#ineffablevalentines

[tyrograph]

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#buymyart #goodomens #ineffablefandom #ineffablevalentines #buytyrotea

[prettybirdy979]

Azi returns from something to find half of the Daft Angel Squad blocking the way into the bookshop b/c it's apparently dangerous. (It's safe; they just fell for Gabriel's story.) The other half are holding a funeral for a long-forgotten now-mouldy half-eaten doughnut. To make things worse, Gabriel turns up in the middle of this. (Gabriel told them that doughnuts were halos in an attempt at a cautionary tale re: gross matter. The metaphor sailed over the walnut squad's heads.)

This sounded like chaos before I even started writing it. For the unaware, please see this post and this one. Please feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here

It was a nice lunch.

That's what Aziraphale holds to, as he stands on the corner facing his shop and just stares at the chaos unfolding in front of him. At his side is Crowley, who is just barely holding in laughter.

There are no humans on the street. Thank goodness.

In front of the bookshop is a guard of angels; the troop of ah, misguided souls... wait. Aziraphale can call them what they are now.

There's a line of daft angels around his book shop, looking for all the world like an honour guard. But a bad one, with sloppy marching steps and half their numbers missing.

This other half being too busy crowding around something on the ground. One of them is standing before the crowd, reading from a bible while the others have their heads bowed like... like...

Like they are at a funeral.

Aziraphale takes a step forward so he can see what is on the ground. And then takes a step back so he can swallow laughter.

'Is that-?' Crowley asks.

'It is,' Aziraphale confirms.

The angels are standing around the mouldy, half eaten doughnut someone dropped outside Aziraphale's shop and holding a funeral. With the full requim for the dead.

Then there is a squawking noise as the guard for his shop looks up. 'Stay away! Stay away!' they cry in unison, 'Danger, danger! Warning, warning!'

'Will Robinson,' Crowley whispers under his breath. Aziraphale gives him a strange look and he shakes his head. Right then.

The angels all come as one, the first one stopping before Aziraphale while the others line up behind them. 'Gabriel has warned us of the dangers and we are here to protect.'

'Protect,' chorus the rest of the angels.

Aziraphale does not resist the urge to roll his eyes. They do not notice, instead encircling him and Crowley.

'What,' Gabriel says from behind him and Aziraphale clenches, 'are you doing?'

Before Crowley can do more than hiss or Aziraphale can say anything, the daft angels speak up. 'We're protecting Aziraphale from the danger! In this shop! Like you told us to.'

Aziraphale has the distinct impression that if Gabriel knew about the human concept of a face palm that he would be doing it. But as that would have required him to read Aziraphale's memos, he is sure Gabriel has no idea.

A pity.

Crowley crackles in glee. 'And the funeral, my fellow angels?' he asks.

'For a fallen comrade,' daft angel in front says. 'Archangel Gabriel told us of how the doughnuts are other angels' halos and for this one to be so broken and mouldy, they must be beyond our reach.'

Every one of the squad bows their head in mourning.

'You know,' Crowley says with something like glee in his voice as Gabriel splutters behind them, 'there's a human ritual to be performed, when mourning a friend.'

'Oh? Oh? Oh?' comes the chorus of daft.

'Crowley...' Aziraphale says, seeing where this is going and unsure if he should stop it or encourage it.

'They call it,' Crowley continues, ignoring the warning, 'a pub crawl.'

You know what? Aziraphale does need a drink to deal with these walnuts. 'Yes. A pub crawl,' he adds as the angels all exchange looks and Gabriel starts to panic behind them, clearly not willing to challenge the immortal angel and demon.

'We perform what humans call a 'toast' to their memory in as many pubs as we can find.' Aziraphale raises a hand. 'Come on, we'll leave Gabriel to guard the shop. He's so much better at it than us.'

And the angel squad all form up and follow Crowley and Aziraphale to the nearest pub, while Gabriel rages behind them.

#good omens #ineffablevalentines #My Scribbles #perfectlycrazydragon #daft angel squad

[mielpetite]

Day 17 of Ineffable Valentines and the prompt was pillow talk. I went completely ace with this one, and hoped to give fans that missing scene we all wanted. I don’t know why I’m so excited by this, there are plenty of technical mistakes I could fix if there’d been time, but I love it.

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #good omens fan art #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands

[dickwheelie]

Day 23: He could do really weird things with his tongue

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

The origin of Aziraphale secretly kind of liking Crowley being snake-y, and hissing by accident.

___________

“What’re these called again?” Crowley examined one of the shells from the plate they’d been served, which Aziraphale was already eagerly digging into.

“Oysters,” Aziraphale replied, mouth full. He swallowed, then said, “They’re a kind of shellfish. And delicious, apparently.” He went in for a second one.

“Hmm,” said Crowley. He sniffed at the bit of meat in the shell. It smelled, appropriately enough, fishy. But he supposed if everyone else was enjoying them, they couldn’t be that bad. Following Aziraphale’s lead, he tipped the shell back and swallowed its contents whole.

“What do you think?” said Aziraphale, who was watching him carefully. Strange, that an angel would be so concerned with Crowley’s opinion. Than again, it was strange that an angel had invited him to lunch in the first place.

“Not bad,” said Crowley truthfully. “Bit salty for my taste, though. You can have the rest.”

“Are you sure?” said Aziraphale, but he was already pulling the plate towards his side of the table.

Crowley couldn’t help but smile fondly. The day had started out miserable, but it was rapidly improving; Aziraphale was always fine company.

“I’m sure,” Crowley said, with a dismissive wave. “You go ahead and enjoy the oystersssssss.”

Crowley smacked a hand over his mouth, mortified. It had been centuries since that had happened; he thought he’d gotten over that irritating vocal tic long ago. He could feel that his forked tongue had manifested in his mouth, and with effort he morphed it back to its human shape. Stupid, stupid; he’d relaxed and let himself slip up. If Aziraphale had been a human Crowley would’ve had a lot of explaining to do.

He still had some explaining to do. The poor angel had probably gotten quite a fright. “Sorry about that,” Crowley said, carefully enunciating the s. “That, erm, doesn’t usually happen.”

Aziraphale looked up from the plate, holding an oyster halfway to his mouth. “What doesn’t usually happen?”

“The, uh, hissing.” He gestured vaguely at his mouth. “Leftover from my days as a snake. You remember.”

“Oh yes, I do remember you from back then,” said Aziraphale, rather cheerfully as he returned to the food. “You were very formidable. I was quite impressed when you transformed, you know. Takes a special kind of skill to master that sort of thing. I’ve never gotten the hang of it.” Then he paused and looked back at Crowley, puzzled. “What’s this about hissing, then?”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “The hissing, I just told you, it doesn’t happen often but sometimes—”

“Yes yes, I heard what you said,” said Aziraphale impatiently. “What hissing, though?”

Crowley blinked. He tilted his head back, measuring up the angel, not for the first time. “You didn’t notice.” It wasn’t a question.

Aziraphale huffed. “Notice what, Crowley?”

A slow grin spread across Crowley’s face. He knew he liked this angel for a reason. Every time he thought he had Aziraphale pinned down, he surprised him. “Earlier, when I tried to say oysters. I hissed. On the s. Used to happen a lot, not so much anymore. Been working on it. Rather embarrassing.”

“Oh! Did you?” said Aziraphale. “I really hadn’t noticed. I’m sure it’s not as nearly as bad as you think.”

“Probably not,” Crowley conceded. “Just that sometimes, my tongue can do. Erm. Weird things. Not on purpose.”

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows, interested. “Like what?”

“Sometimes it transforms when it’s not meant to. When I’m too distracted.”

Aziraphale leaned forward a bit in his seat, oysters all but forgotten. “Oh? Were you . . . distracted by something, just now?”

If Crowley was still drinking his wine he’d be choking on it. Who had taught this angel to be so blessedly coy? “Erm. Just. The general atmosphere,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the entirety of the restaurant.

“Ah,” said Aziraphale, looking far too pleased for Crowley’s liking. “I see.” Then, as though nothing had happened, he returned to his oysters.

Crowley fought the instinct to breathe a sigh of relief. Aziraphale, it seemed, was dangerous, and not in the usual, angelic way.

“I wonder,” Aziraphale said, nearly making Crowley jump, “since I missed it earlier, might you be so kind as to demonstrate it for me? The hissing, I mean.” He grinned around the shell that was placed at his lips. “That way I’ll know it when I hear it next.”

Crowley might as well have transformed back into a snake right there and slithered away, he was so surprised. The good news was that he didn’t need to demonstrate anything, because he’d gotten very badly distracted again, and he hissed involuntarily anyway.

“Oh, now isn’t that lovely,” said Aziraphale, and he happily swallowed the oyster.

Crowley had no Earthly idea what he was going to do with Aziraphale, except that he was absolutely certain that he was going to keep him around.

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #gwyneth writes

[ineffable-valentines]

I want to say a very big THANK YOU to all who participated and contributed to Ineffable Valentines. I didn’t imagine there would be such a great response, but what a cascade of ineffable romance you all have produced. The art and the writing... 💋👌 So much fun! I might be tempted to do it again next year!

I am still taking submissions if you’re wanting to contribute but haven’t, just keep mentioning the blog in your post and I’ll see it!

#ineffablevalentines #ineffable valentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanart #good omens animation #aziraphale x crowley fanfiction

[jessigrino]

Voy mejorando ♥

#aziraphalexcrowley #aziraphale #good ineffable omens #good omemes #good omens fanart #good omens #goodvibes #goodtimes #angel #angeles #ineffable lovers #ineffablehusbands #ineffablevalentines #jessgrino #jessigrino #ineffable partners #anthony j crowley #Fanart #doodles #doodle

[lady-divine-writes]

Poetry

Summary: Crowley wants to write a poem for his husband for Valentine’s Day. But after ruining several pages in his notebook, and with Anathema’s help, he discovers that, when speaking from the heart, poetry is not necessarily required.

Notes: Written for the @ineffable-valentines’s prompt poetry.

(AO3)

“House? No, no, that doesn’t work. Mouse? *grumble … grumble … grumble* That sounds stupid! Louse? Oh yeah, helluv romantic blood eating parasites are …” Crowley attacks the page he’s writing on with his eraser till his pencil nearly wears through. “Shit!” he mumbles when he tries writing over the spot and his pencil lead breaks. “Stupid cheap …!”

Anathema, sitting across from him at the tea table in Aziraphale’s back room, watches Crowley do battle with his notebook, amused and sympathetic … but mostly amused.

“May I ask a question?” she interrupts.

“Wat?” he snaps.

“Why poetry?”

“Well, book girl, it’s come to my attention that I give Aziraphale presents I think he would like instead of things he actually enjoys,” he explains, glaring at Anathema since that particular lecture came from her after seeing Aziraphale’s prized collection of iPads, laptops, cell phones, and eReaders, mint in their boxes, unopened and untouched. Aziraphale told her he treasures them because they’re gifts from Crowley, but that he’d prefer a nice cannoli over the latest tech.

“I know that,” she says with a smug smile that makes Crowley bare his fangs. “What I’m asking is why you decided to write him a poem?”

“’Cuz Aziraphale likes words,” Crowley says, deciding to make due with the remaining stub of his writing utensil and return to his work. “Books and plays and things like that.”

“So why not buy him a book?”

“I’m not sure there’s any he wants that he doesn’t own already.” Crowley glances at the stacks and shelves around them, crammed full of hardcovers and leather bounds. “None that wouldn’t require me breaking into a museum, and I’ve been strictly forbidden to do that.” Crowley scowls at his page when he notices most of the white space smudged with graphite and the ghosts of words left over from constant erasing. He turns to a clean page, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “But apparently I suck at poetry! I can’t get anything to rhyme, so I keep repeating the same five words over and over again. And one of those is the!”

Anathema’s brow furrows as she tries to think of even one word that rhymes with the that someone would include in a romantic poem. “Wait a minute! I thought Aziraphale said the two of you inspired Shakespeare!”

“Yeah, but that’s Shakespeare. Inspiring him was easy. Back then, the English language was only about two hundred words max. And he made up half the words he wrote. How important could it be if he’s making shit up? This poem is a present for angel. It has to be … it has to be perfect.”

“Well, I applaud you for at least attempting to do this for him,” Anathema says, smiling at Crowley as if he were an adorable, stray puppy. “Poetry can be tricky if you’re not used to writing it.”

“And while I appreciate being applauded, I need your help! That’s why I called you! I need to get this finished. Valentine’s is four days away! I only get a few minutes here and there to work on it when angel pops out for a nibble. Speaking of which, he’s going to be back with lunch in about …” Crowley checks the hulking watch monopolizing his wrist “… ten minutes!”

“Okay, then, for the sake of ease, let’s not worry about making things rhyme. A poem doesn’t have to rhyme in order for it to be good.”

“Yeah, but the funny ones do. Like …” He grins like anything when a proper example pops into his head “… There once was a man from North Ennis, whose left hand was shaped like a …”

“You’re not writing limericks, Mr. Crowley!” Anathema rushes out before he can finish. Thank goodness Newt couldn’t come, she thinks. Then she’d definitely be hearing the end of that bawdy rhyme. “You’re expressing emotion, right? You want to tell him how you feel?”

“Yeah …”

“Let’s try this. Pretend that you aren’t writing a poem. If you were going to just come out and tell him how you feel, what would you say? Here …” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone “… let me record you. This way if you come out with a gem or two, you won’t forget.”

“O-kay …” Crowley sits up straight, preparing for Anathema to ready her phone. She holds it up and gives him a nod, letting him know to begin “… I’d tell him …” Crowley pauses, gathering his thoughts together. Granted, they’re easier to find when you’re not linking them up with words like louse “… I’d tell him I love him. That, uh … there isn’t a day that goes by I don’t think about him. Even when … when we were apart.” He finds it distracting and uncomfortable to look at Anathema while he’s saying these things, so he closes his eyes, focusing on the insides of his lids to help him concentrate. “I’d tell him 6000 years is an awful long time to exist without something to hope for. And he gave me that. Hope. Because being a demon, I don’t normally have much of that. I get to be naughty, of course. Have a little fun. It’s part of the job. But outside of that, there’s really nothing to look forward to. But seeing him, even for a moment, was something I looked forward to. I’d tell him that the times I spent with him were the best of my life, even when all I was doing was rustling his feathers.” Crowley laughs thinking of the times he dropped in on Aziraphale unannounced to pawn off some bullshit assignment to have an excuse to talk to him for five minutes.

Just five minutes.

But they’d end up being the most important five minutes of his decade.

“I’d tell him … I’d tell him that there is no me without him. Not any more. Not for a long time now. That’s why I couldn’t leave the planet without him. And when I went to his bookshop and saw it burning down, I …” Crowley’s lips pinch together, his throat tight. He stops again, his voice fading with those words.

“You … what, Mr. Crowley?” Anathema coaxes gently.

“I didn’t care about anything anymore. Not demons or angels, not doing my job, not this whole world. Because my world … the one I loved … was gone. You know?”

Anathema doesn’t know. Not really. But she nods anyway. “Yeah. I know.”

“Look at me,” Crowley sniffles, taking off his glasses and wiping his eyes on his sleeve.“Gettin’ all weepy. And on video, too.” He gestures to Anathema’s phone. “How … how was that? I can’t really think of anything else to say.”

“That was … beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Anathema says, getting emotional herself. “I think … it was perfect. You don’t have to turn it into a poem. You don’t have to change a thing. Just show him this.”

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

“Yes.” From behind them, a new voice, thick with tears, enters the conversation, from someone they didn’t hear walk in, too wrapped up in Crowley’s emotional monologue. Crowley turns towards it, sees blue eyes shimmering his way as Aziraphale clears his throat, wipes his eyes. “I believe so.”

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffablevalentines #good omens fanfiction #Crowley #aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[yamikakyuu]

Ineffable Valentine's Day 19: Candy Hearts

@ineffable-valentines

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #fanart #digital art #my art #sketchbook

[eveningstarcatcher]

Ineffable Valentines - Day 2: Roses

The day was grey and dreary. Rain was drizzling down and Aziraphale left the bookshop sign flipped to “CLOSED”, choosing to spend the day with a mug of cocoa and a good book. 

Crowley was dozing on the couch, his steady breathing and the gentle patter of rain a soothing soundtrack for reading.

Aziraphale settled into his chair. He loved days like this. Days he could spend inside, with all of his favorite things. A nice mug of cocoa that will warm him from the inside, a book that he can get lost in, the cozy and familiar interior of the bookshop, and his dear Crowley napping just a few feet from him. Aziraphale’s heart felt full as he looked at Crowley’s sleeping form, all long, sleek lines, black fabric, and red hair.

“I’m so glad you feel comfortable here, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered,. “This may be my home, but it doesn’t feel complete without you here.” He looked a moment more, then kissed his hand and blew it towards Crowley. He giggled at himself, feeling a bit foolish for the act, but gave Crowley one more look, then opened his book.

They spent the next few hours this way. The only noises were the shuffle of a turning page, a small murmur of Crowley in his sleep, and the steady ticking of the Grandfather clock.

Aziraphale was surprised when he heard a knock at the door. It was so faint that at first he didn’t hear it, but the second time it managed to pull his attention out of the pages before him. He carefully placed a bookmark to hold his place, set the book on the desk, and hurried to the door.

He unlocked the bolt and opened the door to find a delivery man holding a clipboard in one hand and a pot in the other.

“Delivery for Mr. Fell,” the man said, dressed in shades of brown and tan, the company logo proudly displayed on his shirt and cap. “Please sign.”

“Thank you very much,” Aziraphale smiled, signing his name on the clipboard and taking the pot from him. “Have a nice day.”

“You too, sir. Thank you, sir.” The delivery man smiled before turning and striding back to his van.

Aziraphale took a look at the grey sky and saw that there was no sign of the rain stopping. That didn’t bother him, he was having a lovely day.

He closed and locked the door and returned to the backroom. He set the pot down on the floor to his right and swept the book up again. 

He was lost in the pages again, soaking up every word and feeling printed there. The handsome hero, who, despite the written descriptions was tall, thin, and redheaded, was sweeping the beautiful lady, blonde haired and blue eyed, off her feet. He brought her flowers, he spoke tender words, and he dashed in and saved her from the villain in the nick of time, earning her love and her hand in marriage! 

Aziraphale giggled to himself, remembering the Bastille. Crowley’s hair had been terribly dreadful, but he had been there to rescue him, had even agreed to have lunch with him. He remembered that night during the Blitz when Crowley had braved consecrated ground to find Aziraphale and save him from the Nazis. He had remembered to save Aziraphale’s beloved books from the bomb while Aziraphale was focused on saving their corporations.

He also remembered how cruel the words he had used with Crowley were. They echoed in his mind and created knots in his stomach.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

We’re not having this conversation. Not another word!

Do you know what trouble I’d be in if they knew I’d been...fraternizing?

I don’t even like you.

There is no our side, Crowley. Not anymore. 

It’s over.

He wiped a tear from his eye at the memories of all the pain he had caused Crowley over the years. It could have been over so many times. Crowley could have simply walked away and never sauntered back into his life again. He was so patient with Aziraphale, so generous and kind.

“What’s wrong, angel?” Crowley was sitting up, eyes barely open.

“Nothing, my dear. Go back to sleep,” Aziraphale set the book down on the desk.

“No, m’done sleeping. Why are you crying?” Crowley knelt down in front of Aziraphale, setting his hands on his thighs.

“I was thinking about us. About all the terrible, hurtful things I said to you and how you always came back even after I pushed you away,” Aziraphale placed his hands over Crowley’s and closed his eyes, fighting the tears that pooled there.

“I knew you didn’t mean it. I knew the grip Heaven had on you and I never blamed you. Not once,” Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s hands.

“I should have chosen you. You were the one who was always there for me, the one who cared for me when Heaven turned its back on me. I’m so sorry, my dear.” Aziraphale slumped forward, his head resting on top of Crowley’s.

“You want to know what I remember?” Crowley asked, his thumbs rubbing circles against Aziraphale’s thighs. He felt Aziraphale nod against his head. “I remember you protecting me from the rain in the garden, inviting me to lunch in Rome, agreeing to the Arrangement, giving me the holy water, despite your better judgement. I remember every time you were worried about Holy Water destroying me, each time you told me I was kind. I remember when you forgave me. Those are the things I remember. Yes, the other things you said hurt, but you always reminded me that you cared, that you didn’t mean what you said, that they were just words you used when you were afraid that Heaven would hurt you.”

“Or you,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s hair.

“But they can’t. They tried and failed and here we are,” Crowley shifted his head and cupped Aziraphale’s cheeks in his hands, wiping his tears away.

“Here we are,” Aziraphale gave a weak smile.

“You have forgiven me, Aziraphale. Please forgive yourself,” Crowley said softly.

At this, Aziraphale threw his arms around Crowley’s shoulders and slid down to the floor beside him. He held Crowley close, breathing in the earthy, smoky scent of him and feeling his heart beating against his chest.

“You’re quite right, dear,” he said after a few minutes. “If you’ve forgiven me, I should forgive myself. Release the fear and the guilt and start anew.”

“Yes, angel,” Crowley ran his fingers through his pale curls. “Never had to forgive you, though.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Aziraphale sat back and gave Crowley a bright smile.

Crowley pressed a kiss to the angel’s forehead and moved to stand up, but something caught his eye.

“What’s that?” he asked, inclining his head to the floor behind Aziraphale.

“Oh! Well, I was planning to save it, but this seems like a good time!” Aziraphale shuffled on his knees to the pot and brought it over.

“It’s for you,” Aziraphale beamed and handed it to Crowley.

Crowley took the pot in his hands and smiled. It was a small bush of hybrid tea roses sporting deep red blossoms as well as white.

“I was sure to get the bush, so you can plant it. I thought you might not like the cut ones, since they’d die. This way you can cultivate it and be reminded of me every time you see it.” Aziraphale explained, running a finger lovingly over the soft petals of a red rose.

“It’s beautiful,” Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and placed a gentle kiss to it, earning him a blush on his pale cheeks. “Thank you. Although, I don’t need flowers to make me think of you.”

“I should hope not, but I thought they were lovely and I wanted you to have them.”

“Too cold to plant it now. Where should I put it until the ground thaws?” Crowley asked, glancing around the room.

“I believe they like a lot of sun, so how about right here in the window?” Azirphale gestured to an empty spot on the sill. “Not much sun today, but I’ve heard the forecast is supposed to be nice this week.”

Crowley gently placed the pot in its place and stepped back, offering a hand to Aziraphale and pulling him to his feet.

“It’s perfect.” Crowley wrapped his arm around Aziraphale’s waist and held him tight as they smiled at the small roses.

For @mielpetite‘s @ineffable-valentines Also on A03

#ineffablevalentines #ineffable valentines #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #fic #my writing

[prettybirdy979]

Fic: Aziraphale/Crowley ‘Grand Gesture’

For Ineffable Valentines! Prompt list here, more fics for this prompt series in my tag here.

‘Crowley?’

‘Hmm?’ Crowley says, without looking up from his phone. They’re in the bookshop, relaxing in another’s company. No need for any eye contact or talking and no excuses about being together. It’s a luxury of silent companionship they’ve never been able to have before. 

‘I.. I think...’ Aziraphale trails off.

Crowley does look up, dropping his phone as he does. ‘Angel?’

Aziraphale looks deep into his eyes - his glasses having been banished to some other dimension - and smiles. ‘No. I know.’

Well that’s descriptive. ‘You know what angel?’

‘That I’d give up this bookshop for you.’ 

Crowley freezes, his heart pounding. ‘Hrk?’

Aziraphale frowns. ‘No, that didn’t come out right.’ He looks around at his books then back at Crowley. ‘I love you more than my books,’ he says and Crowley makes another embarrassing noise. ‘If it came to a choice my dear,’ he continues, ‘I would pick you in a heartbeat.’

‘Angel,’ Crowley finally gets out and Aziraphale gets up, dropping to his knees in front of Crowley.

‘I should have said this a hundred years ago,’ Aziraphale whispers, looking Crowley right in the eyes. ‘I think I did, when I saved us but not the books. But I’ve never said it aloud and I think... I think you need to hear it.’

Crowley reaches out and pulls Aziraphale off his knees. The movement ends up dragging Aziraphale into his lap but at least the angel isn’t on his knees like he’s praying to Crowley anymore. 

‘You never had to say it,’ he whispers into Aziraphale’s too close ear. ‘I did... I did always know.’

‘My dear,’ Aziraphale says as he places a soft kiss by Crowley’s ear, ‘that’s why I should have said it.’

And Crowley, his words caught in his throat by this grand gesture of Aziraphale’s, can only turn his head to make sure the next kiss is to his lips not his face.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffablevalentines #My Story #My Scribbles

[mielpetite]

Day 28 and the prompt was “I’m yours.” So I did this sappy thing.

#good omens #good omens fan art #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffablevalentines

[dickwheelie]

Day 26: Love song

For the @ineffable-valentines prompt list!

Featuring “Love of My Life” by Queen, an obvious choice, but also the only song that can consistently get me to cry if I think about it for more than twenty seconds.

_________

It was far from the first time Aziraphale had heard the song. What had once been Beethoven’s fifth symphony had transformed into Queen’s “Love of My Life” back in the early 1990s, and ever since then it had played constantly whenever Crowley drove him around.

He’d never really listened to it before now, though.

The night was a mild, late-summer one, about a year after Armageddon. They’d spent it at a pub, chatting and drinking and chatting some more, before calling it quits around midnight. Crowley was on his way back to the bookshop to drop off Aziraphale, who was feeling comfortably tired when the song came on the Bentley’s tape player.

Perhaps it was the time of night, or the neon lights of the city flying by the window, or the fact that they were side by side in the Bentley again, or Crowley’s low, quiet voice coming from the driver’s seat, talking absentmindedly about nothing at all. Perhaps it was all of those things. Perhaps it was just the song itself, sounding to Aziraphale in that moment like something haunting and desperately sad.

Whatever it was, it made him think suddenly of a conversation they’d had in the Bentley fifty years ago, of a thermos carefully handed over, and a heartbroken look on Crowley’s face.

“Pull over,” Aziraphale heard himself say, his voice quiet and calm, but commanding. And then, because old habits die hard, “Please.”

Crowley glanced over at him, confused, but when he saw Aziraphale’s face he swerved the Bentley into the far left lane and pulled into a miraculously empty spot on the curb. “Angel,” he said, turning to him, slightly panicked, “what’s wrong?”

Aziraphale stared at the dashboard. The song played on: Love of my life, can’t you see . . . “Nineteen sixty-seven,” he said. “The holy water. I gave it to you so you wouldn’t get hurt trying to get it yourself.”

Crowley’s face was unreadable behind his glasses. “What brought this on?” He just sounded confused.

“It took me nearly a century. I could’ve gotten it sooner, but—” Aziraphale swallowed. Don’t take it away from me . . . “I—I thought you were going to—use it on yourself.”

Crowley said nothing. Aziraphale did not look away from the glowing lights dancing across the windshield from the passing traffic. London really was beautiful at night.

“I couldn’t stand it, Crowley. I couldn’t stand the thought of it. It was selfish of me, but I needed—oh, my dear, I needed you.” His hand went up to cover his mouth, but not to silence it; it was a gesture of surprise that he’d had the strength to say it at all. “And then I . . . I left you, all alone in the car. I couldn’t bear to sit there any longer, knowing how selfish I’d been.”

Crowley reached out his hand, almost touching Aziraphale’s cheek, and said softly, “You’re crying.”

Aziraphale blinked, and felt tears fall from his lashes. He turned to look at Crowley. Crowley looked, if it was at all possible, quietly and gently devastated. Aziraphale expected he looked much the same. “I was a coward,” said Aziraphale softly. “I was a coward. And you suffered for it.”

Crowley was shaking his head. “Didn’t suffer. Not really. Not because of you. You know me, I would’ve found a way to get the holy water anyway.”

“It isn’t just about the holy water,” said Aziraphale. It was, strangely enough, one of the most difficult things he had ever said. “It never has been.”

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Aziraphale wiped at his eyes, to little effect. He took a watery breath. “Forgive me, my dear. For—for all of it. For making you wait, all those years.”

Something soft and dry pressed against his right temple. “Nothing to forgive,” said Crowley, as he pulled away from the kiss. “Don’t cry, now. Not on my account, please. I need you, too. That’s what this is about, yeah? I need you. When you got discorporated, I thought you were gone. But you came back. And I used the holy water, but on someone else. And I came back, too. It all comes out in the wash, yeah?”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure, but he was afraid he might have been sobbing. He hoped he wasn’t; his handkerchief had seen better days.

“Don’t cry,” said Crowley again, and Aziraphale felt his hands fold over his own. “There’s nothing to cry about anymore, Angel.”

Aziraphale turned his head and kissed him. It was wet and a bit snotty and their necks were at odd angles, but he couldn’t help it, he loved him too much not to. Oh, hurry back, hurry back, please bring it back home to me . . .

When they finally separated, Crowley said breathlessly, “Angel, if you leave the car now, I swear—”

They both laughed. Crowley used his sleeve to wipe away Aziraphale’s lingering tears. “We should go, though,” said Aziraphale, after a moment. “I believe you’re parked illegally.”

“To the bookshop, then?” said Crowley, putting the car in drive.

Aziraphale smiled as the last few notes of the song faded away, all sadness going with them. “Always, my dear.”

#ineffablevalentines #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #gwyneth writes

[mageink]

I’m already behind on this because life stuff. I left it kinda rough but here ya go! I’m not giving up! Working on Day 2: Flowers right now. :3

#ineffable valentines #aziraphale #good omens #ineffablevalentines

[scrapheapchallenge]

@mielpetite​ gave us a glorious set of prompts for @ineffable-valentines​ 2020. She also did a beautiful illustration for one of them (the “kiss” prompt, censored version below, uncensored on our AO3 accounts). I decided to do the whole month’s worth of fics, the link takes you to my entire collection. Mind the tags, it’s a mix of cute soft SFW fluff, comedy, angst, poetry, NSFW smut, NSFW comedy smut (again) and more. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. There should be something for everyone’s tastes here.

#ineffable valentines #ineffablevalentines #ineffable #Ineffable Husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #ineffable lovers #crowley #crowley’s bentley #Aziraphale #valentines #ineffablevalentines2020

[patolozka]

Ineffable Valentines, day 8 - Touch

My best animation so far, at least I think. Made myself very emotion while making it...😭

For @ineffable-valentines

#good omens fanart #ineffable husbands #my art #ineffablevalentines #ineffable valentines #good omens animation #fall

[lady-divine-writes]

Crowley’s Favorite Things

Summary: Crowley loves all the brilliant things humanity has made throughout the centuries. But if cornered for his all-time favorite thing in the universe, it's Aziraphale's wedding ring. (673 words)

Notes: I skipped ahead. Sue me XD Written for @ineffable-valentines prompt 'love token'.

Read on AO3.

Crowley loves humanity for its ingenuity.

It definitely makes his job easier when humans come up with a new gadget that they pin their entire lives on. No more need to start huge wars or inspire leaders to megalomania in order to perform evil. Knocking down phone networks and jamming up motorways go farther, in some cases, towards driving humans to sin than the fear of a missile crisis.

But since he considers Earth his home, one worth fighting to keep, he also appreciates humanity for its creativity, its style, especially where it comes to their more frivolous material possessions.

His Bentley is his baby.

His flat, which he barely stays at, has become a status symbol he doesn’t need - huge for one person, and lavish beyond belief by mortal standards, costing more than seventy-five times the average wage earner’s yearly salary.

His clothes are designer whether he miracles them or not, as are his favorite accessory - his sunglasses - of which he keeps dozens on hand for emergencies.  

The watch on his wrist is utterly ridiculous with regard to its aesthetic and value.

But it’s Crowley’s wedding band that has risen the ranks as one of his all-time favorite things.

Aziraphale picked it out, bought it for him on the sly when Crowley would have happily flipped the bill for whatever ring his angel chose to get for him. But putting away the money to afford it is part of the human tradition, Aziraphale had explained. And he’d wanted to take part in the whole ritual, including the less desirable ones like breaking the bank to afford the perfect ring.

It’s not the ring Crowley would have chosen. If he’d been put in a room with a thousand rings, this one probably would not have landed anywhere near the top five. It’s tacky, to be honest, and with its three-dimensional angel wings perched on top, a little too on the nose. Aziraphale is a brilliant angel but he has no particular eye for fashion, nor does he seem to grasp the concept that, as far as jewelry is concerned, certain metal/gem combinations are more sought after than others.

He saw something he liked, something that reminded him of his relationship with Crowley, something he thought Crowley would love as well, and he gave it to him.

It’s not cheaply made by any means, but Crowley often kids (completely to himself) that there’s a definite possibility Aziraphale fished it out of a Cracker Jack box.

But as much as Crowley loves his own wedding band, Aziraphale’s is, by far, Crowley’s favorite thing in the world. He admires it as often as he can, sneaks glances at it, caresses it when they hold hands, runs a thumb over it when they’re in bed together.

Like Aziraphale did for him, Crowley picked Aziraphale’s ring out himself.

Strike that - he had Aziraphale’s ring specially made.

It’s platinum instead of gold since Crowley thought that suited his angel better. It’s a simple band, but not a small one, taking up Aziraphale’s ring finger from his last knuckle to the middle one. He had it set with three blue diamonds, and on the band he’d had three symbols engraved - a serpent, a sword, and an apple tree.

Crowley thought the overall affect very clever, and patted himself on the back several times that it pulled together so well, but he isn’t such an egotist to say it’s his favorite because he designed it (though he easily could).

It’s his favorite because Aziraphale wears it all the time.

His angel never takes it off.

Aziraphale admires it, too, from time to time, even kisses it when he thinks Crowley isn’t watching.

When Crowley presented it to him, Aziraphale accepted it with a smile on his face and tears in his eyes.

But accepting Crowley’s ring, with himself engraved into the metal, means Aziraphale accepts Crowley, for good or bad.

And he wears that acceptance proudly, for Heaven and Hell and all the world to see.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffablevalentines #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley