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ryosei-hime · 3 years

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Sex and Therapy : The Safe Word

Concord learns a bit more about Fizz’s history. Rape is discussed in this chapter. I also attempt to show Concord actually having a life outside of his apartment. : P Also available on AO3.

Concord had a hard time concentrating at work the next day, knowing Fizz waited for him at home. He did his best to pay attention to his clients but, between them, his receptionist could catch him staring off into the distance with a silly grin.

“Sir, are you okay?”

Concord blushed and tried to pull his professional demeanor back together before turning his chair to face her fully.

“Yes, of course, Lannah.”

She lowered her spectacles and raised her eyebrows at him as she placed some papers on his desk.

“I’m fine,” he stated again in a warning tone.

She sighed as she set her glasses up to rest in front of her black and white horns, dropping the professional facade Concord liked to insist upon.

“I’ve never seen you make more than three facial expressions in all the time I’ve worked for you, Concord. What’s got you so excited?”

“It’s nothing.” He rearranged a few random items on his desk. “Has my three o’ clock arrived.”

“Canceled.” She gave him a smug look. “Looks like you have some time to talk.”

“It’s very unprofessional to engage in these sorts of conversations with employees.”

She gasped and hopped up to sit on his desk.

“These kinds of conversations? Do you have a date?”

Concord cursed his big mouth once more. Of course he used the same phrasing he’d used to try to curtail her oversharing with patients about her personal life.

“In...a way. I suppose. But again, it’s not appropriate workplace conversation.”

“Sir, I’ve worked for you for six years. You have never smiled the way you’ve been smiling today. I gotta know!”

Concord found himself being shaken by the shoulders.

“Okay, Lannah! Please, control yourself.”

She released him and wiggled excitedly as Concord eyed her like a live grenade.

“Who is it? What are they like? How’d you meet?”

“I...I’d rather not say too much. But I will gladly tell you he’s very out of my league in terms of physical appearance.”

“He’s hot?”

Concord lost his professional mask, giddiness taking over as he reacted to Lannah’s energy.

“He’s so hot, and so tall!”

“Picture! Picture!”

“I’m afraid I don’t have one.”

“Then what’s your favorite part of him?”

“His eyes. They captivate me.” Concord looked a little bashful as he recalled the way Fizz’s eyes shone in the darkness of the closet.

“Aww. That’s so sweet. I’m so happy for you, sir. I’ve been worried about you. Couple more years and I would have had to ask you out myself.”

Concord’s gave her a deadpan look.

“Really, Lannah?”

She laughed and poked him on his forehead.

“Hey, you’re cute enough for a pity date.”

“Sadly, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The rest of the day went by fairly quickly. He did have to deal with Lannah giggling at him from time to time if she caught him smiling to himself. But he combated his embarrassment at being caught expressing happiness by reminding himself she was actually happy for him not laughing at him.

When Concord finally arrived home, he braced himself to be swept off his feet. But Fizz wasn’t waiting for him at the door like an excited puppy like he expected. That didn’t slow him down. He hucked his briefcase without looking to see where it landed, too busy struggling out of his sweater as he stumbled across the room.

“Fizz! I’m home!”

“I’m waiting!” he called back.

Concord finished fighting his way out of his sweater and followed the voice to his room. He found Fizz with his hands above his head, tied to the headboard as he reclined against a pile of pillows. His pose made Concord think of some romance novel covers he’d seen, long legs curled in a way that accentuated the hips, chest thrust forward a bit. Concord’s body reacted as intended, but his mind still got fixated on what should have been an irrelevant fact at this point.

“How did you tie yourself up?”

Fizz responded by sticking his long tongue out with a wink and that got him moving. He laughed as Concord scrambled up to him. He took Fizz’s face in his hands and their lips met, desperate and messy, only parting for moments so Concord could breathe. He finally had to lean back and Fizz followed those lips as far as he could, pulling on the ropes binding him.

He fell back against the pillows and stared up at Concord, a demure expression on his face as he rolled his hips to part his legs.

“I’m all yours. What’ll you do with me?”

Concord blushed more for the position he found himself in than anything. He hadn’t planned on taking charge. If he’d known, he’d have spent all day obsessing about it. What would he do? Why did he have to be so awkward? He couldn’t compare to what Fizz did for him.

He had to follow his instincts, Satan help him. He felt his body moving forward, hand sliding up Fizz’s thigh as he leaned up to kiss him again. Softer this time, less desperate as their tongues met and felt each other out. Concord opened his eyes as he pulled away, meeting Fizz’s.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.”

He hadn’t even thought before saying it and would have kicked himself if he weren’t so lost in them. Fizz looked amused.

“You’re such a softie. Did I even need to come up with a safe word?”

Concord felt a bit embarrassed for a moment. He’d said too much. He felt like hiding before the other half of what Fizz said clicked. He looked confused.

“Wait. You can’t use the one I use?”

“Not unless you want me to go rag doll on you, baby. Or are you into that?”

Concord ignored his attempts to keep things rolling.

“That works even when you say it?” Concord’s wheels turned slowly. “But that means….if you can’t…”

Concord reached up and started pulling at the ropes around Fizz’s wrists.

“I like to show off and all. But that was actually very hard to do on my own, you know.”

Concord ignored him again, wanting him to be completely free before he started talking. He straddled him as the ropes fell away and intended to look him in the eye, but he couldn’t. He kept his head down, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

“Fizz. Your previous owner made it so you couldn’t tell them to….to cease their actions without….terminating your own functioning?”

“He didn’t like to be told what to do,” Fizz responded coldly.

“He raped you.”

“I don’t have bodily autonomy. Legally, he was within his rights.”

Concord looked up suddenly and took Fizz’s face in shaky hands, tears trailing down his cheeks.

“Fuck legality! Fizz. Who was he? What’s his name?”

“I can’t tell you. Confidentiality policies.”

“Could we get Cog to override that?”

“It’s part of my core programming.” Fizz’s voice suddenly took on a tinny sound. “It is inadvisable to tamper with core Fizzarolli programming. Tampering with core programming will void your warranty. Mammon is not responsible for dismemberment or death once the warranty is void.”

“Maybe we can….find a loophole?”

Concord’s eyes were scanning the air for answers now, frantic.

“Concord.” Fizz took his hands from his face. “Don’t.”

Concord looked at him and Fizz wiped away some of the tears on his cheeks. He stared into his eyes pointedly and Concord looked away. He wrapped his arms around Fizz’s neck and leaned into him for a hug. His voice came out a sad and desperate muffle.

“But he raped you.”

Fizz’s arms came up around him, tightening as he leaned his head against Concord’s.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess he did. But I’m here with you now.”

He sounded as if he were only just accepting that word could apply to him. Rage wormed its way into Concord’s heart. It burrowed into the center and made a nest. Fizz couldn’t tell him who he was. But Concord would find him somehow. He’d find him and he’d kill him.

“You’ll always be safe with me. I promise.”

Fizz kissed his horn, rubbing his back.

“I know, baby.”

Concord pulled back after a bit and wiped at his eyes.

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be having to comfort me.”

“So, why don’t you comfort me now?” he suggested with a grin.

“We need to call Cog to turn this safe word off before we do anything.”

“You mean change it.”

“No. We can use safe words without them literally turning you off. I trust you to pause on your own when I ask. Why didn’t I realize it could be turned off before?”

“It can’t. It’s a safety protocol. There has to be a failsafe word. It’s part of the core programming.”

“Then we’ll change it to something ridiculous that I’ll never be able to pronounce.”

“Concord. Do I get to have a say on this one?”

“Of course. But why would you want to keep it?”

“The safe word isn’t bad. What he did with it was. What if something goes wrong with my programming? I could hurt you. I need to know you can shut me down. Let me have this.”

“...I don’t have to let you.” Concord was a little embarrassed he’d gone off and forgotten to take Fizz’s feelings into consideration. “It’s your decision.”

Fizz slipped a hand behind his head and hooked it around a horn, pulling Concord’s face up to his.

“Then let’s just wait to call Cog. I promised you a lot of things yesterday. And I really want to give them to you.”

Concord wanted to check with him that he really wanted to continue after such a sensitive subject, but he’d promised himself he wouldn’t try to be Fizz’s therapist. And that was a very therapist thing to ask. Right now he had to trust Fizz knew what he needed. So, he smiled for him and brushed his cheek with a thumb.

“Then take me. I’m yours.”

He leaned up to kiss Fizz softly, but Fizz didn’t let him pull away, pushing more passion into it. He released his horn and donned his demure look again.

“But first, let me be yours. Show me that strength in softness you talked about.”

Concord laughed a little and felt some of the pressure relieved. He didn’t have to live up to Fizz. He could just be himself and Fizz would at the very least find it adorable or quaint. Maybe that was okay. As long as he brought Fizz any kind of joy.

As long as he made him forget for even a moment.

#Helluva Boss #RoboFizz #RoboFizz Helluva Boss #Robo Fizz #Robo Fizz Helluva Boss #my fanfics #stuffididmyself

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rootbeergoddess · 4 years

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Human Delicacies: Satan

This took so longer and I apologizeeeeeee. But Satan finally gets his chance for some sweet treats. Ao3 link is right here.

~*~

The alarm on his D.D.D woke Satan with a start. He rubbed his eyes and wiped away the drool from his chin. Ah, he had fallen asleep while reading again. Satan stood up, groaning as he felt the stiffness in his body. Yawning again, he looked at the time. Oh, it seemed like he slept through lunch. Only two hours until dinner, but he couldn’t really wait that long without eating something.

“I suppose I could head into the kitchen and see if I can find a snack,” He said. “Hopefully, Beel hasn’t cleaned out the kitchen.”

Lucky for him, the hallways weren’t busy, so getting to the kitchen would be no issue.

“Leave me alone, Forneus!”

Satan stopped; he knew that voice. He looked over to his right to see MC. There was a male student with her, but it was obvious MC didn’t want to be talking to him. Her school bag was clutched in her hands, and she looked ready to run. Usually, Satan would distance himself if he saw something like this. It wasn’t his job to intervene, he wasn’t Lucifer. Why did he care what the students did?

“C’mon MC, why are you being so cold? All I asked was for some lunch,” Forneus grinned. “You make lunch for Lucifer and his brothers.”

“Gee, why would I make lunch for them? Maybe it’s because they’ve been extremely kind to me, and I care about them,” MC avoided Forenus’ gaze. “Excuse me.”

MC moved to leave, but Forenus cut off her escape. Satan felt his anger flare up as he watched.

“You don’t care about me?” Forenus reached out and touched her hair.

“Stop it!” MC shouted. “Please, just leave me alone!”

“You heard her.”

Forenus nearly jumped out of his skin when Satan appeared behind him. He turned around to face the demon of Wrath, gulping when he realized who it was. MC ran over beside Satan, glaring at Forenus. The other demon began to back away.

“I was just teasing her, no big deal,” Forenus held his hands up in defense.

“Teasing?” Satan’s eyes went dark. “You think sexual harassment is funny?” “What? Sexual harassment? It wasn’t harassment, right MC?” Forenus looked at MC with pleading eyes.

“Yeah, I would call what you’ve been doing sexual harassment,” MC said. “Oh, did I mention that he grabbed my ass?”

“He. did. WHAT?” Satan’s glare turned murderous.

Satan grabbed Forenus before he could book it. Forenus tried to save his skin, but Satan wasn’t having any of it. MC followed them to Lord Diavolo’s office, where Forenus was forced into a chair.

“Lord Diavolo, we have a case of sexual misconduct involving two students,” Satan’s eyes stayed on Forenus. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that our school has a strict no harassment policy.”

“That’s true,” Diavolo eyed the whimpering demon before him. “And let me guess, MC was the victim?”

“Yes, I was,” MC finally spoke. “If it wasn’t for Satan, it would have continued. He’s my hero.”

Satan coughed, his cheeks turning red.

“I see. Well, I’ll have to take statements from all three of you, but don’t worry,” Diavolo said. “We will get to the bottom of this, and punishments will be given.”

“Is this really necessary?” Forenous asked weakly.

“Keep talking. Please, see where it gets you,” Satan growled. “I dare you.” Forenous was about to say something, but the look from Satan changed his mind.

Knock, knock.

“It’s opened,” Satan didn’t look up from his book. “Watch your step, don’t touch anything and---”

“If you want to borrow a book, you have to fill out a form, and the book must be returned within two weeks.”

Satan looked up from his book, seeing MC standing before him. She closed the door behind her and walked towards him. He noticed the basket in her hands.

“Are you delivering a meal to someone?” Satan asked.

“It’s more of a thank you,” MC placed the basket down. “Is it okay if I set this here?”

Had it been anyone else, Satan would have said no. MC? MC wasn’t just anyone. Satan nodded, and she smiled, making his heart skip a beat. She opened up the basket, and the warm smell of apples greeted his nose. MC pulled out a beautifully baked apple pie. The crust was adorable with little hearts and diamonds on it.

“So, since you’re my hero, I decided to show my thanks with your favorite dessert, apple pie! Vanilla apple pie, to be exact. This baby won me the blue ribbon at the state fair three years in a row!”

“Ah, I should be honored then?” Satan managed to smile.

“Oh, totally,” MC giggled. “But, I am thankful. Like super thankful. That jerk Forenous is in my Demonic Histories class, and he hasn’t left me alone for a week.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Satan asked.

“I didn’t want to bother anyone,” MC said with a shrug. “Yes, I know that’s dumb, but I just thought he’d move on. I guess I was wrong. Either way, this is a thank you. I also have some imported whip cream. Don’t tell anyone I’m sharing it with you. They’ll get jealous.”

“My lips are sealed,” Satan said. “Hang on, let’s set up over here.” Satan got up and moved to a small table covered with books. He moved the piles off the table and the chairs. MC placed the basket on the table and took out some plates. Once the table was set, she brought out the pie. The room became filled with the pleasing scent of vanilla and apples. MC cut two slices and placed them on their respective plates. She sprayed some whipped cream on her pie and then passed the canister to Satan. Satan added the smallest dollop he could.

“You know, I have some tea,” He said. “I could brew some.”

“Oh, tea would be delightful!” MC said.

Satan’s heart started beating faster, and he got up, trying to hide his blush. How could one human be so adorable and pure? The better question was why she bothered with him. Satan wasn’t the most popular demon, but MC didn’t seem to care.

Satan found his kettle and cleared away some books so he could prepare the tea. He decided on a nice Earl Grey. Once the tea was brewed, he poured it into two cups and gave one to MC. Then, he sat down in front of his pie. Satan took a sip of his tea before taking a bite of the pie. It was no surprise that the pie tasted fantastic. MC had a natural talent for cooking and baking. Everything she made was amazing. This pie was no exception.

“It’s perfect,” Satan said. “Like always.”

“You always say that,” MC blushed a bit.

“It’s true, though,” Satan took another bite. “You really have a talent. Thank you.”

“Again, I should be thanking you,” MC fiddled with a lock of hair. “You really saved me.”

“I just did what anyone else would do.”

“Not everyone is as nice as you are, Satan,” MC said. “There are a lot of guys like Forenous out there.”

“True,” Satan felt his cheeks turn pink. “Maybe just to be safe---I should walk you to and from your classes from now on.”

MC smiled. She nudged his foot playfully, making Satan’s face turn even redder.

“I’d like that a lot.”

#Rootbeer Writes #Obey Me!#Obey Me! Shall We Date #Satan #Reader Insert #Obey Me Satan

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whereisthefood123 · 5 years

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Of things left unsaid and an abyss not as wide as it seemed

A/N: Finally decided to write for the Good Omens fandom! Started this for the @ineffablehusbandsweek but ended up being late, as usual, haha Hope you enjoy it nonetheless! No beta this time, we die like men. Prompt: Day 3 - Fall/Plumet/Dive turned into Leap. Also in ffnet and AO3

Summary: But when you're granted your freedom- no, when you seized it with both hands and a kick to your former boss's face, how do you go around taking that first step? How do you walk over the chasm that ceased to exist between you and that one that your heart yearns for so much, for so long?

That's exactly what Crowley is asking himself and anyone that cares to listen to his inner musings.

Alt summary: long-overdue talk (but not really talk but still resolving feelings) between the ineffable idiots, lots of pinning and yearning

Word count: 2k

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For humans, 6000 years was too long, too much. Of what? Time, experiences, feelings? They wouldn’t know. Humans would never know 6000 years wasn’t nearly enough. Not for an angel and a demon that met at the wall of Eden under the first rain that fell on Earth.

6000 years together, but not together. Six millennia of history and friendship, of lunch dates and rides on the Bentley, of angelic temptations and demonic miracles. But also, the expanse of their shared time of longing looks and soft smiles, of tender brushing of fingers and yearning hearts, of heroic rescues and quiet thank you’s.

Of hope for what could be and fear of what could be lost.

Of course, 6000 years wouldn’t be enough for them.

Since day 1, the Great Plan had two badass-mother-fuckers-but-incompetent-as-fuck adversaries. The war between Heaven and Hell be damned. Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley would have given up any second of their time together. Past, present or future.

Future.

Crowley didn’t even dare to hope there would be any future at all. Not after he had seen the bookshop go up in flames, not after Aziraphale’s spirit showed up in the bar to give him instructions to go to Tadfield, not even after Adam had flipped off Beelzebub, Gabriel and Satan in the span of 10 minutes. But when they pulled off their crazy body swap stunt, well, Crowley dared to do something undemon-like. He hoped there would be a future, filled with crepes and the best reds Aziraphale could miracle into his wine cellar, where fraternizing with the enemy would no longer be a dangerous act and strolls by St. James Park and quiet evenings in the bookshop could finally be freed from the dread of either Heaven or Hell finding out about their time together, but not together.

Oh, but Crowley’s traitorous heart dared to go one step beyond, picturing a future of intentional caresses and soft praises seared into skin, of romantic picnics and stargazing dates, of the barriers around their hearts finally shattering leaving both exposed and vulnerable but oh so blissfully happy.

No more looking over their shoulders, no more of Aziraphale sneaking a glance up to make sure no one upstairs had heard them, no more thermos filled up with an insurance plan for when everything would go to shit.

No more of the Arrangement being their only excuse to spend time together.

Because when the fear of either of their sides finding out about their history together (but not together) was finally extinguished- the stubborn ember that was always there not letting whatever was between them fully bloom finally gone, sizzling out of existence and wisping into oblivion- both angel and demon find themselves finally free. Shackles torn apart and reduced to dust with a breath of hellfire and a request for a rubber duck. No longer tied to their loyalties to above or below, their souls and hearts are finally flying, soaring beyond any boundary, fuelled by 6000 years of memories and feelings, finally reaching for the one that always stood side-by-side since the Beginning of time itself.

But when you’re granted your freedom- no, when you seized it with both hands and a kick to your former boss’s face, how do you go around taking that first step? How do you walk over the chasm that ceased to exist between you and that one that your heart yearns for so much, for so long?

That’s exactly what Crowley is asking himself and anyone that cares to listen to his inner musings.

After dining at the Ritz and walking leisurely back to Aziraphale’s bookshop, the angel had invited the demon for a nightcap to ‘check that everything was truly back as it formerly was’. And after three bottles that laid askew on the carpet and a lengthy discussion on who was the best dancer out of the two, Crowley finds himself standing so close, too close, to Aziraphale, staring directly into the expanse of deep blue eyes. With every breath the angel takes, his chest comes to barely ghost over Crowley’s own, their clothing being a useless barrier for the warmth seeping from the angel’s body and crawling under the demon’s skin.

No words are exchanged. Both lost deeply into each other’s gaze. Crowley barely remembers he had tossed his dark glasses onto a table the moment the bookshop’s door was shut closed.

Keeping the Bentley going though alight with hellfire, stopping time, even facing Satan, were all a walk on St. James Park for Crowley. Simple, a snap of fingers, an unflinching thought, an overachieving imagination and he had control of the situation. Kind of. At least better than now. Because the longer he looks into the angel’s eyes, the more he finds his heart stammering. The questions, the yearning, the self-doubt swirling in those blue orbs are all too familiar to the demon as he had seen them countless times in his own reflection. The sucker punch to the gut is the intense love he sees flickering there, a well-controlled blaze, for the fear of what could be consumed if it were to be let free, but burning more fiercely than any hellfire tornado or holy flaming sword.

And all of that directed to Crowley.

He sucks in a breath that he needn’t but felt too necessary to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest.

“Aziraphale.” His voice is breathy, the word almost not slipping past his lips.

The angel seems to come out of his trance and blinks once but he doesn't step away, even with his head craned slightly back to make up for their height difference. His eyes flicker from Crowley's gaze to his lips momentarily, to the crease of his brow, to the sharp of his jaw and return to Crowley's eyes.

There are questions lingering in Aziraphale’s irises, written in ink that seeps into the angel’s heart.

How to close this distance that I’d adamantly build between us?

How is it to finally live free? To love freely?

Will you take my hand if I reach for you, my dear? After everything I did to you? After how much I’ve hurt you?

Crowley’s answer comes in the form of his hand reaching to cup Aziraphale’s cheek. So slowly, so gently, giving the angel every opportunity to move away. Blue eyes stay fixed on the demon’s golden gaze. When Crowley’s fingers finally graze the angel’s skin, Aziraphale closes his eyes, a shudder passing through him, revealing in the touch.

“Crowley.” The word is a plea on the angel’s lips and it should feel wrong but oh, it feels so right.

A police car passes just outside the bookshop, its siren casting red and blue lights through the blinds. The light dances over Aziraphale’s blonde curls. The light comes and goes as fast as the beating of Crowley’s stammering heart, but the damage is done nonetheless.

Crowley’s fingers twitch and for a moment he falters. Words crawl their way from the depth of his less enjoyable memories.

‘You go too fast for me, Crowley.’

Because Crowley could deal with the fissure between them originating from their loyalties to their respective sides. And with those out of the way, he never stopped to consider that the chasm could still be there. Not out of fear of above or below, but out of a rift between their hearts’ desires. A void of rejection that remains open to pull Crowley down to the deepest darkness the moment he dares to take the first step.

He almost withdraws his hand. Almost stumbles back into the safety of known terrain, before a hand reaches for his.

As if sensing his distress, Aziraphale places his hand on top of Crowley’s, trapping it against his cheek. Blue eyes open and stare into serpentine ones, offering comfort, offering love.

“It’s okay, dearest.” The angel’s words drip like the sweetest honey and Crowley can do nothing but choke in a sob. Relief floods him, washing away the doubts, the questions, the anxiety.

“It’s okay.” Aziraphale repeats.

Then, Crowley is leaning in, until their noses are touching, and their breaths mingle together. An echo of what transpired between them a couple of days ago at a former Satanic convent but without the wall pressing against Aziraphale’s back, and without the snarl on Crowley’s lips and a speech on how demons are never nice. And thankfully, without the woman who had horribly timed her walking in on them to ‘break such an intimate moment’.

Would he have kissed Aziraphale then?

Will he now?

Crowley stops for a second if only to bask in the beauty of Aziraphale, on the blush dusting the angel’s cheeks, on the warmth of his skin against Crowley’s, on the smell of his new cologne that yes, Crowley had noticed the day Aziraphale’s barber had recommended it to the angel.

‘I know what you smell like,’ he had said then but clamped down on the rest of his words before his traitorous tongue would cross him. I’ve committed it to memory. It’s my favourite smell, you know. Since forever, since Eden. There’s nothing like you. I’ve tried, I’ve looked everywhere and nothing comes close to your scent. It’s addictive. It’s intoxicating. And you know how much I hate to sober up. Never from you. I’m always drunk on your scent.

There are a million and more things Crowley has never told Aziraphale. How Pale Blue Eyes has always and will always be his favourite song by how it reminds him of the angel. How Aziraphale can disarm him instantly with just one pleading look and how he knows the bastard knows what he does to Crowley when he directs one of those looks at the demon and acts all innocently afterward. How much it hurt to think that Aziraphale was gone, lost forever in the fire that consumed the bookshop and how he only wanted to curl there and let the blaze take him away as well; and how he cursed his demon nature once again when the embers did nothing but dance around him, mockingly, taunting him about the loneliness that had suddenly taken over the entirety of his chest.

Suddenly, the pressure of all of these and more topple over Crowley’s mind, wanting nothing more than to spill over the bookshop’s carpeted floor, to drown both of them. Suddenly, Crowley feels like there’s not enough time, too many feelings, too many things left unsaid, too many uncertainties and fears and oh, how painful it feels, and the chasm is suddenly too wide, too frightening, and for all his pretended bravado, Crowley was never a courageous one. But he stands resolutely at the edge, the tips of his shoes hanging over the abyss and a plea on his lips.

Am I going too fast still? Tell me, Aziraphale. And I will tell you everything I’ve kept quiet. I promise, angel. Just take this ache away. I can’t, I can’t. Angel, please.

Crowley is both shocked and delighted when the one that closes the distance between them is Aziraphale, touching his lips gently against Crowley’s in the softest and more delicious kiss to ever face the Earth. Crowley’s eyes shut closed and he relishes in the taste of Aziraphale, in the softness of his lips, in the love enveloping his soul, washing away all the pain and the ache and filling it with something holy, something Crowley should not be able to feel but still does. Because it’s Aziraphale that holds him and reassures him. I’m here. It’s alright. I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, I’m here, my darling, please.

How do you take that first step above the chasm distancing both? Simple. You don’t. You leap. You take a leap of faith. If humanity has taught them anything is that the best things in life are worth risking for, throwing self-caution to the wind. Embracing the pain, owning the heartache and holding all the unsaid words. Revealing in the history and framing all the feelings in a crystal case to hang in full display on the central wall of your essence.

Because what is life if not for daring the impossible such as flying, such as leaping and hoping someone catches you. Daring the impossible such as the love between an angel and a demon finally, finally, together.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! This is my first good omens fic and I hope it won't be the last one. It took me longer than I wanted to post it as I'm still insecure about this. But, I decided that the first fic I write for a new fandom is allowed to suck, and after that I can improve and enjoy writing more and more! Thank you for reading!

#good omens #good omens fanfic #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands week #day 3 #crowley #aziraphale #fanfic #where's the food fanfiction #lots of pinning from these idiots #i loved writing them #this fandom has some fantastic writers and artists that inspired me so much

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