#pkfanfics

[pockykierra]

New 1941 Smutty Ineffable Spouses one-shot, out now!

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warnings: None

Important Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Fluff, Bottom Aziraphale, Top Crowley, He/Him Pronouns for Aziraphale, He/Him Pronouns for Crowley, Sex in the Bentley, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941, Car Sex, having sex in the middle of a burning city in a car that's the fic

Summary:

"My dear.”

Aziraphale’s hand fell on the top of Crowley’s thigh, far too high up for it to be a benign, comforting action. Crowley tensed, the muscle of his leg clenching beneath his hand. “Pull over, please?” He asked, an instruction hidden between polite, sweet words. A command phrased as a question.

Crowley's swallowed deeply. “Oh.” He replied, his voice weak. It felt like hours that the demon was lost in a trance, and Aziraphale nearly pulled his hand away and apologized for, apparently, misreading hundreds of years of hints - when Crowley quickly jerked the steering wheel to the right, the Bentley coming to a screeching halt in front of a burning building. For a moment that felt like an eternity, neither moved. Aziraphale stared at Crowley, and Crowley stared out the windscreen.

or

Part 1 of my "Burning" series - In 1941, Aziraphale and Crowley have sex in the Bentley while London burns around them.

[pockykierra]

COME ONE COME ALL Chapter Three of Saying The Quiet Part Aloud out now!!

A little sneak peak below the cut!

Burnt.

Aziraphale took in a long, deep breath through his nose, held it, and let it out. He wasn’t one to curse, but as he slid his failed attempt at fried eggs into the bin, he found himself closer to reaching for one than usual. He didn’t know how he managed it - weren’t eggs supposed to be simple? All there was to do was crack them into a pan and wait for them to be done. And yet, there he was, staring into the garbage at charred the charred remains of his failure. It would have been funny if Aziraphale wasn’t so completely defeated.

Why he kept trying to cook, he didn’t know. No matter how he followed a recipe with military-grade discipline or tried to listen to his heart about what felt right, his dishes never turned out how they were supposed to - they were always bland or overcooked or raw or barely recognizable as food when he was done with them. And yet, after a long night of tossing and turning, he decided that today was a good day to try his luck once more.

And like always when cooking, his fortune failed him.

Downtrodden, Aziraphale pulled out his usual breakfast, made by people who knew how to make something semi-edible. It was as good a breakfast as always, today’s pastry a strawberry turnover with a dusting of icing sugar on top - but disappointment turned it to soot in his mouth, and he found himself unable to finish it. He pushed his plate away, unsatisfied but unable to eat anything more.

Aziraphale sighed, using his precious morning reading time to stare somberly off into the distance. He knew it wasn’t the failed attempt at cooking that was bothering him. If it was, then he wouldn’t have been up all night. The burnt eggs were a small but disappointing drop in the bucket compared to what had kept him from sleep. It was so much more - his mother’s unanswered call, his resignation about Crowley, his guilt about ignoring Muriel’s invitations - they had all whirled round and around in his head like a horrible rollercoaster he desperately wanted off of. Each thought lingered and taunted and, in the end, culminated into a singular, horrible understanding:

Aziraphale was lonely.

But, of course, Aziraphale already knew that. If he didn’t, he would be the most foolish man to have ever lived - after all, he chose to live in solitude. Even if the alternative of trying to live normally was awful even to consider, the choices he made were still his own. He chose to move away from friends and family. To never leave his apartment except for work. To ignore his coworkers when they tried to make the leap from acquaintances to friends.

To keep his distance from Crowley.

It was best for Aziraphale to be alone. There was no danger of accidentally touching someone and, thereby, no danger of hearing things he wasn’t supposed to. It was safer for all involved. He wasn’t overwhelmed with thoughts, and if he couldn’t listen to what others were thinking, he couldn’t invade their privacy. It was better for all.

But-

It hurt.

The loneliness was a sucking wound in his chest, caving his ribs in under its pressure. It festered as he spent hours lying in bed, staring into the dark void of his ceiling. And somehow, someway, it always came back to the man who, just two days ago, had been no more than a ridiculous fantasy. Now, he haunted Aziraphale’s every thought - and he couldn’t but wonder why.

[pockykierra]

Chapter Four of Saying The Quiet Part Aloud is out!!

Thank you for your patience! With this chapter being at 12,500 words, it was definitely a doozy to write, and especially to edit. Hopefully the next one will come a little sooner (no promises, but a person can dream haha)

Also with this chapter, a piece of art I commissioned from a dear friend! I hope everyone loves it as much as I do, I’m SO hyped about it. Make sure to read the authors notes to get the artists links!!

A sneak peek of the first bit below the cut!

Aziraphale had never liked the phrase “to see the light.” 

In the grand scheme of things, it was an odd thing to have a strong opinion about - but he had his reasons. For one, projected a level of nonunderstanding he had never thought himself to have. He was not a people person (he couldn’t be, even if he wanted to), nor did he believe himself to be attractive or particularly funny, and he certainly wasn’t getting any younger. But if there was one constant in Aziraphale’s life, one thing he was always sure about - it was that, above all else, he was smart. That, he was sure of. So what point was there in “seeing the light” when he already knew where the light was coming from, when it would arrive, and what it would bring? 

It also reminded him of his mother. 

The pious woman she had always been, when Aziraphale was a child, she taught him common phrases and idioms that originated from scripture. And Aziraphale - young, eager to learn, and full of faith - had listened with eyes and ears wide open, soaking up every lesson like a sponge. Her lessons were still so clear in his mind she might as well have been sitting there beside him. He could still hear her gentle but firm voice and the careful way her thin fingers flipped through scritta, searching endlessly for that next verse. To that day, he could recall the lesson on the idiom in question with little difficulty.

””See the light,” Aziraphale. God is the creator of light, and so He is light. To see it is to see God himself and accept his truth.”

Well, Aziraphale was no longer religious; whatever ‘light of God’s truth’ that had been there had long since faded. All that remained was a deep, aching bitterness and the question of ‘why?’. If God was true and real, why had He given Aziraphale an ability that cursed him to a life of loneliness? Why hadn’t He given a way to turn it off or to do away with it? Why him?

Yet another reason to hate that saying. 

But sometimes, a phrase was apt, even if not enjoyed. And unfortunately, there was no better one. 

Aziraphale had seen the light. 

And the light was that there was no ‘moving along’ from Crowley. 

Aziraphale stared at his ceiling, cursed with another night of tossing and turning as he pondered this revelation. It had haunted him since - Aziraphale’s head lazed to the side, eyes squinting against the beam of his phone as he turned it on - nearly twelve hours ago. He had sat in his office, trying to think of anything but Crowley and failing miserably. Not even all the new and exciting flavors he had discovered at lunch could pull his focus away. 

No, all he could think of was Crowley.

It was near the end of the work day when he had been smacked in the face with the realization and the horrible truth of it all. And the truth was that there was nothing he could do to stop what was happening. Crowley was rooted firmly in his brain, and that was that. Trying to remove him, forget him, or ignore everything that had happened between them would be impossible. 

There was no going back. 

[pockykierra]

The Drive Home From Tadfield (based on @vavoom-sorted-art's comic

Go check out her comic, her art is so lovely! Both chapters out now.

The first chapter is SWF, the second is all NSFW, for anyone who wants to skip it/skip right to it 😏 Thank you @vavoom-sorted-art for letting me write a fic about your art! Here's a little sneak peak of Chapter One:

For a good few minutes, they fell into silence. They watched the setting sun pour beautiful light through the Bentley’s windows - yet another thing Crowley would miss when the world was gone. A demon wasn’t supposed to admire a lovely sunset - and certainly not a lovely angel - yet, on numerous occasions, he had found himself doing just that. Appreciating the beauty of the world he lived in.

The world that would soon destroy itself through divine and occult influences. Wasn’t that wonderful? All the things Crowley and Aziraphale loved - the people, the drinks, the food, the sunsets, the cars - gone. Turned to dust before their eyes.

Aziraphale would scold him for it, but Crowley couldn’t help but keep glancing at him from the corner of his eye. With his glasses, it was a difficult task, but he managed for a good few minutes without cluing Aziraphale that his eyes weren’t entirely on the road. He could see thoughts and ideas churning in the angel’s head, each twitch of the nose or flicker of the eye a new one - but from the dour expression on his face, none were leading anywhere. 

Crowley supposed that was better than what he was doing, which was focusing entirely on Aziraphale and not on ways to fix the up-and-coming Apocalypse. It was hard not to be when the angel looked so beautiful in the oranges and reds of the setting sun, his pale hair turned to fire and his eyes sparkling like stars in the burning light. He was - as the angel had said himself - ethereal. Wondrously, ridiculously radiant, and so full of light that Crowley could bask in for the rest of their days. Even if said days were now quite limited. 

Crowley’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together in a way that would have been painful for the average human. He had been trying not to think of it, focusing instead on losing his car and his humans and his alcohol, but deep down, he knew what the end of days truly meant losing - Aziraphale. No more dinners at the Ritz watching the angel savor every bite, no more late-night drinking sessions at the bookshop, and no more Arrangement. They would be - at best - separated for eternity and - at worst - forced to fight in the coming war. 

The Bentley swerved violently in reaction to Crowley’s thoughts; the angel beside him let out a tiny, barely-there gasp but said nothing about the sudden veer. Crowley glanced over at him, a pain like nothing he had felt before aching in his chest. He couldn’t fight Aziraphale. He wouldn’t. He would sooner throw that ridiculous tartan thermos of holy water he had hidden away onto himself - which, contrary to what Aziraphale thought, had never been the plan. But he would do it in a heartbeat for the angel beside him. 

From the corner of his eye, Crowley could see Aziraphale was still staring intently out the window, now looking to be thinking even harder about something. What it could be was hard to tell in the fading light of the sun, now mostly disappeared beyond the horizon - setting for, possibly, one of the last times.

Just another reminder of their fading moments together.

Unable to resist, fueled by panic and desperation, Crowley reached out and palmed Aziraphale’s thigh, grasping it like a lifeline. He was a demon weak for the pleasures in life, and his chances to have them were dwindling to nothing. Crowley and Aziraphale had spent years orbiting each other, never getting close enough to come together - and he was tired of it. He had gotten a taste of that tempting closeness earlier when Aziraphale had dared to call him nice, and Crowley pushed him up against the wall in retaliation. It was meant to be threatening, but from the way Aziraphale’s eyes had lingered on him as their bodies pushed together, it had been anything but. Thinking about anything else since then had been difficult - besides, of course, the oncoming death of the Earth. 

Crowley figured - best to do something now while there was still something to do. 

His hand tensed on the Aziraphale’s thigh, fighting everything in his body to keep his face neutral as the angel stared at him and contemplated what he felt about this new development. Crowley didn’t want to pull his hand away, but he would if Aziraphale asked. 

He would do anything for him.

Check out the story here!

[pockykierra]

Saying The Quiet Part Aloud Chapter Four is getting close to finished! Just have one small connecting section to finish, then my 2 grammar corrections I do, and then its done. I appreciate everyone's patience, and with it being over 10,000 words I hope it is worth the wait!

[pockykierra]

Sneak peek for Chapter Three of Saying The Quiet Part Aloud 🥰🥰🥰

Fun fact: Crowley's hair in this chapter is based on his Mesopotamia look (my favorite look of all time teeheehee)

With no warning, Crowley turned on the heel of his black snakeskin shoes and sauntered toward them - and rather than face him, Aziraphale spun his chair toward Muriel and Anathema. Time slowed to a tedious crawl as those footsteps came closer, each one sending a charged jolt through Azirapahale’s veins. His mind ran wild to them. 

Crowley bending him over and pressing him firmly onto the desk. 

Aziraphale’s pants dropping to the floor, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

Crowley molding his front to Aziraphale’s back, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as those lithe fingers ran up his thighs, further and further until he reached where Aziraphale really wanted him. 

Aziraphale ruining the papers below him in his pleasure, begging Crowley for more, more, more.

The steps stopped, ending right beside him. Aziraphale didn’t need to look at Crowley to know how close he stood; he could feel him. The man was near enough that with a raise of his hand, Aziraphale could caress the side of his thigh. Maybe even up his waist. That slim, beckoning waist that looked so perfectly sized for Aziraphale to grab hold- 

Hesitantly, Aziraphale’s eyes slid upwards. Crowley grinned when their gazes connected.

How gorgeous he’d look, naked and spread out, all for me. 

[pockykierra]

A little sneak peak from the next chapter of Saying The Quiet Part Aloud 👀👀👀 It's nearly done and should be up soon!

(Vaguely NSFW writing warning)

Aziraphale nervously rubbed his hands on the tops of his thighs. The gesture usually soothed him, but the way Crowley fell strangely still in his chair gave him pause.

Fuck, those thighs. Crowley unknowingly whispered in Aziraphale’s ears. His jaw clenched, though the tension was gone almost as soon as it appeared. They would feel so fucking good in my hands. I wonder how soft they are, how sensitive they would be.

Aziraphale shook in his seat. Never before in his life had he been so… physically appreciated. It was so conflicting - because he knew, deep down, that he should tell Crowley what he was hearing. It was entirely unfair to him that Aziraphale was listening in on private thoughts that weren’t for him to hear -  unwillingly as it was.

But he found himself unwilling to let it stop. It felt-

So incredibly, terribly nice.

Aziraphale swallowed, slowly sliding his fingertips up his thighs, drawing it out, before folding them politely in his lap. There was no way to see Crowley’s eyes through his glasses - the glasses Aziraphale just gave him that he still hadn’t taken off - but he could feel his gaze. He simmered under its heat.

[pockykierra]

Crowley hated this.

No, not watching Aziraphale prance ahead of him, absolutely beaming with his plans for the meeting that night. It wasn’t that he hated. In Crowley's eyes - snake-like as they were - any moment spent admiring his angel was a moment well spent. He could never detest seeing Aziraphale so happy, exuding pure excitement and energy. Never.

What he hated was the distance. Aziraphale was barely an arm's length away, Crowley swaggered only a few steps behind - and yet, despite everything, despite the years of them being an "us, " it still felt like a chasm between them. Something keeping them out of reach from one another, this time entirely out of the influence of Heaven and Hell.

Though, in all honesty, it wasn't the physical nature of the distance that bothered him. For them - for Crowley - it would never be that simple. If only he could pick up his pace so he was walking side-by-side with Aziraphale, and everything would feel right in the world. If only their proximity was the issue.

No, it wasn't the gap between their bodies that he despised. It was what it represented. He hated the distance between them because it symbolized where Aziraphale would always be for Crowley.

Just out of reach.

[pockykierra]

I still CANNOT get over this comment on one of my fics. Like, so true bestie - I AM the author and I decree that they did, in fact, fuck nasty.

[pockykierra]

I forgot to post this here but I wrote a Good Omens fic! Its based around the premise: what if Aziraphale hadn’t interrupted Crowley before his confession?

[pockykierra]

New Ineffable Husbands Fic out now!

Click to read here, or you can go to my AO3 profile @ Pockykierra! Comments and kudos are very much appreciated : D

Rating: E

Major Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Office, Boss/Employee Relationship, Mind Reading, Dirty Thoughts, Dirty Talk, Anal Sex, Accidental Love Confessions, Masturbation

Summary:

[pockykierra]

Sorry folks, I don't think there will be a sneak peek for chapter five of STQPA. HOWEVER, to make up for it, I will list (vaguely) a few things that will happen in the coming chapters, (not necessarily in order):

A suspicious conversation

An overwhelming party

A reveal (but of what kind?)

A romp in an elevator

A friendship rekindled

Happy weekend to all!

[pockykierra]

also if anyone ever wants to beta for any chapters of Saying the Quiet Part Aloud let me know.

I mean I write them super slow but still LMAO

[pockykierra]

When are we getting chapter 3 of Saying the Quiet Part? 😅

I’m not sure of an exact date BUT I do have more than half of it written! The last week or so I’ve been moving so that’s unfortunately taken a lot of writing time, but now that it’s (kinda) done, I am back to writing my heart out! So, hopefully soon 🥰🥰🥰🥰

(I’m glad everyone is enjoying it so much!! Thank you for reading!!)

[pockykierra]

New Good Omens Fic!

My first ever hurt/no comfort oops

Read it here!

[pockykierra]

Though I've Done No Wrong Chapter Two

You can read the whole thing here on A03! Here's the first little bit:

“Because you and Mr. Fell don’t ever talk to each other.”

The suggestion was highly offensive, Crowley thought - and also very wrong. “We talk all the time!” He exclaimed in response, readjusting himself in Aziraphale’s chair, sitting up straighter, then flopping back down like it was his personal throne. “We’ve been talking for millions of years.”

They really had been. As Crowley made various blabbering sounds, he thought back to truly how long they had been talking. Even before Crowley had Fallen and become the demon he was, the two had interacted - though he much preferred to think about the ones that happened after. The ones he could remember clearly that weren’t hazy and filled with vague flashes of white robes and an exploding universe. Witnessing the Flood of Mesopotamia together. Getting drinks in ancient Rome. Confirming the Arrangement somewhere in five hundred A.D. Meeting William Shakespeare as he rehearsed his - thanks to Aziraphale - most popular play.

So, the notion that didn’t talk? Ridiculous. They talked plenty.

“I say something brilliant; he says something unintentionally funny back. It’s great.” He continued, sure that the point Maggie and Nina were trying to make - whatever it was, he still wasn’t sure - would be settled. Because after everything, only Crowley and Aziraphale knew how much they talked. That was between them and no one else.

“You never say what you’re really thinking.” Maggie replied gently, her face scrunched with sympathy and tenderness. Nina’s face was far more closed off, but even she looked at him with some level of understanding. “That was all we needed.” She continued. “It’s what you two need as well.”

Crowley’s stare was blank as he looked at them, but inwardly, his mind was racing. Of course there were things Aziraphale and him hadn’t said - but that was because they couldn’t have, what with Heaven and Hell breathing down their backs all the time. Of course they couldn’t say every little thing that came to mind.

Of course, there were the last few years, but- they had been... busy. Busy building their new existence together without their respective offices there to tell them what to do. For them to have just come right out with it could very well have thrown their fragile new lives into chaos and confusion. And they didn’t want that, not at all. Best to have just... kept it down.

“Just think about it, will you?” Nina said finally, standing and motioning for Maggie to do the same. “We still don’t understand much of anything that just happened, but if things need to be said, might as well just say them now.”

Crowley stood along with them, though as they said their goodbyes and started towards the door, he didn’t follow. Deep down, in a place he tried so desperately to hide even from himself, he knew they were right. He was making excuses. And he was making them because- what, because he was scared? Scared about how Heaven and Hell might react? Nervous about what would happen were he to reveal his feelings? Worried that Aziraphale would flee back to Heaven if Crowley let loose all the things he had been hiding for thousands of years, even after they tried to burn him in Hellfire?

Yes. Yes to all of it, he was realizing.

But now - things had changed, hadn’t they? What with Gabriel and Beelzebub running off together to Alpha Centauri, and the way they had danced together, and how Aziraphale had looked at Crowley when he returned from his (unsanctioned) trip to heaven, and how they had once again survived a possibly catastrophic situation.

Surely, of all times, now was the best. He just needed to get it out, quick, fast, and easy. Say what they had both been thinking for so long and then start their much-needed ‘them time.’ He just needed a bit to think-

The bell of the bookshop rang out, and through his haze, Crowley saw Aziraphale step inside. He cursed silently, turning his back to the angel and pressing a hand to his chest. This was it, and he hadn’t even had any time to think about what he wanted to say. What could he say? What could possibly be said to sum up thousands and thousands of years of trust and companionship and love? And for Crowley to be the one to do it- he hadn’t even dared to deal with the emotions of telling Aziraphale he was living out of his car. And now he was supposed to just- tell him all his feelings?