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Some of my favorite CM cast pictures

.....Guys, Spencer writes coffee shops AUs, Spencer writes coffee shops AUs, SPENCER WRITES COFFEE SHOPS AUS-

hi this was beautiful and hilarious!! something about this resonated deeply within my soul and i've become obsessed with it. it reminded me so much of the book. one of my favorite short fics ever! i must have read it 50x by now.

Human Affection - Good Omens Fic

One more fic for the @bingokisses prompts - this one from last week - Behind the Knee kisses! Which I found a little odd, so I decided to go silly on this. Should be a good counter for the angst I put out. This will be going on AO3 after some edits, so let me know if you spot anything off.

CW: Silly drunken banter.

“Crowley, that is absolutely absurd. Stop making things up.”

“I’m not!” The demon reached for a bottle of wine, shook it, found it empty, and went hunting for the next. “I know these things. I know humans. Better’n anyone.” He finally found one with at a little red still at the bottom, shrugged, and drank it straight from the bottle.

“Not better than me,” Aziraphale protested, scowling a little as he lifted another nearly-full bottle.

“Much better’n you.” Crowley wasn’t quite drunk enough for this sort of argument, but now his pride was at stake. “Y’don’t even like talkin’ to them!”

“No,” he admitted as he poured another glass, “but I read. A’stensivly.”

“Obstentily?”

“Egstenilly.”

“Abstentally?”

“Exten…I read a great deal!”

“Ha!” Crowley jabbed a finger at Aziraphale, then realized he should make a point. “You don’…don’ read the right sor’ of books. Gotta read th’ naughty ones. Th’ones Heaven don’ like.”

“I read plenty that Heaven disproved of,” Aziraphale objected, taking a long drink of wine and licking his lips happily.

Keep reading

alright my next post ain’t nobody going to be able to predict this

A soft Crowley with a Duck

TLC

fandom: the falcon and the winter soldier

w/c: 1149

summary: How Sam convinced Bucky to sleep on the couch AKA Bucky is introduced to ASMR.

a/n: I love TFATWS and I want to write for them more but I cannot for the life of me think of good scenarios. Inspired by my own love hate relationship with asmr.

~~~~~~~~~

“Paid good money for that sofa you're disrespecting.”

Bucky sat up from his position on the floor. Sam's silhouette stood with crossed arms in the doorway, outlined only by the kitchen light behind him. He looked ridiculous. Bucky stretched to reach the lamp switch.

“I’m kind of an active sleeper. Figured I’d do less damage starting on the floor.” Bucky rubbed at his neck.

“Mm-hm.” Sam walked over to the couch and sat, meaning he didn't intend to let Bucky sleep just yet. “Sarah’s concerned.”

Embarrassed, Bucky dropped his hand slowly. From the moment he stepped inside the Wilson family home, he wondered if he was completely overstaying his welcome. He wouldn't have blamed them for feeling uncomfortable housing an ex-assassin. There were children in this house.

“She sent me in here to convince you to get off the damn floor. ‘C’mon Sam! Give the hobo your bed if it's better on his old joints than the couch.’ Hmph.”

Bucky smiled. “That’s kind of her.”

Sam glared at him. “Keep dreaming. You're funny if you think you're sleeping on my bed.”

Bucky shook his head with a frown. “No, the couch is comfortable. Very comfortable. Feels like I’m gonna sink right through it.”

Sam’s glaring expression changed to something more real. Was that a rude thing to say?

“Look, I get it. But you're making me look like a bad host. Sarah won't even let the cat sleep down there.” Sam said softly. “You’re just not used to feeling comfortable yet. All it takes is some TLC.”

“TLC?”

“Tender love and-”

“I know what TLC means.” Bucky said, more guarded than his therapist would have approved of. Sam was brave for this, Bucky thought. By now they had gotten comfortable, perhaps even extended their boundary past ‘a couple of guys with a mutual friend.’ They were friends, yet even so Bucky didn’t know what to do with clear affection. Sam knew this. It was brave in the same way as sticking a hand out to a dog known to bite.

Bucky sighed and looked up at Sam. “Are you offering?” he asked, genuinely.

“Just get your ass up here.” Sam said.

--

He pulled out his phone and a pair of earbuds as Bucky sat next to him.

“We can start with this.” Sam said, holding out his tools as he explained. “Have you heard of ASMR? Stands for auto sensory… something or other. People listen to it to go to sleep, sorta like whale sounds or white noise. You know how certain sounds make you go all relaxed and tingly?”

Bucky frowned, not liking how that sounded. But Sam continued with an eyeroll.

“Well, that's the gimmick. It's pretty awesome and knocks me out like a baby. Gotta be careful not to find the freaky ones, though. There are a lot of weirdos out there..” Bucky’s frown deepened skeptically.

“Man, nevermind. Just, here-”

Bucky violently ducked his head away from Sam’s hand, instantly snatching the earbud Sam started to shove into his ear. Sam chuckled, to which he scowled at.

“I don’t know about this, Sam. I'm not a big fan of…” He squinted at the title of one of the videos on Sam’s phone. “Brain tickling? That doesn’t sound relaxing at all.”

Sam reached over to tap the video immediately as Bucky made a noise of disapproval. He stood and patted Bucky’s shoulder.

“Alright, now lay back and close your eyes. Ugh.” Sam reached forward, smoothing out the dubious eyebrows on Bucky’s forehead. “Relax your damn face. Trust me, man! This stuff is powerful.”

Bucky was entirely unsure about this, as nothing about what Sam had been trying to sell sounded appealing. But because Sam was good at this sorta thing, he obliged. He laid back and shifted to get comfortable, snatching up the blanket that was on the floor with a metal hand.

He looked up at Sam, who was staring the whole time he adjusted himself.

“Are you gonna watch me sleep?”

Sam scoffed. “Sounds exhilarating. Sleep tight, Buck.” He switched off the lamp for Bucky, and left him alone with the ASMR.

As the video played, Bucky was caught off guard by the quality of the sounds.

There was a sweet spot in Bucky’s lower back he hadn't known about. And for reasons unbeknownst to him, the amplified scratching sounds coming from the video ignited the nerves in the same spot. Over and over again. He felt ridiculous for flinching, but he could hardly control it.

skrich skrich skrichskrichskrich.

It sounded like it was right behind him. His eyebrows pinched together in discomfort. He surprised himself by not throwing the earbuds across the room.

As weird as it was, it was also kind of nice. A tingle would start at the base of his skull, before shooting down that dip in his back. Relaxing chills overtook Bucky’s body after each ticklish pulse that sparked his spine. He found himself embracing the sounds and their unbearable, incredible effect. It reminded him of nails on his back, a sensation he had trouble remembering with how long it had been since he received such tender treatment. But he knew it was enjoyable. Even when the nails strayed to spots that were too sensitive to stay still for.

Bucky couldn't stop the smile that followed after the next jolt, so powerful it made his leg jump. Like when you pet a dog just right. He wondered if this ASMR garnered the same reactions from Sam. If that was why he liked it so much.

A laugh startled Bucky to open his eyes. He thought it might have come from himself until his eyes adjusted to the darkness. His face flushed as he tore the earbuds out of his ear.

“How long were you standing there, you creep?” Bucky asked, worried about how much Sam might have seen - and clocked.

“Just came out for a bit to see if it already put you to sleep. Looks like you were loving it.” Sam said, grinning. There was no judgement in his tone, only teasing. Bucky can handle teasing.

“It's nice. It’s freaky, but it's nice. I was almost asleep till you came back out.” Bucky said accusingly. Sam started to say something back, an apology about interrupting his tickle-time, but Bucky wisely put the earbuds back in and flipped over on the couch to ignore him completely.

“Alright alright. Get your beauty sleep, White Wolf.” Before finally leaving him alone for the night, Sam fluttered his nails up and down Bucky’s exposed back and neck. He shrugged him off with a giggle-laced fuck off.

“Goodnight Sam,” he called out before he shut his bedroom door. “Thanks.”

omg @tickletastic fantastic list of comfort movies !! 💗💗

1. Love and Monsters

2. Blues Brothers

3. Princess and the Frog

4. austin powers: international man of mystery

5. austin powers: the spy who shagged me

6. austin powers: goldmember

7. between the first HTTYD and Wall-e

the list is somewhat out of order bc honestly i can't choose one over the other. also i'm so sorry but everyone i meant to tag has been tagged already </3

I was tagged by the lovely @blue-eyed-giant to list 7 comfort movies and tag 7 people

1) Seven Brides For Seven Brothers

2) Grease

3) Jaws (specifically my film when I’m on my period)

4) Beetlejuice

5) Little Shop Of Horrors (1986)

6) Dirty Dancing

7) The Prom

I’m going to tag @nocturnal-cryptid @spaghettiwithnachos13 @starship21zedna9 @spineless-lobster @cinder-watches-musicals @ineffablelunatic @is-it-mungojerry-or-rumpelteazer no pressure!!!

Built To Laugh (Good Omens)

(Lee!Crowley, Ler!Aziraphale)

Summary : Aziraphale has been laughing at Crowley all day. Maybe it’s the demon’s turn to laugh for a change?

A/N : this fic takes place after s1 but before s2! so obvs no spoilers for s2 here 😁 i also have not gotten my laptop fixed unfortunately so if there’s any errors it’s prbly cause i wrote this on my phone which i’m Not used to LOL

Word Count : 3304

hope u enjoy!! :)

. . .

When Aziraphale gets in these moods, Crowley can’t help but smile. Well, internally smile. He sorta prides himself on the air of mystery that surrounds his emotions. So he bites his tongue as Aziraphale giggles at him, laughing at how utterly annoyed Crowley looks by his antics.

Aziraphale had found an old joke book in the shop. Well, not really old, when in the hands of beings that have existed since the literal dawn of time. Actually, it couldn’t have been published more than 30 years ago. But it was old in the sense that Aziraphale hadn’t touched it since it had been brought in all those years ago.

Aziraphale told a vague story to Crowley about how it had landed in his possession (this was, of course, after telling him a truly horrible knock-knock joke that Crowley demanded an explanation for why he was being tortured so unjustly). But that story doesn’t matter anymore. What does matter is how giggly Aziraphale has become since realizing how irritating this all was to Crowley.

“Blehck, HORRIBLE, just fffffucking—You’re the angel, I’m the one supposed to be torturing you right now,” said Crowley, exaggerating his hatred of dad jokes just a bit (not by much, these jokes truly were horrible) just to see Aziraphale do that thing when he giggles, covering his mouth and clutching that wretched joke book.

“That was a really bad one, wasn’t it?” Aziraphale said once he collected himself.

“Yes, yes, it was, now will you please stop before I groan myself to death?”

“Always with the dramatics, you are,” said Aziraphale, before grinning, “Just one more?”

Crowley grimaced. “Grk…for the road, I suppose.”

Aziraphale beamed. “Yes, for the road!” He stuck his nose right back into the book, and it wouldn’t be such an unfamiliar sight if he hadn’t been looking up at Crowley every other second just to watch the demon stir.

When Crowley heard a gasp from Aziraphale, he knew he’d found his grand finale. Maybe he’d saved the best for last? (And in the angel’s opinion, he had. Just not in Crowley’s favor.)

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Get on with it.”

“Yes, but are you ready ready?”

Crowley stuck an eyebrow up. Aziraphale just kept smiling. ‘He really is in the best mood today, isn’t he?’ Crowley thought.

“Crowley, do tell me…when is a door not a door?” His cheeks were plump with the force of his giddy smile.

Crowley blinked. His arms were crossed, laying back lazily against the bookshop’s old cushion chair. He tapped his finger against his arm impatiently.

Of course, this just made Aziraphale smile bigger.

“Come on! You have to play along, it’s part of the fun!”

“For you, angel, part of the fun for you.”

“Maybe you’ll start having fun too if you work with me here.”

“You’re working me, that’s what’s happening right now.”

“Just ask and this will all be over with,” Aziraphale raised his brows for a moment like he does when he gets all smug and silly. Crowley had to bite his tongue not to smile at that.

“Ffffffine,” Crowley sighed hard in feigned exasperation. “Well, I just don’t know, angel! When would a door not be a door? Seems like a paradox to me!”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “When it’s ajar!”

Crowley could only stare blankly at the tittering angel before him. It was a bit hard to conceal his own giggles as Aziraphale burst into laughter seeing Crowley’s unamused expression. But he held steadfast, refusing even the slightest chortle. Crowley hadn’t seen Aziraphale laugh like this in what felt like a millennia.

“You’re a silly one, Aziraphale. A real splinter in my ass.”

Crowley hadn’t seen a more angelic sight in so long. He felt his own face grow warm watching as Aziraphale tried collecting himself, but found he’d been caught back in his deadly case of the giggles. It was just precious.

“You think you’re a real comedian, don’t you?” Crowley said while trying to cover his own smile slyly, elbow now propped on the arm of the chair as he pushed his face into his hand. He tried looking as annoyed as possible.

Soon, Aziraphale caught his breath, a stray giggle leaving every few moments despite himself. They were now staring at each other, both too lost in the moment to think too hard on the implications of it.

But, as it usually goes in moments like this, Aziraphale put the brakes on first. He sat the book on the side table next to him before pushing himself off the chair. “Well, that was rather fun. But I do have some paperwork to fill out regarding the shop. Upstairs always feels the need to know how it’s running,” He gave Crowley an empathetic smile that almost said ‘It did feel good, but you know it can’t last.’ At least, that’s how Crowley interprets it. It’s the same smile he’s been giving him all these years, after every little moment the two shared.

It wasn’t the type of smile Crowley wishes to see on Aziraphale. He rather liked the real ones, with Aziraphale’s round cheeks going pink, the ones with the little lines appearing next to his squinted eyes. Those made him feel warm. This smile always feels distant…more cold.

“Yes well…guess I should be goin’ then, wouldn’t want to distract you from your heavenly duties,” Crowley made his voice go all funny on the last words, almost snarling. Maybe he was trying to make Aziraphale laugh. If he had been, it didn’t work.

“Oh you’re more than welcome to stay! I do believe I have some wine left over from last time, if you want to get started before…well, I thought I could maybe join you after I’m finished,” Aziraphale looked bashful. Apologetic, almost. But he chippered up quickly, pointing a finger to the sky. “Heavenly duties!” He repeated the demon’s words with a hummed chuckle, before retreating away to his study.

He’s always been like this. Leaving before Crowley could accept, so once Aziraphale returned from work it’s like it was entirely Crowley’s decision rather he’d stay or not. Like Aziraphale hadn’t offered in the first place. But that was fine with Crowley. Because even if Aziraphale pretended it hadn’t happened, they both knew it had, and there was a silent agreement between them to not bring it up.

So Crowley did wait in that back room of the shop, where all the giggles and jokes and flirtatious annoyance had grown that lovely tension to start the evening off right once Aziraphale returned.

He didn’t, however, start drinking yet. Crowley rather liked to start sober when they drank together. That way it felt more like an activity they were starting together rather than one Aziraphale was just joining him on.

It was around two hours Aziraphale worked before returning. He walked into the back, giving a surprised smile seeing Crowley had indeed waited for him.

“Ah, you grabbed the good bottle, I see,” Aziraphale wiggled his fingers in the air like one would before diving into a slice of cake. He noticed the bottle had been unopened, and did not mention it.

“Dunno, seems a good night for it,” Crowley popped the cork out with ease, filling one glass he’d brought in for Aziraphale before taking a swig straight from the bottle.

“Oh? And why is that?” Aziraphale sat on his preferred chair before taking the glass and sipping in a dignified manner.

Crowley wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “You just seemed in a good mood today s’all. Figured we could end the night right, proper wine to get your mind out of all that blasted paper.”

“Ah. Well, I suppose I was in rather high spirits earlier. I don’t know what it was about all those jokes, but at the moment they really tickled my funny bone,” Aziraphale took a sip and hummed delightedly.

“Right tickled you were. Could hardly catch your breath, and they weren’t even funny jokes, angel. Really, I’ve got to introduce you to some actual comedians cause it was just a sad display of your humor.”

Aziraphale looked into the glass, swirling his wine. He gave a shy smile without looking up at Crowley. “Maybe it was partly so funny because you just seemed so…agitated by it all.”

Crowley’s eyes widened a bit, surprised Aziraphale actually admitted to it. He couldn’t hold back a smile anymore, and he’d blame the wine for it if you asked. “Oh so I’m what got you all giggly earlier?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but he too couldn’t keep a smile off his face if he tried. He’d also blame the wine. “Oh hush, you wily serpent. It was just funny seeing you so irritated at simple jokes.”

“Nah nah, we’re not moving past this. You think I’m funny!”

“I never said that. If you must know I was…laughing at your expense,” Aziraphale hid his mischievous smile behind the glass as he took a sip.

Crowley gaped in amused disbelief. “So you were making fun of me then? Right, okay, I see how it is-”

“Well it’s a little hard not to when you have such a silly reaction to it!” Aziraphale gestured his free hand towards Crowley as if to say he’s doing it right now.

“Silly reaction? Whaddya mean silly reaction, all my reactions are perfectly rational and mean-spirited and never, never silly,” he growled the word as if to prove his point, but he only succeeded in making Aziraphale giggle again. He turned his head to hide his smile.

Aziraphale took a quiet sip from his glass again, his eyes peering over the edge to look at Crowley. Once he put the glass back in his lap, he said, “I rather like when you’re silly, darling.”

Crowley blushed deep. Darling? He—Aziraphale rarely ever used the word darling. But every time he’s done it these 6000 years (which, again, hadn’t been too often) it sent something wicked through Crowley’s system.

Crowley changed the topic quickly. If he didn’t, he’d probably combust from having to think too hard about what all that meant, and if it meant anything at all.

So they talked for a while. About nonsense, mostly. Just jabber to fill the silence and let out all the thoughts they’d been thinking and waiting to share with the other. They’d both grown just a tad tipsy at this point, and Crowley was almost ready to grab another bottle.

Mainly because he wanted to steer back to their first topic again.

“Yknow I was just thinkin’…you said you, er—that you like when I’m silly, or whatever it was you said. And I…well, I rather like it when you laugh. Has that, er…angelic quality to it. But not in a bad way, I suppose.”

Aziraphale smiled. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, it’s literally in your DNA, if we even have that. Do angels and demons have DNA? I suppose not, but I mean something’s gotta compose all that’s happening here, physically I mean,” Crowley rambled, now definitely tipsy. He took another swig. “But, yeah like, there’s literally that saying, ‘angelic laughter.’ It’s all up in you, you’re built to have a good laugh.”

“Yes, maybe so. But you have a nice laugh, Crowley! So it can’t all be angelic,” said Aziraphale.

“I do not have a nice laugh. You may have angelic laughter, but I’ve got a demonic cackle. Very different things,” Crowley could feel himself blush, but it was all thanks to the wine. Most definitely.

“I have heard you laugh on many occasions, and in none of them would I describe it as a demonic cackle. If anything you’re more of a giggler,” Aziraphale reached his glass out to Crowley, and through instinct he filled it for him.

“We are not doing this, I refuse to have this argument,” Crowley said before arguing, “Giggling is not something I am even capable of. Not in my DNA.”

“I thought you established we don’t have DNA?”

“Point stands, it’s not in my bones. Giggling is-is-it’s, well— it’s childish, for one, and children aren’t typically seen as demonic.”

“After helping raise Warlock I’d beg to differ, and he wasn’t even the Anti-Christ we thought he was-“

“STILL, angel, still! Point stands, not going back on it. Let’s change the subject, let’s talk about-about dolphins or some nonsense, I don’t really care-“

Aziraphale stood from his chair, and Crowley shut up. He sat next to Crowley on the sofa.

“What are you doing?” Crowley’s voice was low and suspicious. Aziraphale sat his glass on the table, even going so far as to take the bottle from Crowley’s hand to do the same. Crowley let him, of course, but not without raising an eyebrow. “I said, what are you doing?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken that leather coat off, or this would be a much harder ordeal than it needs to be,” Aziraphale said before cracking his knuckles dramatically, waving his hands about as if to loosen them. Crowley’s brows were furrowed and eyes wide.

“That explains absolutely nothing,” Crowley leaned back against the couch, as if to say ‘nope, this isn’t affecting me at all, I’m not the least bit nervous about whatever it is you’re planning right now. I am the image of relaxed.’ His leg was bouncing.

“Well, you claim that you don’t giggle. I want to counter that argument, and I know exactly how to do it,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a devious smile, one an angel shouldn’t be allowed to pull, before wiggling his fingers in the air towards Crowley. Crowley immediately backed his body away, only getting as far as the arm of the couch.

“No, no—you cannot—this is not the direction I’m letting this conversation go!” Crowley held his hands up defensively, curling his legs into himself like the snake he was.

“Come now, you can’t handle a little friendly competition?”

“Hell do you mean competition?! You tickle me, I lose, there’s no competition to be had!” Crowley practically shouted, his nerves taking over.

Crowley had always been on the more…sensitive side, one might say. It was something Aziraphale always found a little too amusing. “You’re a demon!” He’d say, “It’s just so silly how a demon could be as ticklish as you are!”

Crowley did not find it silly. In fact, he found it to be quite the pain in his ass. How was he supposed to look all scary and menacing and demonic when pinching his belly made him fall into laughter so unlike him?

“So you admit you would giggle if I tickled you?”

“When did I ever say that?” Crowley was trying to shove Aziraphale away with his feet now, kicking (maybe too softly) at his thighs like it would do a thing. Aziraphale held his ground like a solid rock.

“Well you said you’d lose! So obviously that means you would giggle if I were to, say…” Aziraphale quickly grabbed hold of one of Crowley’s pestering ankles, scribbling his nails into the socked sole.

“GAHK! NO-!” Crowley shouted, thinking maybe if he expelled his energy through loud sound he might not fall into those giggles Aziraphale apparently thought so much of.

But he didn’t hold strong for long. Luckily, though, his feet were a little too ticklish for mere giggles. Instead, he cackled like no one’s business, so maybe he would win this argument after all.

“Stop! Ahahangel stop! I’ll kick you!” Crowley barked out through roaring laughter. He actually was already kicking Aziraphale, but it was still at his thighs like before. He was just worried he’d eventually nail the angel right in the nose if he kept up with it.

“Well, you aren’t exactly giggling, but maybe it’s just because your feet are too ticklish,” Aziraphale inquired like a scientist running a study. Crowley wrapped his arms around his midsection through his laughter.

“Yehehes they ARE! Now quihihit!” Crowley couldn’t take tickling on his feet for too long, it really was too horrible to bear. Curse this wretched vessel and its terrifyingly sensitive nerve endings.

Without saying a word, Aziraphale darted his hands to the spot just above Crowley’s knees, giving them quick pinches and observing Crowley like a specimen.

“Ohoho nohoho! Angel plehehease!” Crowley felt his resolve slipping, falling into a more giggly realm than before. He gripped onto Aziraphale’s wrists like a lifeline, not shoving him away out of pure trust. Goodness, feelings were a curse.

“Aha! I believe I’ve found quite the giggly spot on you, Anthony!” Aziraphale teased. He only ever used that name when he was trying to get under Crowley’s skin, and damn it if it wasn’t working.

Crowley hated how quickly his face began to flame, a small blink-and-you-miss-it whine slipping from his lips. “You cahahan’t do this to mehehe!” He playfully swat at the hands tickling his knees, rolling over like it’d deter his situation at all. “I’m druhuhunk you bahastard!”

“Yes yes, drunk and oh so giggly,” Aziraphale reiterated, really driving it home how he’d won their little argument. “But it’s so divine hearing you like this, I really don’t want to stop.”

God, Satan, someone help him. Not because Crowley needs the saving, but because now he’s not sure he wants to be saved.

“Ehehevil! Wrehehetched angel!” Crowley giggled, before letting out a very undemonic squeak as fingers began pinching up and down his sides. Aziraphale was practically hovering over him now, and if Crowley’s face wasn’t warm before, it was searing hot now.

“Nohohoho!” Crowley swat at Aziraphale’s hands and arms, squirming from side to side and his midsection was attacked viciously by angelicly gentle fingers.

“Why not, Crowley?” Aziraphale pinched Crowley’s lower ribs, a killer spot on the demon he was very familiar with.

“Behehecause!” Crowley had no good retort in his giggly state, head swarming with endorphins.

“Because why?” Aziraphale was mean when he was in these moods.

“You bahahastard!” Crowley flopped to one side just to protect half of himself (and also to hide his face in the back of the couch), now letting Aziraphale play with his open side like a grand piano. It was miserably fun.

Crowley let Aziraphale play with his ribs for a solid two minutes, giggling his head off into the cushion, before finally having enough and grabbing Aziraphale’s wrists for real this time.

He panted, still hiding his face in the couch. “You…are without a doubt, the most evil angel to ever be created. Just…just deplorable.”

“Oh come on. You can’t say you didn’t have a little fun,” Aziraphale spoke softly, still tipsy and stroking Crowley’s arm like it was second nature.

“I absolutely can say that, actually. Wouldn’t—wouldn’t exactly qualify bein’ tortured as my favorite pastime,” Crowley curled in on himself, if only to hide his lingering smile.

“Always so dramatic,” said Aziraphal before giving Crowley a pat and raising himself off the sofa. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I could certainly do with some more wine, and we’re just about empty. I’ll be back in a moment, dear.”

Aziraphale once again left the room, leaving Crowley to lie on his back and ponder. Thoughts of how silly that situation was, imagine one of the higher ups seeing him in that kind of state. It’d be to the pit for Crowley in an instant. Well, if he still worked for them that is.

Also, Aziraphale had been really pulling him around all day, hadn’t he? Laughing at his expense, tickling the daylights out of him when he’s utterly inebriated. Well, that just won’t do. Won’t do at all.

An angel doesn’t get to just play with a demon all he likes and expect no repercussions.

Crowley pondered some more on that. Just thoughts of revenge and a devilishly ticklish angel he can’t wait to get his hands on.

. . .

a/n : hope u liked it!! thankfully not as sad as my last one i couldn’t take more angst LMAO

Stained Leather (Good Omens)

(Switch!Aziraphale/Switch!Crowley)

⚠️SPOILERS FOR GOOD OMENS S2⚠️

Summary : He’s lost his angel. Now all Crowley has are the memories they shared. Memories he wishes he could forget as easily as he remembers them.

A/N : love these gay old-ass genderless beings with my whole heart and soul. which is why i’m devastated and needed to vent with angst and tickles :)

Warnings : angst, tickling

Word Count : 2221 (omg kinda angel numbers)

hope y’all enjoy! :)

—

He’d been thinking a lot lately. For someone’s sake, he sure knows he’s got the time for it now. Driving endlessly for days, weeks, maybe months. Who really knows, with how time has blended seamlessly together like one long stretched road, terrifyingly eternal in its seeming hatred for dead ends. He’s had far too much time to ponder on the last, oh, 6000 years or so. But who’s counting? Certainly not Crowley.

He gave his head a stern shake, trying so hard to knock loose all those dreadful little thoughts that keep his knuckles white against the steering wheel. But thoughts always fell right back into place, and yet again, he felt trapped. Did the Bentley shrink since he drove it last? It seems far more cramped than usual. Like he doesn’t fit comfortably anymore, like his body can’t seem to find that Crowley shaped indent in the leather cushion that he worked so hard to make just for him. For a moment, he wonders if it took a new shape, one the car favored over his own.

Angel-shaped.

His eyes shut tight, silent fireworks in the darkness of his pinched eyelids. He’s thinking like a fool now. An idiotic, foolish sap.

That one thought has his mind drifting though, and he feels his heart race with the memories. It’s not the usual heart rate he has when thinking of his…the angel. No, it’s uncomfortable and uneasy. Unbearable. Like a blood-boiling type of heart rate. He’s never felt this way before when remembering.

One particular memory hits him like an oncoming truck. Makes him wish a real truck would hit him even harder.

…

“Please Angel, you’re gonna ruin the leather!”

“Oh, do stop being foolish. I know you are well aware that I’m not much of a mess-making type. Plus, I did bring napkins-“

“Mmyes, napkins, the pinnacle of all cleaning products against 100 year old leather” Crowley says too sarcastically for Aziraphale’s taste. “D’you remember 1991, that little excursion of ours in New York. You tried a hotdog that resulted in the world’s first mustard stain down an angel’s white button up,” Crowley popped the ‘P’ as he poked Aziraphale’s chest, right where the stain had sat years ago. Aziraphale swatted the hand away, annoyance painted all over his face. “It took a miracle to get that stain out, quite literally might I add.”

Aziraphale fixed his posture quickly, chin up in defiance. “Now that’s not fair, and you know it, Crowley. I distinctly remember a certain someone pinching my knee under the table just so I would spill something all over my garments.” Aziraphale huffed, wiping his mouth with one of the napkins he brought specifically because he knew Crowley would make a fuss. He had gotten an ice cream cone on their most recent outing, buying from a local vendor who made it from scratch. He tipped quite generously too, as homemade is always his favorite.

“Yeah well, s’not my fault your vessel’s too ticklish to keep food in your mouth,” Crowley grinned, leaning just a tad closer to Aziraphale so he could get a good look at that flustered expression painted on his angel’s face.

“Oh hush, it wasn’t even in my mouth when it fell. You know that, too,” He took a generous lick of the treat, unable to hold back a smile and slight wiggle at the strawberry flavor coating his tongue. “And don’t you forget, I’m not the only one here with a sensitive vessel. I seem to remember a particular incident in, oh, 2004 was it? Ah yes, you drew quite the attention of just about everyone in the pub with your scream-“

“Oh shuttuuuup, I did not scream,” Crowley insisted, just as he did back in ‘04, even with all those curious eyes on him. He specifically remembers two blue ones paired with a particularly un-angelic smile bringing a sickening warmth to his face. He merely rolled his eyes at the memory.

“A shrieking cackle then, maybe?” Aziraphale couldn’t hold back his cheeky smile as Crowley glared at him. “Would a shrill squeal better suffice? Nooo, I know, it was more like the wail of a —ah! Ah, Crohowley, wait-!” Aziraphale was cut off mid sentence by devilish fingers squeezing just above his knee cap, an unfortunate repeat of ‘91 waiting to happen. “The leather, Crohowley, the leatheheher!”.

“Oh no, do continue! I’d just love to hear what other synonyms you’ve been cooking up the past 10 years!” Crowley couldn’t help the grin as he saw Aziraphale struggle to keep his ice cream from dripping while pulling at the tickly hand on his leg. Those angelic giggles always have been his downfall, though he never did complain. “Haven’t got all day, have we, Angel?”

Aziraphale groaned through his giggles, nearly crushing the cone in his hand from his mirth. “You fiehehend!” He stomped his legs (gently, though for the soft angel it might as well been a violent kick) against the car floor, nearly pressing his face into the window next to him in giggly embarrassment. “Stop ahahat once!” His voice squeaked on the last word, and Crowley couldn’t hold back the fond coo if he wanted to.

“Aww cmon, now, you don’t have to kick her! What did she ever do to you, huh?” His hand moved to strike the angel’s side, cackling like the demon he is as Aziraphale practically folded sideways, the angel’s hand on the opposite side having quite the struggle to pull the tickly one off him. He must’ve forgotten he could switch the ice cream to his other hand, the poor ticklish thing.

Aziraphale no longer got any words in, too caught up in giggling his head off to care. He’d folded so much to the side his head began falling onto Crowley’s shoulder, seizing the opportunity to hide his face in the material.

Crowley thanked everything above and below that Aziraphale’s eyes were hidden, now that a familiar fond smile and warm blush painted the demon’s usually cold face. He loved seeing his angel like this, and he could surely get used to it.

However, he didn’t want to embarrass his friend so much he discorporated (though the thought awfully enticed him. Not the discorporation necessarily, but definitely getting his angel to blush so hard he was hot to the touch).

Crowley finally let go of him, smoothing out the fabric of his suit and snickering when Aziraphale flinched. “Oh, I’m done, angel. You can relax.”

Aziraphale pouted as he caught his breath, shoving the cone towards Crowley which he took without thinking twice. Aziraphale smoothed out his coat on his own, like he just knew Crowley wasn’t doing it properly before. After composing himself in silence, he gave a glare towards his demon. “That was rather childish of you, don’t you think?”

Crowley grinned. “Mmyes, I suppose it was,” he took a lick of the ice cream before handing it back to a still blushing Aziraphale. The angel looked to the roof of the car as if sending a silent prayer. Crowley tilted his head. “But rather fun though, wouldn’t you say?”

Aziraphale gave a tight shake of his head. “I cannot agree in the slightest. Exploiting my vessel’s sensitivities like that is just…well it’s unprofessional, Crowley. You should know better.”

“What, know better than to give my angel a little laugh once in a while? I say no harm, no foul,” He shrugged, sagging back into his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Aziraphale’s own.

“No no, much harm, much foul. It’s humiliating!” Aziraphale pouted again, looking down at his ice cream with those awful puppy-dog eyes Crowley just can’t stand for long. “Vessels are such strange things.”

Crowley sighed, “That they are.” He gazed at Aziraphale’s face for a moment, before decidedly looking anywhere but his face. He’d embarrassed his angel. He really didn’t mean to (well, he did, but he was allowed to feel a little bad about it after). Those heavenly giggles just have such a hold on him sometimes. He growled when a thought popped into his head he absolutely despised, but knew would make his friend feel all the better. “Look, if it embarrasses you that bad…and really it shouldn’t, it’s just laughing after all, not like I dressed you in feathers and made you dance down the street like a plump chicken-“

“Get to the point,” Aziraphale said straight-edged, like he’d been waiting to hear this from the start of his pout-parade. Oh that slimy little bastard. He always got his way with Crowley, didn’t he?

And still, Crowley didn’t call him out on it. He just growled through a long, dramatic sigh, looking up towards the roof. “You…well, I could allow, if only for a moment-!” He pointed a finger towards Aziraphale’s face (which he was looking at again, why did he always feel the need to look), and he was doing that smug little grin he always did, cheeks round and eyes squinted in his direction. Oh, Someone save him. “…nrk, just, make it quick, would you angel?”

Aziraphale cheered back up a little too quickly at that. “Oh of course. If you please?” He offered the cone back to Crowley, who took it with great hesitance. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, never one who was able to handle the anticipation. His lips pressed together in preparation to conceal all those embarrassing sounds he dreaded escaping, he held his breath and waited.

And waited.

He was half tempted to say something, but he was far too clever for that. Aziraphale’s done this before to him, making him open his mouth to complain before striking so he had no chance of holding back those sounds his angel dared to call giggles.

Instead, he opted to open one eye, just to see what all the hold up was about. So much for being clever.

Aziraphale’s hands were poised over Crowley’s torso, fingers wiggling with very un-angelic intent. His face said it all, though, looking directly into Crowley’s eyes like he had been waiting for him to look. Such an unfair game he played, at least Crowley got it over and done with!

Crowley growled behind gritted teeth, smacking away at those mean, teasy hands with his own free one. Aziraphale tsked.

“Now, Crowley, you said you’d give me a moment’s tickle, but I haven’t even started yet! You can’t shove me away already,” His hands continued their tickly motions here and there while being fought off (quite lazily if he had any say about it), “It’s against the rules.” Crowley groaned, always unable to stay silent against teasing.

“We’re rule-breakers, it’s what we do—AH!! No wahait! Oh you fuhucker!” Crowley released bubbly cackles as soon as Aziraphale touched down, squeezing the bottom of his ribs like his fingers were a magnet to his most sensitive spots.

“Such lovely laughs you always produce when I tickle here. Though, I’ve wondered before why some spots are more ticklish than others. Like, for example, here-“ He moved his hands up to Crowley’s neck, fingers fluttering softly against the skin and making Crowley break out in breathy giggles. “-you make such sweet giggles-“

“Nohohot gigglin’!”

“-and yet when I tickle your ribs, you just-“ He struck back down against his bony ribs, the gentle fervor behind his finger tips sending Crowley’s head slamming against the headrest behind him, overcome with belly laughs and cackles he couldn’t contain if he wanted to (he did not, but don’t tell his angel that). “-my, well you just can't take it, can you?”

Curse Aziraphale and his evil teasing. Why did he have to be so sweet and gentle about it? Always made Crowley want to explode on the spot just to expel all that nervous, flustered energy inside him.

“Stohohop! Really, ahahangel, I-!”

CRUNCH

The tickling stopped, and so did any movement or sounds amongst the two of them, for just a moment. They eyed the ice cream cone dripping between Crowley’s fingers, dollops falling onto the leather between his legs.

A small snicker from the back of Aziraphale’s throat, before the angel fell into helpless cackles. The irony of it all just…tickled him so.

And though so very annoyed at that sticky stain he was now having to angle himself away from, avoiding getting any on his black jeans…Crowley began to laugh too. What could he say, angelic laughter was far too contagious for him to help himself.

…

Crowley burnt from the inside out. The flames soured everything inside him, churning his insides and scolding his flesh to a burnt replica.

His eyes unconsciously darted to the seat he sat upon, wondering if under all the cleaning products and the eventual miracle, there was still a sweet pink stain underneath it all.

He turned back towards the road. His hold so tight on the wheel his arms started to shake, pushing hard against the wheel until it began shaking too.

Strangling the wheel of his poor car, he shook and fought and bellowed out a loud, growling yell from deep in his belly, slamming his fist against the wheel repeatedly. Of course, it was of no use. Memories replayed over, a broken record of moments he dreaded bringing to surface.

With an agonized cry, he tried again.

—

A/N : hope you enjoyed, i didn’t, these two have broken me!!!! bye i’m gonna go listen to Unknown/Nth by Hozier yet again and grieve

Me: I wanna make more tumblr friends. *Someone messages me* Also me: I have literally no energy to respond.  I am a corpse.