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[irlythyra]

A Little Miracle

Summary: Aziraphale secretly visits Earth again.

Warning: Good Omens S2 spoilers.

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For the first time in thousands of years, Aziraphale finds no pleasure in the food he's eating. Blandness and dullness—these are the only things he can feel at the moment. But it would be rude to decline Nina's hospitality, so Aziraphale tries his best to fake a smile, making sure to savour the eccles cake and tea Nina gave him for free.

 

"Are you sure Archangels can just, take a break, Mr. Fell?" Maggie asked Aziraphale, staring into the man's eyes with deep concern as she perched herself on the chair next to him.

 

"Ofcourse! I have some authority; I can do what I want! Well...I can't always do what I want...there are rules. I do what God wants! Yeah,  that's what, hmm, ahem, so!" He stops mid-sentence. Can't have himself questioning God again.

 

"How are you and Nina?" he asked Maggie, successfully changing the subject.

 

Maggie tries to hide the glee on her face; her small grin slowly turns into a wide, flustered smile. She leans in closer, excitedly telling the angel how she and Nina have started going on dates just this week. "I mean, I waited six months for her! Not that it was a task really; I would wait years for her, thousands of years in fact." She exclaims.

 

"Hmm. Thousands of years. How patient."

 

At this moment, Aziraphale finds himself distraught. Of course he's happy for the soon-to-be couple, but hearing those words...

 

How long did Crowley wait for me?

How long did I wait for him?

 

Aziraphale spent his whole afternoon in the coffee shop before saying goodbye to the pair. Nina gave him the most comforting hug. During the hug, Nina whispered in his ear, "Mister Crowley has been sleeping in his car parked in front of your, well, Muriels' bookshop. Everynight." She urged him to visit him.

 

He could only nod and smile, although he doesn't think he'd have the guts to follow through ("I'll think about it," he thought). Aziraphale ventures to the bookshop next.

 

He knocked on the door before opening it. A loud gasp echoed throughout the room. "Sir. Aziraphale!" Muriel stood there with her hands balled into cute little fists, which she excitedly shook. A loud thump came after she dropped the stack of books she was holding.

 

"Muriel...no, those are first... editions." He stumbles through his words, realizing that this is Muriel he's talking to. Aziraphale scans the entire room, seeking comfort in the familiarity of the place.

 

The chandelier seems intact. The books are properly dusted. The floor isn't dirty. The kid.

 

Kid?

 

Aziraphale took a step back. There is a kid scribbling away in his book. With crayons, markers, and everything. What, when-

 

"Muriel? My book? This kid?"

 

"It's erasable, sir! Don't worry, Mr. Crowley made sure all the art supplies are washable or erasable," Muriel proudly explains.

 

Aziraphale sauntered into the room. His eyes were directed only at Muriel. "Crowley?" he asked.

 

"Yes sir!"

"And this is whose kid?"

"Mr. Crowley's sir."

 

Aziraphale's stomach fell ill. Muriel can see the quiver of his lips; however, she does not comprehend what it means. He turns around, attempting to blink away tears. His?

 

"What do you mean?" Aziraphale turned in her direction again, staring at her eyes, hoping that she contradicts his thoughts. "Oh!" Muriel replies, giggling in the process. "He isn't technically his, sir. He's taking care of him."

 

Quite dramatically, Aziraphale puffed out a breath. As if he wasn't breathing the whole time. "Yeah, he said he found him on some street. Mr. Crowley said he's an orphan, whatever that is. " He reckoned that Crowley was not bothered enough to explain it to her.

 

He left the bookshop pretty soon. He made sure Muriel was adjusting well. Apparently, Crowley has been assisting her, explaining relevant human terms to her, and teaching her how to act like a convincing human. The whole time, his chest tightened. Every mention of his name drove him crazy.

 

To clear his mind, if that's even possible, he walked around the street. Inevitably, he ended up thinking about Crowley again.

 

Should I check on him? Should I talk to him? What would we even talk about?

 

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't realize it was already night, that he circled back to his bookshop, and that there was a familiar bentley in front of him.

 

"Oh, dear," he breathed out. He reluctantly walked closer to the car, sneakily peering through the window. Just in case he changes his mind about talking to him. As he did, he saw the most heartbreaking thing.

 

There in the car lay a scrawny redhead, sleeping soundly, clutching a piece of paper that seems to be a picture. Aziraphale noticed the picture he was holding. It was a picture of them during his magic show. He almost let out a small cry. Beside him was a container of travel sweets. On the back seat was the most horrid sight.

 

His potted plants were all rotting, dry, and...mushy? If you look even closer, you can see random bits of food being devoured by worms, ants, and bugs. The plants are barely alive; he can tell by the slight shiver they make every now and then.

 

Oh, Crowley, darling, what happened to you?

 

Aziraphale was about to knock at Crowley's car door, but before his knuckles reached the glass window, a blindingly bright light appeared behind him, and with it came an elevator 'ding'.

 

"Eugh."  he grumbled, already knowing what was going to happen.

 

"Sir. Aziraphale sir."

"Yes, yes. Leave; I'll be there." he said.

 

Aziraphale stared at Crowley one more time. Flicking his hand in the air for one miracle. Then he left for heaven.

 

The next day, Crowley wakes up. Miserable once again. He sits down and fixes himself through the rear-view mirror. "What in the..."

Crowley looks behind him in disbelief. His plants are alive, and their leaves are greener than ever. The bugs and worms are nowhere to be found, nor are the bits of food he throws in the backseat. His eyes turned watery before a stream of tears fell down his cheeks.

 

"Aziraphale."

[irlythyra]

i want to tell you, that you are a magic.

the rumination of my eyeless hopes and dreams flashed before the death of the night glimpsed over us. the beginning of the sun's peak is the faultless inscription of your discernable tidal rushes. it reaches, it embraces, it takes over, it returns, and it dwells on.

you captivate the cosmos like a devil's advocate that belongs to the flames of sodom and gomorrah.

and on the moon, where you put me rent-free, abandoning the loyalty of misery beyond my feet; one that you always tell me to relinquish altogether. there we reside to count the stellar and trace the specks of dust on each other's holy carcasses like we were speaking braille.

teaching me how to daydream, the gaping serenity of wonderous wanderer grows beneath my ribcage. it grows, and it thrives, and you light its flame alive.

and just like the faultless embodiment of water, whose tides are tied to the refuge of the moon. with my pen, i promise to make you deathless. the portrayal of love nourishes and seeks your devotion, and to you, i submit.

roma | the whiff of the gleaming night sky

[irlythyra]

✑𝐂𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐩

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Summary: You met Kazuha--the regular at the coffee shop you work at - outside of work.

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The glint in his eyes whenever he would jot down things in his notebook is so fascinating to watch. The way he would tie his hair back and roll up his sleeves, put the pen in between his teeth, then ponder over whatever. He's just so... beautiful.

These have been your thoughts for the past month. Why, the man who frequented the coffee shop you worked in is a marvel to look at. You can't help it. However, you still feel embarrassed and ashamed at the fact that you're shamelessly gawking at him whenever he's there.

He would enter the shop, making an echoing sound coming from the bell hanging from the entrance. Time being 8 am every Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays. He would order either coffee or tea with the coffee shop's special assorted cookies. Sometimes, he'd order a croissant, which always made you giddy because you're in charge of making them.

It's Sunday today: your day off. You forgot to go grocery shopping this week, so you're getting a quick meal at the convenience store. Upon entering, you get a whift of the fried chicken seductively displayed next to the counter. So, logically, the next move is to get the said chicken. You chose their spicy version and also took an umeboshi onigiri from one of the shelves. After paying for it, you sit down on one of the seats facing the window.

While eating, you start to think about the mesmerising man you serve once again. This time, with more self reflection. Should you be fired for this? Are you creeping the man out? I mean, you only glance at him once in a while. You were only able to familiarise yourself with his habits because of how many times he's been in the coffee shop. You even memorised his order due to his repeated visits. Maybe one day you'll dadydream about him enough where you'll hear his voice out of nowhere.

"Y/N?"

Holy-

Out of nowhere, you heard the voice of the same man you were thinking about. There's no way he's actually here. You look to your right where the voice came from, and to your surprise, it is him.

"Hi!"...you chirped.

He gives you a small smile before sitting down next to you. In his possession was the same looking notebook he always brought and an unagi onigiri. "Sorry for interrupting you, I recognised your face and wanted to say hi."

You couldn't believe your eyes- and ears. And he actually knows who you are.....but why though?

"Uhm... sorry, but why do you remember me?"

"Well... you had a nametag, and also, you brew my drink. You give me my pastries. You also...glance at me a lot, hehe."... He chuckles at the end. You can see a slight change of tint on his ears, blushing?...no...

Anyways, forget about all that. He knows you look at him! That's so embarrassing... You face your body his way, maintaining full eye contact and apologised. "That's no big deal,...he says, scratching his neck.

You hear him clear his throat. You hum in response. He takes a deep breath and flips the pages of his notebook with slightly trembling hands. As he reaches his chosen page, your eyes widen in shock. On this page, you see the coffee shop, a surreal--ethereal version of the coffee shop. It looked as though it was in another dimension where the fabric of reality that you know of doesn't apply to it, and in the middle, you.

You see yourself brewing coffee, your hair in the same bun as you always do it under the beret cap you always wear to work. You can also see different reflections from things such as the mirror right next to the expresso machine or the reflection from the machine itself. In the reflection is you from different perspectives. Now that you think of it, maybe that's how you look like when you take quick glances at him.

It had been a minute or two, and the man cleared his throat again..."I hope I'm not coming off as creepy, but I tend to draw things that interest me. Or things that inspire me to draw. I also write! Uhm, I took you as an inspiration for one of my characters... I hope you don't mind"...he say.

You are so flustered. Your whole face is probably as red as the umeboshi in your onigiri.

"I... I like it. I love it, you're so skilled at drawing! And also...uhm, sorry again for staring."

"It's okay, really. I stared at you a lot as well. And uhm, well. Wait, I just realised you don't know my name." He sighed, then extended his hand to you.

"My name is Kazuha."

You shake his hand.

"Oh, another thing."

"Yes?" You respond.

"Will you go out with me?"

.

.

.

"Yes please!"

Please? You facepalm in your head. That's so embarrassing, although Kazuha doesn't think so. You can hear him burst into laughter as he watches your face turn redder than you were earlier.

"Let's set a date."

[irlythyra]

❐  𝔽𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕄𝕦𝕟𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟  ❏

.

.

.

Summary: You're in a closet with Childe

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"Can I go out now?"

"No, we just got here. There's four munites left."

You sigh in irritation. You unfortunately made Childe sad. Not eating the special dish he made you made him sad so you apologised and asked if you can do anything to make it up to him. In your defense, you've been working overtime for the past three weeks and it's really taking a toll on you. Eating is the last thing on your mind when all you want to do is lay down and go to sleep.

Right now, you're regretting the very moment that you asked. Actually, right now you're regretting even the mere fact that you got into a relationship with him. You knew he was weird, but like... five munites in heaven? Really?

"So what are we going to do?"...you ask.

Childe gives you a wide grin, moving his head closer to yours. "What do you think?"... he said. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him.

"We are not teenagers Childe, if you want a kiss you could've just said so." He chuckled then asked you to wait a bit. You heard rummaging from his side so you tried to take a peak (keyword: tried. He blocked you and told you to wait.)

Suddenly the whole closet lit up. Fairy lights were taped to the walls and gave off the most romantic shade of dandelion you've ever seen in a while. You just noticed the flowers that were hanging from the ceiling of the closet and the hearts and glitter shaped stickers on the closet door.

"What is all this? Childe? Baby?"....You can finally see his smile clearly after the lights were turned on. It's not smug anymore, only warmth came out of it. "Happy anniversary."

The guilt that washed over you was overwhelming. That's why he made dinner, that's why he's being extra cheeky today.

"I'm so sorry babe. I completely forgot about it. Oh, I'll get you a gift tommorow I promis-"

Childe placed his finger on your lip, effectively shushing you. Another smile was was plastered on his face, his eyes in cute little cresents that you always loved. "You don't need to apologise, I understand."

He leaned in closer, and closer. "I was a bit sad that you didn't want to eat what I made for you, but I atleast wanted to end the day with something special."...He gave you a sweet little kiss, then you felt something cold graze your forearm: a gold necklace.

You sigh once again, laying your head on his shoulder. "I love you so much." He kissed the top of your head.

"I love you too."

5 munites were up a long time ago.

[irlythyra]

⸦ 𝙵𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚂𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 ⸧

Summary (?): Buying furniture for your house with Kaveh.

It's another day of frustration as you hear Kaveh groan and whine about furniture prices. You and him earned enough money-- finally!!-- after a few rigorous years to buy a house.

As Kaveh is the money-wise person in your relationship, he took it upon himself to do the furniture shopping. Ofcourse while regularly consulting you about your opinions on things. You felt a bit guilty about him taking all these tasks, so you do your best to assist him; bringing him tea, making snacks, massaging him occassionaly.

The whole time you hear him exclaim loudly. "Why is this small coffee table half the price of our house?", "This one's a used book shelf, it's still so expensive.", "Can't we just sleep on the floor?"

You sit infront of him, watching his eyebrows furrow everytime he has to look at curtains the price of his phone (atleast that's what he says).

"I think you need to take a break...Why don't I look for furnitures?"... you suggest to him.

He looks at you in response- a look of judgement plastered on his face. "Are you not the person that bought that one circle vacuum cleaner with wheels and ended up giving it away after 2 months because it doesn't even clean the corners and you were getting frustrated?"

...He has a point, but you won't acknowledge that.

You got up and went behind him, you massage his shoulders, hoping it drops and be...less tense. His shoulders relaxes a bit, he gives you a small smile.

"We can build our own furniture? That's cheaper right?"

Kaveh's shoulders falls to a slump. You can see his lips from atop his head: he's pouting.

He reaches for your right hand, carressing it as he say..."But, I can't make it perfect. I want it to look just like how you describe your dream house.."

You sigh, resting your head ontop of his. He's just too sweet.

"My dream house is a house with you in it."

[irlythyra]

𝙳𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚙

Summary: You're sick. Baizhu takes care of you.

Trigger Warning: One curse word (does that need a trigger warning? Idk, you tell me.)

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----- When you're sick, you're reallly sick. Like weak and doozy and overall you feel like shit. Lying in bed like this isn't your style (well, it is, but you do it by choice. When you have to do it for an actual good reason, it's never appealing to do so.)

But what can you do when there's a soft voice echoing in your house always reminding you to not move an inch because you can quote on quote "catch an illness worse than the flu, which are his hands".

"Ginger soup?" speaking of. You look to your right where he stands, you feel his long green hair brush your forearm. You see his two hands balancing a bowl of hot ginger soup.

"You could've asked me to do something, like cut the ginger or something. "...you said.

"You're sick, you don't need to worry yourself with such tasks. Soon enough, with enough rest you'll be good as new" he smiles at you gently.

While drinking your soup, you stare at the gorgeous man infront of you, how can you be so lucky. Baizhu stood there, rummaging through your drawers to dispose of expired over the counter medicines. You snicker at his low mutterings of how unorganised your desk is and how dangerous it is to keep such things.

With a duster in hand he dusts your shelves and ceiling- you're still gawking at him. Not for long though as you then errupt into a series of sneezes.

Baizhu frantically runs to your side and cups your face gently, like touching you is a privilege in it of itself. "Oh dear, I'm sorry sweetie, I should've gotten you a mask first."

You couldn't utter a word. However you thought of many. You gave him the softest, most benevolent smile you could offer.

Baizhu... warms your heart more than anyone in this world.

[irlythyra]

[photo from k, received on 11.21.22]

to my beloved,

I write because you exist. my journey in search of words to speak of you is endless. I love, I love, I love, and I love you. I'm afraid I cannot stress it enough. above the moon-litten path, you trace them. you are the ocean, and I am the misty wind. throughout and over we envelopes and create tides, waves, hurricanes, and typhoons. together we are brought upon to embrace each other and feel the shore as we crumble and come back.

[irlythyra]

I was trying to paint an ethereal forest I saw on pinterest, but it just looked like blobs to me.

[irlythyra]

Behold, the one with Hinata eyes

[irlythyra]

I'm getting a bit better at this ✨️✨️✨️