. Or perhaps not, you were prone to floor sitting.

You tossed your head back against the leg of the table and the telephone jingled with the bang. Perhaps you should call her and ask for her help, but no, this was your idea, and it would make it even more special if you did it yourself. There had to be something you could make.

Your eyes drifted to a stray bottle of silver glitter and stayed there, staring with such mindless intensity it was a miracle the tension didn't cause the bottle to bust. Miracles. You could use a little miracle of your own right about now.

"Wait," you sat up too quickly, dizzying yourself, and snatched up the little plastic bottle of glitter. "If it's only a small miracle, and one for good, then I can't possibly get in trouble for it. And it's still like I'm making it myself, because I am." A smile stretched wide across your face, and you turned to the plant in the corner, "This is going to be perfect."

Hours later, when Crowley and Aziraphale arrived back at the bookshop, there was a notable difference to the building. That being because the entire inside of the bookshop had turned into a Victorian style ballroom. "Right, well...what's all this?" You beamed at the demon from where you stood in the center of the large room. "Suprise! It's a gift!"

Aziraphale's face went from something sad - which you had luckily missed - to something proud and beaming. "A gift, yes! And, oh, how wonderful!" Crowley didn't look quite as convinced. However, he perked up quite notably when the record player you had been fiddling with started to play Queen's Somebody to Love. You offered a hand to both fellow angel and the demon in front of you, "Care to dance?"

"Why certainly!" Aziraphale answered for the both of them, whatever complaint Crowley had been about to give died in his throat as he was yanked along. As you danced, you made a mental note to thank Maggie for the record next time you saw her. Perhaps you might even thank her with a gift.

|| masterlist || navigation ||

story by hretoprvdthepltnx©

Ineffable Husbands/Good Omens copyrighted by Neil Gaiman©

[ineffableparents]

GLOW book 2, pages 13-20

[gaiaseyes451]

A Little Life - Chapter 5 - Most of You

First and foremost, a MASSIVE THANK YOU to @ineffablecrankshaft for this gorgeous sketch for one of the scenes in this chapter! I squealed when I saw it. Just, I LOVE IT, UGH!!! <3

Rated: E, Words: ~30k/~71k. 5/12 Chapters. Read the tags!

Chapter Excerpt (Read on AO3):

Over the years he’d built a reputation for asking questions at seminars. Not at every one, of course, that’d be obnoxious, but at a reasonable majority of them. Being questioned by Professor Crowley meant he found the research engaging, his questions were difficult but insightful. It was a compliment.

The first presenter stepped to the podium. As he listened he jotted down thoughts, a few observations, some values as the questions began to form. When she’d finished speaking and opened the floor to questions he raised his hand, glancing down at his scrawl to bring the question into focus.

His notes were gibberish. The page was covered in half words, broken midway through the thought. Partial observations and fragmented questions were all he’d recorded; parsing them together into a coherent question was impossible. He began to lower his hand.

*~*~*

Summary:

When Professor of Botany Anthony Crowley met bookshop owner Ezra Fell one November afternoon both knew their lives had irrevocably changed. From that moment forward, Anthony and Ezra’s existence was intertwined. Their story was written in the moments and memories they created as they moved through life’s chapters of coming together, building a family and facing the challenges of being human. This is a story of unconditional love and the joy and humour, obstacles and grief that inevitably come with choosing the same person, day after day, over and over and over again.

*~*~*

A huge thanks to @goodomensafterdark for the writers community. And an extra special thanks to @hakunahistata and @the-literal-kj for beta'ing this story. Finally, a huge thanks for @fuzzygoblin for the song prompt that inspired this work.

[elasgottoomuchfreetime]

[concerned partners + their kids]

A little S2 doodle because it floated through my brain and I wanted to draw.

And because I think it‘s cute.

[brainwormcity]

Imagining a scenario where Aziraphale and Crowley end up having to adopt the second coming of Christ.

Aziraphale running into the next room, holding baby JC at arm's length like, "he turned his bathwater into wine again! The tannins are going to stain the porcelain!" :(

Meanwhile, Crowley's standing in the next room muttering, "gonna be useful having that kid around in the future," as he pours himself a glass from a nearly empty wine bottle.

[binbogummy]

Humans are —

Chapter 2

Four chapters! This is gonna have four chapters now since I've been enjoying updating in smaller increments.

Some tags: Female-reader | Platonic x reader | Fluff | Sickfic | Post-Seaon 1, Pre-Season 2

Words: 2k+

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

~

Aziraphale’s determination was a force of nature in itself, and any protest you might have mustered was effortlessly steamrolled by his resolute fussing. You weren’t even sure how it happened, but before you knew it, your teacup was empty, and Aziraphale was back at your side, plucking it from your hands when he noticed that you'd finished.

"Good girl. Now, let's get you upstairs. It's much cozier up there."

You weren't sure how that could be possible, considering the way the homey atmosphere of his bookshop alone seemed to sap all your energy away, replacing it with a deep sleepy warmth, but something told you if you ventured to find out you really wouldn't be leaving tonight.

The look on your face must have tipped him off to what you were thinking and he stopped with a sigh, tilting his head almost sympathetically.

"Come now, don't pout. It’s for your own good,” he said, gently but insistently helping you to your feet. The blanket around you shoulders slipped slightly as you stood, and Aziraphale hurried to wrap it securely around you again as a makeshift cloak before taking a careful hold of your arm.

As he guided you to the staircase, Crowley was still sprawled comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles on a ottoman with his gaze fixed disinterestedly on his cellphone as you passed by. His eyes only flicked up for a moment with a smirk when you made a nasty face at him, having firmly settled on blaming the demon for the predicament you were now in.

Aziraphale hovered just behind you the whole time, one hand gently resting on your back as if worried you might collapse while ascending the spiral staircase.

"Careful now. Watch your step. There's no need to rush."

“I’m not dying, you know. It really just feels like a cold.” you muttered, though the protest came out weaker than you intended.

“No, but you’re unwell, and that’s reason enough to take precautions,” he replied with a kind matter-of-factness.

"And I'm not a child," you clarified, taking up a bit of bitterness with the angel since this level of fussing was over the top, even for him. You stoped on the stairs to look back at him exasperatedly, quickly growing more and more self-conscious about all the attention.

"Indeed. Which is why I expect you to have the good sense to listen," he countered again gently, giving you a look that was equal parts steadfast and understanding. "Now up you go, or I'll have Crowley carry you. The sooner you're settled, the sooner we'll all feel better."

You groaned again, dragging your feet as much as you could manage, but the angel had a way of shepherding you around with surprising ease for someone who so often only fretted and fluttered. He paused only briefly at the top of the stairs to straighten your blanket again before ushering you into the small, neatly kept guest room.

His 'guest room' was as warm and inviting as the rest of the bookshop, with soft lamplight casting a warm glow over the antique furniture and ever abundant shelves lined with books. A thick quilt adorned the old but ornate bed, and the sight of it made your resolve waver again as the growing weariness was tempted by the urge to fall into it.

“There we are,” Aziraphale said, motioning you to sit on the edge of the bed. “Now, you stay put and I’ll go fetch those bed clothes."

“Azzy, you really don’t have to do all this. You're acting like I'm on death's door."

But he'd disappeared briskly into the adjoining room, and simply sitting in the bed's edge was enough convince you of how comfortable it would be.

You sighed, slumping slightly as you pulled your blanket tighter around yourself.

Before you could dwell on your predicament further, Aziraphale reappeared, carrying what looked like a nightgown over one arm and another blanket under the other. He set the blanket down on a side table before holding up the nightgown with a satisfied smile.

“Here we are! It’s nothing fancy, but it will do nicely for the night.”

You stared at the garment, blinking. It was impossibly vintage, floor-length, with lace trim and delicate embroidery that looked like it belonged in a Victorian period drama.

“Aziraphale, I can’t wear that-”

“Of course you can,” he interrupted cheerfully, draping the gown over your arm. “It’s warm, it’s modest, and it’s far better than sitting about in damp clothes.”

“They’re not damp anymore,” you tried to argue, gesturing to yourself.

“Ah, but they’re hardly suitable for sleeping in, are they?” he countered with a knowing smile.

<i>Right, he really did intend for you to stay the night...</i>

"I'll be heading out then!" Crowley's voices rang from downstairs and you panicked. That was your ride, after all.

"Crowley, wait!" You jumped to your feet, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you dashed to the top of the stairs. "Crowley!" you called again, gripping the bannister as you decened a few steps to catch him.

He was already at the door but paused to glance back at you. "What?" he drawled, his tone oozing disinterest.

"Y-you're my ride!"

"Relax, love,” Crowley called back, his voice dripping with nonchalance. “Angel’s got it all under control, doesn’t he? You’ll be juuust fine here.”

"But..." you mumbled, your voice climbing in pitch as you realized he wasn't bluffing.

"Besides,” Crowley drawled. “Rain might've cleared up by tomorrow morning, anyway. I'll take you back to your hotel once you’ve slept off whatever plague you’ve caught.”

"Actually," Aziraphale began, coming quickly up behind you to pull you back upstairs with a disapproving shake of his head “She’ll be staying here tomorrow as well, until she’s well enough to leave. Won’t she, Crowley?”

"Yes, sure, whatever. May I go now?"

"Of course, and thank you for the delivery!" Aziraphale nodded to the demon politely as you we once again sheparded back upstairs and into the guest room, the click of the door as Crowley left was the nail in your metaphorical coffin, leaving you to wonder if he'd only been referring to the books the demon had stopped by with.

“See? All sorted. Crowley understands. Now, No. More. Fussing.” He chided ever patiently and took a step back, picking up the nightgown from where you'd tossed it onto the bed and handing it to you again.“Get changed, and if you insist on discussing this further, I ask you to wait until tomorrow. When it comes to humans, something as simple as a good night's rest can do wonders for the body and the spirit. I'm sure you're outlook on the situation will have improved in droves. You're just a bit frazzled after getting caught in that dreadful storm."

You stared at him, flabbergasted by his utter certainty that you’d concede defeat. But truthfully, maybe you already had. There was no fighting Aziraphale when he was like this.

The only person that really stood a chance was Crowley. And you knew he wasn't likely to offer you an escape; not with the way he seemed to enjoy watching this go down.

With a resigned sigh, you examined the nightgown in your hands.

"Fine..." you relented.

Aziraphale smiled triumphantly. “I’ll give you some privacy then,” he said quickly, slipping out of the room so you could change.

As you undressed and slipped into the nightgown, you couldn’t help but laugh softly at how ridiculous you looked in the mirror. The lace trim tickled at your wrists, and the embroidery along the seams seemed too detailed to belong on a garment that anyone was actually expected to sleep in. Still, the fabric was soft and comfortable, and by the time you finished tying the tiny ribbon at the neckline, you had to admit you felt considerably cozier.

It's just one night, you thought to yourself. Maybe two tops if you couldn't convince him you were well enough by tomorrow morning. So... you finally decided to accept defeat.

You cared deeply for Aziraphale after all, so his company was always welcome, and this wouldn't exactly be your first night spent in the bookshop. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fallen alseep on one of the loveseats downstairs before and woken up nearly swaddled the next morning with the Angel overjoyed to have had you stay the night, even if accidentally.

This was no different, right?

Aziraphale reappeared with a gentle knocking from outside the room, waiting for your confirmation before stepping back into the room. His face lit up the moment he saw you in the nightgown, a delighted and almost prideful smile spreading across his features as he clasped his hands in front of his face.

“Ah, doesn’t that look lovely!” he said as he hurried to your side. "I'd say it suits you rather perfectly, don't you think?"

You gave a weak laugh, pretending to fiddle with one of the lacy cuff as a way to hide your bashfulness. "If you say so."

"Indeed I do." Aziraphale’s delighted smile softened as he noticed the faint weariness tugging at the edges of your expression. “Now then, my dear,” he said, folding back the large quilt, “let’s get you properly settled."

The soft-spoken certainty behind his words was what finally had you give in, and with still only a small drag of your feet as you closed the distance, you slid into the bed.

As soon as slid into the bed, he began a flurry of small tasks; seemingly materializing a small decanter of ice water and a glass to set on your bedside table, leaning around you to fluff your pillow and then carefully resting both hands on your shoulders to ease you into laying down.

You gave him a funny look your head sunk into the pillow, embarrased by the way as he seemed to feel the need to take every little action into his own hands,

"If Crowley saw the way you were fussing around like this, he'd never let either of us live it down."

"I do not fuss!" Aziraphale corrected certainly with a huff and folded the quilt over you, pulling it snuggly up to your shoulders. "And don't you mind him," Aziraphale said dismissively, fetching the extra blanket he'd set side earlier and unfolding it to drap over you as well. "He enjoys teasing, but I know he'd never dare mock you in earnest." Finally, the heavy knit blanket you'd come upstairs with was picked up and thown on the top, adding that extra bit of weight that forced you to sink into the soft mattress completely.

He adjusted all three until they layered over you perfectly, and you raised a hand from underneath, attempting to help straighten them yourself.

"I can do this part, Azzy." You reassured, only to be tutted again as the angel gripped the edge of the blankets and pulled them up to your chin this time

“I’m sure you can, but you won’t,” Aziraphale said matter-of-factly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not while I’m here to help. You need only to rest~ Really now, one would think you'd never been cared for properly before." He muttered and you averted your gaze, feeling considerably vulnerable as the angel loomed protectively over you until satisfied with his work. "There we are," He said, his voice almost a whisper as he nodded proudly at a job well done. Clearly beyond proud to see you "properly" bedded down. "Are you quite warm, enough, dear?"

"Perfectly toasty." You admitted with a light blush and a sniffle.

This seemed to remind him of something and he quickly excused himself before hastily returning with a box of tissues that he set beside the water on the nightstand.

"Thanks, Azzy..." You said quietly, unsure of what more you could express in this moment besides your thanks.

"Of course! You should have everything you need to soldier through the night!"

You giggled at that. He made it sound like you were fighting for your life from atop the soft sheets and under the heavy blankets.

The angel glanced around the room hurridly for a moment more, lingering on your area the longest as if deciding if there was anything else to be done. "I suppose that's all for now then, hm?" He stated rhetorically and you gave a small nod. "I'll leave you to get some rest then, do call if you need absolutely anything," he stressed, "or better yetー" He raised his hand and a small tinkling sound was heard. "Ring this," He amended, a small bell now gripped between his thumb and forefinger that he set softly on the nightstand. "No need to strain yourself more then necessary after all~"

You giggled again. "Pfff... sure," you agreed, knowing full well that bell would never be touched.

"Then I will leave you to it! Do get some proper rest tonight, won't you?" The angel gave you a bit of a pout and a pleading look.

"I'll do my best." You sighed, but you wouldn't have to do much of anything considering the way your eyelids and body had grown increasingly heavier since being tucked in. Everything had been orchestrated perfectly to ensure you stayed put after all.

"That's a good girl." He cooed as if truly proud of you for making the right choice.

Then, to your mild surprise, he began collecting your clothes from where you'd left them on a nearby chair.

"What are you-"

“Just tidying up,” he said quickly, his tone light and casual. “No need to worry. I'll have these cleaned and pressed by morning.”

"Ah..." You made a small hum of acknowledgment before nestling further under the covers with an air of finality. You weren't sure your clothes had ever been "pressed" before. Whatever that meant exactly. But you were sure it could only be a good thing is Aziraphale was the one doing it.

He folded your things before tucking them under his arm with a cheerful hum and then turned to leave, pausing briefly to do a double take when he noticed your shoes sitting bed-side on the floor.

The angel pursed his lips in thought, giving them a critical once-over before glancing to you. When he saw that your eyes had drifted closed, he hurried over with the lightest of steps and plucked them off the ground, tucking them quickly– and out of sight– under the rest of your clothes.

You must have sensed his presence because your eyes fluttered open again. Aziraphale froze as if caught in the act of something at the foot of the bed, but you only squinted curiously, having grown sleepy enough that you hadn't the mind to actually be suspicious.

He responded to your tired gaze with an acknowledging nod, lifting your now neatly folded shirt and jeans a tad, as if to say, 'nothing to see here!'

You made a sleepy hum and let your head lull to the side again, sinking slowly back into the pillow.

The angel shook himself back into form with a quick relieved huff, and with quiet steps once again, took his leave of the guest room as to not disturb you further.

He stopped only once on this way out the door to take a final glance back at you.

You'd rolled over, your back to him now with one of the bed's extra pillows hugged to yout chest in a makeshift snuggle.

Aziraphale smiled softly and proudly at the sight, knowing it meant you were really comfortable.

So with a guided click of the door, he wished you a quiet goodnight and stepped out into the hall to headed for his study.

"The sweetest of dreams, my dear."

~

Small question to anyone reading through this so far, especially if you've read any of my other works.

When writing for Aziraphale and Crowley, I've found that I focus so much on getting their way of speaking right that just going over and over it takes up most of my writing time, and I'm a little worried it could be affecting my usual tone.

So lemme know!

If you're not familiar with my other stuff that's okay too, just let me know if you think the tone feels a bit off, I guess? It's been bugging me a weird amount lol. Since I'm in such a different headspace when writing for GO than I am for characters whose dialog just flows naturally for me.

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Drunk Thoughts

Warnings: Underage drinking

AFAB Reader cause this is my coping mechanism and about an incident before I came out.

Ineffable dads (sort of), he/him for both of them.

“You gave me the world, I gave you my trust. You invested in me, I invested in us. Who would have known you’d hurt me so much?” She mumbled-sang, taking another swig of the Jack, wincing at the taste but remaining on her floor, back to the wall as she sang along, her house empty, parents at some fancy event. Younger brother out with friends. And here she was, at 14, as alone as she could be.

“I’m feeling worthless, I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re right, little mouse.” The red haired demon said, leaning against the wall, just two feet away from her. “You don’t deserve this.” He crouched down to her level and took the whisky from her hand, shushing any protests. “You’re fourteen, seven more years to go.”

“I don’t care, give it back.” She insisted, stumbling to her knees to take it from him. But he simply rose to his full height, towering over her 5’2” with ease.

“I’ll return it in seven years, for now, how about we visit the library, I know that makes you feel better.”

“When can I visit your friend?” She asked, meaning the bookshop owning angel.

“When you’re eighteen or wherever he comes with me, whichever happens first.”

“I’m here, Crowley, oh, this must be R—.” A man dressed in white said, appearing behind the lankier man and offering his hand to the girl. “I’m Aziraphale, I know our meeting is long overdue.” He felt like such a comforting presence, she couldn’t help as she hugged him, fighting tears against his waist coat as his warm hands rubbed her back.

“Never took you for a guardian demon, Crowley.” Aziraphale mused.

“She reminds me of myself. How could I not?” The demon replied simply, stroking her hair as she settled into the angel’s arms.

Okay, so I’m like, 5 fireballs, 2 glasses of whiskey, and 1/4 a bottle of MD2020 deep, excuse any grammatical whateverthefucks. I’m coping by writing and listening to sad songs.