Secret project update

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The little place in New Zealand was almost perfect. And, Crowley pondered with a smirk over his afternoon coffee, something about a demon living in Christchurch tickled him. While the filthy back alley he’d accidentally flung himself into hadn’t been in the city proper, it hadn’t been far from it either. Christchurch wasn’t London—nothing ever was—but there had been more than enough temptation to foment that almost three years had slipped by without his notice. Once he’d stopped marking his time by That Day, life had even become something approaching normal. What WAS normal about the day was Crowley taking his latte on the balcony, dressed only in soft, clinging trousers and an unbuttoned shirt, watching the glow of the sun in the distance. He braced his elbows against the railing, sipping deep as a slight wind toyed with his hair and coffee burned a line down the middle of his chest until it spread in the pit of his stomach. What was NOT normal were the three echoing knocks on his front door.

Ominous omens

#goodomens #fanfiction #goodomensfanfiction #crowley
#futurensfw #goodomensnsfw #rarepair

Wrote about 1k of #goodomens #ineffablehusbands D/s! I'm dealing with a hell of an injury so I'll take all the good writing days that I can

#fanfiction #goodomensfanfiction #goodomensfanfic #archiveofourown #WIP #ao3 #futurensfw #goodomensnsfw #crowley #aziraphale

It was true, Aziraphale realized as he forced himself to breathe evenly. The only demonic signature in the shop came from Crowley himself, standing less than an arm’s length away, his uncovered eyes buttery and soft and *happy*. Aziraphale’s jaw was beginning to ache where he clenched his teeth. “And *this*?” he demanded, jerking an arm up.

Teaser from a project I'm not supposed to talk much about

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Aziraphale wouldn’t die in Hellfire; no, his self-immolation would be here, now, taking in ragged breaths while Crowley’s sinful fingers undid the clips at his back. White was beginning to colour the edges of his vision, a star-spangled veil laid over a black vignette, shining brighter when Crowley smiled. A heat that had nothing to do with Aziraphale’s molten need ignited across his lips as he wetted them, the sharp tingle a reminder that this was *real*. Every ribald imagining he’d ever had might well manifest in the atrium of his own damned bookshop. "God, please.” The words burst from Aziraphale like he’d been holding them in all evening. And maybe he had—from the moment that Crowley had pressed a guiding hand to his back, he’d wanted whatever Crowley was offering.

#goodomens #fanfiction #goodomensfanfiction #goodomensfanfic #ineffablehusbands #archiveofourown #WIP #ao3 #futurensfw #goodomensnsfw #crowley #aziraphale

Aziraphale didn’t know what he’d been expecting—maybe a kiss, rewriting the last, haunting press of Crowley’s desperate lips; perhaps Crowley purring *good* in that way that made Aziraphale’s knees weak; or *oh*, Crowley’s hands holding him down, making him *take*—but it certainly hadn’t involved Crowley sinking to his knees. Yet there he was, staring up with eyes the colour of stars, the deep black of space dancing in their midst, all of it overlaid with an adoration that took Aziraphale’s breath away.

Guess who's working on a little somethin' somethin'

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“‘S too loud,” he heard himself say, his voice a weak, delicate thing. “Too much. All the time, jus’ need it quiet. Jus’ for a minute.” Now that the dam had broken, Crowley found he couldn’t stay still a moment longer. His words sped up as he marched from pillar to pillar—east, south, north, west—breaths turning harsh and ragged, hands creeping into his hair so he could pull. “You’re the bessst bloody thing in my life. Always so— so bleeding good for me and I love that. Love that I get to sssee you like that. Ssso why d’ I need more?” Crowley stopped at the base of the stairs, shoulders hunched and arms wrapped around his middle, more vulnerable than even the day he’d crawled, gasping and broken, from a pit of boiling sulphur. His chin quivered dangerously on a long, shuddering exhale. “Dunno what ‘m doing. But I never meant to hurt you, angel. Never.”

Sneak peek!

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*Don’t. Say. A. Word,* Crowley forcefully reminded himself, jaw clenched as Aziraphale, red-faced and panting, blue eyes blazing with fury, slammed his fists on the counter and *pressed* until his knuckles turned white. *Remember what it was like when you came back.* The 1800s had been a particularly awful century for him; fresh from Hell and all its torments, terrified for Aziraphale and hyper-vigilant almost to the point of paranoia, Crowley *knew* he’d been snappy and defensive. He *remembered* wanting to claw the filth off his skin, even knowing it wouldn’t make him feel clean. He *remembered* blowing hot and cold around his human acquaintances, sometimes snarling a man out of a personal space that seemed all too small, sometimes sidling up to the same person with a cordial arm around the shoulders solely because he couldn’t stand to go another moment without being touched. He *remembered*. He *understood*. And *he’d* had the dubious advantage of familiarity; the angel currently glowing with holy light had never *had* to withstand torture before. Of *course* he was going to snap. None of it made bearing the brunt of Aziraphale’s quicksilver anger any easier.

A #goodomens snippet you say?

#snippetsaturday #goodomensfanfiction #goodomensfanfic #ineffablehusbands #archiveofourown #WIP #ao3 #futurensfw #goodomensnsfw #crowley #aziraphale

But they’d been promised their place in Heaven, Crowley thought bitterly, and the troops, to a man, had embraced their worst vices with a surety of self that only the holiest of holies could manage.

#goodomens #fanfiction #goodomensfanfiction #futurensfw #goodomensnsfw #crowley #aziraphale

Three. Days. Three long, excruciating, angel-less days. The agony wasn’t helped by the bitter sourness in his gut, but Crowley gulped at his whisky until his stomach burned anyway. He’d pulled the bottle from the bar’s top shelf on his way out, and it was almost empty now. It was also the most likely culprit as to why he was wending his way back to Aziraphale on foot, with ripped clothing and bloodied knuckles.

Hey, everyone! Did you know it's MAY already? Better get to work on your #fandomtrumpshate projects!

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Hell’s denizens would never be nearly as organized as those Upstairs. Heaven’s rank and file were quite literally ranked and then filed, every one of them a cog in a system only those with the highest clearances could see. Together, angels were decimatingly efficient, and it was only the sheer *number* of demonic forces that made Hell any threat at all. To further split their ranks, any demon of significant power was constantly vying to unseat a current Duke and assume a place above the others. Crowley, though, had never been a creature of ambition. Love, creativity, curiosity, pride, yes. But never once had he wanted the problem of *responsibility*. He *enjoyed* being treated as a lesser demon, putting his head down and blending into the background—excepting the occasions when he toed the line a little too hard, of course, and both feet went stomping over it. Despite Crowley’s lack of desire to participate in politics, he *was* a very powerful demon. Worse, he had once been a very powerful *angel*.

A little morsel, just to whet the appetite

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Red. A red veil blurred his vision as he saw the moment, the fucking *second*, that Azirapahle broke. The fire in those glacier-blue eyes flared bright in fury and then… flickered. Crowley couldn’t tell if someone in the room had *actually* slowed time or if his bleeding heart was to blame for ensuring that he could see every nanosecond with unbearable clarity, each one burned into memory as the fight left Aziraphale. The useless muscle didn’t need to beat, and yet it did—and it was the metronome by which he could measure Aziraphale’s surrender.

Can I start your week with a little angst? 👀

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He stepped up to them, storming after Muriel until their back hit a pillar. One arm slammed into the plaster and he used every last inch of extra height to loom as he bared his teeth. “I need you. To call. The lift.” “It’s too late. He’s coming.” “*Who* is coming?” Crowley rattled the column again, this time with enough infernal strength to send splintering cracks through it; Muriel didn’t do so much as blink as white chips rained down on their head. The bell over the door sounded, shocking and discordant; neither looked away from the other. Crowley broke first, lips pulled back in a snarl. “Shop’s closed, mate. Why don’t you go grab a nice cuppa instead?” “That’s a splendid idea,” said a voice Crowley had thought he’d never hear again. Aziraphale’s tone was mild, but in that terrifying manner that meant he was tamping down some great emotion. Crowley straightened slowly, so slowly, as Aziraphale continued, “Muriel, would you perhaps spend some time with Nina? I have some things I would like to discuss with Mr. Crowley.” “Certainly, sir!” Muriel leaned close, as if imparting a secret. “He’s an archangel, Crowley. I could hear him.” The little terror even had the audacity to *wink* at him as they slid by.

Crowley the Big Scary Demon (and Muriel, who would never tell him otherwise)

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Crowley paced with such fervor that Aziraphale was concerned his path along the carpet would be scorched by embers. “I was *always* there for you,” he’d spat, turning on his heel. Long, elegant hands joined the conversation, falling over one another just as quickly as his words. “Even Peter only denied knowing *his* best friend *three* times. That’s all it ever was with you, wasn’t it? Don’t know me. Don’t *like* me. From the bloody Beginning, and you still had me wound ‘round your little finger for two thousand years.” Crowley stopped, facing away, fists clenched by his sides and entire form trembling. When he spoke again, his voice broke. “Still asked you to choose *us*. Because I *believed* in you.” “Oh, my *dear*.” Aziraphale raised a hand, hoping to settle it on Crowley’s shoulder; Crowley immediately tensed, nearly curled in upon himself. Aziraphale’s fingers fell to his side, limp. “I know you have no reason to believe me, and every reason to doubt. You were ever steadfast, and all I’ve left you to remember me by is a history of fear. But… You weren’t without your own manipulations. Were you?” Silence stretched, long and poignant before Crowley slumped. He didn’t turn, but his harsh sigh lit a beacon of hope within Aziraphale’s breast. “No,” he admitted

Communication? In MY #goodomens??

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I have a front cover now ugh...i just don't care anymore didn't care then won't care now. #sonadow #ShadowTheHedgehog #SonicTheHedgehog #angst #futurensfw #broken

Crowley, his head still bent to the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, exhaled, the heat of his breath raising gooseflesh in its wake. The sharp point of Crowley’s nose skimmed the tendon of Aziraphale’s throat, flexing as he swallowed heavily. A scorching path was laid slowly, inevitably, northward, until that burning trail found the line of his cheek, the bone of his jaw. Crowley paused at Aziraphale’s mouth, close enough that he could feel a hot puff of air against his lips. Just as he thought Crowley would close the distance, would *kiss him*, Crowley's hand began its journey over Aziraphale’s chest; up his shoulder, circling the sensitive shell of his ear, ticking the delicate skin below, drawing between them until he had a gentle hold on Aziraphale’s chin. “Look at me,” Crowley said, so softly Aziraphale wasn’t sure he’d spoken at all.

Just a little sexual tension to kick off the morning

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Faster than Crowley anticipated, faster than he thought *possible*, Aziraphale covered the space between them. He barely had time to yank his hands from his trousers before Azirapahle’s palms, glowing with power, stretched toward Crowley’s chest and *shoved him*. “You *stupid*, self-sacrificing, *masochistic*, piece of *vermin*!” Aziraphale’s eyes blazed, and he was breathing hard, and perhaps Crowley *shouldn’t* antagonize him but– He ducked his head and smirked at Aziraphale through his lashes. “Come on, sweetheart. Tell me how you *really* feel.” Aziraphale pushed him again, holding back none of his supernatural strength, sending Crowley into a bookshelf hard enough that he almost took it down with him. He instinctively reached out with a hint of power to steady it, and felt a chilling swoop in his stomach when he realized that Aziraphale hadn’t done the same. The being marching toward him was so incensed that he would allow his books to be *damaged*.

Every day we're-a getting closer to this scene, and I can't fucking *wait* to share it with you

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Crowley tipped his head down just enough for Aziraphale to get a glimpse of those gorgeous golden eyes, glittering with dark pleasure. “That’s it,” he purred. “*Indulge* yourself.” Aziraphale had been told for millennia that Crowley did nothing more than plant a seed, that he merely guided his marks toward what they already desired. But this infernal, *carnal* power that rolled across the table and danced over his skin had to be more than that. All of his terrified, pent-up *wanting* was being drawn to the fore with little more than the sound of Crowley’s voice, the play of his long fingers over the stemware as he swirled the remaining wine inside.

Oh, what's this? Another lil surprise?

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Muriel was an odd duck. Which wasn’t to say they weren't great. They were. He loved ducks. Finding an opportunity to feed them frozen peas might even count as a highlight of his existence. But Crowley had the worst, niggling sensation that Muriel was an atypically ignorant angel. Even Aziraphale, at his most unworldly, had been created with a dash of self-preservation. Was *that* the true difference between a Principality and a Scrivener? For all that the humans extolled the virtue of the pen over the sword, he’d never once had to rescue Aziraphale from the market’s automatic doors.

One day I'll get around to finishing this 😅

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Started a new AU with a Dragonified Aizawa , we’ll use this thread as a home for it all (check comments for more of him)

#erasercloudmic #shouta #aizawa #present #mic #loud #cloud #oboro #shirakumo #hizashi #yamada #sizedifference #fantasy #futurensfw