boxofoddities
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Crowley was never one to breathe much, no use in it being immortal and all that. But when he's with Aziraphale he feels more human than ever.
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In Search Of Pale Hands by boxofoddities
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
12 Aug 2022
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Crowley attempts to snuggle his angel in pitch black.
It doesn't go very well.
But hey, they're always good at arrangements.
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A little snippet of life in the cottage of our favourite immortal beings.
Loads of fluff and cuddles awaits you...
*REUPLOAD FROM MY OLD ACCOUNT*
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“How are you so cold??”
“You left me.” He didn’t sound petulant, he didn’t.
“I left you with a warm bed.”
“Coldblooded.”
“A menace more like.”
“I can do both.”
A snort of laughter escaped Aziraphale before he turned around in Crowley’s embrace. Warm blue grey eyes washed over him and a soft smile that melted every sharp edge not already blurred by sleep and love. “Hello love.”
A year in and his face still flushes with warmth, his throat still constricts a bit, and his heart feels like it’s fit to burst it’s swelling so large in his chest. “’Morning ‘Ziraphale,” he manages around the heart lodged in his throat, “love you.”
Bookmarked by boxofoddities
31 Aug 2023
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Objects in Emotion by GodOfWar
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)
25 Oct 2022
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Crowley smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his be-ringed finger curling around the shape of Aziraphale's jaw, face leaning close and lined with purpose.
"Too soon?" he breathed the question against Aziraphale's lips.
"Oh, you are thirty seconds too late, husband."
Bookmarked by boxofoddities
26 Oct 2022
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you will see your beauty every moment that you rise by dasseinhundin
Fandoms: Our Flag Means Death (TV)
25 Apr 2022
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“Why,” Edward will ask the darkness of nights like these. His voice is thick as smoke, self doubt spilling like embers from his lips. “Why do you love me?”
Stede shushes him with gentle, sipping kisses, hands cradling and thumbs brushing the delicate skin beneath Ed’s tired eyes. He lets his hands trace each inch of skin his love allows, each drop of ink and gnarled patch of healed over skin worshipped with reverent fingers, each wrinkle smoothed and imperfection venerated. How can he ever begin to explain?
“Because you take your tea with seven sugars,” Stede settles on finally.
Bookmarked by boxofoddities
25 Oct 2022
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After his narrow escape from the guillotine, Aziraphale created a greeting in hopes to spread some peace throughout those violent times. And it worked very well. When he shows it to Crowley seven years later, they both learn it has an unintended angelic consequence. Not that either of them are complaining when it leads to a long-desired intimate situation disguised as 'fixing their problem'.
Bookmarked by boxofoddities
21 Oct 2022
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“A holiday.” Aziraphale repeats the words carefully. Like he’s tasting them. “To celebrate...”
Us, Crowley thinks, but doesn’t say. You and me. We’re still here. Not together, no, we’ll never be that. But you’re alive, angel. I’d celebrate that every day if I could.
(Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate the anniversary of Their Side. Aziraphale is round and lovely, including very round and very lovely arms, and Crowley is a conifer.)
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Bookmarked by boxofoddities
19 Oct 2022