TITLE: break my cage and spread my wings
SUMMARY: Everyone called the Titanic the 'Ship of Dreams', but for Aziraphale, it was the ship of nightmares, carrying her away from her home in England, and her dreams of freedom, and towards the bleak future of her arranged marriage in America. The only spark of light in the darkness is her new and tentative friendship with the boldly intimate Crowley.
AO3 TAGS: Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion, Ineffable Wives (Good Omens), POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Female Aziraphale (Good Omens), Rose Dewitt Bukater Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), Female Crowley (Good Omens), Male-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Female-Presenting Crowley (Good Omens), Jack Dawson Crowley (Good Omens), Caledon Hockley Gabriel (Good Omens), Ruth Dewitt Bukater Michael (Good Omens), Arranged Marriage, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flirting, Teasing, Smooth Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Holding, Dancing, Touching, Neck Kissing, Light Angst, Temporary Break Up, First Kiss, Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Naked Female Clothed Female, Naked Aziraphale (Good Omens), Insecure Aziraphale (Good Omens), Virgin Aziraphale (Good Omens), First Time, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Tribadism, more tags to come (probably), tags only look scary because of all the '(Good Omens)' additives (set by AO3 not me)
Chapter Eight: This Isn't the Negotiating Table
Chapter Summary: "You will not socialize with that woman again."
AN: Idk about you guys, but the only thing this quarantine thing has changed for me is that I get to work from home now and also I get to experience the great concern that I'll run out of toilet paper before the stores recover from all the idiots panic buying out the essentials.
I bet canon Aziraphale and Crowley never had to worry about running out of toilet paper. Oh to be an ageless entity without the need to perform bodily functions...
1912 April 14, Sunday - Day 5 (Part Two)
The confrontation with Gabriel had drained all of Aziraphale's enthusiasm for her tour with the carpenter, Mr Pulsifer, but she was honour-bound to attend. Still, the return of her fatigue, though caused by something a great deal less pleasant than a night dancing, left her lethargic, leaning against the bedpost with her eyes closed as Anathema laced her into her corset. Still, she was on edge, part of her on high alert, waiting for her mother's ambush. She wanted Gabriel's lecture to have been the last of it, but she knew it wasn't. She hoped without hoping, even as she prepared for her tongue-lashing.
Michael burst into Aziraphale's room like a storm, dismissing Aziraphale's maid with a sharp demand for tea, a flimsy pretense that was shredded a moment later when she locked the door after Anathema's retreating steps. Aziraphale didn't bother trying to hide or flee - her time was much better spent readjusting her stance and getting a better grip on the bedpost. Sure enough, her mother took up the abandoned laces of Aziraphale's corset and began yanking at them, as if she could squeeze all the impurities out of her daughter if she just laced her into her corset tightly enough.
"You will not socialize with that woman again," her mother said, her voice solid with her iron will.
It felt like Aziraphale had spent the last day free from her cage for the first time in her life, but Gabriel and her mother were forcing her back inside, and she could see the door closing on her. It filled her with despair, and she closed her eyes for a moment, gathering the strength she needed to try to convince her mother to take back her demand.
"Mother-" A particularly harsh yank on her corset strings forced the air from her lungs, and it was almost as if she could feel her ribs being compressed, forced inwards to pierce her lungs. "Lady Ashtoreth has been very kind to me. She's been-" she paused, wondering if wondering if what she was about to say was going to make her mother more or less likely to enforce their separation, "a friend." It was risky, claiming any sort of affection for Crowley to her mother - would she deny Aziraphale just on the basis that she Crowley was someone she had chosen for herself?
"Lady," Michael sneered, "Ashtoreth is a shame to her family name, fraternizing with steerage, and I will not tolerate such disrespect and disgrace from my own daughter." Her voice was cold, and Aziraphale felt like she was curling into herself to get away from it. "I've already dealt with enough from you. I had to leave my home and everyone I knew just to get you a husband. The shame!" she hissed.
Aziraphale lowered her flushed face, closing her eyes as if it would help to block out the sound. "I never wanted a husband," Aziraphale whispered, and she knew as soon as she'd spoken that it had been a mistake.
Her mother's lacquered nails cut into the bare skin of her arm when she whirled Aziraphale around and gripped her chin, forcing them face to face.
"Are you trying to sabotage all the work I did to get this engagement?" Michael asked furiously, her eyes almost glowing in her anger.
Nausea was hollowing out Aziraphale's stomach as she tried to shake her head, but her mother's nails dug into her jaw and she stopped. "No, mother," she whispered, unable to meet her mother's eyes. It felt like her own were blurring with her tears, and her chest felt dreadfully empty.
Michael was silent for too long, and then she let go of Aziraphale's jaw. "If your actions endanger your marriage to Gabriel, you will no longer be welcome in my home. I will disown you, and you will be free to join your friend in steerage then. Am I understood?"
Aziraphale wanted to throw up. She'd been denied so much in life, but she'd never been denied a home. She'd never been denied her mother. The mere concept shook her to her core, to lose her family. Because if her mother disowned her, then she would tell the rest of the family, and none of them had ever liked Aziraphale. They would jump at the chance to forget her entire existence.
"Am I understood, Aziraphale?" Michael asked lowly, a threat to her voice like there never really had been before.
It was difficult to swallow the lump in her throat, to keep the tears in her eyelashes from falling, but Aziraphale managed. Barely. "Yes, mother," she whispered.
Michael nodded once, perfunctorily, and turned Aziraphale back around to finish lacing her corset. The ache of it tightening around her came from a distant place, from the other side of the doorless walls of her cage.
TBC
Update next Saturday and don't forget to toss rebloga to your Writer (themadkatter13fanfiction tumblr, post / 190591686323)~
