#ineffable wives x reader

[diaryofamadcatdad]

Looking for a Good Omens beta reader who has also watched Doctor Who (later not totally necessary but the plot of the fic came from an episode). Please reply with works you have written and/or beta’d please. Its still a WIP at the moment.

[tropes-and-tales]

Bound to You: Prologue

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

WC:  2012

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Arranged marriage trope.

Poe Dameron rose quickly through the ranks of the Resistance.  General Leia Organa trusted him, and more to the point, he always got results.  Always.

Rare intel into the First Order’s movements?  Recruiting missions to convince disgruntled members of the New Republic to join the Resistance?  Errands to build relationships with allies in the Outer Rim?  Poe did it all with his own unique panache and ineffable charm.  Being a handsome bastard with an appealing smile didn’t hurt. 

Sometimes, admittedly, his charm failed him and he found himself in…uncomfortable situations. 

Like now.

Leia had dispatched him to a planet in the Core, a technological powerhouse that built state-of-the-art spaceships.  The goal was to get a deal for new crafts.  The problem was that the Resistance had little money (read:  no money) and even fewer prospects for more.  This planet, however, seemed to prefer the benevolent neglect of the New Republic over the authoritative grip of the First Order, and they had suffered under the Empire, so there was hope that a deal could be made.

Poe’s tricky situation came from two obvious facts.  First, the planet was run by a King and his attendant family – a very rich, very powerful man.  His wealth lay in his shipbuilding facilities – the technological know-how, the expertise of his engineers, the pride in superb craftmanship that left nothing unattended.  His wealth also lay in his vast progeny:  he had three wives and, well, countless sons and daughters.

The second fact of Poe’s tricky situation was that this planet, this king, his multitude of children and wives – the entire populace, in fact – was ruled by a very stringent, very precise set of rules.  There were rules for everything:  how to shake a hand (hand-on-forearm for no more than five seconds), how to sip the strong tea they served (from a lacquered cup, but only after the host sips theirs first), how to open negotiations (after precisely one lap around the King’s pleasure gardens and after saying, three times, that General Organa sends her well-wishes and highest regards).  How long to hold eye contact, how to smile, which color shirt to wear to signal certain feelings in certain situations.

Poe would have likely always ended up messing up the negotiations.  There was no way for a single person outside of that culture to learn all of their fussy, particular little rules.  Of course, Leia had tried to send C-3PO along – the droid had tried to explain all those rules - and Poe had waved her off. 

“How hard can it be?” he had said, flashing her a cocky grin.

How hard was it?  Well, it happened like a slow-motion explosion.  First, Poe had held on a beat too long with the opening handshake.  Then he glanced away while the King’s advisor was giving him an exhaustive tour of the King’s sculpture garden.

The worst, though, was when Poe inadvertently insulted the King’s second wife.  He wasn’t even sure how it happened – there was a huge dinner, and he used the wrong fork at the wrong time, wore the wrong shirt and looked her in the eye too long, and it devolved into Poe being tersely removed to sparser quarters which, it turned out, was just a prison.

And then, there was a trial (of sorts) which just involved the King’s advisors and astrologers and high priests, who all consulted their histories and star charts and rule books.  Poe would have laughed at how ridiculous it all was, except the guards who held him carried top-of-the-line blasters along with wicked-looking scythes, so he wisely kept his laughing to himself and tried to look contrite, though he wasn’t sure where contrite looks ranked with the King.

At last, it was decided (though Poe would never quite be sure if it was due to a historical precedent or some alignment of this system’s dual stars) that Poe would be released and gifted a cruiser, along with a promise of twenty premium gunships. 

The cruiser was a wedding gift. 

For Poe.

“The laws of our people demand an allyship in blood,” declared one high priest, and Poe’s heart clenched at his implied sacrifice.  Then, the priest added, “so you shall marry one of the King’s daughters.”

So the sacrifice wasn’t implied after all.  Poe was to be sacrificed on the altar of matrimony.  His heart seized up even more, but….a cruiser and twenty gunships?  The Resistance desperately needed it, and he could always get a marriage dissolution afterwards.

The slow-motion explosion continued, and if Poe thought he’d at least get to pick his wife (the King had eleven daughters), he was sadly mistaken.  Not that it mattered:  the women of the royal court (and many of the men) were bound to the strict dress codes of their strange laws.  Long hair bound and woven into intricate designs.  Long, enameled fingernails.  Faces and hands painted in delicate filigrees of designs.  Dresses with so many layers that the person’s original shape was lost.  It made the Queen of Naboo look like a fishmonger on Quila.

The day of the wedding, Poe found himself sick to his stomach.  He’d been given his own clothes back to him, clean and pressed, and his fingers shook as he buttoned his shirt.  He raked his fingers through his curls and tried to size himself up in the mirror in his room.  He looked wan underneath his tan.  Like a man on the way to his own execution.

Him, married.  He’d had plenty of casual flings, a few girlfriends, but nothing even veered close to long-term dating or marriage.  He was too devoted to the cause of eradicating the First Order from the galaxy, and that’s what he told himself he was doing now:  securing those ships, building an alliance for more.  He gave himself a nod in the mirror, as if to reassure himself. 

All that opulence and elaborate court gesturing, and the guards led him not to a large ballroom or hall, as Poe expected.  Instead, he found himself in a small antechamber with only a few people present:  an advisor, a high priest and priestess. 

And a young woman.  Poe’s intended.

You stood placidly a bit apart from the others, and though you weren’t as elaborately done up as others Poe had seen at court, you were still hidden under layers of paint and brocaded cloth.  Your hands were folded in front of yourself and that probably meant something in your culture, but you kept your eyes carefully fixed on the floor in front of you.

“Is this it?” Poe asked, incredulous.  He couldn’t quite believe that a wedding would have less pomp than the palace’s afternoon ceremony for tea and biscuits.  He glanced over at you, and you seemed to cringe at his words.

“She is the third daughter of the third wife,” the advisor said dismissively.  “The occasion of her marriage does not warrant more than this.”

So that was the other side of the equation, Poe realized.  A cruiser and some gun-ships to offload an unwanted daughter.  He tried to look at you a closer, but you seemed to sense his gaze and shrank even more from it.

The occasion of your marriage amounted to a few muttered words by both the high priest and priestess, and then first you and then Poe signed an official looking document on thick, heavy paper.  The advisor folded it carefully, then tied it with a white ribbon, then handed it to Poe.

That was it.

No exchanged vows or promises of love.  No rings placed on fingers or hands bounds together while prayed over.  Not even any eye contact – every time Poe glanced over at you, your eyes were focused elsewhere.

And afterwards?  There was no celebration.  Not even a goodbye from your parents or any of your multitude of siblings – you and Poe were both ushered away from the palace and onto the promised cruiser.  The craft that Poe had arrived on was safely stowed on said cruiser, along with your dowry (some jewelry, some personal effects, and enough gowns to outfit the entire fleet of pilots in the Resistance).

After you were cleared to take off, Poe did just that.  He marveled at how well the ship handled, and he practically twitched in anticipation for those gun-ships.  Leia would be so happy.  If Poe returned with a wife in tow, well…that was the price to pay.  He could take care of that situation later.

He set the coordinates for D’Qar and felt the ship ease into hyperspace so smoothly he almost missed the streaks of lights that flew past.  He was only two days away from being home.  No, not just he anymore.  You and he. 

Poe stood up from his pilot’s seat and stretched.  He felt the weight of the past few days slide off of his shoulders, and he felt like he could sleep until the ship exited hyperspace.  But there was a new weight laying on him, and he left the cockpit now to go face it.

You were still sitting in the galley, exactly where he had left you to take off.  You gifted him with the barest glance before you returned your eyes to the floor. 

You were, like everyone else in your court, off-putting.  A human with no shape under the leagues of fabric encasing you.  A person with a face so painted that there was no room for expression.  And, possibly, a person who didn’t talk.

“I’m Poe,” he said slowly and loudly, and he kicked himself internally at how the bark of his voice echoed off the shiny new walls of the space craft. 

He swore he saw the corner of your painted lips twitch – a smile maybe? – but your face resumed its placid surface before you murmured quietly that yes, you knew his name.  Of course - he had signed it beside yours on the marriage contract.

“Do you have a name?” he asked, a little gentler.  “Or are you just numbered off by birth order?”

That did bring a smile to your face, and you lifted your eyes to meet his gaze for a brief second before returning to watch the space on the floor between you and him.  You told him your name in your quiet voice.  “Or you could call me number eight, if you prefer,” you added with a hint of a smile in your words.

The eighth child.  Third daughter of a third wife.  Poe had no idea what you really looked like, and more to the point, what you liked.  What you didn’t like.  What you’d think of D’Qar and its rough-and-tumble, scrappy quarters.  What you’d think of the people in the Resistance.  How much you’d stick out in your elaborate gear, how the hems of your sharply pleated skirt would be muddied within seconds of walking through the forest. 

Poe could have sat beside you and tried to get to know you.  There was some time, after all, and you likely hadn’t asked for marriage any more than he had.  But he was keen to get ahold of Leia and report his success, and he wanted to discuss his next mission, which they had already talked about beforehand – finding her brother, Luke Skywalker.  Apparently there was someone on Jakku who had a map, and that mission pushed every other thought out of his mind until Poe quite forgot about you. 

So when you landed on D’Qar, Poe sprinted ahead of you to find BB-8 and Leia, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. 

As you descended the craft, you watched the retreating back of your erstwhile husband.  Poe Dameron left you behind.  Other women of your court might throw a pretty tantrum or pout winsomely, but you were the third daughter of the third wife.  You didn’t rage or pout.  You were used to being left behind and forgotten.

So you did what you did best:  you squared your shoulders, steeled your spine, and prepared yourself for a new life in this strange world. 

As Poe Dameron’s wife.

[casimirt]

Can we have something about femme aziraphale or ineffable wives? Hehe.

Dear Reader,

Yes my dear mutual you absolutely can! Would you also like a specific time period, location or idea for me to run with?

If not, I'll surprise you x

Update: I have posted The Sea Side, and The Picnic and The Pond

[witches-and-cows]

Kisses and Cocoa

pairing: aziracrow (or ineffable wives) / fem!child!reader

requested? no but i do have requests to do djsiggfb

synopsis: just a little down time in the snow with our favorite angel and demon, and their baby girl

warning(s): fem!reader, it’s the wives cuz honestly i love them and they deserve more, a little blood, reader is like, 5

a/n: i gotta do those requests jdishrv so know that i’ve got a peter parker x reader in the works, and a crowley x platonic!reader; school’s overwhelming so

---------------

Aziraphale was awoken by your childish excitement. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, sitting up and subconsciously carding her fingers through her partner’s vibrant ginger hair.

“Mmm....five more minutes, Angel. It’s cold.”

Crowley snuggled further into her lover’s chest, kissing her collarbone. Aziraphale yawned, and started counting down, waiting for you to burst through the door. 

“And 3, 2, 1--”

“Mum! Mummy, snow! There’s snow!” You climbed up on the bed, your chubby toddler hands grasping the blankets excitedly. Crowley kissed her teeth, sitting up. “Good morning, Giggles. How’d you sleep?” She pecked your forehead, and sat you in her lap. “Fine, mummy, but there’s snow!” You wiggled out of her grasp, and pressed your face up to the cold, foggy window, your eyes full of wonder. 

Aziraphale set her feet on the floor, and gasped softly, the cold shocking her. “Good heavens, it’s freezing!” You barely registered your mummy’s voice, now drawing in the fog of the window and humming to yourself. Aziraphale felt the overwhelming love she had for you bubble up into her throat, and she quickly wiped at her eyes. 

Crowley watched her with an amused smile gracing her lips. She’d never thought she’d get to have days like this with the angel, curled up in bed, watching their daughter grow up, and experience her first snow.

She loved Aziraphale, so damned much it nearly made her double over. And she loved you, with your wide [e/c] eyes and bubbly laughter (thus why they called you ‘Giggles’), and your love of cookies and Scooby Doo. She had her little family. She was, dare she say, grateful for you two everyday.

She was taken out of her little reverie by Aziraphale leaving a kiss on her cheek. “I’m going to brush my teeth, and help [Name] make up her bed and get ready for the day. Would you be so kind as to make breakfast?”

“Of course, Angel. Any requests?”

You turned and faced your moms, a wide smile gracing your features. “Can we have [pick a breakfast food]?” Crowley winked, saying, “Are angels real?”

“Yes! Thank you, mum!”

She chuckled, watching you tug on Aziraphale’s robe sleeve as you both walked out. 

Aziraphale enjoyed helping you get ready; It was one of those domestic activities that she’d miss as you got older. She picked out a cream colored shirt with seafoam green accents, and a pair of black overalls, humming softly along to the children’s program on the television (some magical ‘girl power!’ type cartoon that she also enjoyed; it was called Lollipop? No, LoliRock. She found it quite entertaining.) 

You flitted into the room, allowing Aziraphale to help you into the clothes, and talked about the dream you’d had (something about the Cars franchise and unicorns battling to the death over the Eiffel Tower), adding in little ‘oohs’ and ‘oh, dear!’s to indicate she was listening.

Once you were dressed and your hair was done, she had you wait downstairs in the living room of their cottage, letting Crowley entertain you with stories about mythical beings and the stars. Crowley was flipping a pancake when she sat next to you at the table, placing a napkin in your lap. 

She set a plate of food in front of you, smiling as you stared out the window, singing about how you’d like to go outside and build a snowman. “Do you want to go outside, Giggles?”

You nodded excitedly, practically bouncing in your seat. “Can we? I really want to!” Aziraphale bobbed her head in agreement, putting the juice Crowley poured for you on your placemat, and taking her cup of Earl Gray out of her hands. “Yes, we can, but eat first.” You went to work, not noticing the small smiles and brief touches that your mothers shared across the table.  

You finished your juice, and hopped out of your seat, impatiently waiting for one of your moms to finish. “C’mon, we’re busting daytime!” Crowley threw her head back, a raucous laugh leaving her mouth. “D’you mean burning  daylight, [Name]?”  

“Oh, yeah,” You responded, giggling. 

Crowley stood, and watched you run ahead to your room, screaming, “SNOW SNOW SNOW!” as you went along. She turned to Aziraphale, wiping tears from her eyes. “Busting daytime, that’s funny.” Aziraphale looked at her partner lovingly. “Go on, then. She’ll need help getting into her snow gear.” She said, amusement laced in her words. Crowley sauntered down the hall, whistling the tune of Lazing On a Sunday Afternoon.

You were already mostly undressed when she got to you, hastily tugging on your thermal underwear. “Oh, you’re quick,” She quipped as she picked up the clothes you discarded and placing them on the bed. “You know Mummy doesn’t like you leaving your clothes everywhere.”

“I know, but you said once or twice it’s okay.” 

Crowley, looked over at the toys lining your shelves, raising a brow at the Lightning McQueen car, before going to help you button up your snow pants. “Fair enough; You’ve got to have a smidge of demonic influence, don’t you, [Name]?” 

You giggled, letting her pull a jumper over your head, and put on your bubble coat. “Damned zipper,” She muttered, eyes narrowed in concentration. She eventually got it and then moved on to put your hat on your head, and wrap a scarf around your neck. You stopped her as she picked up your gloves, saying, “I can do it, Mum! Look!” 

She watched, pride glinting in her golden eyes as you successfully pulled the fingers of the gloves over your fingers. “That’s my girl, [Name]!” You let her put on the boots, though, saying, “I can’t do the boots, can you help?” She nodded, and did them for you, then letting you run off to find Aziraphale. Her attention then drifted to the toys again, and she fixed them to go in order of franchise then size. “Gosh, you really like Cars,” She mumbled.

Aziraphale had just gotten her own boots on, and was pulling on her hat as you hopped toward her. “Ready!” She picked you up, walking you to the front of the house, setting you in the snow. You fell back, making a snow angel and laughing. “Look, Mummy! It’s you!” 

                                             ---------------

 A while later, Crowley came up behind Aziraphale, examining the snow angel from earlier, and a smiley face you made by walking in circles. “Wow, kiddo, that’s really good!” She then held out a carrot, and the buttons she’d picked up, saying, “I thought we wanted to build a snowman, Giggles?” You got to work, rolling the base and dodging snowballs from Crowley. Aziraphale worked on the midsection, snapping her fingers discreetly. 

You put the snowman’s head on, and Crowley lifted you so you could stick the nose in. Aziraphale stuck on the eyes, and put a bowtie on the divide between it’s head and middle. Crowley snapped a leather jacket on it, and you put some mittens on it’s “hands”. Then you all admired your handiwork. 

“They’re perfect,” Crowley confirmed, nodding her head. Aziraphale hummed in agreement. “Now what?”

“I saw a tutorial on how to build snow forts. We can try it?”

Crowley looked around, before snapping her fingers and watching an igloo build itself. Aziraphale made sure you didn’t get hit by ice blocks as the structure formed. 

You squealed, and went into the fort, laughing. Your laugh however, was cut off by a sneeze. Aziraphale perked up, brows furrowed. “Maybe we should head in,” She muttered, Crowley agreeing and gathering you up in her arms. “C’mon then, in we go.” 

“But--”

“You’re freezing, kiddo. We can go make hot chocolate, watch a movie.” 

That quietted your protest, and you burrowed your face in your Mum’s neck, your time outside wearing you out. 

Aziraphale opened the door, making sure the heat was up, before shedding her winter gear. She took you out of Crowley’s arms, letting her take hers off, then the both of them got to work on you.

You let them strip you of the wet clothes, and put a towel on your shivering form. “C’mon, let’s get you into a warm bath, then we can watch [favorite kid movie].” Aziraphale cooed, as your head lolled. “Dearest you get the bath going, I’ll get the cocoa.” 

Crowley nodded. “Alright, Angel.” She made her way to the bathroom, snapping her fingers so that the tub filled with warm water. “Step in for me, Giggles.” You did so, and Crowley quickly bathed you, humming Queen’s greatest hits, chuckling when you tried to join in with her. 

You finished up, and she wrapped you in your fluffy Winnie the Pooh hooded towel. (it was Tigger; Since you happened to hop around like him often, when Aziraphale saw it, she immediately thought of you, so she bought it.)

She put you together, and carried you to the living room, where Aziraphale was putting a tray of cocoa and cookies on the coffee table. “Oh, dear, you look adorable, [Name]! I love your Stitch onesie.” You made grabby hands at your Mummy, and she smiled sweetly, taking you into her arms and kissing your cheek. 

“My little [Name]. My dearest,” She muttered into your head, taking in the scent of your body wash and your natural scent. You reveled in the affection, mumbling, “I’m not little.” Crowley sat down, patting the seat next to her. “Of course not. You’re our big girl, [Name].” You bobbed your head, content with that. 

Crowley put on your movie, putting an arm around the back of the couch. Aziraphale snuggled into her side. As you slowly drifted off, Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s lips softly, “I love you, Angel.”

“I love you more, my dear.” 

-------------------

please i love them sm we’re craving this domestic shit

[angelicspaceprince]

could I ask for poly relationship headcanons with the ineffable wives?

Slightly nsfw under tag?

Before I begin, I would just like to clear something up

Aziraphale is a tits lesbian.

Crowley is an ass and thighs lesbian.

Don’t bother changing my mind, it is fact

Crowley is definitely your over confident, loud and proud lesbian who gets Gay Panic almost instantly without any hesitation

Also attends so many pride marches and any kind of rights marches because fuck it she deserves equal rights even though she’s the one that came up with the inequality system in the first place

Meanwhile, Aziraphale is your quiet lesbian that you are sure is gay but at the same time aren’t 100% convinced.

When you meet, you weren’t looking for anything and were just happy to hang out with two very different but very awesome women who happened to be married

You ended up being their third when, in the middle of a heatwave, two very drunk women rocked up at your doorstep at 3 in the morning

You were in your shorts and singlet top, just wanting the sweet release of death because this heat was insane when they fall down in a heap at your feet

“Why are you here at 3am? I was asleep.”

“No you weren’t its too hottttt.” Crowley sounds smug when she says this as you just walk off with a wave of your hand.

“I dont care, do what you want but I’m going back to bed.”

You felt their presence join you on the bed as you groan and try to fall back asleep but nothing else

When you wake up, Crowley is asleep on your stomach cupping one tit, Aziraphale asleep just above her cupping the other.

Comfort titties apparently

Crowley wakes up and looks up at you with a smirk.

“Comfy?”

“Always.”

You get a cheeky wink with that response before she gets up slowly, almost snake like, stretching out and letting her back crack before turning to you

“Need anything?”

“Food.”

“On it.”

She walks off hips first as usual as you just roll your eyes and settle back down into the bed

The sunlight almost makes Aziraphale glow on your tummy as you start to play with her long, golden hair

She mumbles something before moving to faceplant herself between your boobs because

Much comfort

She had been mumbling all that time but finally her words were beginning to make sense now that she was closer

Mumbling how much she loves both you and Crowley

And how she knows you love them

And how she wants to date both of you but doesn’t know how to bring it up

There are so many words you are certain that she’s awake, but she isn’t

Just a chatty sleeper

When she wakes up and looks up at you, she goes beet-red because a) she’s holding both your boobs and b) she’s right in-between them

You just look down at her, raise an eyebrow

“So you love me, want to bang me, but most importantly, want to date me?”

Aziraphale lets out a small squeak before hiding herself back in your cleavage much to your amusement and refused to come out as you continue to stroke her hair until she melts

Crowley came back and when you told her what happened, she sits by your side and coaxes the angel to remove herself from your boobs

Conversations took place and bam!

You became their third

It took some adjusting

Crowley is pervy at the best of times

Aziraphale is constantly telling her to behave, especially in public

“Crowley! Stop touching Y/N’s rear, we are in public!”

“Crowley! Sit proper, you’re in a skirt!”

“Crowley! Y/N is fine, she doesn’t need you to supervise her in the shower!”

“Crowley! Y/N is getting dressed, leave her alone!”

“Crowley! Stop grabbing Y/N inappropriately, anyone could walk in and see!”

It takes a while for you to reassure Aziraphale that it was fine and that if there was any problem, you’d tell Crowley off

Aziraphale always treating you like you were God herself

Making sure you were well fed and cared for, giving you space where necessary

She loves spending time with you just holding hands as you read together as Crowley tears up the town

Really really fond of face sitting

Like you sitting on her face and her sitting on yours

Favourite position

Took a while to convince her to try it though, and now you constantly joke that she is the best seat in the house.

I have a feeling that Aziraphale would be more ‘traditionally’ female

Like loving crafting stuff and homemaking etc.

Crowley rejects all of that because she hasn’t the patience

Aziraphale also never completes her projects - you found a half completed tapestry once and when you asked when she started it she refused to answer until Crowley piped up “1307! She did it for 6 months and kept it because she was going to finish it!’

You just laughed and said that you were sure she’d get to it one day

If you ever fall asleep on your stomach, Crowley makes a home on your ass

Either resting her head in human form or coiled up in her snake form, she always finds comfort there

Almost like a cat, really

Crowley also likes to make you cum until you literally can’t handle anymore

Then she just grins wickedly and makes you cum some more

Like a bitch

When you sleep with Crowley on your back, she always makes her way to your stomach for some reason

You do some human things that confuse the fuck out of these two

If you are in distress or can’t find something, you hold your tits

Which baffles both of them

What do you want?

Is it a come on? Are you concerned that they are gonna fall off? Are they hurting?

Eventually they try it and it does nothing for them

Well maybe not nothing but not what you were going through when you did it

So, eventually they ask what’s up and you explain that it was a comfort thing as you looked for something or if you needed some self-soothing

Crowley just lights up

The next time you lost your keys, Crowley slaunters up behind you

“You need both hands to search love, would you like me to hold them for you?”

“It’s the weight in my hands that are comforting, Crowley. Also. No. Where are my keys?”

Because you knew she totally did not hide them so she’d have a reason for a shitty pick-up line

Aziraphale calls out from the other room “Crowley, behave!”

Loving soft dates

Forehead kisses and kisses on the back of your hands and on the top of your palms

Sleeping in

Picnic dates where you all wear skirts that flare out in the wind

Crowley dealing with DudeBros and full on freaking the living shit out of them as you and Aziraphale look on, slightly approving;y and slightly disprovingly

Just softness and niceness as well as kinkines and some roughness

Perfect all round relationship if I’m honest

[good-omens-prompts]

Either Crowley or Aziraphale wears this.

[yandere-anthony-j-crowley]

My beloved!

My angel!

My love!

My darling!

My dear!

My sunshine!

My sun and moon!

My loverboy!

My sweetie!

My sweetheart!

My baby!

My dearest!

You are mine and mine alone!

[applepiewinchesters]

Empty (Crowley x Platonic!Reader)

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Angst, mentions of depression and mental illness

Prompt: “I thought you knew.”

 You hadn’t talked to anyone in days, hell, you’ve barely gotten out of bed. The sound of your phone going off in the other room was a common occurrence for the last few days, it had to be Crowley or Aziraphale, after all, they were the people, the demon and angel rather, that you were the closest with.

What wasn’t a common noise was the sound of the front door or your flat opening. You sat up quickly in bed, alert now to the noises coming from down the hall.

“Y/N?” a familiar voice called, you relaxed instantly, it was Crowley.

“In here!” you called, your voice a bit hoarse. You reached up, attempting to fix the messy bun in your hair as you did, but you probably looked like shit anyway, so what was the use?

Crowley stepped into the room then, smiling softly at you, “Hey love, you haven’t been answering your phone,” he spoke, coming to sit beside you on the bed.

You sighed, “Yeah…I’m sorry about that, haven’t been feeling the best lately,” you told him, trying to brush off the subject a bit.

“Sick?” he asked, reaching up to feel your forehead, he may be a demon, but he honestly was really caring, especially towards you and Aziraphale.

“You could say that,” you told him, shrugging and looking away from him.

Crowley could tell when you were lying, he was a demon after all, lying was one of his specialties.

“Tell me what’s wrong, you know you can tell me anything,” Crowley said, scooting closer to you and taking your hand in his.

You let out a shaky sigh, you were surprised when you felt some hot tears roll down your cheeks, you’d thought you were all cried out.

“I-It’s nothing, really, I’m fine,” you sniffed, still not meeting Crowley’s gaze.

“If it’s making you cry then something’s got to be wrong sweetheart,” Crowley said.

“That’s just it,” you spoke, “there’s nothing wrong, no one hurt me, I haven’t lost anything, I’m just…sad, that’s it, I can’t explain it and I hate feeling this way.”

Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed, a look of concern crossing his face, “Why didn’t you tell anyone you felt this way? You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

You laughed a bit, “I thought you knew, it seems obvious to me at least,” you shrugged, “I’ve got all the symptoms.”

“How long have you…” Crowley said, trailing off, not able to find the right words.

“Been depressed?” you asked, wiping at your eyes.

Crowley nodded. “A while,” you said, “ever since I was younger, I just wasn’t officially diagnosed until a few years back. I’ve been doing better, this is the first episode I’ve had in a while.”

Crowley wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You wrapped you arms around his waist, resting your head on his chest. He held you like that for a few minutes, at least until you tears stopped and you pulled away.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll call Aziraphale over and we can order take out and watch all of those cheesy movies you love, how about that?” Crowley asked, making you smile.

“Sounds really nice actually,” you told him, “I’m uh, going to shower, can you take care of everything else?”

Crowley nodded, “Course love,” he answered. You smiled and got up from the bed and headed towards the bathroom, stripping out of the dirty pajamas you wore.

You honestly didn’t know what you’d do without Crowley, and Aziraphale of course, they always knew how to cheer you up, even on your worst days.

 A/N: Sorry it’s a bit short but I hope you love it anyway! Thank you so much for reading and all the requests I’ve been sent, I promise I’m working on them! Love you all! ~ Sara :)

[yandere-aziraphale]

Aphrodite blessed your figure, my dear.

[aziraphales-library]

Does anyone know if there is a Good Omens x Copacabana fanfic out there? Crowley as Lola either gender and Aziraphale their bartender boyfriend Tony? I'll even take bartender Zira and dancer Crowley. Thanks!

Hello! I couldn't find any specific crossovers, but here are some fics with bartender Crowley and dancer Aziraphale:

Welcome to Burlesque [T], WIP by PrincessDianaArtemis

Starry-eyed Aziraphale - just call me Azi - follows her dreams to California where she finds her spot amongst the dancers at Tracy's Burlesque Club.

Along the way she finds more than just an outlet for her talent including the battling attractions for the bartender, Crowley, the threat of the club being sold, and the jealousy of the headlining dancer, Bee.

Becoming a star doesn't mean losing yourself and Azi finds a way to have her cake and eat it too.

Or the Burlesque/Ineffable Wives crossover we all need.

Go Back and Rewind [E] by ZephyrOfAllTrades

“I bet you’d be coming in your pants before her performance ends,” Anathema grinned. They laughed as he sputtered at the blatant undermining of his self control. Although he was already half-hard, he wasn’t ready to throw away his dignity that easily.

This one fits the bill really well with dancer Crowley and bartender Aziraphale, but it's really dark and intense, so mind the tags:

Magpie [E] by southdownsraph

Ezra has just been hired as a bartender at an underground LGBT nightclub to help supplement his income while he studies for his master’s, and he can’t help but become infatuated with one of the performers, an exotic dancer who goes by the name AJ.

Would our readers perhaps know other fics like this?

~Mod N

[cynthianokamaria]

I'M A DEMON, I'M NOT NICE.

[cynthianokamaria]

GROW BETTAAAAHH 👿👿👿

[cynthianokamaria]

Grow bettahhhh 👿

[good-omens-prompts]

Aziraphale loves to hug people. Especially Crowley.