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thedemonknownasbilly · 4 months

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Awesome!

If you're willing, could I request headcanons for Aziraphale x Crowley x gender neutral reader where reader is chubby and insecure about their appearance?

Oh, Darling - HC for Ineffable Husbands with Chubby!Reader

Absolutely! Sorry for the delay, it was around midnight for me when I replied to the first anon, and I was just knocked out right after!

Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Any and all pet names/compliments are meant as GN!

Mentions ED/Skipping meals (that’s more of a personal touch on my end as someone who is a bit curvier than average)

So let’s cover how they treat you separately, since as much as they try to be, they aren’t always attached at the hip.

Crowley

To be honest it took him a minute to even notice, ethereal (occult) beings don’t typically fuss or pay attention to “human flaws”

You guys would have met at the park bench, he was waiting for Aziraphale, and his was the only bench with a spot open.

“Could I sit here?”

“Hm?” He’d look up from his newspaper and will any blush on his cheeks to discorporate “yeah, yeah, he’s running late so I’m sure I’ll be leaving soon.”

You’d start talking to the ducks, and he was a goner, slowly joining in your conversation and just having a grand time with you.

When Aziraphale finally showed up, Crowley left you his number and told you to text him the next time you wanted to talk about anything.

He gushed about you and your knowledge of ducks to Aziraphale, who teased his husband over this crush.

After a good thousand texts, a few hang outs, and Aziraphale’s okay after a lengthy conversation, Crowley asked you out, and ofc you said yes.

He absolutely adores your curves, never seeing them as a flaw.

Won’t stand for any blasphemy you might have to say against it.

He will happily curl himself around you, slender fingers on your hips as he adorns you in kisses.

He notices some days you’ll shy away from his touch, and he never wants you uncomfortable.

But one day you had shied away all day, (he always kept track) he’d even say you were almost flinching from his touch.

This worried him, every situation he conjured in his head was that he had upset you or maybe that you didn’t even love him anymore.

So it certainly made you have to repress a sad giggle when you saw those sad yellow eyes look up at you as he asked, “is there another?”

“Never in a million years, my darling.” And with that he relaxed and sat beside you, noticing how you pressed yourself to the side of the couch.

“Then what’s with this, why won’t you let me touch you..?” He was always big on boundaries and respect, but usually he was given a sort of heads up, not just thrusted into a new rule.

“It’s silly…”

“If it’s important to you, it’s important to me.”

You’d go on to explain everything, how you’d always been the bigger kid, how the curves and rolls of your body often were topics of things your exes hated about you. The bullying, the lack of food, the unaffordable research on surgery even. “But even then, I’m scared you’ll realize I’m not worth the pain that a human comes with if I’m not attractive enough.”

Crowley listened intently, he always would, but he couldn’t deny that he hated what he was hearing. “Let me touch you, please.”

And when you shyly nodded, his hands were on your thighs as he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours.

“I don’t give two fucks about human beauty. You’re perfect for me.” He’d growl out as he moved to kiss down your jaw and neck, pressing his lips to every stretch of skin he could reach. “Think I give a fuck? Really? Ask Aziraphale how much we go to the Ritz, think to every time I’ve asked you. At first I figured it wasn’t your cup of tea. Not that you were treating yourself so downright wrong.”

You couldn’t help to giggle at that, and he looked up at you. “I would really like to go to lunch with you, and if it helps, we can invite the angel.”

Having Aziraphale there did help, he was enjoying his food without a care in the world for any leering eyes, and you did the same, blushing as your boyfriend adored you and his husband.

He was always there, especially now that he knew, always behind you when you stood too long in the mirror, hands on your hips as he’d whisper praises and compliments into your ear, making you repeat a few on the worst days.

Aziraphale

Once again, Aziraphale would hardly count it as the first thing he noticed. He certainly wasn’t the most slender figure himself even by human standards.

You two would meet at Maggie’s Record Shop. He was there to pick up something new and you were browsing for your favorite CDs to be on record.

He was thrilled to see Maggie have a customer and swore than if he had put a heart into his form that it would be pounding out of his chest.

He’d hurry to the Record Shop every time he saw you in the windows, finally after four run-ins, you introduced yourself to him.

You would be the only person regularly allowed into the bookshop.

Crowley had met you numerous times since, and he even encouraged his angel to ask you out. So Aziraphale finally did.

He soon found his favorite spot was to have his head on your lap, your fingers scratching against his scalp as you two would listen to whatever he’d put on the record.

He noticed one day though when you seemed to be fidgeting before he laid down, and it took him a moment to realize you were trying to make yourself look smaller.

“My darling, what are you doing?” He asked carefully, sitting beside you and placing a hand on your thigh.

Something about such a simple question and gesture made you break down, explaining how you wanted to be perfect, that you wished you looked more like Crowley did so that these treacherous thoughts would leave your mind.

Aziraphale was concerned, feeling a twist in his stomach as he carefully pulled you onto his lap, a position you tried to protest, but when he whispered out a “for me, please,” you couldn’t say no.

“My darling, having one of Crowley is more than enough. I’m quite happy to have you as you are, wouldn’t dream of asking you to change in any way.”

He’d listen to every thought you had, giving you all of his attention as his thumbs trace circles on your thighs and hips, and when you were done, he’d counter every argument with his own, explaining gently that he had truly never paid much attention to your own weight, that it was your soul and personality he adored.

“But you are quite gorgeous, I found myself aching to see you everyday before I got to know you. I’d sit right here at my desk, and wait, hoping you’d come back.” He would cup your face as he said that, “I’m not perfect by human standards either, I chose this form, why on earth would I make you change when certainly I could be in a better body for you as well.”

He always watched out for signs of those thoughts creeping back in, but everyday, he’d end it by kissing you everywhere before bed, murmuring praises and compliments against your skin like a prayer.

Ineffable Husbands

You had ventured into the bookshop on a rainy day, noticing a red and black snake perched on a sweater in the warmest spot he could be in.

“Aren’t you adorable?” You’d coo, looking around for anyone to ask before whispering to the snake, “can I pet you?”

At that the snake opened one yellow eye, looked you up and down and nodded, very human like you thought, but you carefully rested a finger against his head, between his eyes, and stroked down his body, watching as the snake seemed perfectly happy with such actions and melted back into the sweater.

Soon the owner emerged from the back, “oh I do apologize, I was fetching some lanterns incase we lost power.” He said, Aziraphale you’d learn his name was, he certainly had a small look of shock on his face when he saw Crowley allowing you to stroke him.

“So,” Aziraphale talked to the snake when you had left hours later, “I take it someone likes them?”

“Me?” Crowley slithered onto the floor and changed forms, “what about you excitedly prattling on and showing them every book of every topic they mentioned. You even let them take one home.”

“They’re bringing it back!” Aziraphale chuckled in an effort of protest.

“Oh, sweet love of mine, I think we both fancy them.” // “Indeed it seems we both do, I hope they spend more time with us soon.”

Months later, you had learned that Crowley was the snake from that day, not being horrified but instead it made you reach up without thinking and gently stroke his hair, if demons could actually melt he was certain he’d be a puddle on the floor of the bookshop, Aziraphale had gone to fetch you a new book, and Crowley trapped you onto the couch, seemingly having no joints as he curled himself around you as best he could; his head on your shoulder.

“Crowley, dear, can’t hog them to yourself now.” And Aziraphale sat beside you, hand on your waist (under Crowley) and a head on your shoulder. “I think it’s fair that we say, well, we like you. The both of us.”

You giggled at the obvious statement and turned to kiss him as his answer, hearing Crowley whine and giving him a kiss right after.

Within the next two months, you had also moved into the flat above the bookshop, which made it easier for your two loves to see just how much you seemed uncomfortable with yourself.

“When’s the last time they ate?” Crowley murmured one day, swearing that he hadn’t seen you eat all day, or the day before.

“A while, I’m worried.” With that, they both searched for you, not expecting to find you curled up under the blankets with tear stains on your cheeks.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” The with sit on the edge of the bed, Aziraphale’s hand stroking your hair and Crowley’s rubbing your back.

“Got in my head…” you’d murmur, striking concern within them as they soon encouraged you to lay in the middle of the bed, Aziraphale to your front and Crowley to your back.

Crowley’s hand never leaving your hips as he pressed kisses to you, “don’t hide from me,” he’d say when he felt you trying to will your body further into the bed. And when Aziraphale finally asked what was wrong, you told them everything from childhood, to today, “I just want to be attractive enough for an angel and a demon, like those other ones are.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale said rather seriously, “you are more than attractive enough, haven’t we shown that?” Crowley still pressing kisses made your mind seem fuzzy with bliss as Aziraphale kissed your lips, seemingly trying to pour every ounce of his adoration into it.

They would spent hours telling you about every part of you they loved, leaving no room for any insecurities, mentally or physically.

“I quite like you at this size, more for me to hold, just like with ‘Ziraphale.”

“And besides, while you may be human, we aren’t, I assure you, Crowley could pick us both up and not break a sweat.”

They’d take turns whenever an insecurity seemed to pop back up on bad days, whichever notice would help you for hours, making sure you never felt less than with them.

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aziraphales-library · 8 months

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Do you have any ineffable husbands human aus where they're angsty with a happy ending?

Here are some angst with a happy ending human aus...

Upon This Rock by Eowyn1846 (M)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet as teenagers participating in a youth curling league. Years after losing touch when Crowley's family moves away, the two former friends are reunited at a major tournament...as competitors on two very cut-throat teams, whose captains seem willing to win at any cost, even to the detriment of the sport.

What the World Gives by Adzeisval (T)

Being a teenager is hard Aziraphale Fell feels out of place among his peers and has difficulties making friends. He is terrified that if his parents realize he is gay they will kick him out. Anthony Crowley is a new student hoping to fit in and hoping his medical issues don't make themselves known. Sometimes the world can be harsh, but sometimes one lucks out and has someone by their side.

Our Lost Time by Izabella95 & UnproblematicMe (E)

Aziraphale Crowley awakes in the hospital after an almost fatal accident. But he is lucky and gets away alive and without permanent injuries. The close call sets things into perspective and he wants to fix his strained marriage. His husband, Anthony Crowley - who simply goes by "Crowley" - takes good care of Aziraphale after the accident, but there seems to be an invisible barrier between the spouses. Can Aziraphale save his relationship? What secrets does Crowley keep?

Heaven (Is a Place on Earth) by soft_october (M)

“I’m just sneaking a break from the festivities, as it were.” Crowley twists his hand in a gesture meant to sum up the circumstances which led him here. “I haven’t taken up residency in the back of a bookshop in the middle of paradise.” “Ah, well, we clearly disagree over what, precisely, paradise might mean.” Aziraphale's eyes are sharp, and through that initial mask of annoyance, a small smile is curling. Crowley came to Lower Tadfield, the UKs version of San Junipero, to have a good time, try out the software, step out of his old and failing body into the magic of a virtual world with no consequences. At least that's what he had planned, until one night he stumbles into a bookshop and meets a buttoned up, blue eyed wonder with pale curls and a perfect smile.

A streetcar named desire by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

Crowley is trying his absolute best - even if that ain't all that grand - to please Morgan & Partners in his role as Chief Architect on their new development. Too bad that this development in particular is on the very same site that the City Council wants to build a light rail network on and, even though Crowley hates everyone involved, can he hate the angelic person who is in charge of the whole project?

The Ghost of Husbands Past by A_N_D (E)

Az always knew that he’d be thrown out the moment his father found out he was gay. He hadn’t expected to be declared dead though - or for his husband to believe it! But their marriage had been a foolish teenage impulse (not to mention invalid in America), so when Az moved to a small town far upstate New York to start his new life, he moved alone. The kindest thing he could do was let Crowley mourn and move on, not be shackled for life to a now disabled partner. Tony Crowley never recovered from losing his best friend, his childhood sweetheart, his better half. He’d been drifting ever since; no plans, no hope, no money - and now, just before Thanksgiving, no job either. Given the stark choice of freezing to death or accepting his sister’s invitation to join her upstate, Tony reluctantly lives out the Hallmark cliche of Recently Unemployed Person Moves to Small Town for Christmas. It’s a time of hope, love, and family. It’s time for Az and Tony to find each other again.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #angst #happy ending #angst with a happy ending #mod d

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llflorence · 30 days

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Milk of Human Kindness

E - Ineffable Husbands Omegaverse, Lactation Kink, complete ✅

"Aw. She's kneading you."

Aziraphale stroked the soft beastie's head and watched with amused interest as she worked her claws into the healthy round of his belly. Eyes closed, whiskers standing at attention. Her purring was incessant.

"She knows you're expecting," Muriel continued, looking down adoringly at the cat they'd left with Aziraphale for caretaking. Not in the sense that they'd gone anywhere, no. It was the cat who was Aziraphale-sitting.

He knew nothing about the habits of felines, but he had quite enjoyed her brief stay in the bookshop. It had meant he spent more time in his chair with the tabby in his lap, much to Crowley's appreciation. Aziraphale suspected an alliance.

"Every bookshop needs a cat." Muriel had turned back to the cardboard boxes, flattening and stacking them in a pile. They'd been a wonderful help over the past few weeks. Who knew preparing for a baby was that much work.

"Every bookshop needs a demon," Eric corrected, entering the study from the kitchen to gather another load for the trash. "You lot can't do anything without us."

Muriel rolled their eyes as they straightened, greeting their partner with a gentle slap to the arm. Aziraphale's chest swelled as the room filled with content omega at seeing his friends getting along so well. Muriel was a peach, and they deserved the very best things. Eric wasn't bad at all.

(He really wasn't.)

"This the last?" Eric asked as he hefted the stack into strong arms.

Muriel was looking very proud at their hard work. "That's it."

"Great. We should be going. Gotta get to that thing?" The Demon caught the Angel's eye and winked. Aziraphale pretended he saw nothing.

"Oh! Yes! Right!" Muriel turned and approached the chair, flustered, reaching down to extract the cat and her claws from Aziraphale's lap. "Don't worry," she cooed to the animal. "Uncle Muriel and Auntie Eric will bring you back next week. We have to finish the blinds after Mr. Crowley puts together the crib."

The cat mrowed in protest as she was cuddled in Muriel's capable arms. Aziraphale brushed the hair from his oversized shirt and pushed himself to stand.

"Oh, my," he groaned, feeling it in the small of his back. Eight-and-a-half months had come and gone and he'd finally found his purpose. That didn't stop his human body from very annoying aches and pains.

His helpful guests left with kisses to the cheeks, and Aziraphale found himself alone.

It wasn't the being alone part that tended to bother him; it was the being alone and unbonded. Even with Crowley's persistent and frankly overprotective attention, his insatiable need, and incredibly large –

Well. Aziraphale shouldn't be lacking in anything. But he was.

He wound his way up the stairs, being careful to use the railing for support. Watching out for another being was a big responsibility. But they were almost there. Not far to go.

Not far to go at all.

Aziraphale fancied a bath; it always cheered him up. There was something about being warm and clean, properly moisturized and dressed in neutrally scented clothing, that eased his mind. It brought him back to that day Crowley had taken him in, treated him with respect and kindness. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he'd refused Muriel's help.

Of what wouldn't have happened.

Aziraphale finished his soak and wrapped the fluffy pink towel around his belly. It was ridiculously large, hard and unyielding to the touch. Bigger than he'd ever been, in fact, with all the delicious things Crowley brought him. He was such a sweet, sweet alpha.

He wouldn't hear of it, of course.

The small being taking residence in his womb kicked him in the ribs, and Aziraphale gasped for breath. Little Bleeder was feisty. Taking right after their father. Both of them.

He dried himself carefully and dug into the dresser for something soft and comfortable, but also up to the job of keeping his milk under control. It was beginning to get, quite literally, out of hand, the amount he'd produced as of yet. To make matters worse, Crowley refused to suckle, arguing that it wasn't right this close to the end. "The baby needs it," he'd said.

The problem was, so did Crowley, and so did Aziraphale. Now that his heats had subsided, so had their mating habits. That didn't mean, of course, they were any less sexually active. It just wasn't — well, it wasn't like before.

The poor Demon still had his ruts, after all, still had those carnal lusty desires. They seemed to be increasing in intensity lately, though Crowley tried to hide them. Aziraphale wasn't stupid. He'd been in tune with his partner from the very beginning. His smokey, delectable scent laid heavy on Aziraphale's tongue. Even with child, he would do anything to taste him.

Perhaps that was why Aziraphale had recently invested in new undergarments. Lacier, thinner, racier. He knew he wasn't exactly the most desirable thing, what with the watermelon he carried so low in his gut. One had to adjust for such obstacles.

Aziraphale pushed the sensible things aside and opted for something new. This particular item was so sheer it was barely even there. It dipped so low that it provided zero support for the fullness of his late-pregnancy breasts. In fact, if he leaned too far forward, one or both would bulge over the top, spill into the confines of his shirt. Nipples would be forced over elastic, breaking the fragile seal, and he would leak like a sieve.

This drove Crowley insane, of course. Especially if they were out and about. He'd crowd Aziraphale to cover him, thrust a groping hand inside to reposition him. Then, come out practically growling with need.

"Angel," he'd say, looking frantically around to see if they'd been spotted. He'd press a chaste kiss to Aziraphale's mating gland, just below his ear. "Mine," he'd rumble into the tender, throbbing skin.

And then they'd leave in a hurry for Bentley.

Sometimes, they made it home. Sometimes not.

Home. What a concept. How could it be anything but? With Crowley sharing a dresser, bathroom counter space, their bed. Demon-perfumed and alpha heavy fluids, spread all over their —

Aziraphale sighed as he stepped with incoordination into a strappy pair of knickers. Sex had become more and more difficult inside the car. Even with Crowley's seat extensions, he usually ended up with a leg cramp.

Which, naturally, his partner would insist on rubbing out. And that led to different kinds of rubbing.

Aziraphale glanced at the clock; gosh, it was still hours until Crowley's clinic closed. He didn't know if he could sit in the soft blue goodness until then, horny thing that he was.

He gave another sigh and finished dressing, then descended the stairs for another glass of milk. Crowley was insistent that too much tea wasn't healthy, that he needed his calcium, biotin, and protein.

The Angel was just stepping into the kitchen when the front door slammed open. Startled, he spun, ready to admonish a rude guest.

But it wasn't a guest. It was, alarmingly, Crowley. Crowley, in his long black coat to keep out the spring chill. Crowley holding the coat wrapped tightly around himself, fists a shocking white contrast. Crowley, hair disheveled much more so than usual. Crowley, face scrunched into a horrible expression.

Like he was in pain.

"Darling!" Aziraphle cried, heart clenching, chest tight as Crowley kicked the door closed. The action pushed a shock wave of air toward him, ripe with frazzled, emotional alpha. Aziraphale went to him right away.

"Don't," Crowley warned, uncharacteristically tense. "It's not safe. I'm not —"

"Nonsense," Aziraphale said as he tugged away at the sleeve of Crowley's coat. "You're hurting. Let me help."

Crowley clung stubbornly to the coat, refusing to let it go, and Aziraphale's omega radar went off. Something sharp emanated from the Demon, dangerous and angry. His shoulders shook with it, bristled jaw clenched tight. He didn't want any help; that much was clear.

"Crowley? What's happened? Is it Downstairs?"

His alpha shook his head, frustrated. "No. No. I just need to —"

And he pushed past Aziraphale, shouldering him gently out of the way. He hurried across the floor and up the staircase, disappearing down the hall towards their room.

It took a flabbergasted Aziraphale several seconds to respond. He uprooted himself and followed.

Upstairs, he was met by a horrifying sight. His Demon had torn the clothes from his body, shredded them into unrecognizable bits. His back was drenched in sweat, bare thighs quivering as he crouched, hunched on their bed. The muscles in his firm ass flexed and relaxed, flexed and relaxed, fucking into Aziraphale's bunched-up body pillow.

Between his teeth, drooling, moaning, gasping, he held the latest ruined pink halter from the previous night. Aziraphale hadn't been able to find it when he'd tidied that morning. He never considered that Crowley, riddled with hormones, grown tired of holding back, would devour Aziraphale's soiled clothing with such ferocity.

"Oh, my dear," Aziraphale groaned, insides gone weak with guilt. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

He put a hand on Crowley's ankle, the skin hot and damp, and was met with a growl. Through gnashed teeth, over the soaked remnants of lace, "Please. Please!"

Aziraphale wasn't certain if it was a plea for more or less. He settled for a hand in his flaming locks instead.

"Argh," Crowley cried, voice fraught with frustration. He rolled slightly, giving Aziraphale the first glimpse of his genitals.

Scarlet red testicles, swollen, leaking limp cock; it caused Aziraphale to cringe. His own cunt clenched in sympathy at the sight. Crowley had been denying himself for so long, holding back his knot, he couldn't —

"I can't come!" he howled, graceful head thrown back in disgust. "I've been trying for days, your infernal scent in my nostrils. Under my skin and inside my mouth! I can't get enough!"

This wasn't his scheduled rut, where Aziraphale presented a well-lubed fleshlight for him to use as they clung to each other, never close enough. This was something worse, something much, much worse.

Aziraphale steeled himself, sitting on the bed and pulling the scent-laden lingerie away. Crowley whimpered and curled in on himself, ashamed, wrecked, wretched.

"There's no reason we can't mate, Darling. As long as we're careful."

But Crowley wasn't to be consoled. His eyes flashed open and he growled through his teeth. "But I can't control it, don't you see? I need to fuck, I need to dominate, I need to knot! I need to bite!"

Aziraphale went quite weak in the knees. "Oh, I see —"

Without warning, Crowley attacked the pillow, shoving it into his mouth. His large canines ripped great gaping gouges in the fabric as he tore his head back. At the same time, he thrust his pelvis forward, slamming the bed against the wall. And panting. Gasping. Feral.

Aziraphale felt light-headed.

"Crowley, Love —"

The yellows of his eyes had almost completely disappeared. All that was left was the pulsing black centers.

"Angel, I don't want to hurt you. Don't want to ruin your gorgeous face. Don't want to harm the baby, whether human or hybrid or neither. Couldn't live with myself if I did."

The air left Aziraphale's lungs with a sudden sucking exhale. He'd had a lightning strike of an idea.

Aziraphale stood much more quickly than he should have. He planted his feet, throwing back his shoulders and puffing out his chest (as far as it could safely go without tipping him over backward). Then he gathered his wits about him, collected all his energy in his core, and miracled away his outer clothing.

"You won't hurt me," Aziraphale declared, self-assured in his skimpy lingerie, chin held high. "And you won't harm our child."

He ignored the wild astonishment on Crowley's face, the protective way he sat up, turgid erection a painful hardness against that taut stomach. He ignored the confused display of emotions on his alpha's face, and summoned the evil inside instead.

"You, Demon, who thinks you can possibly injure the Principality Aziraphale."

Crowley's eyes had resumed some of their yellow. His mouth fell open, spittle dripping on his chin. Aziraphale took encouragement from that. He called forth the powers invested in every ethereal being, even those there on Earth, and extracted his wings from their hiding place.

The sound was incredible, the way nothing became something, the molecular physics involved in making that happen. A shock wave stirred the curtains, tipped the art on the walls sideways. knocked the lamp to the ground. Crowley startled as his hair whipped away from his face, unable to decide whether he should fight or not. Until Aziraphale channeled his true form's voice, and laid out his challenge.

"Go on, Demon," he sneered, cheeks hot and chest aflame. Electricity coursed through his veins, vibrated every nerve, activated every scent gland. He caught hold of the blankets on the bed and gave a mighty yank. Everything, pillows, sheets, discarded clothing, sailed off the bed to land in a heap on the floor.

The Demon was rolled against the wall. He scrambled to face Aziraphale again.

"You think you can destroy me? Go on. I dare you!"

Crowley didn't even blink. He charged, tackling Aziraphale and spinning him face down into the mess of the unmade bed. He pushed the Angel's cheek into a pillow, forced it to remain there with clawed fingers against the back of his neck. The other hand jerked Aziraphale's arm, pulling it back and pinning him in place. A knee spread his thighs apart. Elastic ripped, lace tore. That thick cock forced itself against the dryness of his hole. And for a moment, one flash of a terrifying moment, Aziraphale thought he would be taken without preparation, without slick and massage, without care for his body's resistance.

Aziraphale tucked his wings around his body, wrapping them underneath to protect his belly. Strong, resilient, unyielding and soft, they would protect the child from anything the Demon could possibly give him.

Crowley was breathing hard now as if he were giving chase. He came down heavy on Aziraphale's back, covering in preparation to mount him. Aziraphale closed his eyes, nose smashed sideways in the pillow, and presented, hoping to give the least amount of resistance. And then –

And then –

The whine that broke from Crowley's throat was heartbreaking. He released his death grip, his pinning move slackened. He slid down the length of Aziraphale's back, dragging the scruff of his chin along the way.

He paused to kiss the dimples near Aziraphale's spine, to inhale deeply, to beg for forgiveness. But before he could be consoled, before the Angel could shift sideways to address him properly, Crowley nosed against his anus.

That talented tongue slid over the tightness, salivating heavily. He lathed over the hole, down across Aziraphale's seam, chin dipping between his vaginal lips to slurp at the pink skin there.

A moan, gentle fingers spreading him open, then a deeper tongue, with more desperate attempts at making him slick.

Everything was much too dry; Aziraphale was disappointed in himself.

Crowley sat back on haunches and pried him open, penetrating with long, careful fingers. Prodding the lubrication sacs, massaging them from the inside. He held Aziraphale's arse with a free hand, caressing it lovingly. Oh, how the Angel wanted to please his alpha.

Nothing happened; no release of chemicals, no surge of hormones, no slick sliding to coat slippery labia. Crowley whimpered and pulled his fingers away, prodding at Azriaphale's asshole instead.

"I suppose we could use lube, and –"

But Aziraphale wouldn't have it. He leaned heavily into Crowley, another storm approaching swiftly.

"Alpha," Aziraphale cried, sounding pathetically weak. "Bite me. Please, bite me."

Crowley's grip on his hip bones tightened. "I – I can't. Upstairs will find out —" But his protest was lost in their slow fall as the Demon pulled the Angel back, turning Aziraphale onto his side.

The alpha eased his omega's legs apart as far as they would go, ignored the lack of response from Aziraphale's genitals, and kissed the deep crease of his thigh. Slowly, carefully, Crowley nosed into the matted hair there, sucking in deep lungfuls of scent from his inner thighs. He circled the gland at the right one with his tongue, saliva dripping in copious amounts. Aziraphale imagined those canines lengthening, growing sharp. His stomach tightened and his biceps flexed, fingers flying to the Demon's wet hair. Waiting. Anticipating.

It was a sharp slicing motion, like running one's finger along a sheet of metal, all of one second before the hormones released and endorphins surged, radiating in an upward pattern with amazing speed. Aziraphale's sight blurred, his ears filling with the sound of his own blood. Saliva began to pool in the pockets of his mouth as he gasped his mate's name.

"Crowley!"

And then, there it was, the easy gush of fluids, the clench in his belly, the stench of him, lusty and unsatisfied and needy. His alpha shifted behind him, tapping gently on the wing joints, saying, "Put those away for us, Love."

Aziraphale would do anything.

Crowley's cock slid home as Aziraphale's bare back nestled into the warmth of the Demon's sweaty chest. A hand slipped over his belly, tucking under the smooth underparts. A nuzzle in his neck, a vibration against his shoulder blades. Alpha was speaking.

"I did that," Crowley purred, thick and low and sweet. "I filled you with my seed, knocked you up, made you mine."

His possessiveness was off the charts. So was the filth.

Aziraphale turned his head to feel those sensual lips against his cheek. "Yours," he repeated, riding so high he was in danger of falling.

Crowley held him closer, snugging their pelvises together, tilting Aziraphale forward and fucking as deep as he could go.

"I've half a mind to do it again, you know. Once the demon spawn is born. Put another one in you, keep you heavy and pregnant and lactating, all for my pleasure. For my pleasure –"

He trailed off, burying his face into Aziraphale's neck and pushing inside harder.

"Angel spawn," he corrected, the top of his head clunking against the wall. Crowley heard it and moved his hand to Aziraphale's shoulder, pushing down as he thrust upward. Spooning in the loosest sense of the word. Taking his omega from behind.

"Do it again," Aziraphale begged after a particularly powerful thrust. Crowley growled and granted his wish. Then again. And again.

The Demon was painstakingly aware of just how hard he could thrust, how far they could go, absolutely controlled. There was still that underlying desperate recklessness, but Crowley was wielding it as his own weapon.

They didn't last long; they never did. Crowley bore down with the strength and speed of a man possessed. He shouted as he came, entire body tensing with rigidity, until his knot took hold, and he softened his grip. Settling back against the bed with Aziraphale in his lap.

The Angel gave him time to catch his breath, wincing as the exploded knot pressed hard against his bladder. There was little room to begin with, what with baby dropped so low. But Aziraphale would endure anything, the most painful kind of torture, to please his mate. His bonded mate.

Crowley caught on to Aziraphale's discomfort, pushing up on his elbow and shifting his pelvis to the side. The Angel followed to a less stressful angle, finally able to look into those amber eyes. He was startled by what he saw.

Fondness. Peace. Love. All at once. And yet underneath, still a trail of lust, of desire, unsatisfied.

Quite suddenly, Aziraphale knew why. He knew why and he knew what was required. He slipped the lace away from one teat and began to tease the glands there.

"What are you doing?" Crowley asked, sounding horrified. He really did think the Angel had no milk to spare.

"Shh," Aziraphale shushed him. Beads of milk collected on the nipple's tip. Crowley watched wide-eyed.

"I know what you need," the Angel cooed, pulling the Demon's head to his breast. "Come. Feed. Take all you need."

With relief, Crowley dove in, mouth wide around his teat. Sucking hard, sucking long and deeply until the milk began to drop and fill his hungry mouth.

And then, the Demon purred.

Alpha knot tight in his cunt, warm Demon hand over his navel, Aziraphale closed his eyes to relax. He didn't need orgasmic release. He needed this; happy, content, proud Crowley.

Quite suddenly, the sharp knife of his alpha's extended canines pierced the soft flesh of his breast. Crowley hadn't even noticed he'd done it, so Aziraphale ignored it. The nourishment flowing from his glands would heal the incision, fight germs and seal it up tight. There was no need to alarm his partner. It would only complicate things.

Crowley emptied him, nuzzling and fussing when he couldn't get any more. The angle was too sharp for him to be able to suckle from the other, so Aziraphale began to hand express.

The liquid dripped slowly at first, then more quickly, then sprayed a fine stream, quite off target. It poked Crowley in the eye, in the ear, then finally, in his open mouth. Milk drizzled down his chin as he swallowed, falling onto Aziraphale's chest, mingling with the blood from the bite.

Too late, the Angel watched as Crowley slammed into the realization that he was the one who caused that. Aziraphale dropped his breast and pressed his whole hand into that gorgeous mouth.

"Stop. No talking."

The Demon whimpered, eyebrows damn near touching. The Angel released his mouth and thumbed a drop of milk off Crowley's chin. He rubbed it gently into the wound until the bleeding stopped, until his alpha's brow softened, and he finally relaxed.

Then, without deciding to, without any preparation at all, Aziraphale collected Crowley's chin in his fist. He turned that thin face to the side, kissed the gland on his jaw, just under his sideburn. And when he grazed his own incisors against the skin, broke through and tasted blood, Crowley grunted in surprise.

"Angel –" he began, but ceased as Aziraphale stroked the back of his neck. Omegas were absolutely in their right to bite their alphas in return. He'd read quite a lot about it, actually. It strengthened the bond if reciprocated, especially for expecting pairs. It was healthy, released hormones and happy chemicals, easing the birthing –

The tensing roll across Aziraphale's belly was insane. Very unlike the ones he'd experienced over the past few weeks. He knew his body needed to prepare for delivery. But this was ridiculous.

It happened again.

"Oh!"

"What," Crowley pulled back, alarmed. "What is it?"

The sensation hadn't subsided yet; it held Aziraphale in its grasp. His body had revolted against him, seized hold of his individual will. It was almost as if he was –

And then, regretfully, gut-clenchingly, Crowley's knot deflated. Not a second later, the warm gush of too much fluid escaped between Aziraphale's thighs.

Something new came between them, a smell full of richly pungent body chemicals. Aziraphale noticed. Crowley noticed, too. They held very, very still.

"What was that?"

Aziraphale knew.

Fuck!

"I'm – I'm in labor, dear. My water just broke."

"Your wot?!"

Crowley jerked, braced to move quickly, to take action. But Aziraphale clutched his forearm to keep him there a second longer.

"It's OK. We have time. Your clinic is just a few blocks away."

Crowley was beginning to panic. "But I haven't anything prepared. The lab isn't sterilized, and there aren't enough towels –"

Aziraphale snapped his fingers as another contraction rolled over him. He clenched his teeth and smiled, hoping Crowley hadn't noticed.

"All done."

Crowley's eyes flitted between the Angel's, unsure what to do. Through the tightness of his frozen muscles, Aziraphale recognized how adorable.

The anxiety on his face increased, however, and he turned his torso frantically toward the clock.

"Holy shit. That second contraction was much too close to the first!"

Aziraphale's heart sank. "You felt that?"

Crowley's concerned expression intensified. "How could I not? You're hard as a rock, Angel."

He was. Wasn't that wonderful?

Enjoy on AO3

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #omegaverse #mpreg #LLflorence

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bird-slayer-brainrot · 2 months

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Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 4. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

When Anathema had accepted Newt’s invitation to a walk that afternoon, she hadn’t expected him to propose.

He was acting unusually coy about the day. Newt had been a surprising but welcome addition to the study group Anathema had informally joined in her first week at Oxford. At first, they had barely spoken to each other, not by Anathema’s own inhibition. Newt had been shy, and slow to open up to the others. But he was quite nice, and clever, and Anathema had found she quite liked speaking to him, even more so than the others.

The others seemed to pick up on the gradual shift in Newt’s demeanour, and had started to tease Anathema about her involvement in it. Agatha, particularly, had a habit of trying to fluster Newt with this when they walked between lectures.

But it was all harmless nonsense. Anathema had extended an invitation to Newt to a party two months after they had met that they were all attending. Anathema and Newt had both been dateless, and thus made a natural pair. Newt had accepted begrudgingly, insisting he hated dances, but Anathema, desperate to not be forced to suffer the occasion alone, had bribed him with the study notes she had on a class he knew he was having trouble in. They had danced leaving the party to get air, and Newt had thrown up on her shoes.

So they had become friends. Anathema considered him a close friend, and he did her. Now, Newt was on his knee and Anathema was staring at him. He was watching Anathema, but not impatiently. Anathema blinked down at Newt. They were still looking at each other.

Ana,

Thank you for your letter. It truly meant a lot to me to hear from you.

I am writing this in a rush as I am packed to leave for Brighton for the next two weeks. I do not expect a response, and will understand if you do not wish to speak to me.

I care for you a lot, Anathema. I hope that you are well.

Yours,

Newton Pulsifer

Breaking the news to Crowley would be the hard part, so Anathema hadn’t told him. She had wanted to, he was the closest thing she had to a father.

Newt had written, and Anathema had sent a short response in return.

“Crowley said he’d be here?” Anathema looked behind Aziraphale but the bookshop appeared empty.

“He did?” Aziraphale said in a tone that implied he hadn’t known about this plan.

It was a lucky break though. If Anathema could talk to Aziraphale first and get his advice, she’d work up the courage to talk to Crowley. Aziraphale shook his head, and held the door open for her.

“I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there. Why did I just stand there?”

Aziraphale poured another cup of coffee for Anathema. He had been in the middle of rereading Persuasion because of something Crowley had said offhandedly about Jane Austen, but seeing Anathema was always a treat.

“My dear, don’t be so harsh on yourself.” Aziraphale shook his head. She had seemed to calm down once she had had some tea and some sandwiches. She had then told Aziraphale what had happened.

“But it’s Newt. He was just there and I panicked.”

Aziraphale hummed wistfully, and took another sip of his now tepid earl grey. Aziraphale had tried to give all his attention to the bereaved Anathema, but his thoughts had wondered to the circumstances of her arrival. Crowley had told her he would be with Aziraphale that afternoon but he had not. It hung heavy like a stone in his stomach.

“Newt will understand. I’m sure he will.”

“Even so.” Anathema sighed. “To stand there..”

They were interrupted by a knocking at the door to the bookshop. Aziraphale glanced over to Anathema, who seemed to crumble in to herself on the old vintage armchair. The noise of the door opening and the Soho traffic signalled Crowley’s arrival.

Newt,

I am sorry. Give me a chance and I will explain everything. I promise.

Ana

Short chapter this week but let me cook I'm doing it

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prettyboypistol · 6 months

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Idle Conversations || Good Omens Ineffable Husbands

[Pre-Canon/Ambiguous in Timeline] [Angst] [Hurt No Comfort] [EXTREME Misunderstandings] [i'm so sorry]

In the little bookshop nestled on the corner two supernatural beings usually congregated. Fora various reasons- ranging from “how do I stop heaven from finding out I tempted that priest for you” to “I made a wonderful pound cake and insist you try it!”

Tonight however, was a strange third option. Tonight, an angel and a demon were lucidly drunk in the back room, speaking about any and everything that escaped their lips. Now Crowley, the dark man who adapted to any environment he needed to, playfully argued to Aziraphale, the cozy little angel that likes things to be rather comfortable. It infuriated Crowley to no end that Aziraphale was simply satisfied with a comfortable silence, while Crowley felt a vehement need for intake and indulgence. And to think that the discussion started over a movie that Aziraphale found interesting while Crowley found it pompous.

“Really, it’s not a problem with pretentious movies- if the guy behind its got a good record of making good high art movies, it’s the people I can’t stand who say they understand abstract art when the abstract is the art!” Crowley explained emphatically as he lazily took another sip of wine. Aziraphale nodded, his brow curled in minute frustration at how Crowly spectacularly missed his point completely.

“Well, not focusing on the audience, the movie is a wonderful example of artistic nihilism and a meaningful existentialism in a sense- now I know that’s rather oxymoronic to say, but I feel that the art of the so-called nonsensical is the sense of it all. After all, the meaning of the phrase “You can’t wake up if you don’t fall asleep.” is paradoxically beautiful and abstractly striking in a more than can be put into words.” Aziraphale rambled on, but Crowley had put a finger up to silence him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Well, that’s why I decided I can’t watch movies that you’ve already seen with you anymore.” He nodded, finally speaking. Aziraphale had long taken the alcohol out of his body to better explain his love for the film, but the way Crowlay had said that struck the angel in a way he did not perhaps like. “It’s like I’m watching your reaction and attachments you’ve already formed to the characters and the movie rather than the movie itself- kinda ruins the whole “new” experience. Like with Pride n’ Prejudice. I listened to you waffle on about how much you loved Darcy’s character more than I watched the film!”

Now, surely Crowley had not meant it to come off so harsh sounding, and Aziraphale knew that intrinsically. Whenever Crowley had said something upsetting, it was usually out of ignorance rather than actual malice. This however, stung like nothing else before had.

“I show you the films I like to let you see..” Aziraphale had trailed off, his voice shutting quietly against his will. “I show you the films I like and the books I like to let you peek into what made me the angel I am today. It’s nice to have a comfortable monotony once in a while.”

Crowley shrugged. “That makes sense and all, but angel, where’s the excitement for the new? The reaching out for a never before felt experience? If you’re always stuck in the comfortable- what if something passes you by?” That was a rather silly question, Aziraphale thought. He had never let an opportunity pass simply because he was comfortable.

“It’s a sense of stability, for me personally.” Aziraphale retorted kindly. The ever so tightly lipped smile across his face hid back all the questions that raced in his mind. Was he really that boring to Crowley? Had he not cared for all the times Aziraphale had tried to open up to him through his beloved literary artworks? He had thought Crowley liked sitting with him and indulging in stories that were near and dear to him. “Heaven is very hectic, despite what it looks like.”

“Quite the opposite for us, really.” Crowley muttered disdainfully. “Every day down there is the same old same old.”

“Perhaps that’s why you prefer a faster paced lifestyle. It fulfills a different need for you, just as the comfortable stagnation fulfills a need for my life.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point of it all? The world’s still going to spin if you’re sitting in ye olde bookshop that never changes.” Crowley asked genuinely, another bottle empty and set by the chair. “I couldn’t manage myself if I just stuck to the same thing for centuries.”

“I suppose that’s the point, really. I like staying still and admiring the complex beauties of select things, while you are far better suited to a short-form consuming style of appreciation.”

Crowley made a noise of agreement. He had always liked to look up with the times. Humans always were so fast paced, after all. It’d be a shame to blink and miss something clever they did. That was something Crowley could never really understand about Aziraphale- why did he find it so fascinating to just sit idly by and perfect the tiny details of everything? As much as Crowley(to everyone else who saw him and Aziraphale together) was so brazenly smitten, his curiosity about Aziraphale’s tendencies always kept him around, even if it was just lingering for a few moments in-between thrills of adventure.

A tightness in Aziraphale’s chest and a puzzled furrow to his brow clued Crowley that something was up.

“Well, as much as I would love to continue this conversation, I really think we should be off. I have a new shipment of books I need to unpack. I was going to get to them before you had dropped by.”

Now Crowley knew something was definitely up. He did not want to press the angel about it in the state he was in currently, so a quick sobering up brought him to realize that something in the conversation had went grievously wrong. It was best not to try his luck in these types of situations he had learnt. With a quick goodbye and a lingering stare that perhaps looked a second too long, Crowley had excused himself back to his apartment. There Aziraphale sat, Crowley’s words echoing in his mind.

Was he boring to Crowley? Was he dull and long winded? Well, compared to Crowley, Aziraphale was certainly more hesitant to change. His life had always been far too hectic, what was wrong with wanting a little stability?

Aziraphale hesitated as he reached for a book.

Was he really limiting his horizons by staying stagnant?

Aziraphale’s hands placed themselves gently on his lap as he let out a long yet soft sigh. Should he bake? No, that was one of his many limited hobbies. He did not want to go out and try new things simply because Crowley implied that his palette was lacking. He would not succumb to a demon’s taunt- no matter how accidental it was.

But that was the worst part though, wasn’t it? That it had been so casually said. As if it was a common fact about Aziraphale that he liked to stop and observe a world that still spun despite him. “You go too fast for me, Crowley.”

#fanfiction #good omens #aziraphale x crowley #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #crowley x arizaphale #ao3 #azicrow #anthony j crowley #good omens 2 #ineffable divorce #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #im so sorry but also lmao get fucked

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rhosmeinir · 7 months

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Fictober 2023 #10

Prompt #10 - "It's alright, I'm here now."

Fanfiction: Good Omens

Rating: G

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ineffable Husbands/Aziracrow

Other Notes: In which Crowley is cold. 728 words!

It was winter in London, and that meant freezing sleet, howling winds, and inadequate radiators in any building not constructed in the current millennium (and a fair few of those, too). For Aziraphale, it also meant the delight of bundling up in various jumpers, scarves, hats, mittens, and heavy coats when he needed to venture outdoors, and curling up next to the fire in the rooms above the bookshop at night in a deep cozy chair, with a book and a cup of chocolate or spiced hot cider. It meant merriment and joy, and a heightening of all the sensations that made corporeal life so fascinating. Aziraphale, nose and cheeks pink with cold, whistled to himself as he strolled the final few blocks back to Whickber street, and the silver sleigh-bells he had installed in place of the usual brass instrument sang cheerfully as he entered the bookshop.

“Crowley!” he called, wanting to show his demon what he had procured: Aziraphale’s favorite chocolatier had been having a special, so of course he’d gone to take advantage, and found that the gentleman was also doing a package that included whisky pairings. Ah yes I know just who will enjoy that, he had remarked, then blushed when the chocolatier winked. But there was no response, and the angel tilted his head slightly, listening. There was not a sound to be heard in the slight chill of the bookshop, but he could feel that Crowley was there. Shedding his outdoor layers onto the coatrack by his desk, Aziraphale made his way upstairs.

As he approached the bedroom, he could see a light under the door, and feel a change in temperature. His lips pursed in slight concern. Crowley always did feel the cold so deeply, what with the leanness of his corporation, and his serpent-like tendencies. He must be bundled up next to the fire, Aziraphale assumed. There were times when the demon simply could not get warm, in fact sometimes it was so severe that he would—

Aziraphale opened the door, and at once cried,

“Oh, Crowley!”

Beneath the duvet, quilt, and sheets, and indeed beneath two throw blankets which had been thrown haphazardly on top of the bed, lay a large, shivering lump. At once Aziraphale deposited his parcels on top of the chest of drawers, and made haste to remove his outer layers. Divested of jumper, shirt, socks, shoes, and trousers, the angel crossed to the bed and threw back the covers. Beneath them, coiled up tightly on himself so that his scarlet underbelly was scarcely visible, was the large black snake that was Crowley, yellow eyes staring up at Aziraphale plaintively.

“It’s alright, dear,” Aziraphale soothed as he climbed into the bed, Crowley’s coils rustling to make room for him, “I’m here now.” Though he had come through the door with a chilled face, Aziraphale was naturally a warm being, and beneath the many layers beneath which Crowley had burrowed, instantly began to radiate heat. Crowley uncoiled himself as Aziraphale shifted into position, then began to re-wind himself: this time, around his angel’s body and limbs, spreading every inch of his scaly underbelly against Aziraphale’s skin.

“I’m here now,” Aziraphale murmured again, wrapping his arms across his own torso to embrace the thick coils that curled about his chest and arms, one hand coming to rest on the back of the snake’s head as it slid around his neck. Crowley squeezed his whole body slightly, and Aziraphale sighed, squeezing back to every part of his demon he could reach. Fortunately for Aziraphale, he had long since miracled the bed so that he wouldn’t sweat when it got too warm, merely able to enjoy the pleasant heat. It did, however, have the tendency to make him extremely sleepy, and it was hardly any time at all before he drifted off.

When Aziraphale awoke, the room was much darker: the fire had burned down significantly, and the light from a streetlamp drifted in through the window, illuminating the snowflakes that had begun to fall outside. But between the still-smoldering fire and the two beings in the room, it was still toasty-warm. At some point, Crowley had resumed his human form, and now lay, limbs-entangled, with Aziraphale. The angel smiled.

“Better, my dear?”

“Ngk,” Crowley replied from within the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, where his lips formed a grateful kiss.

#fictober23 #fictober #good omens #gomens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #snake!crowley

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smedenn · 9 months

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Returning to my Tumblr Era to say one thing: as much as we are all mourning and grieving the end of Good Omens episode 6, you have to remember how insane it is that Neil Gaiman confirmed and added all sorts of things into this season simply because we wanted it. Now this is assuming these things weren’t already planned, because if they all were we are some high IQ fans.

(MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD)

But think about it:

-Crowley pre-fall. We literally have written fanfics, made hundreds of fan-art, fan edits, etc about pre-fall Crowley. We were especially attracted to the whole “Crowley made the stars” plot line and BOOM: Neil Gaiman handed it to us neat and nice on a platter with a cherry on top.

-Crowley as Raphael/An Archangel. Now this wasn’t confirmed but Neil could not have hinted to it more. From the fact that, in the first scene only Aziraphale introduced himself (which would mean Crowley was someone well known, therefore Aziraphale already knew him) and when Muriel couldn’t access confidential files because “only the highest order of angels can do it” (not exact quote but yk), and then Crowley just FLIPPED it open. Also the Metatron KNEW who he was pre-fall. Basically it has been confirmed that Crowley was pretty freaking important pre-fall

-Good Old Fashioned Loverboy. They included GOOD OLD FASHIONED LOVERBOY IN THE SOUNDTRACK

-Gabriel and Beelzebub. If I’m 100% honest I always thought the fanfic and fanart was silly because that could never be canon! I doubt that was even a thought in Neil’s mind! Nope, I was wrong, and I will be doing the “I was wrong, I’m sorry” dance. He handed this to us because he knows us

-Aziraphale driving the Bentley!!!! The amount of fanfics and fanart and theories about Aziraphale driving the bentley is INSANE. And the fact that Neil not only included him driving the bentley, but also included that Aziraphale didn’t drive the bentley because it was a last-ditch-effort thing or to save crowley, but because he had simply just ASKED Crowley if he could? insane. Absolutely bonkers.

-Ineffable Husbands. Neil has stated before that they ever never meant to be lovers in the way humans are lovers. They are ethereal beings and therefore don’t have things like relationships. Well I’d BEG TO DIFFER because not only did we get a confession scene from crowley but a KISS. Also since Gabriel and Beelzebub are together too we know that Angels and Demons do in fact love like humans do. He really said THIS IS A LOVE STORY NOW.

-Crowley yelling at Gabriel for how he treated Aziraphale. I think if Ao3 had a “Spotify wrapped” type thing, my number 1 fanfic I read about Good Omens is this exact plot. Crowley defending Aziraphale from when Gabriel tried to kill him. Like it was picked right out of a fanfic. Literally an insane scene.

-Also lots of other small things! Aziraphale and Crowley dancing together, whenever Crowley defended Aziraphale, more Aziraphale and Crowley backstory, what happened after the “lift home” scene, etc.

Just, I can’t help but count my blessings after watching this entire season. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m eternally heartbroken and in severe need of season 3, but I’m very happy with the season.

#good omens #good omens season two #good omens s2 #aziracrow #ineffable partners #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #neil gaiman

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tio-trile · 9 months

Note

as someone who enjoys book/radio/show omens (brain sees more gomens and goes TWO CAKES!!), your criticism did actually did let me think and analyse more deeply the differences between book and show in particular, which i appreciate! because s1 had that much of a larger focus on aziraphale and crowley (which makes more sense for a TV show medium), it meant less focus on the humans which i always felt were the book's main theme— the mundane efforts of humanity against these great big forces. like how book ends with adam rather than the ineffable husbands. the adaptations are bound to diverge more and more as the show goes on, which naturally draws in different audiences. still my soft spot will always be for book omens where they're Just Some Blokes...

Yes! You're right about all of this. And I completely accept that they're different stories, which is why I don't have a problem with people enjoying the show. I just wish that Neil would acknowledge that the show and the book are in fact different stories......

#ask #anonymous #good omens critical

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kiralena · 7 months

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Good Omens Season 3 speculation

Contains: Showdown in heaven, Aziraphale, Crowley, the trumpet and the Metadouche.

Hid below cut to avoid spoilers.

The Metadron points at Aziraphale: 'blow that trumpet, Aziraphale, you were always meant to start the Second Coming! This is your destiny!'

Aziraphale, looking at the trumpet in the Metadron's hands. The looking up, slightly shaking his head. 'NO, I won't. I have no intention to sacrifice humanity to your stupid power games.'

The Metadron, with a slight smile: 'How predictable. Then ... what about this?'

The 'ding' of the arriving elevator catches Aziraphale's attention. The doors open, and Michael and Sandalphon dragging Crowley into heaven, pushing him down to the floor. Both of them carry bottles of Holy Water.

Aziraphale wants to run to Crowley, but Crowley just slightly shakes head. Aziraphale stopps mid-motion, looking back at the Metadron. 'Set hin free, spit spot!'

The Metadron's grin is widening, growing evil. 'we know about your little trick. It won't work a second time. Blow the trumpet, or your friend, the demon Crowley, will end to exist.'

Aziraphale's fingers wander to his face, pressing them against his lips. He knows, if he wants to save humanity, he will never feel the touch of Crowley's skin to his again. No more endless conversations. No more basking in the glowing warmth of each others love. If he refuses to blow the trumpet, there will be nothing but painfull void. An empty space in his immortal soul, which never was meant to be empty but filled with love. The only thing worth living for.

Or...

Dying.

Crowley shakes his head, so his sunglasses fall off. He looks up, locking eyes with Aziraphale. 'I trust you', he simply says, his expression shifting from confident to sad to relieved. 'Always have.'

Aziraphale's eyes fill with tears, he wants to run to Crowley, but Crowley still shakes his head. 'I trust you', he repeats, and Aziraphale exhales.

'I love you.'

And without further thought he jumps to the Metadron, grabs the trumpet and breaks it in two.

The same momenent he hears the sound of splashing water. His eyes jump back to Crowley, surrounded by white flames. There is still this expression in his eyes, warm and full of love and trust.

Aziraphale breaks down, in his ears a ringing sound and his vision going black. He doesn't hear the Metadron yelling at him, throwing the worst curses ever known at him.

Then the sound goes mute. Aziraphale lifts his head, seeing everything around him has come to an halt.

Then...

...there it is.

The glowing warmth of the soul he loves so much.

'You told me to trust you'...he whispers.

And you have, Crowley replies.

'But ... how?'

Demon, possessing is our thing, you know? I'm glad I didn't make you explode.

Aziraphale presses his fingers to his lips again. 'Crowley, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me.'

Nah, don't bother, Crowley's voice shifts through his mind, but his tone is warm and happy. I'm not the one to forgive you. Forgiveness is your thing.

'You can stay as long as you want', Aziraphale whispers.

Not the first time we shared a home.

'You are my home.'

And you are mine. Always have been.

'Crowley, is it over? Did we safe humanity?'

We won't know until I start time again. Ready?

Aziraphale gets up, moving his hands over his coat to remove the wrinkles, then tightens his bowtie. 'Alright, it's time to lick some serious butt.'

It's kick, Aziraphale, remember?

Aziraphale nods, with a slight smile. 'I know, I just wanted to share this memory of the two of us heading into the lions den. Our group of two.'

Occult husbands?

Aziraphale giggles. 'I'm not occult. But ethereal sounds wrong either now. What about ... ineffable husbands?'

I like this. So, are you ready? We still don't know what is happening, now that you destroyed the key to Second Coming.

'Ready. Kick butt.'

The sound plopps back into space and Aziraphale looks around. Metadron is still yelling at him.

But ... who is this? The young woman standing next to them, no angel he has ever seen?

The young woman lifts her hand and the Metadron drops silent.

'You twisted my words, and for what?'

'Almighty, I always had no other intent than bringing you endless glory', the Metadron stumbles.

'What was so hard to understand about 'be nice to each other?'' She turns to Aziraphale, smiling across her face. 'The two of you were the only ones who understood, who followed my ineffable plan no matter what.' She snips with her finger, and Crowley appears next to Aziraphale. 'Which life do you want to live? Angel or demon?'

'I am who I am.'

GOD nods, 'then you may continue being yourself. Asking questions, being kind. And...'

She is interrupted by Arziraphale grabbing Crowley's shoulders and pulling him into a tight embrace.

God smiles, turning to the Metadron and the other angels: 'See? Was that really so hard to understand? That the ineffable plan was always about loving each other?'

'But the Second Coming ... our victory ...'

GOD waves with her hands. 'It never has been about winning something. Loving each other and embracing who you are, that is truly ineffable.'

She looks back at Aziraphale and Crowley, who are still hugging as tight as only a snake can hug somebody, and says with a bright smile: 'Now kiss already!'

And they do.

One kiss.

Another.

And many, many more.

Because: what would be the meaning of life if not filling it with love?

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens ficlet #good omens season 3 #good omens season 3 speculation #Aziraphale #Crowley #Metadron #and it ends as it started - in a garden full of love and nightingales

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thedemonknownasbilly · 4 months

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Weekends in Soho - Chapter One

Masterlist

Word Count: 726

Ineffable Husbands x GN!College!Reader

Warnings: season 2 spoilers (ish)

Final 15 never happened. They kissed and stayed together.

Two hours was a relatively short tube ride to you, coming from America and all, where going to the shops could take an hour even in the same city. So really, you couldn’t complain for a two hour ride to another city. You were certainly desperate now, class work was falling behind and you couldn’t afford that. Yet everywhere in Oxford seemed to be a distraction. The Starbucks turned into a flirting disaster between you and the barista who was five years older. The library was wrecked with familiar faces, classmates, friends, all people who were looking for their own excuse to not complete an assignment. Your home, even, was too distracting. The dishes needed doing, there was a new episode of your favorite show just aired, you always did say you’d dust later. Too many distractions. Too many things to do. So in a last minute effort to gain control, you bought a hotel and fares to Soho, London. Maybe a weekend away was what you needed.

You did your best to balance your laptop on your legs, keeping the volume of the device off, earbuds in as your phone played your favorite song on repeat, repetition meant you could tune it out, but the music kept the outside world out.

“Paddington Station.” The announcement blared, you had barely heard it, only looking up to the sign and seeing it. “Shit!” You murmured, gathering your things quickly and hectic like, jumping out onto the platform just in time, only realizing you had left your umbrella behind. “Oh, fuck me!” You huffed, noticing a man looking at you questioningly. “Not literally, twat.” You scoffed, carefully putting your things into your bag to protect them from the light drizzle, looking down at your phone and putting in the coordinates to your hotel, which luckily wasn’t too far, but without an umbrella, you really couldn’t walk around the neighborhood to look for dinner options or even a library.

“Oh, that smarts.” You had winced when you saw a couple get drenched by an awning suddenly tearing, out of the corner of your eye you could have sworn you saw someone in the bookshop across the street, watching the same scene with a similar pained expression. Wait. Bookshop! You scurried over quickly, doing your best to protect your belongings as you entered the door and nearly slammed it behind you.

“We’re closed, piss off.” The man from the window said, walking around carrying a pile of books. Another man, older, looking towards you sympathetically.

“It’s pouring like crazy out there, and I left my umbrella on the tube, can’t I just wait the rain out?” You had asked, shivering and drenched, but soon feeling a warm towel engulf you, looking behind you to see the older man putting it around your shoulder. “Thank you…”

“Jim.” The man answered with a grin, “would you like a hot chocolate?”

“I’d love that, if it’s no trouble.” You accepted, noticing the red haired man seemed to be scowling at Jim. You stuck close to Jim, he was much more friendly, making sure the hot chocolate was to your liking.

“Oh, fancy that, rain’s gone.” The red haired man, Crowley as Jim told you, said. “Bugger off.”

“I’ll visit another day,” you promised Jim, patting his hand kindly as you handed him back the now empty mug.

“I like them.” Jim announced when you had closed the door.

“You like everyone. I doubt your opinion here matters much.” Crowley rolled his eyes, looking down to see one of your bags remained, groaning as he picked it up. “Probably would lose their head if it weren’t attached.” He mumbled, looking at the travel tag and humming your name to himself, safely tucking the bag under Aziraphale’s desk.

“Please, tell me you didn’t sell any of my books?!” Aziraphale yelled out as he rushed in, eyes wide with worry. So the angel did see you leave his shop.

“And what if I did?” Crowley tried to tease, but immediately backtracking when his husband’s eyes threatened to fill with tears.

“No, no, no, I’m sorry.” Crowley rushed over to Aziraphale. “I didn’t sell any books, they just wanted to get out of the rain.”

“Trying to create another Maggie and Nina moment?” The angel jested.

“It would work if that bloody shop would buy a quality awning.”

“I’m sure it would, dear.”

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

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Hello!

Thank you so much for the work you’re doing, this blog literally is a national treasure ☺️ somehow it’s August already, so to cheer myself a little it would be awesome to read some proposal fics, I’m craving something nice and wholesome right now, as I’m sure, a lot of us do. Any raiting would do, and of course, the longer the merrier :)))

Hi and you’re welcome! It is definitely no longer August, but here are some proposal fics for you...

Waiting Until Marriage by IneffableDoll (T)

Aziraphale tells Crowley one day that they ought to “wait until marriage.” Crowley is deeply confused for two reasons: a) Neither of them is interested in sex. b) When, exactly, did they agree to get married?

love rings true by asideofourown (G)

Aziraphale stared down at the box, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He had seen this kind of box before, of course, and he knew what was usually inside them, but surely—

Aziraphale carefully popped open the box, and his jaw dropped when he saw the ring inside. It was— Crowley had— he had an engagement ring? Because this was very, very clearly an engagement ring, round and gold and surprisingly simple given the demon’s usually ostentatious taste.

Aziraphale quickly closed the box again and stuffed it back in the drawer, his mind whirling. Why in the world would Crowley have an engagement ring? Had it been given to him, or had he— had he gotten it to give to someone else?

[Aziraphale stumbles upon a ring in Crowley's flat and jumps to conclusions]

Be my husband by candelina (T)

5 times Aziraphale tried to propose to Crowley and 1 time he did it (and he got an unexpected reaction).

~~~

Aziraphale’s plan was to do it in 2041. He and Crowley had been together since 1941, when the angel finally realised two very important things: the demon loved him and his feelings were mutual. A 100th anniversary was indeed a very special occasion and what better moment to ask the love of your life to marry you? It was a perfect plan. Unfortunately, a much bigger Plan had to ruin it all.

Anywhere You Go, I'll Be Right Behind You by PositivePumpkin (G)

He might be going too fast again, but at least if Aziraphale rejected him, the idea would be put in his head and he could try again in a few thousand years. And maybe, if he kept the ring, it would protect him.

Or, Crowley tries to make the perfect proposal.

You are HoMe (Half of Me) by angelsnuffbox (T)

Aziraphale had gotten dumped, plain and simple. But that small detail wasn’t nearly as important as all the things that happened after he’d gotten dumped - such as coming to a few realisations about his best friend of sixteen years.

All The Seasons Of My Heart (Ineffable Advent) by Z A Dusk (M)

It started under the mistletoe on a winter night in Soho, 1881. Or perhaps it started in a flower-strewn cave in Mesopotamia.

Wherever it started, it's become a tradition for Aziraphale and Crowley to meet (almost) every festive season. Just one night where they don't have to hide their feelings for each other. It starts with a kiss, but it's always meant so much more.

This is part UST-fuelled slow burn and part soft, soft historical-to-modern romance.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #proposal #fluff #mod d

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neoneggs · 1 year

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so since the term "what the fuck" can be shortened/said "what the eff" i always thought that "eff" was always used as a shortening to fuck.

fucking? effing. fucked? effed. obviously i thought the terms were interchangeable and when i came across good omens in 2017 and heard of the ship "ineffable husbands", i thought that meant UNFUCKABLE husbands. weird, but sure! who am i to judge, i can't throw the first stone either.

then in 2022 i actually read the book and as i read it i realized that "hey, this can have an ace reading of the characters!" and so logically i thought ooooh, THAT'S why they're called ineffable (unfuckable) husbands!

anyways i just pirated the tv series and since i read the book in swedish, a lot of terms were changed (for example, it's "Alice Nutter's sober thoughts" instead of nice) so i never noticed that uh. they're using the word "ineffable" a lot to describe things. the world is ineffable! heaven and hell are ineffable? god herself is ineffable! so i decided to finally look it up and

long story short, "ineffable" does not mean unfuckable. it means "beyond understanding and incapable of being put into words".

#learn from my mistakes kids #anyways just A-grade english student things <3 #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley

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writerof-thewoods · 7 months

Text

"I'll call out your name, but you won't answer back" Whumptober 2023

Prompt 2: "They don't care about you." Word Count: 1.6k Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley/Aziraphale or "Ineffable Husbands"

Warnings: None

Summary: Crowley has feelings after Aziraphale left and he gets big sad

Read it on Ao3 here!

6 months.

It’d been 6 months since that unfortunate…the simplest way of putting it, in Soho. 6 months and right in the middle of them, he got a call. A voicemail. It started off a bit timid, unsure if he should even do this, but continued on more passionately. It got very personal, going into the deep details of Heaven and Aziraphale’s feelings about the whole ordeal. Surprisingly enough, it wasn’t all that he had hoped it would be. A bit of a letdown, however, he wasn’t showing it directly considering his voice still had its usually calm disposition. Eventually it became something Crowley hadn’t expected, but unknowingly craved. At almost the tail end of the message, the angel said something he wouldn’t soon forget. “I’m sorry….” His voice a tender whisper like always when he was upset. Crowley was no stranger to it, by now he had every little detail, inflection, and hesitation of the other memorized. Once again, he had Crowley falling to his knees and his heart skipping a beat.

If only he hadn’t missed it, then maybe his message would last forever.

Since that day, the automated recording of Aziraphale played on and on, deeply rooted in Crowley’s subconscious. Whenever there was a quiet moment or was about to fall asleep, he would think about it and stare off into space. The angel had him hooked like a sailor to a siren, falling into the sweet temptation of his song. If there was one thing it did other than driving Crowley mad, it somewhat relieved the anger he had towards him. He wasn’t angry, he didn’t even like it, to be quite honest. Jealous? Betrayed? Definitely, but the anger in those feelings melted away. He could never truly be mad at him. He just wished the both of them hadn’t been so clueless about it all. That he hadn’t missed his call, that he was more direct with how he felt instead of rushing in, that he hadn’t scared off the one thing that actually meant something to him. That Aziraphale stayed, yet the last thing he could never ask of him. He knew how much doing the right thing meant. It had to be one of them and after all he was Crowley, it wasn’t like he was going to do anything “moral” any time soon. Plus this was his best friend, and in the deep recesses of his mind, his soulmate; he wouldn’t make him choose. There were many things he could ask or do to others, but to the angel, he just couldn’t.

Now as the demon laid in his flat staring at the ceiling, the overwhelming urge to pick up the phone returned.

He suspected it wouldn’t go through, that the angel would prefer to hear from anyone else but him, but a small part of him argued against it. It wasn’t a big deal. He’d done it hundreds of times before, what was stopping him now? Some petty feelings? No. He was just being a baby, as always. Clicking his tongue and groaning slightly, he dragged his hand across his face, trying to bring himself back to reality. He turned his head to look out the window and stared disinterested at the lamps lighting up his dark corner of Mayfair. Any other time he wouldn’t have paid it much attention since it just wasn’t a big deal. Now though, the warm glow seemed to ease his mind, just a little bit. After a while of looking out into the night, Crowley sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Guess I could give it a try. Why not?” He whispered to himself and turned around. Sitting with his back towards the wall, he took the telephone next to his bed and dialed the number.

The few moments it took for it to go through had him anxiously pinching at the skin on his arm. Why was it taking so long…? And why did he care? His mouth went dry as time dragged on until he was brought out of his nervous stupor by a voice.

“I know you’re there, are you just not gonna say anything, dumbass?” Gabriel replied disinterestedly when he answered the phone.

Crowley raised an eyebrow and looked over confused. “How’d you know it was me? That recognizable, am I? Hm, doesn't seem like much of a stretch, I’ll be honest.” He shrugged.

Gabriel rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple. “Yeah. If you actually called for something important, maybe do it instead of wasting my time. This is a very busy line, you know.”

Crowley scoffed. “Yeah, I’m sure it is.” He closed his eyes for a while before opening them again. “Why did I think this was a good idea?” He sighed, regretting this whole call in an instant. He knew it was dumb, Gaberial was just proving his point. “Nevermind, it wasn’t important…” He muttered before putting the setting the receiver back down on the display. Albeit a little roughly. He shook his head, pissed at himself for even thinking about it in the first place.

With nothing better to do, he stood up and poured himself a generous glass of wine. Red, to be specific. He just wanted to forget and he knew he couldn’t forever, but that moment of bliss that’d come after he couldn’t resist. Moments dragged on in a slow slog as a second cup was slammed down on the table. In the hope that the sweet release of sleep would come soon enough. If the slowly emptying bottle was anything to go by, the demon was about to pass out from delirium. Not before crawling back into bed though. He’d made the mistake of painfully waking up on the ground too many times to risk that again.

Sinking into his bed and hiding underneath his mounds of blankets, he fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~

The angel looked nervously at the door before knocking. He knew it was a bad idea showing up here, especially unannounced. He wasn’t normally one for such an informal gesture, but now was the exception. He’d understand, right? Probably not, yet it was still worth a try.

Crowley answered the door to find an uncharacteristically anxious angel. He couldn’t believe it….was-was that really him? No..no, it couldn’t be….

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he was brought out of his panic to see a pair of golden eyes staring at him, confused, clueless, and a bit…hurt? It was odd to see him without his sunglasses, so he could clearly see he was feeling something, just not exactly what.

“Crowley-! I know you must be furious to see me, especially just at your door without saying anything. But I can explain, before I do though, I really need you to know this.” Aziraphale’s face softened and he turned to look the demon in the eye. “I’m sorry. For…everything. I’m not asking you to forgive me, but you’re my friend. And I want you to know that I never wanted to hurt you, but I know I did….”

“And it was one of my biggest regrets.”

Crowley was taken aback. How was he supposed to respond to that? He couldn’t believe it. His breath hitched in the back of his throat and he bit his lower lip, determined not to get upset over this.

“Well, I guess you ought to know how I got here. To put it lightly..” Aziraphale paused and chuckled sadly. “I fell, or got demoted technically. Turns out they really didn’t need me after all, I tried to fix too many things and they just weren’t having it. This isn’t me trying to get your sympathy though, but I thought you should know.”

Crowley couldn’t help it. He started to laugh despite his feelings. A slow sad chuckle. Shaking his head, he felt himself almost smiling. “I’ll be damned. The great “Aziraphale” really became Mr. Fell, I can’t believe it. You cheeky bastard.” He laughed and looked at Aziraphale, that familiar face making his heart flutter once again. He couldn’t believe it. He had to be joking. Right?

Aziraphale laughed as well and felt his cheeks turn red in embarrassment. “I’m serious, shockingly enough. I still can’t believe it.” He admitted. “It looks like we have something else in common, other than knowing I’m a complete idiot. I knew I should’ve at least said something to you before leaving, hell, I could’ve called you back. But I was too caught up in my own head to do it.” He sighed and shook his head.

Crowley stepped forward and tilted his head to look at the angel. “You’re right about that. You are an idiot.” He smirked while pressing his face into his shoulder.

Aziraphale gasped in fake shock and pretended to look offended. “You slithery little menace.” He looked down and pulled the other into a hug, resting his chin on the top of his head. “You have no idea how I’ve missed you.”

Crowley was surprised at first at the sudden motion, but quickly melted into the embrace. He thought he’d never know how much he’d hurt, how much he missed him until now. He could tell that those bright, knowing eyes understood. All that had happened before wasn’t forgotten, but didn’t matter to him anymore. The only things that did were him and Aziraphale. His angel. He muttered back, muffled by still pressing against his shoulder.

“Likewise, angel.”

~~~~~~~~~~

As much as it seemed so and he wanted it to be, it wasn’t real. He hated himself for it. For wanting so desperately for that to happen. To feel him, see him, at least hear his voice again, even if only in his head. Only as a dream made to soothe his mind that would inevitably leave him empty. Tears on his pillow as he cried in the darkness, both relieved and torn that he was alone.

However, if the figure standing at his doorway was anything to go by, then maybe he wasn’t alone after all. But the sleeping demon didn’t notice.

_____________

Okay I promise I'm not dead xD I know it's not a big deal, but I just wanted to let you know. I've finally gotten back into writing and I'm gonna get my asks answered as soon as I can, so tysm for putting up with me!! Also, happy October! It's finally spooky season and I'm s o excited :D. Especially since I'm going to do Whumptober for the first time (even though I'm 6 days late 😭) Don't worry, I'm still going to do my usual content too, this'll just be more active/take up more of time. That's all, so there'll still be plenty of normal not sad content on here <3 Thank you guys so so much for putting up with my random absences, life's just been pretty busy recently and I suck at managing my time well. I hope you're all having a wonderful day and remember to take care of yourselves! Rest, eat something, have some water, all that fun stuff and I'll be back with some content soon enough :D

#agere blog #my writing #im not dead i promise #im back lmao #whumptober 2023 #ai less whumptober #whump writing #whump prompt #whumptober prompts #whumptober prompt 2 #ineffable husbands fic #ineffable husbands whump #good omens fanfic #good omens whump #crowley #aziraphale #anthony j crowley

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