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onceuponapuffin · 11 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 3!!

Okay, this thing needs a name. Please suggest ideas in the comments :) I know this part is tedious, but the thing with self-insert is you have Establishing to do before any Real Action happens. We'll get there, just hang on.

//Edited to include title.

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The shaking must have been more visible than you thought, because Muriel is at your side before you can speak. They touch your shoulder gently.

“Um, excuse me,” they say, “Sorry, but you’re shaking an awful lot. Maybe you should sit down.” You nod, and it takes concentration, but with Muriel’s help you make it to the sofa. Apparently caffeine and adrenaline aren’t the best mix. Your breathing speeds up, despite your best efforts, and the rest of the room feels fuzzy. Shit, you do not need this right now. There’s talking and movement, but listening to the words feels too sharp, and the best you can do to convey that you are not okay is to shake your head over and over and over. You reach out a hand next to you, and are surprised to find the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt. It’s not ideal, but it’s something, and he doesn’t pull away. You focus on the feel of the cotton, the button on the cuff, the pattern of the stitching in the seams. Slowly, you’re able to tune back in. You focus on your breathing, you look around and count five things that start with B – button, books, brown, bow tie, black. Crowley hands you a mug of cocoa, and you accept it, running your thumb along the porcelain wings and letting your hands feel the heat of the drink. You take a sip and take stock.

Multiverse travel (?), mouthing off to the literal Voice of God (lol), brush with death (or...eternal saltiness?), confronting your very limited mortality (at least it’s 5 lives and not 3), panic attack. WELP. This is going well so far. Just peachy. You take another sip, and notice that everyone’s waiting. Oh, right. You clear your throat.

“Thanks,” You say, “Sorry about that. Um...I’m gonna guess that you all have some questions.”

“That would be accurate, yes,” Aziraphale says next to you. Now that you are better, he stands, straightens his waistcoat, and moves to stand nearer the chair (and Crowley), and watches you with his hands folded in front of him. “The first of which is, who exactly are you?”

“Buckle in, folks,” You say to them, “You’re in for a ride.”

And so you begin your info dump. You notice Muriel taking dedicated notes. Good, they’ll probably need those later. You tell them that you’re not sure exactly where you’re from, but it’s not here. You explain the tv show, the radio show, you even mention the musical, and of course, when you get to the book, you ask Crowley to find it on the shelf behind him. It’s right where you remember Jim leaving it. Crowley opens it, and you begin on instinct:

“’It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather seven of them thus far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’ Now skip a couple lines Crowley. ‘I said that one went down like a lead balloon.’ Sound familiar? There’s more.” You stop quoting there, because Crowley has started flipping through the pages quicker. Aziraphale holds out his hand, and after a while, Crowley hands it to him, then goes to a corner where you notice him taking a few deep breaths. You lean to the side to see that he’s not smoking, exactly, but definitely smoldering. You look at Aziraphale next, and see him turn white as a sheet, before handing the book to Muriel’s eager hands. The scrivener is the only one who looks delighted as they flip through. Aziraphale cleares this throat and composes himself.

“Uhm...now I believe you told Metatron that...The Almighty sent you here. Is...is that actually the case?”

“Honestly,” You say, “I have no idea. I just needed to get him out of your shop and away from you.”

“Away from...me?”

“Yeah...um...” You notice that Crowley has come back to the conversation now, although his sunglasses are slightly askew. You glance at Muriel, who has noticed the shift in your tone, has closed the book, and is now watching you. They put the novel on the nearest surface and reach for their notebook again.

And so, you explain the most solid fan theories that you know. That their joint miracle from the other day made them a threat for Apocalypse 2.0, and that Metatron was here to separate them, by offering Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. This news is met with...surprise.

“Well that’s just stupid,” Crowley says, “He says no, in your tv show, clearly.”

“Yes, I rather can’t imagine I’d be so keen to return to Heaven after everything.”

“Weeeeelllll…...”

The room goes silent, except for Muriel’s writing. They stop after a moment, unaware of the silence.

“So then, you were trying to keep them from being separated because the power of an angel and a demon is most powerful together.”

“Yeah, or the power of love maybe. I’m not sure. Neil’s been kind of vague on that point.” You intentionally keep your gaze on Muriel once you realize what you implied. You will get there. Making those two talk about their feelings is on your list. Patience, patience.

“Oh, the author – Neil Gaiman?” Muriel points at the book with their pencil.

“Yeah, him. He answers questions sometimes.”

Muriel makes a note. You realize something.

“Wait a minute, Muriel,” You say, “Are you...on board with this?”

Muriel stops writing and considers your question for a minute.

“Well, see, the thing is,” They begin, “I’ve seen an awful lot that I never thought I would see? Just in the last week. Like a demon being nice –“

“HEY! Not nice!”

“And the Archangel Gabriel being in love with a demon and running away with them. And then you fell out of nowhere, and honestly what you said to the Metatron may have been a lie, and therefore, you know, bad, but it makes sense. If God didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. So if I help you, I’m helping the Will of God, right?”

Crowley is the one to break the silence that follows.

“Honestly I would have thought it’d take longer for you to take after me. I have to say, I am impressed.”

“Take what after you?”

“Nevermind.”

“Well,” says Aziraphale, “Is there anything else that we need to know about?”

You think about the kiss. You think about everything that came after. You think about ‘and I would like to spend -’ But no, none of that is relevant now. Why do you feel like you’re forgetting something?

The bell at the door rings. You turn around to see Maggie and Nina. UGH. Right.

“I’ve got it, ladies, no worries! Come back later!” You call, desperately.

“Excuse me! No, we need to speak to these two now if you don’t mind!” Maggie says. Clearly she doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing here.

You roll your eyes. Honestly, you don’t have beef with Maggie and Nina. You agree with them telling off Crowley and Aziraphale, it’s just that you can’t help but feel that the clock is ticking. But, well, there’s no helping it is there? With a sigh, you stand.

“Come on, Muriel,” You say, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some more cocoa while these four talk.”

Muriel follows you into the kitchen. You don’t listen, you don’t need to. All you need to do is refill your drink while Maggie and Nina tell them off. While you’re at it, you try to convince Muriel to have one. Despite your best effort, you’re unsuccessful. Oh well, all in good time. When you hear the bell chime again, you go back into the shop to find Aziraphale and Crowley looking very pink in the cheeks. You can’t help but smirk.

“All right, chaps?” You say in your best-terrible-British-accent. Aziraphale nods. Well good. Because you all have work to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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suzypfonne · 5 months

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Crowley is stretched out across the sofa, in the little sitting area at the back of the bookshop. There's a book opened over his eyes, blocking out the blinding lights from above. His sunglasses are folded on the small, wine-glass-littered table beside him. The bell over the bookshop door tinkles.

Without moving, Crowley flatly calls to the intruder, "Shop's closed. We don't have what you're looking for, and we wouldn't sell it to you even if we did."

"Crowley?" a small, familiar voice speaks tentatively into the librichor-drenched room.

The former demon bolts upright, the book falling to the floor, landing miraculously, undamaged. Crowley stares harshly at the beige shape standing in the shadow of the entry way.

"Crowley..." the angel's voice is shaking. All of him is, he fidgets absentmindedly with his ring. He clears his throat and begins, "We've known each other a long time. We've been on this planet, a long time..."

"Don't mock me, Aziraphale!"

The angel takes a step forward into the light, and continues, "I could always rely on you. You could always rely on me." He's sobbing.

Crowley stands suddenly and strides quickly across the shop, stopping a few feet short of the angel. "Stop it! You can't do this, Aziraphale! You can't just show up and throw my own words back at me!"

"We're a team, a pair, a set. Matching bookends. And while we have spent our existence pretending that we aren't. I would like to spend..." his voice cracks remembering how utterly broken Crowley had looked the last time he saw him, eyes brimming with uncried tears.

"I can't do this again. I can't hide. I won't! We can't keep doing this... fucking... ineffable dance. It's insane. I'm going insane, Aziraphale. "

Haltingly, Aziraphale resumes, "I would like to spend... whatever life we have left... together. Being an us..." he trails off as he searches Crowley's face, hoping against hope that he's not too late.

Crowley's angry, bowed posture softens. "What?"

"I love you, Crowley. Please, however you'll have me. Boyfriends. Husbands. Wives. Any of them. All of them."

"Aziraphale... Angel...I..."

In the silence that follows, Aziraphale steps closer and closer, narrowing the gap between them. "I love you. In a way that humankind scarcely has the words to describe. Oh, dear boy, I could spend millennia trying and never quite get it right."

"I love you, too, angel. I tried to say it, before. You already had one foot out the door. I-I never thought I'd see you again. I never hoped to hear those words."

"Oh Crowley. My Crowley. How I've missed you. Please, do it again?"

"Do what again?"

"Kiss me? Darling, please, again and again and..." and the angel's lips are stopped with a kiss. A proper kiss.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #fix it fic #my brain made me do it #david tennant #michael sheen #ineffable lovers #go s2e6 #ineffable fanfic #ineffable ficlet #go ficlet #go fic #aziracrow

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randompenname · 7 months

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No More Nightingales

I had a dream that made me wake up crying, so naturally I am bringing you into my trauma for company.

So far as we know Crowley has never killed. Hell, this man had to talk him into littering and his big evil accomplishment was moving a few road markers. He made a point to say he goes along with Hell as far as he can, then he doesn't. It is a line in the sand that he has paid for, more than once.

Now to the dream.

Crowley is sitting on their bench, post divorce. Typical park scene, ducks quacking, birds singing, kids playing, people selling ice cream etc.

Our Hero is not doing well, he tries to hide it. Glasses on. Jaw clenched. Lips set to a thin line. Torn between anquish and anger. His arm which is, as always, draped along the back of the bench, leading to long spindle like fingers that twitch in an ill hidden effort to fight for composure.

Then he can't anymore.

With a upward snap, his fingers close into a fist and something falls from a nearby tree. Small and unnoticed by most in the hustle and bussle of the park. Crowley however notices. He knows exactly what it is.

What it was.

He can't make himself look at it. He feels sick.

He unfurls those long limbs and makes a hastey exit for the Bentley. Barely maintaing the restraint to walk when all he wants to do is run.

Unbeknownst to the vanished duke, stands a man in a familar suit. Watching the whole affair with baited breath and broken heart. Only once the sounds of Bentley have entirely faded away does he approach the small figure which has fallen from the tree.

He fails to stifle a soft sob as he mutters feverent apologies. His hands shake as he cradles the still warm, but quite dead, nightingale to his chest before he too, turns and walks out of sight.

The End

#good omens meta #ineffable divorce #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens crowley #ineffable idiots #ineffable boyfriends #good ineffable omens #good omens s2 #ineffable fandom #ineffable fanfic #Cry with me

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maaikeatthefullmoon · 3 months

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Yay!

I’ve been looking forward to being able to write this chapter of The Angel Miscalculated so much!

Chapter 14: Reunion

Aziraphale and Crowley are finally reunited after much drama. They talk, they miscommunicate as always. Can they work things out?

This is part 3 of my Epistolary Series; Az’s POV of the main Epistolary story. If you’ve not read Epistolary, definitely start there or you’ll end up all kinds of confused I think.

Rated: E (although this chapter is a T, maybe an M if you consider ‘fuck’ a swear word worthy of M status)

I finished writing it comfortably ensconced in front of the fire today!

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable idiots #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #ineffable fanfic #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #ineffable lovers #ineffable partners #for the love of fanfiction #good omens fanfic #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic

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ilovemosss · 2 months

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HELLO GOOD OMENS FANDOM. I ONCE AGAIN BRING YOU. FANFICTION. GET IT WHILE IT'S HOT!!

i present to you, a valentine's day oneshot that took over my brain for like 24 hours and would not give me a moment's peace until it was out of my brain and HERE for all of YOU to read and enjoy!!

i won't bore you with a summary, but i WILL tell you that it is not remotely as sad as some of the other fics i've written, and features some lovely slow-dancing, some angsty-feelings-conversations, a lot of scones, and a sad farewell (this one is still less sad than the one at the end of s2, tho.....)

anyway, enjoy, and remember that there is absolutely going to be more!! (between all my WIPs there are probably 40k minimum for me to finish and you all to feast upon. i promise to finish something longer very soon)

#good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #anthony jennifer crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable fanfic

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thisismorrigan · 5 months

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Some of my favorite Good Omens fanfictons from AO3 part 3!

Alright besties! This list is all WIP! So if you're like me willing to wait for updates on these FANTASTIC stories please read these!

WIP:

Fugitives by nightgoodomens (M)

Crowley and Azirphale on the run from demons after he fled Heaven. The angst is on another level! This is a post season 2 fic that feels so true to the characters and how they would actually react in this scenario (in my opinion). The original characters in this story are fantastic and I love them to bits! The plot is so good and I’m just waiting on the edge of my seat for the next update! As of right now it’s not smutty but I put an M rating because I could see it heading that direction in the future.

Lifting Eden by lalalalines (E)

This is a human AU gym meet-cute. Aziraphale is STRONG and Crowley is quite literally falling for him. This is one of those fics that I keep open at all times so I can check for an update every day!

Sunday’s Child by ladydragona (E)

This is another Omegaverse fic where young best friends Crowley and Aziraphale get separated at a young age and don’t see each other again for many years. It’s the marriage of convenience trope and a smidge of pining.

It’s A Sin (presumably) byBadIdeasGalore (T)

This fic takes you through the years of them knowing each other and gives more context to their relationship. The end of the first chapter is the twist we all wanted from the last 15. I’m excited to see where the author takes this story! Very well written!

Incarnate by catfishcigarettecard (E)

This fic is so so so good! This is an Omega verse fic that takes place in heaven. I’ve been checking for a new chapter every. single. day. It’s a bit on the “rougher” side so please read all of the tags and warnings

Now We Can Be Us by randumgirl (E)

I love the idea of these two “retiring” to a cottage once all of this nonsense is done and over with and that’s exactly what this is. It’s supposed to be a post season 3 fic. I love that the author is so kind to these characters. It’s smutty and fluffy. What else could a girl want?!

And They Were Streamers by ghostrat (T)

I’ve read several of ghostrat’s works and I’ll tell you what! They are fantastic! This one is based off of their art work of Crowley and Aziraphale as streamers! There are only two chapters so far but I was hooked immediately. The trope is friends to lovers and it’s so freaking cute!

#aziracrow fanfic recommendation #aziracrow #good omens #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #ineffable husbands #ineffable fanfic #ineffable divorce #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #fanfiction masterlist #master list #go2 #ineffable idiots

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aceoflanterns · 5 months

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hey gays i'm indecisive about what to start writing. which one are y'all most interested in

i got nothin go ham please and thanks

#if u have anything specific ur interested in also lmk #i may not write it but i am trapped by possibility i need someone to take away my free will #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #anthony j crowley #ineffable fanfic #good omens fic #good omens fanfiction #ace rambles

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branwenmarya · 7 months

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Does anyone have recs for fics where Azi is just LUSTING after Crowley? Like inner monologue about how hot he is, what he’d do to him, etc.?

#aziracrow #good omens #good omens fic #fanfic #gomens #gomen fanfic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowly x aziraphale #crowley #ineffable fanfic

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charlotte-zophie · 5 months

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Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

#good omens #good ineffable omens #ineffable fandom #neil gaiman #i love you all #so grateful #ineffable idiots #ineffable fanfic #ineffable family #ineffable fanart

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mrghostrat · 1 month

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Big Name Feelings Ch17 Finale!

GMT: Wednesday (20th) 11pm

CDT: Wednesday (20th) 6pm

AEDT: Thursday (21st) 10am

tag your reactions and spoilers with #BNFinale 💛

Summary:

FANDOM AU! • Crowley is a BNF fic writer, and Aziraphale is a lurking artist who might be just a little parasocially in love with him. How they ever became friends is beyond him, but here they are: One month out from Prophet Con, and Crowley is asking him to be his boyfriend. Just for the weekend, of course.

(Fake relationship, Online friends, Writer x Artist, Fluff and Mutual Pining, Texts and DMs, Asexual Crowley)

catch up on Big Name Feelings by ghostrat

#good omens #gomens #good omens fic rec #aziraphale #crowley #good omens human au #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable fanfic #ineffable idiots

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sectumsempress1 · 5 months

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Nanowrimo update 🤩

#nanowrimo #good omens fanfiction #good omens #good omens fic #ineffable fanfic #watching the x files and pacing my apartment now #I’m gonna lose my mind

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onceuponapuffin · 10 days

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Fanatic Intervention Part 4!!

Someone mentioned a play on Divine Intervention, and I thought that would make for a short, sweet, tag-able title. So here it is - Fanatic Intervention!

This poll came really close. Gosh. Please share this around. I want anyone who would like a chance to play to have the chance to play. This isn't about followers or activity, this is about letting people know they are welcome and invited :)

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The Metatron walked calmly through the halls of Heaven. Anyone who didn’t know any better would use a word more like “stalked” or “stomped.” Of course, no one in Heaven would ever use these words to describe the Metatron, even if his eyes were angry and his feet fell firmer than usual. No, the Metatron was the Voice of God – he merely walked with purpose, grace even.

At the end of a corridor that did not exist, he approached a door that opened at his touch and his touch alone, into a room that took up no space. It is in here that he stopped, the door closing behind him as it was right to do, and brought his hands together in Prayer.

“I beseech you,” he began, “Mother and Father both of All Creation, Commander of mine tongue, and through whose Grace I carry out Thine Will.” He paused, unsure exactly how to proceed with asking if someone new was supposed to be there. “In my best efforts to bring about the long-foretold Second Coming, I have come upon some trouble. A human was dropped into the path of my efforts* and has suggested that they are here at Your Will. If this is so, please instruct me so that I may step aside or aid them as appropriate. I wish only to serve You, Your Will, and Your Designs.” With this, the Metatron paused and waited. He waited for what felt like eternity, even though he kew all too well it wasn't. He was met with nothing but silence. With a sigh, he spoke now to himself (and if anyone had been around to hear, they might have – mistakenly, mind you – inferred his tone to be sad).

“I suppose I should have expected nothing less.”

He straightened himself. Well, clearly The Almighty trusted him to sort this trouble out for himself. Oh, how he adored the trust and love the Almighty had for him. Alright, so, given that he was sort out this trouble himself, he deigned to use all the knowledge and intelligence that the Almighty had granted him. He had other resources that he could consult.

Exiting the room, he walked once more (with purpose and trust in God – not with pride), to the Room of Records which held The Book of Life. If anyone saw him, they said nothing and let him pass. If he saw anyone, he paid them no mind. The Metatron approached The Book.

The Book of Life holds all the world’s stories, whether they are true or not. Every. Single. One.

He turned the pages to the one where he had seen the passage regarding The Second Coming, and the events leading up to it. His eyes widened in surprise (he was far too important to gawk). The lines that had carefully discussed Aziraphale returning to Heaven, and the Second Coming of Jesus, had all been painted over with what appeared to be a thin white tape. And overtop of this tape, new words were appearing, detailing the arrival of the strange human and their interference. The Metatron glared (not snarled) at the way in which their interaction was being recorded. After a moment, he experimentally scratched at the tape. Much to his relief, the white tape gave way, revealing the original words still lay underneath. Well now, that was good news. The original plan, writing, story, was still there – hidden just beneath the surface. No doubt, if he took the human out of the equation, so to speak, the Plan would continue as is had been written so many thousands of years ago. He smiled, closing his eyes, and thanking God for this insight. Now, all he had to do was find a way to get rid of that human.

Suddenly, the lights in Heaven started flashing red, and a siren began blaring. The Metatron rolled his eyes. WHAT, exactly, had happened now? He went to the room that contained the large rotating figure of Earth, and noticed a large red plume of smoke trailing from it. While all of the lesser angels were fussing with it, Metatron stayed near the door that didn’t exist. He had no need to inspect it closer. He knew precisely what it was.

*(not that kind)

It didn’t take you long to tell them about the Second Coming, and convince Aziraphale and Crowley to ward the bookshop. Well, there was some slight resistance, but you pointed out that if they did a Big Joint Miracle On Purpose, then there wasn’t likely to be anything that anyone could do about it, even when they did notice. And thus, it had gone without a hitch.

Now, Aziraphale was collecting stacks of Bibles that he felt would be helpful for research, Muriel was taking notes, and Crowley had gone to get some wine (something about needing a drink to deal with all this). You look to your phone, pointedly ignore the Lives Counter, and start toward Google to help with research.

BUT

Does your Good Omens playlist still work? You can’t help but wonder, and your curiosity has you distracted and opening the app. Oh, well, there it is. Honestly it’s impressive. But then again, you suppose, Good Omens exists in this world, and the songs in your playlist exist here too, it’s just the show (specifically the Final Fifteen) that doesn’t exist here. Not anymore anyway. Any songs related to the show are gone, but otherwise your playlist is still very much intact. You smirk, crank the volume up on your phone, and start blasting Mother Mother’s Problems.

Now, dear Reader, I will take you aside to reassure you that Hozier is on the list of music they must and will hear. I have merely chosen this one because I don’t know your playlists, but I know mine, and this song fits the mood I expect you must be feeling. You are on the other side of panic, having explained everything, and secured the bookshop, you are now feeling the glee of being in Aziraphale’s bookshop with your favourite characters. You need something upbeat to dance to, wouldn’t you say? And Take Me To Church, being the most upbeat Hozier song that I know of, doesn’t quite cut it.

Crowley enters the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses (only two? How dare he. Doesn’t he know you’re...well...not going to deny a demon the temptation of a glass of red?). Aziraphale sighs the word “Bebop,” and you begin an elaborate sort of bouncing while singing the lyrics and pointing at them in turn.

“So,” Crowley says quietly to Aziraphale, “Any idea what’s actually happening here?”

You, dear Reader, are lost in your dancing. You are having the time of your life making up dance moves and trying to convince Muriel to at least bob in time with the music. You notice none of this.

Aziraphale sighs. “Honestly,” he replies to Crowley, “I can’t say I do. But given what we have to work with, I rather think that trusting them is our best option. Besides,” Aziraphale glances at you, then back to Crowley, “They don’t feel like the bad sort. I may not always be the best judge of character when it comes to angels, but I’m certain that this human is, well, rather the good sort.”

“Mm,” Crowley replies. He pauses, watching for a moment as you try to convince Muriel to stand and take your hands. “And, what about...you know, the thing that Nina and Maggie erm...talked to us about?” He notices Aziraphale’s cheeks turn pink.

“I think that we had best leave that for when the world is safe,” but the angel sounds resigned when he says it. Crowley suspects that “the world,” is actually meant to mean “we and the humans.” He doesn’t mention this, he only nods. The demon pauses.

“Wait a minute, wait, is this song about…”

You had finally convinced Muriel to walk in a twirl under your arm when Crowley finally notices that you had been trying to make it clear as bloody daylight that the song’s lyrics fit them to a T. Now that you have their attention, your smirk grows into a full mischievous smile.

“If you think this is impressive, just wait,” You say. And NOW you turn on Hozier.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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indigovigilance · 7 months

Text

S3 Epilogue

tags: Comfort, Fluff, South Downs

rated: PG, 1654 words

Crowley & Aziraphale finally get their resolution.

Edit: now published to Ao3: S3 Epilogue - Sunset in the Garden at South Downs (1654 words) by indigovigilance

This is my first adventure in publishing fanfic. I'll go back to meta soon. Good Omentober, y'all.

Aziraphale sat on the bench that overlooked the garden. The sun was beginning to dip low in the west, shining on the clouds that gathered over the channel, tinging them orange and pink. Sitting propped up in his lap a well-worn book; none could guess, not even Aziraphale himself, how many times he had turned the beloved pages, the edges worn soft by his touch. His heart fluttered as he turned to chapter 58: his favorite part. He glanced up at Crowley, who was still mucking about in the flowerbeds, as he usually did at this time of day. Aziraphale returned his attention to his book.

Now was the moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was high, she immediately said: “Mr. Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours.”

“Oh, my dear girl,” chuckled Aziraphale, “you do care. You care a great deal. But I wouldn’t worry about hurting his feelings: quite the opposite, in fact. Oh Jane, you really did have such a gift with words. And robberies, apparently.”

The angel heard Crowley throw down his gardening tools. In the years since they’d moved into the cottage together, autumn had become Aziraphale’s favorite season; as the days got shorter, their sunset ritual came earlier and earlier each day, and the nip in the air was just enough to draw them closer together, but not enough to send them into the warm shelter of the indoors before the stars came out.

He did not look up as he felt the temptress of Eden lower himself down to the bench to the left of him—always on the left—and began to wind serpentine limbs around his soft, strong body. Long legs curled over his wide lap, snakeskin-shod feet dangled off the end of the bench. One arm slithered over his shoulders, the other across his chest, ensnaring him with practiced precision. He felt Crowley nestle his head into the cradle of his shoulder, exactly where he always was. Wordlessly and without looking up, Aziraphale wrapped an arm around Crowley’s back and pulled him close. They fit together like lock and key.

Aziraphale tilted his head to nudge the serpent, who nudged him back, signaling that he was ready.

“You’ve come at the best part.”

“Have I?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Well, then. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

Aziraphale began to read aloud:

“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”

“Oof. Jane really didn’t pull any punches, did she?”

“Indeed she did not. Now, hush.

“Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eyes, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight diffused over his face became him: but though she could not look she could listen; and he told her of feelings which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he felt a swell of emotion surge through his body. He felt Crowley stir as one sinuous limb unwound from around his chest and plucked the book from his hands, setting it down on the bench beside them. Aziraphale’s eyes flicked to the shock of red hair that was pressed against his cheek.

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that.”

The ginger head lifted up. Aziraphale turned, and in the fading shades of sunset, Crowley’s yellow eyes seemed to shine with starlight. He was very close, so very close. Sky-blue eyes flicked down hungrily to apple-red lips, then back up. He swallowed: he couldn’t help himself. But he didn’t speak. Didn’t dare to move. He knew how badly he’d hurt Crowley, the day that Gabriel and Beelzebub had gone off together, after only a few short years of courtship, merely the blink of an eye in the existence of an immortal, and when Crowley had asked him to do the same, after millennia of surreptitious companionship, he’d hadn’t. Worse, he’d betrayed him, and gone back to Heaven. It had all worked out in the end, but he was still gnawed by guilt for what he’d put his demon through. He could never ask for forgiveness, because in his own heart, he didn’t believe he deserved it. He hadn’t forgiven himself.

But he could still want it.

He could still long to taste his lips again.

Yellow eyes watched him, unblinking.

Aziraphale wanted to say something, but none of the words in any of the languages that had ever been spoken on Earth tasted right in his mouth. Any sentiment of regret, longing, or affection seemed to turn to sand on his tongue. Jane Austen had made it seem so easy. But it was different when it was someone you knew. When it was the someone. Your only someone.

“I’m not mad at you.”

Aziraphale blinked. The yellow eyes still held him, entrancing and impossibly close. The setting sun caught in Crowley’s red hair, setting it ablaze. The demon continued:

“I think you think I’m mad at you, for how things went. But I’m not. I know why you did what you did. If you’d done anything different, you wouldn’t be the angel I fell in love with.”

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat. He’d imagined those words, coming from his demon, for so long, but he’d never dared to hope he’d hear them again, after that day.

“We’ve been together a long time,” continued Crowley. “Longer than either of us can remember, and I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I’ve loved you since before I can remember…”

The demon trailed off and his yellow eyes grew dim as he retreated into his mind, looking at the places where the furniture used to be. Tears welled up in Aziraphale’s azure eyes, his chest tightening with sorrow and grief for the time that they had lost together: not just the time that they’d been forced into hiding, but the time they’d been forced to forget. The time that had been ripped from their bodies. Aziraphale had found that difficult to forgive, if indeed he’d ever forgiven Heaven at all.

The demon returned to the present.

“…and I have loved you every moment since then. Nothing you did has ever, could ever change that. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale swallowed the lump in his throat but, still unable to speak, nodded.

“We spent our existence letting Heaven and Hell keep us apart, keeping ourselves apart, and I… I want to be with you from now on. Completely with you. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale didn’t dare speak, but felt his lips twitch as Crowley’s eyes flicked down to his mouth, and he felt the light caress of fingertips on his cheek, drawing him in. Crowley was leaning closer, lips parted, lids falling over slit amber eyes…

“Can I just say—”

“Are you serious?” The demon snapped, letting go of the angel’s chin. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Crowley, I just need to—”

The demon threw his head back with a groan, spindly limbs flying in every direction as he splayed across the bench in a dramatic show of exasperation.

“It’s just that, I—”

“I am trying to have a moment here!”

“I need to tell you—”

“What? What do you need to tell me?” The demon sat up, staring down the angel.

“That I’m sorry, and that I wish I’d done so many things differently.”

“Angel, I just told you, I’m not mad at you.”

“But I can still be sorry. I can still wish I hadn’t hurt you. I do wish it, and…” the angel took a deep breath, grabbing one of Crowley’s hands and holding it in both of his.

“I’m sorry for every time I offered you forgiveness. You never needed it, not from me, or Heaven, or anyone. There was nothing to forgive. There was never anything to forgive. I should have known that, and I regret that I didn’t realize it sooner.”

“They made me a demon, they took your memory. It’s not your fault.”

“Still. I wish I’d been better, for you.” The angel squeezed the demon’s hand.

“I’m just going to have to let you be sorry, aren’t I?” said the demon flippantly. The angel nodded, staring down at their enjoined hands.

“I forgive you.”

The angel looked up; the demon was smirking.

“See how it feels?”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“It isn’t!”

“Come here, angel.”

“No.”

“What? What do I have to say so I can kiss you?”

“It’s not like that, it’s just…” Aziraphale sighed. “I didn’t want to have our first kiss, our first proper kiss, without you knowing that…” Aziraphale searched for words.

“Aziraphale, I know,” said Crowley quietly, lifting his hand to the angel’s cheek. Aziraphale met his eyes in the final dying light of sunset and understood that, yes, he knew. They both knew, and had always known. The Angel of the Eastern Gate wrapped his arms around the Serpent of Eden, drew him in, and once more tasted the sweetness of forbidden fruit on his lips.

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