k_ma



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    There was a certain look that Aziraphale wore occasionally—a pinched sort of moue that looked like he’d just taken a very large mouthful of cinnamon—which meant he thought Crowley was being ridiculous. He had put it on.

     

    “Hang on,” he had said. “You want us to do human things?”

     

    *

    If you're going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

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    09 Sep 2019

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    For an entity for whom size and shape were merely options, Crowley had become awfully preoccupied with distance lately. Currently, he was studying the scant handful of inches that Aziraphale had left between them when the angel plonked himself down on his patterned sofa. Not on the armchair. Not even at the other end of the sofa. Right there, one cushion over.

    Written for the prompt "staring at the other’s lips, trying not to kiss them, before giving in"

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    Language:
    English
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    702
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    29 Jul 2019

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Love is messy and inconsistent. Six thousand years of repression, trauma, and love come to a head in a cottage in the South Downs.

    Crowley was convinced, from the moment God reached into him and wrenched her Love from him, that he was undeserving of any inkling of grace. A belief that becomes harder and harder to reconcile with when faced with the limitless, boundless, love of Aziraphale.

    In the background, the Saint Helena Dove continues to be extinct, stars continue to fall, and demons continue to be unable to fly.

    [There is now an incredible PODFIC by the esteemed burnhamofvulcan ]

    Language:
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    26 Jul 2019

  4. Public Bookmark *

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    Crowley doesn’t mean to kiss him, really. It just sort of...happens. An...automatic response, if you will. An unintended automatic response. Unexpected, even.

    It’s not planned, that’s what he’s trying to say.

    ~~~

    Or the one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

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    13 Jul 2019