#muriel fic

[phoen1xr0se]

The FINAL chapter of Don't Fall Away From Me is up on AO3!! (M)

Artist Credit: @mistysblueboxstuff

Chapter Summary: It ends, as it started, in a garden.

Author's Note: I have too much to say to leave it here, I am halfway across the country right now, travelling to Skokholm Island to spend almost a whole week with puffins and being totally off-grid and offline, so I will just dial it back to say that I am incredibly grateful for every bit of love, appreciation and every comment that has been given to me, they have pulled me through some incredibly dark times and I am beyond grateful for every single one of you. It has been more painful than I expected to finally let go of this story, of my Crowley and Aziraphale and especially my Muriel, but I hope you enjoy the ending to their story (although an ending for us, perhaps a beginning for them...)

Thank you from the bottom of my heart, for everything. I adore you.

[fellthemarvelous]

Imagine, if you will...

Seriously, this isn't a canon prediction or anything (honestly I might attempt to write a fanfic with this idea in mind). It's just random thoughts that go through my head and this is my attempt to make sense of them and write them out coherently.

We have Saraqael, an angel who seems to be more intelligent than most, with tartan cuffs and collar on their heavenly attire.

We have Muriel, a 37th class scrivener with a love for reading and a curiosity that none of the other angels seem to have, wearing tartan that matches Saraqael's.

So, I would assume that Muriel works under Saraqael, especially since Muriel went to Saraqael with the matchbox before either of them approached Michael and Uriel.

We see Jimbriel wearing Aziraphale's tartan blanket like a toga once he takes refuge in the bookshop.

And, of course, we have Aziraphale, former cherub and guardian of the eastern gate of Eden, always incorporating tartan into all aspects of his life on Earth.

What if the tartan that we see Muriel and Saraqael wearing is a symbol, perhaps a way to identify others who might want to dissent from Heaven's plans? What if it's a growing symbol of resistance?

Maybe Saraqael picked Muriel to observe the things happening on Earth because Muriel is good at appearing unassuming and aloof.

Maybe Muriel being asked to stay on Earth was what Saraqael was hoping for.

Saraqael told Aziraphale they would be sending an angel to log and verify the miracle. He knew Heaven would be keeping tabs after that.

What was Muriel reporting back to Saraqael? We saw what they shared with Michael and Uriel, but is that information that Saraqael told them to share? Did Muriel give Saraqael a more detailed report first?

Saraqael showed Crowley the truth of the trial despite declaring him the "enemy".

Could Saraqael have had anything to do with getting Aziraphale back into Heaven? Is it possible Saraqael thinks Heaven needs Aziraphale then?

Crowley now has information about Heaven that can be shared with Hell. Crowley knows Heaven would rather erase the memories of angels who want to walk away from Heaven instead of casting them down into Hell.

And Saraqael immediately followed Crowley back down to Earth without question.

What if Saraqael is the murder hornet? What if Saraqael is choosing to trust Crowley and maybe help Aziraphale in Heaven because Heaven sucks?

Saraqael has the device that erases memories, and more importantly, allowed Crowley to learn that information when showing him the footage of Gabriel's trial.

And now Saraqael will be in Heaven with Aziraphale while Muriel remains on Earth and most likely in contact with Crowley.

Mix this with the idea of Crowley taking up a position as a Duke of Hell and having that link to Heaven through Muriel, who remains in contact with Saraqael, who is working with Aziraphale, who wants to change Heaven because it's a mess.

[userdoezart]

When you wanna kiss your partner but you have an adopted child

[laurashapiro-noreally]

Looking for something to read?

Oh look, it's another recs post! This time I'm featuring two stories per author. These are writers I always make time for, whose work stands out as unusually hot, clever, funny, or smart -- sometimes all of the above.

I'm gonna start you out strong with two by @werpiper: After Hours takes Aziraphale and Crowley to the baths after their oyster supper, and all sorts of interesting pleasures are there for our angel to sample. Piper's Crowley is one of my favorites: always evaluating the situation, not quite aware of what his own heart is doing but feeling it anyway.

Fitting In is a new story, still a WIP, but I am utterly tantalized by Muriel's first taste of love -- and tea. This is already rich in detail, soft and fragrant, and I can hardly wait for the action to get going in earnest. The pairing seems surprising but when you think about it for ten seconds of course it makes sense. Sex workers help the curious, the awkward, and the inexperienced every day, bless them.

If you enjoy these, check out @werpiper's back catalog -- they have done a ton of ineffables-through-the-ages, and their series Miracles and Heresy is worth many delightful hours of your time.

I love what @copperplatebeech has been doing lately:

He's Not My Friend is a T-rated story that explores Aziraphale's constant refusal to acknowledge his relationship with Crowley, and Crowley's mirror of that, and how things glacially shift over time. It is subtle and yet specific, it will make you ache and smile.

All Of The Above, also T-rated, is a warm and fuzzy alternative to that, a hilarious celebration of true friendship that made me laugh out loud and still got me right in the feels.

@copperplatebeech can do everything, from quiet, gentle, and romantic to devastating plotty AUs to extraordinarily horny established relationship to absolutely ridiculous humor. Do dive in if you haven't already.

Next up, @cumaeansibyl, master of kink:

better living through technology manages to shove everything I want in a dirty story into less than three thousand words: uptight Aziraphale reduced to sodden wreck, Crowley gleefully showing him what he's been missing, character-driven erotics, and exceptionally funny dialogue.

indulgentiam peccatorum nostrorum is somehow all that and more, turning the "I was wrong" dance into a kink (something I can't get enough of, recs welcome). This one is post-Bastille so it is extra-juicy. Mind the tags!

@cumaeansibyl has a gift for established relationship one-shots, which readers of mine will know are my entire jam. They also have a mind-meltingly hot inverse!omens AU that features different variations of angelic/demonic Crowleys and Aziraphales for our ineffables to play with.

A new-to-me author, Calico, has me hanging by a thread with their Ineffable Romans series. If you want to remember that your ineffables aren't human, that they are inordinately clever but very stupid, that the feelings they have for each other are truly beyond what anyone alive has ever felt, Calico may be the writer for you. This stuff is deep. Also hot af.

Sub Rosa reads like a nasty shag at Petronius', but there's so much more going on here. It is Extremely Queer, driven by power dynamics, and Crowley is fully demonic here and absolutely in control...or is he?

The Intemperance of Liber Pater continues on this theme, with dialogue-driven smut that reads less like a seduction than an inevitability. There's another story in this series, unfinished, and I can't wait to see what happens next.

Last but not least: two short pieces by @ineffabildaddy. I stumbled on their stories just this week and I absolutely love their approach, which I've not seen done quite this way before.

take me as your wife has a tight first-person perspective as Crowley meets Aziraphale for a meal and imagines (or is it his imagination?) that Aziraphale is suggesting Certain Things about how they might occupy themselves later. Indeed, is he suggesting even more? Something about their relationship? Or is it all in Crowley's head?

Only in Dreams is kind of a companion piece, from Aziraphale's point of view -- though hundreds of years later. This one's set after the events of S2 and although just as romantic as take me as your wife, it also offers an ineffable take on the ol' glory hole concept. Just in case you thought I was getting soft. 😏

@ineffabildaddy has a whole series of poems and ficlets like these and I can't wait to explore them all.

[fellshish]

Now THIS is the kind of crowley - muriel queer friends content i love and crave (link to fic)

[sentientsky]

demon muriel <3 (somewhat inspired by @underlined-in-spirit’s art, which was inspired by @phoen1xr0se’s fic!)

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 7!!!

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It will not surprise you at all, dear Reader, to learn that Aziraphale keeps very little in his kitchen cupboards. There is no stove or oven, and the only thing in the fridge is milk (for his tea no doubt). When you start opening cupboards, you find one pack of custard creams, and a second one of chocolate digestives. Well, it will have to do. You find yourself a small plate and fill it half and half before heading back into the shop just in time to say goodbye to Anathema and Newt.

As they leave, you turn to the supernatural entities in the room.

“So,” You say, “If we’re going to the States, then we have a few problems. First, I don’t have my passport or any ID at all, so airport security is going to be fun. Second, I have no money. Third, I’m gonna need a Walmart or something because I don’t even have a toothbrush, my dudes. Fourth, these,” You indicate the cookies, “are fine for a snack, but overall they’re not gonna cut it.”

“You just leave the airport security to us,” Aziraphale replies. You make a note that he glided right past ‘my dudes,’ they’re getting used to you already. Dammit. “As for the rest of it,” Aziraphale continues, “I suppose a trip to Tesco’s is in order.”

Crowley produces a shiny black credit card from nowhere and hands it to you. “We’ll take the Bentley,” he says. He starts to stand, but you shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, you both stay here,” You say. Crowley raises his eyebrow.

“You realize we can take care of ourselves,” he says, “We’ve been doing it for a few millennia.”

“I’m not talking about that,” You say, “Look, what we’re going into is really dangerous. And I know that your pattern is to just wait to talk about things until you’re in the clear, but that’s not a good idea anymore. I mean, I get that I’m not exactly an expert, but I read just as much as you do and I’ve heard a million stories by this point in my life, and in NONE of them do people ever say ‘I’m so glad I never told them how I feel’ - you know? It’s always ‘I wish I would have’ or ‘I should have told them every day.’ So Muriel and I will go ask Maggie to take us to Tesco, and you two need to talk. Please. While it’s safe, while you have the chance, before things get dangerous and possibly deadly.”

Crowley and Aziraphale are silent. You notice that they aren’t looking at each other. Well, you’ve done your best. Now you need to trust them.

At this point, dear Reader, you are probably thinking to yourself ‘well I would snoop and spy on them while they talk! I want to watch them make out!’ But here is the thing – in this world they are real people, not characters. It’s one thing to say that you would creep on them from the other side of this fiction, but when they’re very real and looking at you in person, things are a little different. For one thing, you realize that real people deserve things like boundaries and privacy, especially for sensitive conversations.

And so, you take Muriel over to Maggie’s shop, where you explain that Mr. Fell has sent the two of you on an errand and you need to stop for dinner somewhere and have no idea where anything is. You flash her the credit card and say ‘It’s all on me,’ and she conveniently agrees with a look on her face that says something like ‘least they could do after all that shit they put us through.’

So the three of you go for dinner at the nearest Weatherspoons, where you and Maggie eat while Muriel watches in morbid fascination. Then you all take the bus to Tesco where you buy yourself a small wardrobe, and manage to coax Muriel into some light blue jeans and an argyle jumper so they look a little less like the Beacon of Gondor. You quickly find out that Muriel has an adorable fascination with fuzzy socks, novelty mugs, and coloured pencils. Of course, you enable their fascinations with a happy heart, and as an afterthought, you grab them a small pot of orange daisies from the flower section. It will give them something alive to tend to while you’re gone. Muriel appreciates the thought. All in all, it’s a long but good time.

You don’t know about the talk, and you’re worried about asking when you get back.

THAT BEING SAID

You and I, dear Reader, not actually being in that world, are allowed certain privileges.

The bookshop is silent for a long time. Both of them are thinking, digesting, processing. Feelings are hard to feel, and harder to put into words. Especially when it has been made clear, twice now in the span of a number of hours, that you absolutely need to put them into words.

It isn’t until after Crowley notices you, Muriel, and Maggie heading down the street that he stands up and begins to pace. A few more minutes pass before he speaks.

“So...uhm...are you going to go first or should I?”

“Are we...are we actually going to do this? Have this talk I mean?” Aziraphale has been shelving books to try and take the edge off. Now he puts down the book in his hands and absent-mindedly fidgets with his ring.

“Well, I mean we don’t have to,” Crowley says, aiming for non-chalance and missing ever-so-slightly, “No one can actually make us.”

“Yes, except it feels very much like everyone is trying to.”

“Trying is the key word there.”

“That’s true enough I suppose.”

The silence returns and stretches. It is anything but comfortable. The air is full of words that they have been told they should say, words that perhaps they want to say, but words that have been dammed up with fear and uncertainty for so long now that they’ve become very hard to un-stick. After a while, Aziraphale clears his throat and speaks.

“I, erm, I suppose you had better go first.”

“Me, right, okay.” Crowley clears his throat now and stops his pacing near the desk. He looks down at the scattered papers and books, the pens and photos and newspaper clippings. The assorted clutter of Aziraphale’s life. Looking away makes it easier to start. He takes a breath. “Um..right...well...we’ve known each other a long time. We’ve been on this planet a long time – you and me, I mean. I’ve always been able to rely on you, and you’ve always relied on me,” another breath, “We’re a team, yeah? A group of the two of us. And...erm...we pretend that we aren’t. Always have. Safer that way I guess.” He looks up at Aziraphale. The angel isn’t looking at him, but he nods anyway to show that he’s listening. Crowley continues. “And I mean...I’ve tried not to think about it much before but...but it would be nice, I mean, UGH” He takes off his sunglasses and rubs a hand over his eyes as though he can massage the words and make them easier to say. “I mean, I would like to spend...mmm….I would like to spend the rest not pretending anymore. Be an us. I mean,” suddenly the dam breaks, and Crowley finds the words come tumbling out, “If Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, we can. We don’t need Heaven or Hell, they’re both toxic. We can be an us, on our side. You and me. What do you say?” He looks at Aziraphale without reservation now. His angel looks back at him, eyes wide. When he does speak, it’s with a smile and a small nod of acknowledgment rather than agreement.

“That was very well done Crowley,” he says. This isn’t an answer.

“Nnyeah, thanks. Your turn though.”

“Right, I suppose it is.” Aziraphale takes a moment to gather himself. After hearing Crowley be so open about this, he feels more resolved himself to do this properly. He faces Crowley and folds his hands to keep himself grounded. “Crowley,” he begins, “I...I wish that this conversation were happening under better circumstances. Although it’s been pointed out that ideal circumstances aren’t a promise that we can wait around for. Well, the thing is that I would like the same thing. Very much in fact. My biggest concern by far is for your safety because, well, frankly I don’t see the point in saving the world again if you’re not around to enjoy it with me. An us, as you said. You and me.” He smiles. Crowley smiles.

“Guess we’d better save the world together then. And try not to die.”

“Yes, quite.”

“Aziraphale?”

“Yes, Crowley?”

“You’re my angel. No one else.”

“And you, my wiley serpent. No one else.”

The shop bell dings.

“We’re baaaaaack!” You sing as you waltz through the door, shopping bags in hand. Muriel follows after you, carefully carrying their daisies. “Did you miss us?”

When you eventually get the courage to ask them about their talk later, you get a “ngk” from Crowley, and a “We’ve said all that needs to be said, for now.” from Aziraphale. And that, you suppose, will have to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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[feralbutfluffy]

One of the moodboards for Crowley's bedroom for TWTWP

[lilliththefan]

guys, they’re saying hi to each other 🥺🥺🥺

[tryanmybest]

whatever's supposed to happen in season 3 aside, i'm delusional

please enjoy silly ideas about what muriel, crowley, maggie, and nina get up to while aziraphale's gone :)

maggie and nina RUSH to crowley once they find out aziraphale left

both of them know the feeling of rejection and they support him as much as they can

they give him helpful breakup advice and check up on him periodically

over time, the three become good friends

maggie and nina are endlessly curious about the whole heaven/hell/angel/demon/universe thing and crowley answers what questions he can

since crowley's still not bound to hell, the three of them just vibe most of the time

muriel joins them on occasion, when they're not reading a new book

crowley, despite maggie and nina telling him it might be better to keep his distance from the shop for a bit, checks in on muriel and teaches them how to properly take care of the bookshop

as in, don't sell any of the books, don't rearrange any of the books, close and open whenever you want, etc.

occasionally, muriel, maggie, and nina will organize sort of "storytimes" where crowley shares some stories from his past

it starts with the ones without aziraphale. it's still a bit too raw to tell those.

but, eventually, he tells the story of elspeth in edinburgh. or the lost unicorn on noah's arc (which maggie swears she knew were real this whole time)

maggie and nina also teach muriel how to properly blend in with humans

they're not the BEST at it, but they're good enough that they can go get hot cocoa from nina's shop without people staring at them

crowley teaches muriel how to perform miracles. although, angelic miracles are just a bit different than demonic ones. so they both kind of figure it out together

muriel ends up miracling aziraphale's wardrobe to fit them. those are the human clothes they have access to, afterall.

and, besides, the style suits them.

crowley smiles at the look and doesn't comment on it. and nina gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

muriel shares the stories they've read with maggie, who listens enthusiastically

nina suggests muriel write a story of their own

regular customers at give me coffee or give me death now recognize the bookshop owner often in the corner pondering a laptop

nina taught them how to use it. crowley whispers to them that if they tell the laptop what to do with a bit of miraculous energy, it's a lot easier

maggie shows muriel some music. it's so much better than the celestial harmonies that they've had to hear for all these years

they end up liking everything they're shown. from aziraphale's old classical records they found in the bookshop to the queen that plays from crowley's car

muriel adores the bentley. and the bentley eventually warms up to them.

crowley takes muriel to see more of earth, once

well, more of england anyway

there's one time during the drive that the queen melts into an unfamiliar song. something about angels and nightingales.

crowley puts a fist to the dash and it switches back to queen before muriel can grasp what it is

while they're far from the city, the stars are much brighter

muriel hasn't had the chance to see them until then

and crowley tells them another story. about nebulas and galaxies and how they're made. and how gorgeous they really are up close.

muriel doesn't understand why crowley gets so sad talking about something he loves

sometimes residents of the street ask where mr. fell went

maggie and nina will respond that maybe you should mind your own business and they're sure he has his reasons

muriel will smile and say that he's gone on to heaven. then get confused when people offer their condolences

crowley doesn't say anything.

ms sandwich can put together that aziraphale and crowley were an item, though.

and she can certainly see that they aren't anymore

eventually, after a few months, maggie and nina start officially dating

muriel happens to be reading some of aziraphale's romance novels, and they find nina and maggie's relationship utterly adorable

if they ever mention as much tho, nina will tell them to piss off while maggie gets flustered

once, muriel asks maggie and nina when they figured out that they had feelings for each other

crowley is around at that time

muriel, excited by maggie and nina's answers turns to crowley and starts to ask him when he realized he was in love with aziraphale. but they trail off

nina had told them that crowley's not great at talking about aziraphale all the time

they have to wait until he brings it up, okay?

muriel apologizes, but crowley waves a hand

he explains the experience of the first rain

and maggie GASPS

"the rain! back when you were trying to get me and nina together! that was YOU."

crowley just offers a half-smirk and a thumbs-up

that's all ive got for now.

[leupagus]

Working title is "Aziraphale is going to get a good grade in sex, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve"

"So!" Aziraphale said, plopping himself down in the chair opposite. "Urophilia."

Crowley glowered at him from behind the safety of his third-best sunglasses and his mug.* He hadn't slept last night — he rarely wanted to, these days — yet it was somehow still too early for this. "No," he attempted.

"I know we neither of us go in for the more, er, granular human bodily functions," said Aziraphale, without even the slightest hint of listening. Crowley took a certain amount of comfort in the fact that he still found this annoying as — well, his former employer's residence. He'd worried, in a vague sort of way, that if Aziraphale came back and they worked things out, became a proper us, that he'd start thinking everything Aziraphale did was wonderful. But even true love had its limits, thank — well, his other former employer's residence. "Did I ever tell you, I tried defecating once? Terribly awkward business, I had to make an anus and everything. But Cicero was very obliging in teaching me about the stick."**

Conversations with Aziraphale tended to fall into one of three categories. Either he was humming away in his default cheeriness, in which case he'd burble happily along with whatever Crowley said for hours on end; or he was in a pet about something, in which case he'd be drier than the desert outside Eden and Crowley'd be lucky to escape without injury to his pride or person. Or he was like this, in which case Crowley's participation was purely decorative.

Still, they were getting some stares. Nina hadn't started tutting yet, but she would do soon. "I'm not pissing on you," he said, firm. "And vice versa."

"Oh, all right," Aziraphale huffed, pulling out his spectacles and wrapping the temple tips fussily around his ears. He peered down at the magazine he'd apparently brought with him; even from here, Crowley could see some illustrations. They were… illustrative.

"What," he said with the conviction that he would regret it, "Is that?"

"It's 'Kinks and Fetishes: An A to Z Guide,'" Aziraphale said, handing it over with all the glee of a dog showing off a rotted tennis ball it had found in the back garden. "I've been doing more research, you see. Apparently, there's all sorts of sex we could be getting up to. I truly had no idea there were so many—" he waved his other hand around vaguely. "Configurations."

"Does Glamour have a print edition anymore?" Crowley asked, thumbing through the pages. There were a lot of illustrations.

"Not as such," Aziraphale admitted. "But Muriel found it for me on the World Wide Web—"

"Don't call it that," Crowley sighed.

"—and you know how I dislike reading off of those… screens," he continued, making a moue of distaste. "So I made my own proof copy, as it were."

Under "Tentacles," there was a stern reminder that you shouldn't have sex with octopuses.*** "Angel," he started, then paused. "Vicarphilia?"

"I thought it was something to do with priests and things, but apparently not," Aziraphale said, leaning over the table to point out the next one. "What about whipping?"

"No fetishes that I could've done professionally," Crowley decided firmly, shutting the magazine. He waved it away, out to the Tadfield Library where Anathama would probably find it and laugh for a week, then try at least a half-dozen of them out on poor Newt.

* Nina had set one aside for him after a while, since he didn't mind the permanent stains that had developed along the inside. "Pretty sure those are scorchmarks, actually," she'd complained. "On the outside. What did you do to it?"

** Roman public toilets were aptly named — men would gather to have a bowel movement and a chat, cleaning themselves off with a sponge on the end of a length of wood. Hence the phrase, "Getting the wrong end of the stick," something decidedly less pleasant when taken out of its metaphor.

*** Accompanied by a picture of a young woman doing exactly that.

[phoen1xr0se]

Chapter 43 of Don't Fall Away From Me is up on AO3! (M)

Yes, the penultimate chapter is here! 🤩

Artist Credit: @mistysblueboxstuff

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤

Summary: Crowley gets an unexpected visitor.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🤍🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Author's Note: the penultimate chapter is here!! Sending heartfelt thanks to everyone who has been so patiently waiting for me to finish it - my life sort of exploded in the worst possible way, so thank you, thank you, all of you, for all your kindness and love. Please leave a comment if you can, they're all that's getting me by right now.

🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍

🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍🖤🩶🤍

[arcanarubinaito]

What are your thoughts on how an extroverted, confident, energetic MC would be with Muriel as an LI? (🪶)

Thank you for the ask, Feather Anon! I’ve been itching to do some creative writing outside of my story, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing this more like a short story/narrative style post.

Summary:

You command the room when you walk in, and everyone takes notice. He loves that about you; being riddled with constant social anxiety himself, it’s nothing short of a relief for Muriel to see that you don’t have to deal with it yourself. (Besides, it doesn’t hurt that it takes the attention off of him.)

He’s just worried that you’ll feel isolated and alone if you move in with him.

It’s exactly a month after the defeat of Lucio and The Devil, and everyone had gathered to celebrate together in the Rowdy Raven. He tries to stick to a corner in the back, but he is far too large and conspicuous to avoid the attention for long. Some people stare, others are braver and approach him to exchange a few words and express thanks. Muriel wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle. He appreciates not being looked at like he was still the Scourge, thankful that people weren’t afraid of him anymore. But the only reason he was here was to see you. You had been busy helping with repairs in the city while Muriel helped those still lingering in the camp outside his home, and hadn’t had much time to really talk or interact for the past week.

“You all didn’t start without me now, did you?” Your voice rings out as you stride in, and Muriel slumps back against the wall with relief. He watches some of the crowd clamor to get your attention as Julian passes you a beer stein, giving him room to breathe.

You look a little tired, he notices, but your face is practically glowing. Your eyes meet across the room and you light up even further, drawing a slight smile from Muriel’s otherwise stoic expression. He loves your smile. Immediately you chug your drink and begin pushing through the crowd, exchanging short words with a few other people before you finally reach him. He doesn’t even have the time to say ‘hello’ before you throw your arms around him in a tight hug that he quickly returns.

“God, I missed you so much.” You groan, tilting your head back to look up at him. Muriel lifts his hand, cradling your face gently in his large palm as he dips down to kiss your forehead—silently telling you he missed you just as much. “I didn’t have any time to visit this week and it was killing me, actually.” You stretch up on your toes and loop your arms around his neck, filling him in on all the little things he’d missed. Stuffy nobles complaining that they weren’t getting their homes repaired sooner, and Nadia putting them in their place. Helping Portia and the other kitchen staff with preparing food for all the displaced citizens. Julian and Asra, busy with healing and helping reunite separated families and friends.

He listens to you ramble on with a soft smile, and follows as you take his arm and lead him to the bar. “—but now I think I’ll have a lot of down time, which means I can spend more time with you.” Muriel’s smile widens a little more at that, and he can feel his face warm up when you shoot him a wink. Yeah, he knows what that means all too well. “Hey Lavinia, let’s get a round of black mead for everyone!” You call across the bar, knocking your hand against the wood loudly. “And put it on Jules’ tab!”

“Wait what—?”

A short laugh breaks past Muriel’s lips at Julian’s indignant squawk, and he catches a shit-eating grin plastered over your face as you settle onto one of the stools. Two mugs of the dark liquor slide across the bar towards you both, Muriel putting his hand out to gently stop them before they fall off and passing one to you. “What did he do to deserve that?” He asks, amused. You hide your smirk with your mug.

“Nothing.” You rest your chin in one hand. “I’ll pay it off myself, his reaction is just funny.”

“That’s a little mean.”

“It is a little mean, yeah.” You laugh, eyes glittering with mirth. The firelight reflects like spots of amber in your eyes, and he’s reminded of that first night. Your worried face and gentle hands cast in the soft glow of the fireplace, and the begrudging step he had taken to trust you just a little. The best decision he’s ever made, really. Muriel reaches forward to brush some stray hairs out of your eyes without thinking.

A few ‘awww’s scattered from the crowd made him flinch and quickly withdraw, his face hot with embarrassment. Muriel hides his burning face with a quick swig from the wooden mug in his hand and turns his back to the crowd quickly. He had been so swept up in the moment that he forgot you both weren’t alone, and many pairs of eyes were on you at any given moment.

Your hand touches the side of his face lightly, reassuring and gentle. Grounding him for a little longer and soothing that surge of anxiety and embarrassment. His eyes flicker in your direction again briefly before he roots his stare on the mug in his hands again. “You want to head back early?” You suggest softly. Muriel lowers his mug. He wants to say yes; he’s by far had his fill of socializing today and just wants to wind down somewhere quiet and familiar. But he hesitates. You only just got here, and he knows how much you enjoy these gatherings. You thrive off of social interactions, would it be selfish for him to ask you to leave so soon?

“We don’t have to.” Muriel finally says, begrudgingly, forcing himself to look back up at you. He can stick it out a little while longer for your sake, just as you’ve done for him before. It’s loud and crowded and his anxiety is already going haywire, and god his head is starting to hurt too. But he can suck it up.

“I really don’t mind going home if you need to.” You reply. He watches your eyes drift past him, your hand waving off someone behind him quickly before your gaze returns to meet his. “I know this isn’t exactly where you’re most comfortable.” That was an understatement if Muriel had ever heard one.

Wait. Go back. Did you say ‘home?’

Gently, you pull him away from the bar, guiding him through the swirling crowd towards the back door. He reaches out to push it open for you, his fingertips lingering on the wood for only a moment before you whisk him down the alleyway to a more secluded spot, away from prying eyes. His eyes widen a little, and he lifts his hand to curl it over the one you cup his cheek with. “You said ‘home.’” Muriel breathes out. Your face softens a little, a smile creeping up on your lips.

You’ve hidden yourselves among some crates stacked up between the buildings, a nearby street lamp casting your faces into wild shadows. “Yeah, I did.” You confirm, moving your hand so that your fingers are twined together now. You dip your head down, kissing the tops of his knuckles with a sweet brush of your lips that sends a jolt of electricity through Muriel’s body. “I’d like to move in with you—if you want, I mean.” You add on quickly.

Muriel’s heart hammers in his chest. “What about the shop?” He asks, his voice a little more breathless than he would’ve liked.

“The shop is a little bit crowded these days—” Right, Julian had moved in. Muriel tries (and fails) to resist the urge to make a face at the thought of the doctor living with Asra. “—and I’m not exactly selling anything right now either.” You continue, tilting your head to the side just a little. “And it’s so far from your place.”

“My place is also far from everything else.” He points out quietly. Muriel wants nothing more than for you to move in with him, to make that little hut feel more like a little home. But would it be too far from Vesuvia, and all your friends? Would you be happy, or would you start to feel isolated and alone?

“I know.” You guide him out of his thoughts with a soft voice and a gentle squeeze of his hand. “And I’m okay with that.” He searches your gaze, finding only love and warmth, and that gleam of pure conviction he knows so well. His shoulders relax just a little bit and his thumb rubs along the back of your hand idly while he listens. “It isn’t really all that long of a walk to get to the city. It just feels… It just feels too far from you.” You smile up at him and he practically melts, lips twitching up into a faint smile.

“I want you to be happy.” Muriel confesses softly. He brings his other hand up to envelope yours in his large and calloused palm.

“And I’m happy whenever I’m with you.” You stretch up on your toes, and he leans down just a little to meet you halfway, stealing a soft and sweet kiss—thankfully, without anyone around to see. Muriel sneaks a glance around just to double check before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in closer, one steady hand at your waist and the fingers of his other twined gently through your hair. He can feel your hands rest against his chest for a moment before you reach up to hold his face in your ever-gentle hands.

He pulls away just slightly, your warm breath mingling with his against the cool night air. “I love you.” Muriel murmurs, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with a smile. He moves his hand to brush an errant lock of hair out of your eyes, studying them. Muriel wasn’t one for eye contact, but it was so easy for him to get lost in your eyes. They always reflected the light so beautifully, and tonight was no exception; the light of the street lamp mingled with the moonlight, casting your eyes in a contrast of gold and silver.

“I love you too.” You murmur. Your thumb lightly brushes along his cheek and traces along his scar tenderly, sending a soft shiver down his spine. Muriel shifts, his lips meeting the spot just between your eyebrows before he pulls away, his hands resting on your waist. You tilt your head back a little to look up at him, letting your hands settle back on his shoulders before sliding them down his arms and resting them against his biceps, just above his elbows.

“… yeah. I think I’d like to go home now.” He murmurs, finally answering your question from before. Your smile widens a little and you take hold of his hand as you both finally pull away from where you were hidden and start to walk down the street.

[celestialcrowley]

🪴 IT’S FANFICTION FRIDAY 🪴

🪽 🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽🪽

Memory Reboot is the first multi chapter work I’ve started for the Good Omens fandom. There are currently two chapters up, and chapter three is … everyday it’s a-getting closer … being written.

I’m glad I returned to tumblr and began writing again. Words can’t express how patient, lovely and supportive all of you are.

Work Title: Memory Reboot

Chapters: 2 out of ?

Rated: T, subject to change

Current Characters: Aziraphale, Crowley, Raven, Muriel, the Metatron, Jesus, and Nina.

Michael Sheen, if you’re out there, please don’t read this. Also, hi.

Memory Reboot

I’d love to know what you think! Comments keep me writing. 💚

[itsscottiesstark]

Heaven isn't built to house a love like you and I , 37k, T [COMPLETED]

They did it. They stopped Armageddon. They survived. This was it, the first time they were actually free to finally figure out what their side entailed. Aziraphale is a being of love. Always has been. And now, all the love he has for Crowley is free to flow from the edge of his fingertips to the demon's, in a gesture that could only mean one thing; I'm with you. I'm here. As much as his hands itch to reach out for the love of his existence, his words seem to fail him, time and time again. He knows Crowley deserves more than gentle hand holding and forehead kisses in the dark. He aches to scream his love from the top of his lungs, for the whole world to hear. And the demon knows it. And he waits. Because he'll wait forever for Aziraphale. Because he knows they are meant to be one. We take a peak into Aziraphale and Crowley's "peaceful, fragile existence" they slowly carve out for themselves after Armage-not. We get to see Aziraphale slowly but surely reach out for the demon time and time again, bringing them closer than ever. Until Jim happens. And it all goes to shit.

Here's what happens when you spend 6 months thinking about the ineffable idiots constantly, and trying to heal from the devastation season 2 left behind.

We have forehead kisses. We have hand holding. We have love declarations. We have tipsy Muriel. We have love letters. We have naps. Lots of naps. And- yeah, sure, some heartbreak in the middle but what else could I do, sometimes it has to get worse before it gets better.

Show some love please. 🤍

[rareomens]

Rare Omens 2024 Day 3

We want to see your Good Omens creations for:

Saraqael + Muriel!

When did they first meet? How did Muriel explain the material object to Saraqael? Are they both chillin' on Earth now? Share your fanworks of these two and tag us.

Post to the Rare Omens AO3 collection: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Rare_Omens