kyravalon
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Emma is the Dark One and she has plans. Plans she knows will be confronted by those supposed to love her, but who have failed miserably at showing it. Will anyone truly see her? And, more improbably, will the one who gets to do so be able to love her?
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Emma comes back to work as a Detective in the Boston Police Department from a temporary leave due to her struggling with an anxiety disorder. She finds fresh at her desk the file for a murder case: a Mr. Gold, owner of a well known law firm in the city. The primary suspect is the CEO of the company, the widow of the victim's deceased partner, Mrs. Regina Blanchard-Mills…
Through pieces of diaries, reports and transcriptions, a story evolves about long-lived feuds, terrible fears and the extents to which we go to battle them…
See notes in Chapter One for trigger warnings.
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Set some months after the events in the 3B finale. Utterly ignores the Frozen/SnowQueen arc.
Emma and Regina are coming to terms with their newly founded friendship. Slow burn SwanQueen.
Alternates Regina and Emma's POVs. Basically each chapter is a short excerpt dealing with several aspects of their relationship or some important character trait. But there is also a continuity to the story.
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Un fic navideño.
Emma espera. Pero Regina no llega...
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Post 4B.
Henry, David, Hook, Snow and Regina dedicate some words to the absent Dark!Swan.
This fic is not heavy on the pairing thing, but I guess you can easily tell where my shipper heart belongs to. If you don't like SwanQueen, proceed with caution.
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"Looking like that?" Crowley says, and the Aziraphale of his imagination, rather than huffily miracling a more appropriate outfit, glances down at himself and says, "Oh."
Crowley takes a step towards him, another, closing the distance very, very carefully.
"That coat, to start with," he says, "not suitable at all. Gold braid, honestly. That—" and his hands are on the coat, and then under it, pushing it back off Aziraphale's shoulders, "—simply has to go."
After rescuing Aziraphale from the Bastille, Crowley spent seventy years or so in bed. He even told Aziraphale so.
He never technically said he was sleeping.
Bookmarked by kyravalon
10 Jul 2026
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Still We Know Each Other So Well by PaperclipNinja
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
11 May 2026
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Before he could dwell any further, an apple appeared in front of Aziraphale’s nose, delicately dangling from a hand that drew Aziraphale’s eyes along an outstretched arm until he was looking up at the tall (he really was very tall) man hovering beside him.
“This one nearly got away,” the man offered with a hint of amusement. His brow creased slightly as his mouth opened to say something else, before he apparently changed his mind and brought his lips back together.
***
A few months ago, there was a comment on Tumblr that there are ponderings about what would happen if Aziraphale or Crowley's memory was wiped, but what if both their memories were wiped?This is a story of that what if.
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- English
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Bookmarked by kyravalon
07 Jun 2026
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Quite Contrary by Ginger_Cat
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
01 Jul 2024
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The plan is ready, everything is in place, and Aziraphale is about to prove that he’s quite capable of running the Second Coming all on his own, thank you very much.
There’s just one problem—and it goes by the name of Mary Magdalene.
(It also, on occasion, goes by the name “Anthony J. Crowley.”)
Bookmarked by kyravalon
24 Mar 2025
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Anthony J. Crowley isn’t up to much these days.
In fact, you could almost say his days as a rockstar are pretty much behind him. Rotting in bed all day, with half-written songs plaguing him and no lyrics to speak of, everything points to his career being over for good.
That is until Maggie, his manager, claims to have found him the perfect lyricist to get him out of his slump. And what better way to get the creative juices flowing than spending a whole month together in a secluded cottage on the Isle of Skye?
Provided Crowley’s attempts at making the man run for the hills aren’t successful…*
“You wrote these lyrics,” Crowley repeated just to make sure he’d understood correctly. “The lyrics about sucking dick. You wrote them.”
The stranger wrinkled his nose, a blush appearing on his rounded cheeks. “Well, it’s actually meant to be an exploration of taste and touch as a way to connect with another person, as well as a metaphor for–”
“Sucking dick,” Crowley completed for him.
“Mmh,” the man hummed noncommittally, lips pursed in both annoyance and embarrassment.Series
- Part 1 of Growing on Me
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- English
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Bookmarked by kyravalon
13 Mar 2025
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Aziraphale can’t actually be suggesting what Crowley infers he’s implying… Satan bless it, he can’t even bring himself to think the thought without discorporating on the spot.
“On a what?” he chokes out, because there can be no room for error here.
Aziraphale glances away, then opens and closes his mouth multiple times before whispering: “On a date.”
“Which date?” he asks dumbly, hands desperately itching for his sunglasses. He’d break eye-contact and look for them if he didn’t suspect he was hallucinating the whole thing. “Like… like a specific day?”
Aziraphale’s expression, a heady mix of hopeful and anxious, melts once again into haughty annoyance.
“Goodness gracious, no. I meant on a date. Like… like, you know, romantically,” he clarifies, fidgeting. “With another person.”
Whatever excitement Crowley was starting to feel dies a very sudden, very depressing death...*
(Or: Aziraphale tries to ask Crowley on a date, but they misunderstand each other. So Crowley agrees to help Aziraphale pick up someone in a bar while secretly trying to sabotage him; little does he know that the angel is also trying to sabotage the whole thing. Shenanigans ensue. And kisses too.)
Bookmarked by kyravalon
22 Feb 2025