#and all the Gentlemen; after saying goodbye to Aziraphale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ourownsideimagines · 5 years

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Twisted Turn of Events (Crowley x Reader Tangled!Au)

Characters: Human!Eugene!Crowley, Horse!Maximus!Aziraphale, Rapunzel!Reader, Human!Gothel!Gabriel

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Star Anon

Point of View: Second Person

Warnings: Violence, stabbing, blood, character death (temporary and permanent). Absolutely no editing whatsoever

Words: 2854

A/N: I hope you don’t mind I took this as an actual Tangled AU with the same premise because I absolutely love Tangled.

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You had long, magical, blond hair. It got in the way of everything you did, and it trailed everywhere behind you. It was a hassle, to say the least, but your father loved it.

Your father, Gabriel, was kind. Or, at least you thought he was kind. He kept you safe, up in your tower, for many years. He told you it was to keep you safe from those who would wish to use your hair to their advantage. He’d even refused to let you leave to see the floating lights that appeared every year on your birthday.

Your father had taught you a song at a young age - the song was what activated the magic in your hair, and you used it to heal your father whenever he felt weak or hurt. You would do anything to make him happy.

Almost anything, that was,

The only ones allowed in your tower were Gabriel, and sometimes Michael and Uriel to check on your health. Or, though you didn’t know it yet, to make sure you hadn’t tried to leave. They, too, used you for your hair.

No one else had ever entered the tower, as far as you knew.

That was, until he came.

It was the day before your birthday, and Gabriel had left hours prior at your request for some new paints. You were expecting Uriel or Michael (or even both) to show up any minute, which is why you didn’t panic at first when you heard someone clambering through the window. It was weird, yes, they usually called out for you to throw down your hair, but you didn’t doubt that they had other means of getting up. You’d exited your bedroom, about to greet them when you realized, no, it was no in fact one of your fathers friend, but a total stranger. He was dressed in dark clothing, his eyes covered by glasses tinted almost black

Your father had warned you many times about other men. Savages with sharp teeth who would only see you for your hair.

At the time you were terrified. It’d taken everything in you not to scream. He’d just opened his bag when you finally managed to thwack him over the head with frying pan your father had gotten for you last year. After checking his teeth and seeing that they weren’t actually sharp like your father had described, you’d stuffed him into your wardrobe, keeping it closed with one of your brooms.

It all seemed to silly now. Crowley, as you’d come to know him, was an absolute sweetheart despite his attempts to hide it. You’d convinced him to lead you from the tower to see the floating lights, which he told you were “lanterns for the lost princess”.

Sure, along the way he’d taken you to the Snuggly Duckling, a hang out for a group called “The Demons”, but they had been kind to you, much to your surprise, and despite the fact that they wanted to give Crowley up to the royal guard. But Crowley saved you when the guards attacked, and after quite a bit of consideration you found that you were rather fond of him. You might even say you were in love with him.

There had been an incident in the forest the night prior to your birthday, when Crowley went to look for firewood, and you were surprisingly approached by your father. He had been calm at first, attempting to coax you back to the tower.

When that didn't work, he’d gotten angry. Angrier than you’d ever seen him. He yelled at you, something he rarely ever did, and then revealed the bag you’d found Crowley with.

“If you think he really cares about you, give him this!” He threw the bag at your feet, and you’d quickly scooped it up, eyes wide. “Trust me, he’ll leave you the moment he lays eyes on it!”

After that, he disappeared and you were left alone, waiting for Crowley to get back.

These events were pushed almost to the back of your mind by morning, as when you woke Crowley was wrestling with a large, white horse you would come to know as Aziraphale. He was a part of the guard, Crowley told you, the one that was trying to arrest him. You’d convinced Aziraphale to calm down and not arrest Crowley until at least tomorrow, since today was your big day.

That was one of the stranger encounters of your trip.

You, of course, had to waste the day away so that you could see the lanterns at night fall. Crowley treated you to cupcakes, and surprised you with a small purple flag. He was the perfect gentlemen, albeit it a bit clumsy and idiotic. There were guard to avoid, but otherwise no trouble was found. You even had a bit of fun dancing around the square. A group of young girls even braided your hair so no one would walk on it, decorating it with vibrant flowers.

A part of you wanted the sun to never set, so you could stay there forever with Crowley. But as the sun slowly began its descent, Crowley led you out to the pier, where the two of you clambered aboard a row boat, leaving Aziraphale waiting at the dock.

“I figured I should give you the best seat possible,” Crowley hummed gently as he rowed. “It is your birthday after all.”

“Thank you, Crowley.” You smiled at him, and he smiled back. You wanted to give him the bag, but your father’s words hung in the back of you mind. You decided to wait.

By the time Crowley stopped rowing, the sun had almost set. All you had to do was wait. You and Crowley took some flowers from your hair and you began placing them in the water, watching the float away. It wasn’t long before the first light hit the water. Your head shot up, eyes widening in surprise.

It was starting. You scrambled to the other end of the boat, causing Crowley to momentarily lose balance. Lanterns began to float up, above the houses, and above the castle. Almost as if it knew you were there, breeze carried them in your direction. People on board the nearby ships began letting them loose as well, and your tiny boat was surrounded by floating lanterns.

You turned to Crowley, excited, but stopped when you noticed the lanterns he had in his hands.

He’d taken off his sunglasses, revealing his beautiful golden eyes. You’d asked him why he wore them, but he’d never given you a straight answer. You assumed it to be because they were his most defining feature, something anyone would spot from a mile away. His eyes, despite their beauty, would most likely get him caught on sight.

You made your decision then - you were most definitely in love with this man.

You just hoped he felt the same. You took your seat in front of him, and smiled wide.

“I, uh. I’ve got something for you, too.” You reached beneath the seat, where you’d stashed his bag when he was saying goodbye to Aziraphale. When you pulled it out, Crowley’s eyes went a bit wide in surprise. “I’d thought about giving it to you earlier but… I was just scared. But now, I’m… I’m not scared anymore. You know what I mean?”

Crowley, using one arm to hold the lanterns down, used the other to gently push away the bag. The shock on your face must have been evident.

“I think I do, angel.” He smiled. You couldn’t help but smile back. You set the bag aside, and together you released the lanterns into the air. After a few moments, Crowley gently took your hands. “Happy birthday.” He said.

“Thank you,” Your mind had turned from the lanterns. They were beautiful, yes, but so was the man sitting in front of you. “This has been the best day of my entire life.”

“Mine too.” Crowley used his thumb rubbed slow circles on the back of your hand. “I’d say you’ve really shown me a lot in the past couple of days.”

“You’ve shown me more in two days than I’ve seen in all my years.” You give his hands a gentle squeeze. “I… I like you, Crowley.”

“I like you too, Angel.” He replied without hesitation. “More than you could ever know.”

“I’d like to know.” You murmured. There was silence, but no words were needed. The both of you slowly began to lean in, but just when he thought he might kiss you, he stopped. “Crowley?” You noticed he was looking behind you, but when you turned, there was nothing there. “Are you okay?”

“What?” He said suddenly. “Oh, yeah, everything’s… fine.”

It turns out, everything was not alright. Everything was very far from alright. Not only were you attacked by two goons, but you watched as Crowley sailed back over the river toward the town with the content of his bag, a tiara, in hand. You were lucky to be saved by your father.

But even that went wrong.

Once back in the ‘safety’ of your tower, and once your father had finished removing the braid and the flowers from your hair, you came to a realization. You’d painted all over the walls - you’d even painted over older, more childish drawings. Painting was your life inside the tower - and in almost every painting was the same symbol. The sun. The same sun on the scarf Crowley had bought you, and the same sun that was on the lanterns, and the same sun that was on the mural of the royal family.

Your heart ached. It couldn’t be true, could it? Anger overcame you. You exited your room, looking down at your father who was on the floor below.

“Are you alright,” He asked, but his voice was cold. You knew he didn’t care. Of course he didn’t. You were so angry. You should have known better. You should have figured it out sooner, you should have…

“I’m the lost princess.” You breathed out in a huff of anger.

“I’m sorry?”

“I am the lost princess.” It wasn’t a question.

“My dear-”

“No!” You snapped. You began your descent down the stairs. “You lied to me. All these years you said you were keeping me up here so that I’d be safe! But I’m not safe. Not while I’m with you.” Gabriel scowled.

From there, things only got worse. Gabriel didn’t yell. He didn’t even speak before he grabbed you, tossing you to the side. Your head connected with your standing mirror, shattering it. You cried out in pain as you fell to the floor. You could feel blood trickling into your hair, but Gabriel sang the song solemnly beneath his breath, healing it for you. He’d gotten chains from god knows where, and while you were disoriented bound your hands, and stuffed cloth in your mouth to keep you quiet.

He muttered something about leaving, and taking you to a safer place, but stopped suddenly. From outside you heard a voice - a familiar voice.

Crowley.

You wanted to yell to him, to tell him to leave. You felt so helpless, and felt even more so when Gabriel brandished a dagger from one of his desk drawers.

“Angel!” Crowley called up to you. “Throw down your hair!” Grabriel approached you, leaning in with a sneer.

“Remember, this is your doing.” He told you, before gathering up your hair and tossing it out the window. You felt the familiar tug of someone climbing up, and had to watch in horror as Gabriel hid in the shadows, watching Crowley enter through the open window.

“Oh, Angel, I thought I’d never see you again.” Crowley stopped when his eyes finally landed on you, and he opened his mouth to speak, only to gasp out in utter pain when Gabriel stabbed him in the stomach from behind.

As Gabriel removed the blood stained blade, Crowley fell to the ground in pain and shock.

“Now look at this, (name),” Gabriel tisked. “Look what you’ve done.” Gabriel stepped over Crowley, using the scarf you’d gotten to wipe the blade clean before discarding it carelessly. “Don’t worry, though, my flower. Our secret dies with him.” He approached you, taking the end of the chain that he’d connected to one of the banisters and jerking you towards a trap door he’d revealed beneath the carpet. “And I’ll be taking you where no one will ever find you again. Not even Michael and Uriel.”

You resisted, tugging against your restraints with almost no avail.

“This isn’t a game, (name),” Gabriel growled as you approached the door. “Stop fighting me.”

You yanked yourself away, falling to the ground, and finally managed to spit out the mock-gag.

“No,” You snapped. “Never. I will never stop fighting, I will never stop trying to escape you! For every second of the rest of my life.” You stopped suddenly, looking back at Crowley, who was bleeding out. Your met his eyes, those wonderful golden eyes that were full of such pain, and you knew what you had to do. “But, if you let me heal him… I’ll go with you.”

“Angel, no.” Crowley hissed out, but you ignored him.

“I will do whatever you want. I will never try to run. I’ll stop fighting. Everything will be just the way you want it to be.” You turned back to Gabriel. “I promise.”

“Just the way I want it.” Gabriel muttered to himself. He quickly removed your restraints, and you didn’t dare try to run. You watched as he bound Crowley to a banister, ignoring all of his winces of pain. “In case you have any ideas about following us.” He then turned to you. “Make it quick.”

You rushed to Crowley, who could barely keep his eyes open, and felt tears running down you cheeks.

“Crowley, I am so sorry.” You whispered, moving his vest so you could see the blood-soaked shirt beneath it. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll fix this, everything’s going to be okay.” You began to gather up your hair.

“Angel,” He murmured. “No.” He weakly attempted to push your hands away, but you managed to get your hair next to his wound.

“If I don’t do this, you’re going to die. I can’t let you die, Crowley.” You caressed his cheek gently, and he leaned into your touch.

“Then you’ll die.” He groaned. You shook your head gently, using your hand to wipe away a tear.

“I’ll be just fine.” You promised, though even you knew it was a lie. You opened your mouth to begin the song, but Crowley stopped you.

“Wait.” He listed a hand, you assumed to push back your hair. Before you could even more, Crowley had gathered your hair up in one hand, using his other to slice though it using a larger shard of glass from the nearby broken mirror. You let out a gasp, watching your hair call to the floor. It rapidly began turning (hair color).

“No!” Gabriel screamed. “What have you done!” You dove for your hair, gathering it up but letting out a strangled shout as it continued to turn (hair color). You watched in horror as he began aging rapidly. He moved towards the mirror to look at himself, only to trip over some of the hair and hit the windowsill, which sent him tumbling head first out of the tower. Part of you wanted to scream, but the other part couldn’t have cared less. You quickly turned back to Crowley, the realisation of what he’d done finally setting in.

“You idiot.” You whimpered. “You absolute idiot.” He smiled weakly at you.

“Your idiot.” He coughed.

“Please don’t leave me.” You begged him. “Please.”

“You were my new dream,” He mumured. You choked on a sob.

“And you were mine.”

You were absolutely broken as the man you’d fallen in love with died in your arms. You held him there for what seemed like hours, but was only moments, and cried. You began murmuring the lyrics of the song you could have used to save him, praying that somehow it would work.

“Make the clock reverse,” You gently caressed his cheek. “Bring back what once was mine…” You cracked, breathing out the final words; “What once was mine.”

Your tears fell from your cheek onto his, and to your amazement, sunk into his skin. You watched in hope and wonder as a light slowly began traveling beneath his skin - the same golden light that had overtaken your hair - to his wound. Your eyes widened as it spilled out into the room, creating intricate symbols in the air before dissipating.

Your eyes snapped to Crowley as he began to cough again, taking in as much air as his lungs would allow them. You let out a cry of joy and flung yourself into his arms.

“You’re alive, oh my god, you’re alive.” Crowley held you tightly, burying his face in your now short hair.

Maybe you were going to get your happily ever after after all.

#good omens #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #crowley x fem!reader #crowley x reader good omens #crowley x fem!reader good omens #crowley #crowley good omens #anthony j crowley #x reader #x fem!reader #reader insert #good omens reader insert #my writing #reese writes #the ineffable queue

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preraphaelitepunk · 5 years

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Fictober19 Day 13: All Creatures Small and Crotchety

Prompt #13: I never knew it could be this way

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, minor human OCs, various OC dogs (including one of mine)

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Crowley is not good with animals. Not for lack of trying, but somehow most non-human animals — horses, dogs, cats, capybaras, etc. — seemed to sense his inner snakiness and see him as a threat, no matter how friendly he tried to be. Or maybe demons smelled slightly off, or it was his aura or something. They just were skittish around him, and defensive.

He accepted this fact long ago, after he greeted a small, fluffy handful of a puppy in Uruk and wound up having to pry her sharp teeth from the fleshy bit of his hand. Honestly, it didn’t bother him. Much.

Except around the angel.

It wasn’t fair. Aziraphale didn’t especially like animals who were not currently on his plate and accompanied by a complementary wine and sweets for afters. He loved them, in that generic angelic way of dutifully loving all creatures, but he didn’t really like them. Yet they flocked to him like cats to the lap of a dedicated cat-hater.

Currently, a gorgeous silvery Weimaraner was resting her chin on Aziraphale’s lap, gazing up at him adoringly as her human chatted with them in the park. Crowley kept his distance; he’d found that about a metre and a half was usually enough to keep most dogs below their stress threshold.

“She absolutely adores you,” the human was saying. “I mean, she’s usually friendly enough, but I thought she was going to pull my arm off if I didn’t let her come over to you. Thank you for being so nice about it.”

“Oh, my pleasure.” Aziraphale’s fists were pressed against his worn waistcoat, though, and he made no move to stroke the soppy dog’s head. “She’s clearly a very good girl, I’m sure.”

The human finally coaxed her dog to give over worshipping Aziraphale and said her goodbyes. Before she was entirely out of earshot, Aziraphale grimaced and moaned, “The line of my trousers is completely ruined now. The wretched thing left hair all over me — and is that drool? It’s drool. I have been drooled on by a dog, Crowley.” He turned plaintive eyes up at Crowley, who sighed and snapped his fingers.

“All gone, angel.” The blindingly bright smile he got in return never got old, no matter how many times he saw it. He’d spend the rest of eternity trying to win more of those smiles.

“Sorry,” another voice interrupted, “but do you mind if we come over to say hello? Tillie here really wants to meet you.” Indeed, another dog was straining at the lead, dragging her human over to their bench. For such a small dog — smaller than Dog, even — it seemed she could put out a surprising amount of force.

Aziraphale sighed. “Just for a moment, perhaps. We need to leave very soon.” They didn’t: they had nothing planned until a late lunch several hours from now, but clearly this was a very doggy morning and the angel was getting fed up with all the intrusions upon his person.

“Thanks. We won’t keep you; usually she just wants to sniff and get a pat, and then she’s done.” The scruffy little black dog sniffed Aziraphale’s trouser cuff and wagged her frond of a tail.

But then the impossible happened: Tillie continued on past Aziraphale and padded up to Crowley. She gave him a sniff as well, then sat and gazed up lovingly at him, tongue lolling. Crowley was frozen with shock.

“Wow, she’s normally done by now,” the human said. “She must really like you.”

Crowley was afraid to move lest he break the spell. “C-can I touch her?”

“I think she’d like that.” Impossibly, Tillie had shifted so she was leaning on Crowley’s leg. His actual leg.

Slowly, cautiously, Crowley crouched down and reached out to touch Tillie’s shoulder; that seemed safer than touching her head. Brown eyes gazed meltingly into golden yellow, and Tillie began licking his hand as he gently stroked her coarse, long hair.

“I never knew it could be this way,” Crowley murmured, awestruck. “Most animals don’t like me at all.”

The human chuckled. “Well, Tillie has always been a little weird. She’s very persnickety and judgy, and doesn’t like most people. I mean, she’s friendly enough, but usually she’s done with them after a few sniffs and maybe a pat. This is really unusual for her.”

“It’s really unusual for me, too.” He moved his hand up to behind Tillie’s ear, and she leaned into the rubbing. He was definitely not tearing up. The choking feeling and watery eyes were probably just allergies from his stupid corporation.

“She’s clearly a very good girl.” Aziraphale’s tone was very different this time, warm and fond. Crowley could see the blue eyes shining with growing understanding, and he cleared his throat.

The human seemed to misread this as a cue to leave. “I’m sorry we’ve taken so much of your time. Thank you for letting us say hello — we’ll let you get on with your day.”

Crowley didn’t trust himself to speak, but Aziraphale said, “Oh, we don’t have to leave just yet.”

“That’s very kind of you, but we’ve intruded enough. Come on, Tills: let’s let these nice gentlemen get on with their day.” As Tillie reluctantly tore herself away from Crowley’s ministrations, the human waved. “Thanks again, and sorry for interrupting!”

As Tillie was led away, casting longing glances over her shoulder, Aziraphale got up from the park bench and slipped an arm around Crowley’s waist. “She’s a very good girl indeed,” he murmured. “And has excellent taste.” His smile was soft and uncomfortably knowing.

“‘Course she does,” Crowley said with forced nonchalance. “Stands to reason that, in an infinite multiverse, there’d be at least one dog who could tolerate me.”

“Looks like she did a lot more than just tolerate you, my dear. She adored you.”

The angel was about half a second away from saying something even soppier, like “almost as much as I adore you,” and Crowley didn’t think he could take that. Not in public. Time to change the subject. “Yeah, well, as you said: she has good taste. And speaking of taste, how about we get an ice cream? We’ve got a few hours until lunch, unless you want to go now.”

Aziraphale clearly wasn’t fooled, but his smile turned indulgent and he kissed Crowley on the temple. “An ice cream sounds divine, darling. A perfect addition to an already remarkable day. Lead on, my love.”

#fictober19 #good omens #good omens fanfic #gomens #my fanfic #fluff #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #crowley is soft for animals but they don't like him #except for tillie #tillie may or may not bear some resemblance to one of my dogs #all right she's a straight-up doggie insert

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frickengreenfrickyeah · 5 years

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A Fic Concept

Canon compliant (I’m reasonably sure)

- In the 1800s or so, Crowley and Aziraphale accidentally patronize the same tailor. They separately encounter the same young woman whom we’ll call Verna (name courtesy of an online generator). She’s the daughter of the tailor and works in the shop. When Crowley and Aziraphale inevitably run into each other in the tailor’s shop, they realize that they’ve both been Tempting/Blessing Verna on the down-low, they start trying to one-up each other.

- Verna uses their distracted interactions to pickpocket them. She likes having money that her father does not know about. Crowley notices the theft. Aziraphale does not.

- After they’ve made a habit of casting their Temptings/Blessings on the regular to influence Verna, the offices Above and Below notice that the opposition is putting a lot of attention on her and order their respective agents to thwart the other.

- Crowley and Aziraphale, of course, use this opportunity to spend more time together openly.

- Verna, while she doesn’t know about anything supernatural (at first), is not an idiot. She can deduce Crowley and Aziraphale’s motives when they visit her daily to offer her ‘life advice’ which devolves into them bantering over her head and then leaving to bicker by themselves. She plays along.

- The typical day will go like this: Aziraphale blesses Verna’s work so that she’s finished early so that when Crowley arrives they all have time for small talk, in which Crowley will Tempt Verna to consider that her father doesn’t appreciate her work enough. Aziraphale will sooth Verna’s worries and chide Crowley for picking on the poor woman’s nerves. Crowley will point out that Verna should take pride in her work. Aziraphale will counter that Verna should instead be grateful that she’s able to work so well. Crowley will roll his eyes and ask Aziraphale if it’s gratitude that has him returning to that lovely inn with the smoked brisket, or maybe just plain gluttony? Aziraphale will get very offended and say that of course it’s gratitude. He’d like to see Crowley eat a bite of that smoked brisket without needing to thank the Almighty. Crowley says not a chance in hell. Aziraphale says he knew Crowley was too cowardly. Oh, I’m the cowardly one, Mr. I Must Have Misplaced the Flaming Sword? Aziraphale challenges Crowley to prove his courage and try the smoked brisket. Crowley accepts the challenge. Crowley and Aziraphale stalk out of the tailor shop, Aziraphale holding the door for Crowley. Verna sighs as they leave and looks down at her hand where she has a new pile of coins to spend and trinkets to sell. She frowns. Crowley’s coins have turned into gambling dice.

- Verna’s father notices that two rich gentlemen are paying his daughter special attention and encourages Verna to pursue the potential matches. Verna is fine with this, seeing as her father had previously been considering two different, equally odious matches for her: Her father’s apprentice (hereafter called Apprentice) or one of his wealthy patrons (hereafter called Patron).

- Verna explains her suitor predicament to Crowley and Aziraphale and suggests a ruse that will benefit them all. Crowley and Aziraphale will both court her, pretending to compete for her affections. This way, she can postpone an unwelcome marriage and they can spend more time together. Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale admit the appeal of this arrangement, but they both agree immediately anyway.

- To keep up the guise of courtship, Crowley and Aziraphale take Verna on outings, and she discovers a yearning to explore the wider world. They oblige, stretching her disbelief about how far one can travel on a day trip.

- It is during these outings that Verna meets a woman named Polly (name courtesy of an online generator). Polly and Verna fall in love. Crowley and Aziraphale happily set them up on dates. Crowley knows that these dates include pickpocketing, scams, and petty crime. Aziraphale does not. Everyone is happy for a while.

- Unfortunately, Verna’s father gets uncomfortable with how long Crowley and Aziraphale have been courting Verna without actually coming to him to declare their intent to marry. And the bosses Above and Below get impatient with the lack of progress Crowley and Aziraphale have been making to Tempt/Save this nobody. They are both ordered to give it up as a bad job.

Welcome to Under the Cut

- Verna’s father tells her that he’s accepted a marriage offer from Patron and, unless Crowley or Aziraphale step up their game, Verna will marry him before the year is out. Failing a marriage to Patron, she will marry Apprentice.

- Just as Crowley and Aziraphale are about to say goodbye to Verna forever, she appeals to both of them, begging one of them to marry her. She promises to be the perfect wife. She doesn’t care that it will be a loveless marriage. Anything is better than the prospect of marrying Patron or Apprentice (both of whom have been pressuring her to ‘favor’ them, neither of whom will allow her to keep the level of freedom she has now, nor will they allow her to pursue her relationship with Polly). Crowley and Aziraphale are taken aback.

- They take a day or two to mull it over. They decide that, while neither of them can actually marry her (for unexplained reasons), they will continue the charade for a little while longer until another solution can be figured out. They both approach Verna’s father with marriage offers and work out a schedule to draw out the negotiations without trying his patience too much.

- Verna uses this time to figure out what she will do. She decides that she’ll run away and starts packing. Her preparing to leave means more stealing, disrespecting her parents, etc, which both Above and Below interpret as Crowley winning her over to the dark side. Crowley and Aziraphale realize that they can stretch out their Tempting/Saving charade further by taking turns backing off before swooping in. (Crowley gives Verna opportunity to steal from her father’s coffers, Aziraphale convinces her to give that money to the poor, Crowley gives her the idea of skipping church to see Polly, Aziraphale miracles Verna into a confession booth, etc) To the bosses Above and Below, it now appears as if there is an intense battle going on for Verna’s soul. They allow Crowley and Aziraphale to keep up the good work.

- The pendulum goes back and forth for a while, and the whole time Verna is miserable. All this Tempting and Saving has involved Crowley and Aziraphale supporting her decisions and validating her feelings before abandoning her so that she turns to the other side for comfort. Verna reaches her limit and confronts Crowley and Aziraphale about how manipulative they’re being.

- She reveals that she’s known that they’re an angel and a demon since pretty much as soon as the charade began. They haven’t been very subtle about hiding it, after all. She demands that they stop toying with her and Polly. Either treat them like human beings with dignity or bugger off so they can deal with their problems themselves. She’s mad at Crowley for lying about being bad, and she’s mad at Aziraphale for lying about being good.

- Some sort of climax happens. Crowley and Aziraphale send Verna and Polly to the American Wild West so they can be gay cowgirls together.

- Happily ever after, the end

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #good omens fic #good omens hc

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n1ghtt1me-stars · 5 years

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Part Seven

Warlock watches as the world nearly ends, part 1 (Warlock saunters vaguely into their lives part seven)

Part one

Part two

Part three

Part four

Part five

Part six

the series on ao3 and links to all my other work

Nanny stole a jeep; Warlock sat in the passenger seat next to him and Aziraphale (in the woman he was possessing) and the weird man sat in the back. There were no keys but it worked for Nanny anyway which, after the burning Bentley, wasn’t actually that surprising.

If possible, Nanny drove faster than usual and they soon caught up with the four children on the other side of camp. They, and a tiny dog that Warlock just noticed, were facing off against some really weird adults. There were four of them: one had white hair and rubbish swirling around their feet, another had cracking skin, sharp teeth and was holding some scales, and the third had bright red hair and blood running from her eyes. The last one was probably the weirdest as its cloaked figure just stood behind the others.

Jumping out of the car, Warlock followed the adults as they ran over. “That’s the one,” Nanny said, pointing at the curly-haired boy who was standing slightly in front of the others. “Shoot him! Save the world!”

Warlock watched as the old man stopped in his tracks ad glance down as the gun in his hands. “You can’t just…” he said. “He’s only a wee boy.”

“Give me that,” Aziraphale snapped and snatched the gun from the man’s loose grip. However, the woman seemed to be fighting him and the two of them wrestled with the gun, alternatively pointing it towards the boy and the sky.

“You can’t kill children!”

“Madam, for the greater good…”

Warlock flinched as the gun went off, closing his eyes against the sudden flash of light. His ears rang from the explosion so he couldn’t make out what Aziraphale/the woman was saying but there was a cloud of smoke above the curly-haired boy.

The woman must have won then.

Tilting his head, the boy studied the woman and asked, “Why did you do that?” Before Aziraphale/the woman could respond, the boy continued, “Why are you two people?”

“Well, it’s a long story but I was in my bookshop…” Aziraphale has got back control again, Warlock thought.

“S’not right,” the boy said. “You should be two separate people again.”

There was no shower of sparkles or a popping noise to indicate that something happened; in one moment, they were sharing one body and in the next Aziraphale appeared in his own next to the woman.

Warlock hung behind Aziraphale and Nanny (who kept stealing glances at the angel, as if to make sure he stayed there). The other kids and the dog had gone back to facing the weird adults and the lead boy turned to his friends and said, “They’re just like nightmares really. We only have to stand up to them.”

The red woman stepped forwards, casually swinging a flaming sword. “I am War,” she said, her voice grand and full of confidence. “Men and boys are made to serve me, to live in me and die in me.” Her words reminded Warlock of his father who regularly told him that war was a ‘necessary evil to protect their country’. During those one-sided conversations, Warlock tended to just nod along; he had little interest in the wider world.

Warlock could see the girl’s shoulders tense as she took a step towards War. Her voice was full of righteousness as she said, “I am not a boy. And my mum says war is just masculine imperialism executed on a global scale.” Warlock wasn’t sure what most of those words meant but it made War pay attention to her.

Raising her flaming sword, War waved it in the girl’s face. “A little girl,” she drawled, “go and play with your dolls, little girl.”

A friend of his mother had a daughter that really didn’t like it when Warlock used to say that girls couldn’t play soccer. Apparently, it was partly due to the fact he called it soccer and partly because, to quote her, “girls can play football just as good as boys” (which she proved by taking Warlock out with an amazing tackle). Warlock could see a similarity between his old friend and this girl in the way she jutted out her chin when she replied to War.

“I do not endorse everyday sexism.”

Sneering, War swung her sword at the girl and Warlock’s breath got stuck in his throat. Before he could properly panic, the girl ducked under the sword’s arc and stamped hard on War’s foot. With a cry, War dropped the flaming sword which the girl snatched up and, straining slightly to hold it with two hands, pointed it at War.

As the girl lectured War, Nanny turned to Aziraphale and said, “Didn’t that used to be your sword?”

“I do believe it was.”

Warlock wanted to find out more because Aziraphale seemed like the least likely person to use a sword (or a gun to be honest), but the lead boy started talking again and everyone’s attention was back on him.

“Just say what you believe, Pepper.” Warlock thought the girl was already saying what she believed but at least now he knew the girl’s name.

War grabbed the sword, seemingly unbothered by the flames, yet it turned out to be a bad idea. Pepper shouted, “I believe in peace, bitch!” and the flames climbed up War’s arm until she was completely engulfed and then pulled her into the sword.

“Drop it, Pepper,” the boy said and the sword clanged on the tarmac. One of the other boys picked it up and pointed it at the adult with white hair.

“And I believe in a clean world,” he said and the person was absorbed by a smoky flame; the only thing left behind was their black crown. The boy passed the sword to the last boy with glasses who directed it to the slim man.

“A-And I believe in enough food,” the boy said shakily. The dog darted forward and bit the man’s ankle and, with a surprised and pained shout, the man followed his friends into the sword, his scales dropping to the floor next to the crown.

The lead boy moved in front of his friends and addressed the last figure, who Warlock had nearly forgotten about with all the other stuff happening as the cloaked person had not moved once. “Death,” the boy said, “this has to stop now!”

When Death spoke, it sounded as if it was speaking directly into Warlock’s mind. He said, “IT HAS STOPPED FOR NOW. BUT WE WILL BE BACK. YOU CANNOT DESTROY ME AS THAT WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD. With a slight incline of its head, Death said, GOODBYE GENTLEMEN (Warlock heard the woman and Pepper exclaim “Hey!” in unison at that) and then, it disappeared by creating what appeared to be a black hole.

Aziraphale turned to Nanny and said, “There, you see Crowley?” It’s like I said…”

“It isn’t over,” Nanny said, tilting his head up to the sky. “Nothing’s over. Both Heaven and Hell still want their war.”

Part Eight

#good omens #warlock tags along #warlock saunters vaguely into their lives

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