liberatepotatoes
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I'll be your mirror; reflect what you are, in case you don't know.
Crowley drummed his fingers briefly against his mug, and then sat back a little in his chair. He gave Aziraphale a long, appraising glance, and then seemed to come to some decision. “Listen, angel,” he said, “let me pitch you something.”
Lulled by the familiar patter of Crowley’s voice as he was, Aziraphale still recognised this to be vaguely dangerous territory. He swallowed. “Go on,” he said.
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Bookmarked by liberatepotatoes
26 Oct 2023
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and in the ripe evening i wanted to be a nightingale by wizardlover
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)
14 Aug 2023
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“Crowley.”
“Angel.”
“What's wrong?”
Crowley fidgets. “You can be really annoying sometimes, you know that." Aziraphale holds his silence. “I’m not… hurt.”
“But you,” Aziraphale starts, then bites his lip. “You keep… flinching. Is it—has it always…?”
“What?” Crowley’s face is really so lovingly expressive. “No! No, you—you’re fine. It’s me.”
“Crowley,” Aziraphale says, exasperated, “explain.”
“I, er, drank some poison. On accident.”
“Oh! You should have told me earlier! What is it—do you need—“
“Aziraphale. I’m not dying. But I,” and he swallows, and falls silent again.
“Would you like me to guess?”
“No! How would that be helpful? No.”
“Well what is it then?”
Crowley grumbles something. Aziraphale is quickly coming to the end of his very, very long, almost endless patience—he steps forward and grabs Crowley’s wrist and Crowley makes a noise.
It all goes very still. Aziraphale stays frozen in place, staring at Crowley with wide eyes.
“Are you,” he starts.
“You’re not hurting me,” Crowley mumbles, his face in his hands. Aziraphale makes an inquisitive noise. “I said, you’re not hurting me.”
Bookmarked by liberatepotatoes
28 Sep 2023
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and though i burn, how could i fall? (when i am lifted by every word you say to me) by shadoweddepths
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)
28 Aug 2023
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“You are,” Crowley agrees. Because he kissed Aziraphale, damn it, and he’d been rejected. It’s not fair for him to keep coming around like this, like he can jerk on Crowley’s chain and he’ll come running back, a pretty demon pet for the Supreme Archangel. “You are incredibly selfish, Aziraphale, always asking for more than I’m willing to give. I’m not some pet you can keep on the end of a leash. You made it clear that you don’t love me, so get the fuck out of my life.”
Aziraphale’s head snaps up, eyes blazing, and Crowley has exactly two seconds to think oh, fuck –
In an eerily familiar move, Aziraphale crosses the floor, seizes him by the lapels of his jacket, and pulls him into a desperate kiss.
Crowley flounders for all of three seconds before he kisses back, anguish and pain giving way to bone-deep pleasure and rightness.
When Aziraphale does pull back, gasping for breath, he doesn’t go far. Just pants, open-mouthed, against Crowley’s lips. “Don’t… you… ever,” he gasps, “think that.”
Five times Aziraphale and Crowley argue, and the one time they don't.
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Bookmarked by liberatepotatoes
25 Sep 2023
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“You’re staring.”
“Oh dear,” says Aziraphale, completely unapologetic. “How rude of me.”
Crowley begins to smile something slow, bright, and lovely, but he schools it with a bite to his lower lip. Aziraphale thinks of the way he looked two millennia ago, pressed up against the wall with Aziraphale's blessing healing his wounds, the only demon to experience divine ecstasy and live to tell the tale. How Aziraphale's hands itch to do it again, and again, and again. Crowley opens his mouth as if to say something, but then stops and spins around instead to go back to stirring the curry.
“Shut up,” he says to the stove, flustered.
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Bookmarked by liberatepotatoes
10 Sep 2023
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Must he spell it out for him? “You could…” Aziraphale looks him up and down, then cocks his head towards the poncy fellow up on the balcony, raising his brows pointedly. “You know.”
Possess him? Crowley frowns and asks, “You think so?”
Aziraphale nods, eyes wide. The visual alone has instantly vaporized any alcohol content in his body.
“I—well.” Crowley considers it, then winces. “I haven’t actually poked inside someone since… oh, gotta be 71, I think. Antoine Gay. Bollocksed that one up.”
Aziraphale blinks, taken aback. In his (admittedly frequent) imaginings of Crowley in bed, he never envisioned him as the ‘poker’, necessarily. He seemed like he’d much rather enjoy getting poked instead. Repeatedly. Passionately. Perhaps up against an opulent pillar.
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Bookmarked by liberatepotatoes
22 Aug 2023