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roseskiesandbutterflies · 3 years

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Le Démon Déchu - Chapter 2: Réponses Et Plus De Questions

Summary: The summary is kind of long so please check a previous part or my masterlist if you want to read it.

Warning(s): threat, swearing

Word Count: 6.8k+

Inspiration: Do You Know What Eternity Is? by Elderly_Worm on AO3, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, Pray For Us, Icarus series by Atalan on AO3, Demonology and the Tri-Phasic Model of Trauma: An Integrative Approach by Nnm on AO3, wasteland, baby by john1513 on AO3, Not of Us by ShesAKillerQueen98 on AO3, How to Win a Lifetime Achievement Award for Services to Television (and how not to) by GaryOldman on AO3, Doctor Who (don’t ask) and, of course, Good Omens itself

A/N: Okay I took a bit of a hiatus from writing literally anything for about five months so sorry about that but I’m back now!! That’s the main thing. Also, I’ve left high school now which is very exciting! That does mean I’ll have so much more time to write and I’m definitely going to try and use this summer to establish some kind of routine for writing so that when I start college, I won’t get too overwhelmed with both my studies and with updating my fics. That’s the plan anyway so don’t hold me to that lmao. With any luck, now I’ve actually said that it’ll have to happen. (I wrote that part of this note back in May when it was the start of the summer. It is currently September and I’m just about to finally publish this chapter and I assure you, I am cringing at my own optimism.) Sorry this took so long to post. This chapter has been in the works since May (yes, I know I’m terrible) but I actually got a lot more writing done in that time that what you just see in this chapter. All will be revealed soon. I just promise that I have been productive. Once you’ve read this chapter, you have my blessing to translate the title of this fic. Hopefully it will make sense.

I just wanted to point out something about the playlist I linked in the previous chapter. I am well aware that there are some rather problematic people in it, namely Sia. I want you all to know that I don’t support her in any way (I don’t like her at all I think she’s a complete ableist twat). Her songs are only on there because of how well they fit with the story (a lot of this will become clearer as the story goes on).

I also wanted to point out that I know that if angels do exist, then their true forms probably wouldn’t look anything like humans. I’m well aware of that, I’m not an idiot, I don’t know if any of you remember when people started googling ‘angel true form’ and some people got scared lmao. The point is, we’ve all seen the pictures. But for the purpose of this story, and honestly just to make it easier for me to describe what the characters are doing, we’re going to have to pretend that they did look like humans. Can I claim creative license with this one? Maybe it got lost in translation because there is probably no way someone could describe how an angel truly looks in any human language? I don’t know, just roll with it.I know that this chapter had so much exposition and explanation in it but I can promise you two things. One, there is still much to be revealed. Two, I promise this isn’t just bad writing on my part. Just trust that I needed to put this all in this early on.

And how is everyone doing after the season 2 announcement? I mean, at the time of writing this specific part of my notes, it only got announced about an hour ago lmao. I’m very fucking excited, oh my god. It’s all I’ve been able to think about since I found out I can’t lie. Catch me trying to finish this before it comes out in case things occur which means I have to change things in this story. I can’t be arsed for that. Oh well. Hopefully it’ll read like those Sherlock fics that people wrote in between series 2 and series 3 if that doesn’t happen.

Taglist: @briarrose26

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Hermit (upright) + Five of Wands (upright)

Conflict. Reflection. Resurfacing memories.

************

Let’s admit, without apology, what we do to each other.

We know who our enemies are. We know.

– Richard Siken (Detail of the Fire)

************

“Fuck.”

The angel and demon exchanged glances of what could only be described as thinly veiled panic, while the woman in front of them just looked annoyed at the most.

“They couldn’t wait five minutes, could they?” she muttered, pinching at the bridge of her nose in frustration before standing up again, “Look, just stay down here, I’m gonna go sort this out. With any luck they won’t have actually realised you’re here too.”

“Wait, how do you know they’re here for you?” Crowley asked, suddenly curious as to what business Eloise might have with Heaven.

“Just a gut feeling,” she said before making her way to the spiral staircase behind them, muttering to herself, “If they were here for you, I feel like they would have at least used the front door.”

The other two waited until she’d run upstairs before exchanging a quick glance, an unspoken word, and following her up.

Meanwhile, Eloise was hovering outside a room at the end of the corridor which she could only assume was the bedroom. She was strangely hesitant, not out of fear of them, simply out of fear of the unknown. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in that room for millennia, and something told her that this wasn’t going to be a friendly chat. She took a deep breath, even though she technically didn’t need it, letting a wave of faux confidence wash over her, and stepped inside. Don’t crumble now. You’ve come too far to crumble now.

“Ah, Mariel, long time no see,” Gabriel smiled coldly, brushing the dust off his white suit. Flanked by two other angels, he stood in the wreckage of the bedroom without even acknowledging the damage they must have caused when they crashed in. Beside him were Beelzebub and Hastur, who both looked as though they had been dragged kicking and screaming to come here. Beelzebub in particular kept shooting metaphorical daggers at Gabriel, who remained perfectly oblivious. The entire ceiling had caved in from the impact of their crash, the setting sun painting the doorway where Eloise stood in a pale gold and casting a dark shadow over the others.

She’d grimaced at the use of her old name; it was too unfamiliar, too ancient. Mariel was the name of a long-dead version of herself. Once upon a time, she’d embraced it, but that was once upon a time. Once upon a time long gone.

“Almost like I’ve been avoiding you on purpose,” she muttered, leaning against the doorway as she stared intrusively at each person in the room, observing, assessing. She silently revelled in the blatant discomfort in each of their faces.

“No need to be so rude,” Gabriel said, doing anything to avoid her eyes, his previous confident façade now shattered.

Eloise stared at him in disbelief, “What exactly were you expecting? A fucking welcome party? I haven’t seen any of you in over six thousand years and you just crash through the roof of my house, unannounced and uninvited, so yeah, forgive me for being a little irritated.” She couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. She’d barely been in Aziraphale’s bookshop for fifteen minutes and she was already pretending she owned it.

She watched smugly as he squirmed under her gaze, desperately looking to the others to say something in response. A moment or two passed before Beelzebub’s head suddenly snapped up in confusion, “Are you alone?”

Shit. She’d hoped that they wouldn’t have noticed the presence of the two who were definitely not downstairs like she’d asked. She swallowed, trying not to let any kind of emotion show on her face, trying not to give the game up that quickly, “Yeah, I live on my own.” She watched the whole group of them squint in concentration, trying to sense any other beings in the house. She sighed, changing the subject before they could comment on it any further, “Look, what do you want? I don’t have all day so if you could make it quick then that would be much appreciated.”

Gabriel looked back at her, his suave exterior unfortunately making a return, “Hey, we just wanted to check up on you, see how you’re doing-”

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she snapped. She pushed herself off from the doorway, stalking towards the others, “You have had six thousand years to ‘check up on me’, don’t pretend you’ve only started to care now.”

She was met with only silence as Gabriel and Beelzebub glanced at each other awkwardly, looking very much like chastised children. Suddenly the latter groaned and cried, “You can’t just leave Hell!”

“Oh, here we go,” Eloise muttered, rolling her eyes, bored already.

“You can’t! You Fell from Heaven, so you go to Hell, there isn’t a third option!”

“Well, apparently there is,” she shrugged.

“No there isn’t!” they argued, face screwed up like a petulant child.

“Then what do you call this then?” she asked, unfolding her wings for the second time that day. She studied their reactions closely, scrutinising coal-black eyes piercing through their very souls. She was searching for any hint of shock, of recognition, of anything that could clue her in as to what was going on in their heads at that moment. All she could find, however, was pure, unadulterated confusion. Which was annoying when her wings were supposed to be an answer to their unasked questions.

Gabriel stumbled over his words, “Good Lord, how did you even-”

Eloise cut him off curtly, no longer having the patience to listen to his incoherent mumbles. She instead turned to Beelzebub who at least had the decency to look a little more composed, “That would be what you could sense then. I’ve got both Heaven and Hell in me, that’s a lot of energy to pick up on.” She stared right through them, daring them to say anything else.

“Must be,” they replied slowly, though they didn’t look at all convinced.

Gabriel held up a hand, his eyes darting about as he tried to comprehend what he was seeing, “No hold on, how did you even manage that?”

“I left Hell,” Eloise said simply, “Why should I have black wings? I’m not some demon who ran away from everything. I left. Permanently. I looked Hell in the eye and walked away. You know what? Fuck it, I looked Satan in the eyes and walked away.”

“You what?” he stuttered.

“Yeah, you heard me. You have a problem with me leaving Hell then go on! Take that up with the bloody devil,” she said, staring them down, daring them to retaliate. She smirked when she was met with pure, uncomfortable silence, “Except you won’t, will you? Because you don’t actually give two fucks about me. Just like I said, if you did then you would have chased me up a long time ago. Quite frankly, I think you must have been glad to have me out of your hair,” she sighed, half sad, half amused when they couldn’t even meet her eye. She paused for a moment, wondering how far she could push this, before asking, “You know what I think is really going on here? I think the pair of you are feeling a bit bruised after the absolute shitshow that was Armageddon last year, which, by the way, fucking hilarious. I think your egos are feeling a little sore after a literal child stopped you from ending the world, so you’re thinking ‘hmm, what would be an easy win so that we don’t feel like total shit? Oh yeah, what about that demon who ran away all that time ago? That should be easy to sort out.’. Well, love to disappoint, but you’re not getting me that easily, especially when not a single one of us actually wants me back, and Sandalphon, take one more step further I swear I will dropkick you back to Heaven,” she snapped, glaring at the angel who had been menacingly inching closer while she had been talking. He reluctantly stepped back alongside Gabriel, looking a little more than miffed that his plan hadn’t worked out. “You really want me back? Get your bosses to talk to me because I don’t actually see why it’s any of your business. No middle men. Just God, Satan and me. I’ll see what they have to say about all this. Questions?” she asked, tone snapping from one extreme to another, almost as if she had just been possessed.

Gabriel stared at her, mouth gaping like a fish, “You can’t just boss us around like that.”

“What? Like how you bossed us around all those years?” she replied without missing a beat, real rage, real danger seeping into her voice now, “I think we’re done here.”

“But-”

“I said, I think we’re done here,” she said, leaving no room for arguments. She gestured to the sorry excuse for a room around them, “Now, if you wouldn’t mind cleaning this up.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can miracle things too,” Gabriel said, desperate for any kind of leverage over Eloise.

“You’re right, I could, but I didn’t make this mess, and I personally believe that you should face the consequences of your actions, Gabriel,” she said pointedly, watching as he visibly gulped. In a matter of seconds, the room was restored to its original state and Eloise was left alone in the room, no indicators that she was ever with any other people remaining.

She sighed and all but collapsed into a chair that may or may not have existed a few moments ago, confident façade shattered completely. She breathed heavily in exhaustion, as if she’d just run a marathon; she supposed she had just run a mental one. Her emotions were bugging her to no end. It was strange. She wasn’t scared, per se. There was very little that Gabriel or Beelzebub could do to her that would frighten her anymore. She tried her best to compose herself, writing off the tsunami inside her mind as just plain old adrenaline, before calling out, “You can come in now. I know you guys are outside, it’s okay, you can come in.”

Crowley and Aziraphale walked into the room, one looking considerably more sheepish than the other. Aziraphale perched awkwardly on the freshly reconstructed bed, “We’re sorry–”

“No, you’re not.”

“No, we’re not.”

Eloise and Crowley exchanged a glance, amused looks on both of their faces while Aziraphale simply looked distressed. Eloise turned back to him and smiled sympathetically, “I told you, it’s fine. I would have done the same,” she admitted, looking away before collecting herself once again, “So, I’m guessing you have a lot of questions–”

“That’s the understatement of the century,” Crowley muttered as he took a seat beside Aziraphale, although it was a very loose definition of ‘taking a seat’.

Aziraphale glared at him while Eloise just sighed and reluctantly said, “I think it might be better if I just show you.”

Crowley cocked his head in confusion, “Show us what?”

She brought her chair closer to the edge of the bed and put out her hands, “Take my hands. Brace yourselves.”

Mariel was standing before a crowd of angels, dozens upon dozens of disgusted faces staring right at her. She couldn’t quite remember getting there. She had been in the pitch-dark holding cell and the next thing she knew, she was here. Blinding white light surrounded them, harshly illuminating her vulnerabilities before all of Heaven. She tried her best to keep her chin up even though she absolutely hated the fact that they could see the bruises from when she had been arrested that were now blooming on her face. She frowned as she noticed the lack of measures preventing her from escaping. All that was keeping her there was Gabriel’s presence at her side, cold violet eyes pointedly ignoring her. He really was an arrogant bastard for assuming that she wouldn’t even try to make a run for it. Just because he was right this one time, it didn’t mean that he shouldn’t have come prepared. Mariel sighed and looked up at the angels staring down at her. Michael was sat higher than everyone in the centre of the crowd, face void of all emotion as she said, “The Principality Mariel. You’re on trial today for betraying the will of the Almighty, rebelling against all that is good and light in the universe...”

Mariel blocked the rest of her pretentious speech out as she droned on about all the awful things she’d supposedly done to deserve this. It was all lies anyway. She knew the real reason she was here. There were a few things that stood out to her despite it all, things that nearly made her laugh. She’d known that they’d needed to conjure up some reasons for condemning her, but this was just ridiculous. Gabriel really had gone to extraordinary yet desperate lengths to slander her in her final moments in this Someone-forsaken place. She was surprised that the angels gathered to watch her downfall believed a word of this. She tried her best not to resent them, though. It wasn’t like they had anything better to believe in. Especially considering the amused smirk that had crept its way onto her face.

She returns to reality just in time to hear Michael ask, “What do you have to say to defend yourself?”

“I’ve done nothing I need to defend,” she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is,” Gabriel muttered dangerously from where he stood beside her.

Mariel turned to look at him in disbelief. “How the fuck could this get any worse, Gabriel?” she hissed, fury flaring up in her eyes.

He just looked back at her condescendingly, “Do you really need me to answer that?”

She pointedly refused to reply, turning back to face Michael, determined to ignore him.

The next part goes past in a blur for Mariel. Michael speaks again, though she doesn’t listen. Then suddenly there are shouts of anger, screams of rage, coming from the gathered crowd. They spit with venom as they hurl insults at her. She doesn’t hear a word. It’s as though her head is under water, completely submerged in the stone cold anger that seeps through her body, and suddenly Mariel is drowning in the realisation that this is really happening, oh God this is really happening.

Why? Why is this happening to me? You listening, God? Look me in the eye and tell me why this is happening.

She doesn’t get an answer, and though she wasn’t expecting one, it still hurts. Because she knows that she’ll never get an answer from Her again now.

Eventually she feels a tug on her arm from where Gabriel has been standing, dragging her away from the crowd and out her of current state of mind. She could feel her senses coming back to her as she stumbled backwards, but everything was crashing down on her too quickly, too harshly. She did her best to shove the rising panic as deep down insider her as she could. There was no way she would let anyone here see her in that state. She couldn’t let them think they’d won.

She didn’t even realise she had reached the edge of the ground she was standing on, the edge of Heaven itself, Gabriel no longer grabbing her arm. She nearly found herself peering over the edge, but stopped herself before she could lean too far. It may have helped her in the past but now was not the time to give in to her curiosity. And she didn’t trust Gabriel to not push her the moment he had the chance. She turned her head to glare fiercely at him, piercing holes in his very soul. She could slowly feel her anxiety being replaced by cool rage as she found herself saying, “Any institution that tries to silence anyone who opposes them is inherently corrupt.” She stared knowingly at his discomfort as he forced himself to face her. He knew what she meant by that. He knew.

He took a second to compose himself before practically scoffing in her face, “Don’t preach at me.”

Mariel cocked her head as she studied him. She watched as his eyes subconsciously flicked back to the crowd, to the other Archangels. He blatantly wanted nothing more than to re-join his fellow angels, the only beings who understood why he was doing what he was doing, or were at least supposed to understand anyway. Somehow she doubted they were all as cold-hearted and self-absorbed as the angel in front of her. She considered him for a moment before saying simply, “Your quest for power will kill you in the end.”

He furrowed his brows in somewhat amused confusion, “Is that a threat?”

“No. It’s the truth,” she blinked at him before leaning in and murmuring in his ear, “It will be your downfall.”

“The only one who’s going to Fall around here is you,” he said dangerously. Mariel leaned back and watched the lethal glimmer in his eye wither and die under the intensity of her gaze.

She just smiled. “We’ll see.” She let herself look at him for a moment longer before blinking away the tears and cautiously taking a small step backwards. She could feel where the ground ended beneath her feet and was sure not to step any further. She took one last look of the place she once called home, embracing how it felt for the last time though she knew she wouldn’t miss it.

She closed her eyes for a moment and fell back.

Mariel was Falling. That bit she knew, but much more than that? Everything was happening too fast for her to notice. And yet, it was as if she was existing in slow-motion. She worried for a moment that this was, in fact, her fate; doomed to remain in a perpetual state of limbo, of Falling, for all eternity. The only thing telling her otherwise was the view of Heaven above her, which she realised only too late was slowly shrinking into nothing. Mariel found herself reaching her own arms out, grasping for Heaven. They were opposite ends of a magnet being roughly pulled away from each other by an invisible force.

You hear that God? Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this? And don’t you dare tell me it’s all part of your plan because right now, the only thing I want is to be back where I should be and I can’t even have that.

She pulled herself out of her mind and back into reality; she’d have plenty of time in Hell to yell at a God who’d never listen, let alone answer. She only just started to register her surroundings, the fact that she was actually Falling, who knows how far and for how long, tumbling through the air at an unimaginable speed, plummeting towards a place that could be anything from seconds to hours away. The deafening wind that screamed in her ears, drowning out the screams which may have been coming from her mouth or her mind, who was she to say? Air whipped around her body, icier and more painful than any words that could ever be uttered by the angels above her. It wasn’t until she could no longer see any hint of Heaven on the horizon that she started to feel the tears finally fall, trickling down her face and floating slightly due to the force of the Fall.

Then suddenly it came. She felt it in the very tips of her wings first, a strange tingling sensation, as though hundreds and then thousands of pins were skirting the edges of her corporeal being. It spread over the rest of her wings, and then her body, at a faster pace than she could keep track of until her whole being felt as though it was burning. The pain grew, and it grew, and it grew, and she didn’t think she could physically take any more pain when she looked up in horror at her own freshly blackened wings. Her beautiful, holy wings which had once been the softest, purest white, were now stained with evil and ash. For the first time since she started Falling, however long ago that might have been, she let out a choked sob that racked through her whole body and through the ever-changing air around her. Nobody heard her cries. Nobody heard her screams as the searing pain in her chest grew stronger. She couldn’t even begin to work out whether it was physical or emotional but it was there and it burned a hole, a gaping wound, through her soul, leaving a scar fated to never heal and to forever haunt her-

Eloise was crying. She’d tried so hard to prevent the steady streams that were now running down her cheeks, but that was a memory that she’d never wanted to relive. She looked upwards for a moment, trying to regain control of her emotions and her breathing, before peeling her hands away from the two sat in front of her. She roughly wiped the tears from her face, and suddenly the only thing telling you she had been crying were the bloodshot eyes that Crowley tried to ignore as he said bluntly, “I’m still confused.”

“Crowley, give her a minute,” Aziraphale chastised him, furrowing his brows at the demon before he turned back to Eloise with kind eyes and a kinder heart, “Are you alright, my dear?”

She nodded without much hesitation, “I’m fine, it’s okay.” She certainly wasn’t fine, nor was it okay, but the last thing she wanted was to have to deal with her feelings in front of two people she was trying her best not to scare off. She looked back at Crowley, eyebrows raised in curiosity.

He looked at her in understanding, for if anyone knew her thought process in that moment, it was him. “Right, so you Fell and became a demon. Then what?”

“Well, you know what Hell’s like,” she started, looking pointedly at Crowley. She waited for him to nod before continuing, “Not my scene at all. I just point-blank refused to do anything they asked of me. Naturally they didn’t like that much. Eventually I was called in to see Satan about it. I remember thinking, ‘well, that’s that then. Terrible knowing you all.’, because I didn’t think I was going to survive that. Turns out he was just annoyed that I was being a bloody nuisance to everyone else, but he was too amused to really do anything about it, so he basically just told me to piss off. Leave Hell, don’t come back, and I won’t tell anyone where you’ve gone or that you’re even alive. Not exactly a deal I could refuse, so I left, came to Earth, been here ever since. I think everyone just assumed he’d killed me,” she shrugged as if she hadn’t just destroyed the whole idea of eternal damnation with just a few sentences. She smiled to herself as they gaped at her for a moment, though she doubted they realised they were doing it.

Crowley somehow managed to gather his senses quick enough to hold up a hand and say, “Wait, but when you were talking to Gabriel and Beelzebub and that lot, you said they had six thousand years to check up on you. Why would you say that if they thought you were dead?” He narrowed his eyes at her. He wasn’t altogether quite sure why he seemed to be so keen on finding any gaps in her story, but he needed to be able to trust that she was telling the truth. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Yes, and they didn’t exactly seem surprised to see you alive.”

Eloise grinned. You two are gonna be fun, I can tell. “You’re both very observant, I have to give you credit for that.” She paused in thought for a second before starting carefully, “You see, the trouble with me is that I’m not really one for keeping a low profile. I’m too noisy, so to speak, and I don’t even realise it most of the time. This demon I hadn’t exactly been the nicest to back in Hell saw me in Babylon, gosh, it must have been eighteen thirty something BC? Anyways, he ratted me out to Beelzebub who must have told Gabriel all about it. I had about a decade of this bloody demon trying to discorporate me just to see if it would force me to go back to Hell, then one day he just stopped, and I never saw him again. Beelzebub probably told him to piss off.”

They were both quiet again for a little while. Eloise didn’t even think to say anything. It might be a rare occasion, but she did know when to keep her mouth shut when it mattered. She could see the cogs turning in their heads as if it was projected in the air above them. Eventually Crowley murmured, “I didn’t even know you could do that, you know, leave.”

She shook her head with a strange kind of sympathy that came from recognising an experience you had far too long ago, “Neither did I. It stills shocks me sometimes if I think about it too much.”

A few seconds passed before Crowley cleared his throat abruptly and said, “They called you Mariel. I thought you said your name was Eloise.”

She hesitated before answering. She knew exactly what he was doing, she’d been doing it for the whole of their conversation thus far, but just because she tended to bury her emotions, it didn’t mean that she liked it when others did it. She decided to ignore the hypocrisy of that thought, how ironic, she thought to herself, and instead explained, “It is. Mariel was my angel name. You know how it is,” she looked pointedly at Crowley again, hoping that Aziraphale would be able to put the pieces together. She didn’t actually know how much he knew about what it was like to Fall and become a demon.

“Oh, so is Eloise your demon name?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“No,” she said curtly, instantly feeling guilty when she saw the hurt that flashed over Aziraphale’s face. She grimaced and explained in a gentler tone, “I chose it for myself when I came to Earth. Hell tried to change my name after I Fell but I just refused.” She studied him for a second, watching his eyes dart about, before saying, “You want to ask something, I can tell. What is it?”

He looked a little startled at being caught out, momentarily glancing at Crowley for support, probably subconsciously, Eloise noted with a smile. “I, well, I couldn’t help but notice that you mentioned Armageddon. Back when you were speaking with, um, well, you know. H-how did you know about that?”

“I might have been there.” The words rushed out of her mouth in a much less casual manner than what she’d been aiming for, coming out in a sort of jumbled heap that took Crowley and Aziraphale a moment to decipher.

Crowley, the poor sod, could only think to lean forward and ask a simple, “You what?”

She jumped to defend herself, wanting to avoid the onslaught of questions if she could, “Not actually at the airbase, but I was in the area. I was living in Tadfield at the time.”

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes, although the hint of a smirk on his face told her it was more in amusement than suspicion, “How did you know it was at the airbase?”

Eloise couldn’t help but chuckle to herself because of course, they’d notice her choice of words, “I knew Adam and his mates. I ran an ice cream shop, would you believe it. He came and told me all about it the day after,” she smiled fondly before suddenly coming alive with excitement, “That’s actually how I found out about you two. That’s why I’m here. Because I thought I was the only one trying to stop the world ending, but apparently I wasn’t. I had to see for myself.”

A moment passed before Aziraphale asked quietly, “You were trying to stop it?”

Eloise, not noticing the newly subdued atmosphere, launched herself into a painfully over-enthusiastic explanation, “Yeah, it was quite clever really, if I do say so myself. I made sure Adam was swapped with the American baby in the hopes that he would have a human enough upbringing to perhaps change things. Seems to have worked,” she shrugged, before finally taking in the two shocked faces that were staring back at her. Her brows furrowed and her face fell as she asked, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You switched the babies?” Crowley asked blankly, although it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Her face screwed up as she tried to work out how best to explain herself. “Well, I say switched, it was more of a ‘made sure the demon dropping the antichrist off went to the wrong delivery room’ kind of thing. Feel sorry for the poor sod who had to deal with that but needs must.”

Crowley blinked at her and said bluntly, “I was the poor sod who had to deal with that.”

Eloise looked at him for a moment as about five different jigsaw pieces finally clicked in her head, before she threw her head back in realisation, “Oh shit, so you were. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“You bastard, we spent six years raising the wrong child because of you!” he exclaimed, wagging his finger at her and jumping off of the bed at one point before Aziraphale tugged him back down. Eloise didn’t know whether to laugh or run for her life, for the menace in his words was betrayed by the disbelieving laugh in his voice.

“I’m sorry, you did what now?” she asked, only just processing what he’d just said, and she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips at his dramatic antics. She knew not to push it when Aziraphale just lifted a finger and pursed his lips with the look of someone who’d rather never bring up said event again.

“Oh bloody heaven, I can’t believe this,” Crowley shook his head, chuckling to himself. Although part of him resented it, he couldn’t help but look at Eloise differently now as they laughed like little kids together. Maybe it was the fact that she seemed so much more like them now, so much more human. Or maybe it was the fact that she had been trying to stop the apocalypse and all the implications that came with the fact. Suddenly he just wanted to know more about her, but he quickly silenced that thought. One thing at a time.

She raised her shoulders with a confused look on her face, giggling as she said, “Sorry? Well, I didn’t know, did I?”

They locked eyes for a moment before bursting into laughter again at the sheer absurdity of it all, leaving Aziraphale slightly bewildered and more than slightly exasperated at the pair. It took them a few moments to finally calm down but once they did, Crowley sobered his tone of voice as he asked, “Right, back to what happened before we came in. Anything we need to keep an eye out for?”

Though he didn’t say it, Eloise could see the unasked question in his eyes. Are we safe? She smiled softly, “Nah, you two’ll be fine. Basically I told them if they want to talk to me, then they need to get their bosses involved, and somehow I highly doubt God and Satan are gonna pop down for a friendly chat any time soon. Even then, you two should be fine. I don’t think any of that lot clocked on that you were here.”

Crowley nodded in understanding, and it didn’t escape Eloise’s attention how the remaining dregs of tension visibly dissipated from both of their bodies. Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other for a moment, the relief palpable from the pair of them. Eloise averted her eyes, giving them the privacy that they didn’t necessarily need but probably did want. She allowed herself a moment to ponder their relationship. They were very in tune with each other, very in sync, that much was obvious. Are they in love? The question sounded ridiculous the moment she thought it. Of course they are, look at them. She’d seen that look time and time again over the millennia. Although when she thought about the way they looked at each other further, that lead to another question. Do they know? The hint of yearning in their eyes was subtle but it was there. No, absolutely not. They’re too comfortable with each other. They’re a unit, that much she could tell. A unit that might not want to be disturbed.

Oh dear.

She looked back up at them hesitantly, unsure of what to say for the first time that evening. Eventually she said, “I’d better go. I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

Crowley frowned. Hadn’t she said she’d been travelling for a while? “You got somewhere to stay?”

Eloise paused. She’d definitely not been expecting that response. “Not yet. There is a flat I was going to rent but the people haven’t moved out yet because of the lockdown and it seems rude to miracle them away. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

“Stay here,” Crowley said almost instantly, then pulled a face of confusion at how quickly he replied, “I mean, only if you want to.”

Eloise blinked at that. Surely, they wouldn’t want her there? What reason could they possibly have to want her there? “Wait, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Crowley just shrugged, “It’s not a problem. What are your options anyway? No hotels are open, and you can’t stay with anyone.”

“Only if you’re sure,” she murmured, still wary for a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She glanced at Aziraphale for confirmation; it was his bookshop after all.

He nodded firmly, “Of course. I’ve been told the sofa is remarkably comfy,” he added with a twinkle in his eye, to which she grinned broadly.

A short while and a few miracles later, the sofa downstairs had become a makeshift bed that was significantly larger and softer than it had remembered it being. Eloise was currently settled on it; all it had taken was ten minutes for her to completely crash out. Aziraphale and Crowley had left her in peace with a chuckle, heading up to the bedroom they shared (that wasn’t out of choice, mind you. Simply because there was only one bedroom in the bookshop. No other reason.) One slightly confused item of furniture aside, all seemed to be well in the bookshop.

Upstairs in the bedroom, an angel and a demon were sitting in the same bed. Neither of them had thought to turn off the lights, so they were sat in thick silence in the bedroom. Aziraphale didn’t usually come up to bed, not as used to sleeping as Crowley was, instead opting to read the night away downstairs. However this seemed impolite considering their new guest, so he’d come up with Crowley. And while Crowley was mulling this over he finally stumbled upon why he felt so uneasy.

Aziraphale hadn’t brought a book up with him.

As bizarre a concern as that may seem, Crowley could always trust Aziraphale to bring a book up to bed with him on the rare occasion he came up at night. That was one of the things he lo- liked about him. Liked. He looked at Aziraphale curiously, noting the slight frown on his face as he stared into space. How deep in his head must he have been to forget a book? “You alright, angel?” he asked as softly as he could so as to not startle him.

He looked at Crowley with wide eyes that darted away almost instantly as he started to play with his hands in his lap, “Yes, my dear, I’m fine. I just realised something, is all.”

Crowley cocked his head in interest, “Oh really? What was it?”

He was silent for a little while before saying in a voice no louder than a whisper, “I think I was there when she Fell.”

Crowley felt his eyebrows raise in shock, looking away for a second to try and compose himself. “Right. Well, that’s a thing.”

“Quite.”

He furrowed his brows as he tried to make sense of what this meant now, “And was she telling the truth? Did all that actually happen?”

“Yes. I remember it perfectly well. Clear as day,” he managed to choke out with a forced smile before going back to his routine fidgeting.

Crowley laid a gentle hand on top of Aziraphale’s, stopping what he was doing and getting him to actually look him in the eye for longer than a second. “You sure you’re alright?”

“I am quite well. Don’t fret,” he said, and despite Crowley’s concern, he couldn’t pretend that the smile on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t genuine, however small it may have been.

He reluctantly let it go, changing the subject quickly, “You alright with her staying here? I know it just sort of happened.”

The smile on his face only grew, much to Crowley’s surprise, “It’s alright. After all, wasn’t it you who said we’re on our own side now? I think she’s the first person we’ve met who might understand what that means.”

Crowley tried not to think too much about the fact that Aziraphale had actually listened to him when he’d said that, let alone remembered it, instead opting for a casual, “Yeah, I suppose so. Right, I’m gonna get some sleep. I, um, yeah,” he stammered out awkwardly, cursing his brain for not thinking of literally any other decent response.

Aziraphale simply smiled fondly at him, “Indeed. Goodnight, my dear.”

*************

Hello my love,

At the time of writing this, I do not know what the future holds. For me it’s an uncertain, unstoppable force, and it’s not one I think I can fend off for much longer. I’ve tried, please believe that I’ve tried. I’ve tried for your sake to prevent the inevitable. But it’s coming. I can feel it. It won’t be long now, I don’t think.

If you’re reading this, it means I was right, and I have Fallen. I know you’re probably confused and scared and that there is a biting anger bubbling inside you. I wish I could tell you why this is happening. I wish I could tell you that this is all a huge misunderstanding that will be resolved soon.

I wish I could tell you I love you one more time.

But I can’t. There are many things I can’t do now, and it’ll do me no good to dwell on this any longer than I have to. To survive we must focus on what we can do, and that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.

If I know myself as well as I think I do, there are many things I would have liked to have said to you upon our final farewell, but didn’t because I wanted to make sure you were alright. Don’t feel guilty about this, my love. Think of it as my last debt to you being repaid.

I have a plan. Well, it’s more of an idea, and it might not work. And it’s because of this that I shan’t tell you exactly what it is. It seems cruel to allow you to hope for something that might never come into fruition. But please put your faith in me, and in our love, for we will prevail. One way or another.

I hope that you didn’t wait to read this letter because you were scared of its contents, though I’m sure this isn’t the case. You were always brave. It was always something I loved about you. Your quiet, beautiful, roaring courage in the face of such turmoil and anguish. You always had the courage to be kind and to love with all your being, even when everything was against you. No one would have blamed you if you had turned cold and bitter, and yet you chose not to. I admire you for it every day. My idea, should it work, will require us both to be incredibly brave. But more on that another day. It’s that bravery and that strength that you will need to rely on now. That, and the thought of me. Though I may not physically be with you, but I hope that my love’s own soul is enough.

I won’t sign off this letter, because this is not where our story ends. There is much left to be written. And I need you to remember that each day we are parted. Until the next time, my love.

#good omens #good omens headcanon #good omens fic #good omens imagine #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #Aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #Ineffable Husbands

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fanfic-corner · 4 years

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A-Spec Across Fandoms

23/10/20 - I know I have already done an a-spec post for Destiel fics, but it is asexual awareness week next week, so I thought I’d read a load of fics with ace characters from a few different shows I like! We have some Supernatural, some Doctor Who, some Sherlock, and a couple from Good Omens. Happy ace week!

Supernatural

broken when I’m lonesome by SailorChibi on AO3. (7,015 words).

Tags: Asexual Castiel, Demisexual Dean, Panromantic Castiel, Biromantic Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, PTSD, Dean Has Self-Esteem Issues, Dean Has a Sexuality Crisis, Angst, Fluff, Touch-Starved, Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Castiel is Not Oblivious, comments that could be taken as ace-phobic.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: After being saved from hell, Dean's old methods of coping aren't working anymore: he's not sexually attracted to anyone, and he's not interested in sex no matter how many times he climbs into bed with hot, naked women. Sam is convinced that his brother is just depressed, but Dean knows this goes deeper than that. He still craves the intimacy that can make him feel safe. Fortunately, Castiel is there to both understand and provide.

Notes: This fic really hit home. I’m not sure if it is because almost every person I have ever talked to has had some form of this conversation, but it was still cute.

La Vie A Plus by K_K_TiBal on AO3. (6,260 words).

Tags: Punk Castiel, Asexual Castiel, College/Uni AU, Roommates, oh my god they were roommates, College Student Dean, College Student Castiel, Pining, First Kiss, Misunderstandings, Art Student Castiel, Love Confessions, Gabriel is a Little Shit, Tattooed Castiel.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Dean Winchester is hopelessly, head-over-heels in love with his best friend and roommate, Castiel. Castiel - with his blue hair, and his tattoos, and his artwork, and his perfect everything. Dean never stood a chance, really. It only sucks because, as far as Dean can tell, Castiel is definitely not interested. But love, much like art, has a way of being unpredictable. Even if you think you know where you're going with it.

Notes: The angst is strong in this one! Again, I feel like many aces have had this conversation or that fear that people (allos, especially) may not want to be with them.

Exposed to What You Hide by SailorChibi on AO3. (1,890 words).

Tags: Alternate Universe - Hunters, Creature Castiel, Procubus Cas, Asexual Castiel, Established Relationship, Hidden Relationship, Assisted Suicide, Cuddling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: "We think Cas is a procubus," Sam blurted out. Then he winced and yelped when Charlie kicked him under the table. "Ow!" "Smooth, Sam," Charlie snapped. Dean looked back and forth between them, realizing that they were both 100% serious. "A procubus." "Basically it's the sexless version of an incubus or a succubus," Charlie explained before Sam could. "It's... it's a demon that kills people by sleeping with them." She was chewing on her thumbnail now, eyes big and apologetic. Sam had done one better pasting on a truly epic kicked puppy expression of apology. "You think Cas is killing people by cuddling with them," Dean said, just to be sure.

Notes: Well that took a bit of a turn. I’m not sure why, but I love fics where Cas keeps bees, it was just so cute to see him that happy! (Even if he was crazy. Shut up).

Consolation by Trell on AO3. (1,195 words).

Tags: Aromantic, Aromantic Relationship, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Asexual Character.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: In which both of them are ancient, and neither of them are in love with each other.

Notes: Okay, I would first of all like to say that I do not ship Cas and Ten. I was kind of curious though, and clearly whoever wrote this ships Destiel and Ten/Rose. That being said, I am here for some angst; poor Cas and his unrequited love, and poor Ten because all his friends are dead.

Doctor Who

don’t hold this war inside by WishingTree on AO3. (1,824 words).

Tags: Asexual Yaz, Pre-Relationship, Asexual Character.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “It’s just - I’m scared,” she finally manages. “Scared?” the Doctor stills where she’s been trying to roll up the sleeves of her coat, shoving the material of one arm over her elbow and asking, “Scared of what?” Yaz doesn’t answer, can’t answer, and the Doctor goes to reach for her, aborting the movement halfway and only managing an awkward swaying motion. “...Scared of me?”

Notes: Thasmin is a ship that, had I not stumbled across it on Instagram, would never have thought of on my own. Much like Sabriel, however, now the idea is in my head, I ship it! Also, the author in this fic manages to perfectly capture the Doctor’s personality, which is quite an impressive feat.

Whatever fits my skin by lloydsglasses on AO3. (1,481 words).

Tags: Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Cross-Generational Friendship, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Canon Gay Character, LGBTQ Character, Aromantic, Pride.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: “So, does that happen to you a lot?” Bill asks once they’re safely back in the Doctor’s study, each cradling a mug of tea. “Getting snogged by gorgeous women as a thanks for saving their lives.” The Doctor sets his teacup down gently on the desk, mouth pursing in distaste. “Far more often than I’d like.”

Notes: Oh my god that was so (fucking) cute! Now I want more fics of characters going to pride. Maybe for next June. Also, I’m just saying that I hated Nardole and nothing you can say to me will make me change my mind.

Take It, Leave It (But you’d better believe it) by lloydsglasses on AO3. (760 words).

Tags: Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Cross-Generational Friendship, Asexual Character. Aromantic, Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, LGBTQ Themes.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: “I told my foster mum that I’m gay. Now she keeps trying to set me up with guys."

“Ah,” says the Doctor, with a frown. “That seems… counterintuitive.”

Notes: I’ve always loved Bill and Twelve’s relationship, and this is such a cute scene! It is a crime we haven’t got more River Song content, by the way.

Crescendo by tenscupcake on AO3. (6,013 words).

Tags: Fluff, Asexual Character, Romance.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: As her relationship with the Doctor slowly develops into something a little more than friendship, Rose starts to wonder what's holding him back. But one fateful night, he confesses something that makes her realize she never had any reason to worry.

Notes: Beautifully written! I don’t think I’ve ever read a Ten/Rose fic before, but I have always shipped it and it is adorable.

Sherlock

The Important Bit by Solshine on AO3. (9,984 words).

Tags: Asexual Sherlock, Platonic Relationship, Amarriage, Same-Sex Marriage, Bromance, Domestic.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Just where exactly is the line between “to love” and “to be in love”? What difference is required between “flatmate” and “husband”? (Besides the rings, obviously.) No, the important bit is that they have each other. Thirty years, give or take, in an atypical marriage. Basically a long bit of platonic domestic fluff.

Notes: Oh, this is absolutely one of my favourite Johnlock fics now. Absolutely adorable (because I love domestic Johnlock okay), I nearly cried, and now I want all the art of Sherlock with a fancy old cane!

the art of getting by (isn’t really so artsy at all) by stupidmuse_hatesme on AO3. (6,521 words).

Tags: Asexuality, Asexual Character, Asexual Sherlock, Romance, First Time, First Date, Slash.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: “He's treating things like they're normal! Things are not normal.” Sherlock drags his hands from his mussed up hair and covers his face. “You aren't helping much,” he mumbles into his palms. “I hope you know that.” The skull only grins from his perch and says not a word. “Really, you're supposed to do more than just--sit there.”

Notes: John is so unbelievably sweet in this, but Sherlock was bit OOC.

what does the world get by coloredink on AO3. (2,302 words).

Tags: Asexuality, Asexual Sherlock, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: A women's magazine quiz leads Sherlock to investigate the nature of love.

Notes: A cute lil’ fic about exploring your (in this case, lack of) romantic and sexual attraction.

Surprisingly Simple by heeroluva on AO3. (855 words).

Tags: Asexuality, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, First Kiss, Touching, Fluff, Cuddling and Snuggling. My Rating: 3 stars. Description: In which John is asexual, and Sherlock never asks. Notes: Pretty cute, and it is always nice to see a character who is just cool with it, without some massive explanation. I can dream.

Good Omens

An Honest Surrender by Kedreeva on AO3. (4,107 words).

Tags: Ineffable Husbands, Post-Apocalypse, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, First Kiss, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Soulmates, Soul Bond, Aziraphale’s True Form, Crowley’s True Form, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: "For six thousand years," Crowley said, voice cracking, "I have wanted something I couldn't have, because I asked the wrong questions. But I'm asking the right one now. The only one that matters." In which Aziraphale follows Crowley home after the nonpocalypse.

Notes: Seriously, reading Good Omens fics always makes me so relaxed and sleepy it is unreal. I need to read them more often. Anyway, this is such a cute explanation for the final episode, and I loved it!

You’re the Only Prayer I Need by Kedreeva on AO3. (5,507 words).

Tags: Ineffable Husbands, Wingfic, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Wing Grooming, Bathing/Washing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexual Relationship, Snake Crowley, Love Confessions, Trust, Non-Sexual Intimacy.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Crowley had, in the six thousand years Aziraphale had known him, shed his skin exactly twice that Aziraphale knew of. Both times he had disappeared without a trace, having retreated somewhere very safe and very, very unknown to hide while he was so vulnerable, and Aziraphale had never thought to ask beyond that information. Everyone was, he had supposed at the time, entitled to their secrets. The problem was that he had stumbled directly into this secret now, and there was hardly a graceful way out of it.

Notes: The sheer level of trust is adorable, and I’m always here for snake Crowley.

A Little Less Celestial by Kedreeva on AO3. (2,360 words).

Tags: Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual, Sharing a Bed, Ineffable Husbands, Literal Sleeping Together, Wingfic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Aziraphale accidentally falls asleep, and Crowley teaches him sleeping isn't so bad, really.

Notes: Oh my God, this was so calming to read in a way I really can’t describe? Also, now I want a bookshelf bed.

Just One Yesterday by Kedreeva on AO3. (1,952 words).

Tags: True Form Crowley, True Form Aziraphale, Ineffable Husbands, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Post-Apocalypse, Time Travel, Time Loop, Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Missing Scene.

My Rating: 3 stars.

Description: Crowley and Aziraphale didn't stop the apocalypse on the first try, but you know what they say... try, try again.

Notes: I could not tell you the plot of this, but that image of Crowley’s true form was beautiful (and the artwork was phenomenal!).

So, there we have it! I hope you enjoy them, and have a nice week. By the way, if you have instagram, please would you consider following @justaceofficial? They are trying to get funding for a TV series which focuses on an asexual main character, and they ran an asexual advent running up to this week!

#spn #doctor who #good omens #sherlock #johnlock #ineffable husbands #ten/rose #destiel #asexual #aromantic #twelve

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ineffably-effable · 5 years

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good omens fic recommendations

If you’re looking for coherent reviews you’ll be disappointed, but if you want a list of quality recommendations - with excerpts & some vague ramblings as to what the reader should be in the mood for - enjoy!

29 recommendations underneath the cut.

(17k) Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture

Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

Mood: beautiful slow burn, misunderstandings, heartache that would be solved if someone taught these besotted idiots to communicate.

Paradox: Crowley has never risen from his seat and gone to stand behind someone at a counter, never put his arms around their middle and pulled them tight against him. Has never apologized with a touch, with a closeness, with the thin line of his body. So why does it occur to him that he might do that now? Might press up against Aziraphale from behind and rest his forehead on Aziraphale’s nape and ask silently to be forgiven. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world when he knows, intimately knows that it’s not.

(51k) how deep the sand by Handful_of_Silence

After the Apocalypse, and with characteristic slowness, both Crowley and Aziraphale think there might be something they need to sit down and talk about.

And then Aziraphale disappears.

Mood: tragic twist of fate, separation, hurt/comfort, guilt & devotion.

He thinks about the picnic they’d have had. He’d have pulled the top down from the Bentley and let the wind tussle his hair, the weather of a glorious August now gone warming his skin. They would have chatted, sitting carefully on a tartan blanket, and they’d have made their own plans.

They might have even found the right time to talk properly. Honestly. About everything that’s been, about the possibilities that could be now that everything’s different.

About maybe not going back to London. Going back to their Jobs.

About leaving it all behind, together.

The words Crowley didn’t say are clogging up his throat.

(14k) Made Flesh by rfsmiley / @redfacesmiley

AU in which Crowley is two entities, and Aziraphale isn’t sure how he feels about either of them.

Mood: oblivious idiots, daemon!fic-if-you-squint, pining & tamed desire.

Eleven years pass, attended by another marked change; the creature cannot bear to be out of the same room as Aziraphale. The angel, isolated and frayed as he is by the fear of the coming war, has no problems with this development – he needs the company – although sometimes he looks into the yellow eyes and feels the spear of a nameless sorrow. If it comes to it, Heaven will win, of course; the certainty, however, is bitter. He tries not to think about what will happen to Crowley, or to this small being that runs at his heels as he moves, gripped by a contagious agitation.

(8k) Ad Astra by drawlight / @drawlight

Some things can only be said in the dark.

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities.

Aziraphale swallows. His eyes hold Crowley’s. Crowley stands very still, wretched. Terrified. Watching Aziraphale’s very wide eyes, the open of the mouth. There is a softness in Aziraphale’s look, in the swallow of his throat. It could be? (It might not be.) He wants to scream it; he wants to say nothing at all. Let me stay in this bit of maybe. Maybe is not no, maybe means perhaps, someday. Maybe means you might feel the same. (You might not.)

(13.3k) Alegría by drawlight / @drawlight

After the End That Wasn’t, Heaven and Hell are leaving them alone. Entirely alone. (This is a story with nothing of miracles.)

Mood: beautiful prose, longing, ruthless inner-voices & insecurities + domesticity

(Yes, I know the mood is almost the same as above, but honestly this is @drawlight, what were you expecting? Read it if you want a Crowley that will absolutely wreck you & leave you heart-broken.)

Aziraphale is a touch-strong man. He touches everything (Crowley knows, he always watches). Aziraphale loves and he likes to love through his skin. His fingers on a particularly fine leather binding, dipping into the embossed author, the tooled name of the title. His hands breaking apart a loaf of Italian sourdough, fingers coming away with residual flour. Dipping his hands into sacks of grain, rubbing a fine weave of silk through. He touches Crowley too, in his usual and gentle way. The touch on the arm to still Crowley’s whiplash self, to make a point during an argument. Aziraphale who thinks nothing of oh, my dear, you’ve got an eyelash just there, let me get it for you. Crowley has a good memory. He catalogs them all, cross-examines them. Six-thousand years of maybes and what-ifs and what was thats ? But Aziraphale is just as easy with his touches on glass bottles while pulling out his favorite vintages. He touches his favorite fountain pen far more often than he reaches for Crowley. No, in context, it means nothing. It’s just Aziraphale as usual. Don’t look too closely, it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.

(13k) small infinities and all that by JustStandingHere / @billypotts

Crowley and Aziraphale are turned human. This is the aftermath.

Mood: slow burn, domesticity, best friends falling in love & all the beautiful awkwardness that entails.

And there it is, isn’t it? Something they’ve known for a long time, but haven’t named it. Have been too scared to name it. Something that speaks in their bones, in the space between them.

(12k) the deft, sweet gesture of your hand by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

Crowley arrives injured at Aziraphale’s door. He takes care of him, reads him an awful lot of Mary Oliver, and knits elaborate metaphors for his insecurities (literally).

Mood: beautiful writing, mixed signals, feeling unworthy of the millenia-long object of your affections, unable to create gifts that are good enough for the people you love and being in love with a complete idiot.

Aziraphale has tended to the sick and injured during periods of plague and war many times throughout his long life, and he tries to adopt the same kind-but-impersonal detachment as he carefully washes Crowley. It is slightly harder, Crowley being the sole object of six thousand years of repressed desire, but he’s also Aziraphale’s closest friend, and a person besides, so he does him the courtesy of not ogling his bare legs or torso as he goes.

(9.3k) Slow by write_away / @theirdarkreturning

Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

Mood: Miscommunication, with a hefty side order of pining and the urge to yell at your screen in the vain hopes of getting through to these two idiots.

For Crowley - that was the demon’s name, and it’s best to memorize it quickly, before he changes it yet again - knew that the angel would love him if he just asked, and Aziraphale - the angel, though there’s no rush with him, there never really is - knew that the demon would take him in with open arms if he just asked. It’s just that neither of them were good at asking things of one another.

(14.7) Lead me to the banquet hall by obstinatrix, wishwellingtons

Crowley loves taking Aziraphale out to eat almost as much as Aziraphale loves eating, but it’s always a bit of a one-sided affair. Aziraphale has never understood why. Crowley planned on keeping it that way, but best laid plans…

Mood: wonderful footnotes, pining, creating a shrine to the object of your longing and then submitting to the mortifying ordeal of them finding it.

The thing about Aziraphale is quite simply this: Crowley can never have enough of him. God, Satan, everyone knows he’s tried. Crowley has spent centuries glutting himself on the sight of him only to be empty again days later, wondering whether it’s too soon to show his face in the bookshop. Aziraphale drifts from brasserie to bar in his quest to indulge in the best of human culinary expertise; Crowley follows after, because he knows Aziraphale will be there. It isn’t enough, but it’s something, and the only thing Crowley can ever expect.

(14.2k) all i need, darling, is a life in your shape by deadgreeks / @mortuarybees

After everything, Aziraphale and Crowley, by unspoken agreement, begin sharing their lives.

Mood: domesticity with pining, chosen family, acts of love, boyfriend sweaters & idiots in love.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes indulgently, passing out the rest of the gifts and sneaking little glances at Crowley as he struggled with the box. He’d worked so hard on it, searched all the best yarn shops in London for the perfect skeins. He even had to sit on hold for hours with the manufacturer of the yarn he chose because he needed another skein from the same dye-lot, knowing that Crowley would want only the best, and he’d notice even a minor inconsistency in the coloring.

(27k) Long Is The Way, And Hard by Kate_Lear

A story of Crowley’s thoughts about Aziraphale, from the Beginning to the present day.

And also of temptation, and want, and whether - for a Fallen Angel - redemption is possible after all.

Mood: slow burn, denial, temptation, jealousy, lust to love, character growth.

Aziraphale hasn’t shared his bed with anyone. He can’t have done, because if he has then Crowley is going to hunt down that mortal – in this world or the next – and enact something creatively and comprehensively bloody upon them. Possibly involving methods from the Spanish Inquisition, that have scabbed over in Crowley’s memory and that he shies away from picking at.

(25.7k) your weekend lover by witching

Mood: miscommunication, mutual pining, ineffable idiots who are on the same page but reading a different damn book

It was purely physical, they had agreed on that from the beginning. Aziraphale couldn’t quite remember why he had agreed to that, but he suspected it had something to do with not ruining their friendship, or some such nonsense. At any rate, that was the deal. The new Arrangement. Purely physical.

(16k) I’ve Got You To Help Me Forgive by Kate Andrews (k8andrewz)

Pt1: Crowley deals, more or less, with the Fall. Also, Crowley has feelings. The angel doesn’t help with that. Also, sunny rocks are very nice.

Pt2: In which tea is made, a story is shared, and a leap of faith is taken.

Mood: Lust, first times, innocence, ineffable sex, memory wipes, Aziraphale showing initiative and being a bit of a bastard, overwhelmed Crowley, Gabriel is a total dick. Fair warning this isn’t PWP, it has loads of plot and feelings too and fantastic characterizations.

The air in Crowley’s lungs took leave of him all at once. Memories he hadn’t given a good look at in ages resurfaced. Memories he’d quite ably buried, thank you very much and he sat up abruptly, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. He set his sunglasses on the table, then pressed his face into his palms and gave it a good scrub. After a sidelong glance at Aziraphale who sat there patiently watching him, he asked, “What am I supposed to do with a question like that, hmm?”

(13.9k) The Lightness of You by Rend_Herring

God should not have built them with such discrepancy, made them need for love, and long for wholeness, then left them to their own devices.

Mood: When you want to mix up your pining & angst with a bit of humour, sex and a praise kink.

The jasmine vine actually tries brushing up against Aziraphale’s cheek and he blushes, says, “Oh, you,” all indulgent and sweet-like. It leaves a fragrant white blossom behind his ear.

“Thank you,” Aziraphale says sincerely, and Crowley glares openly at the traitors. “That’s very kind of you.” His smile really is a beacon of otherworldly radiance. An orchid blooms on the spot, the epiphyte whore.

(7.2k) summer and his pleasures by witching

absence makes the heart grow fonder, and crowley and aziraphale’s hearts were plenty fond to begin with. a story told through phone calls while they are separated for work-related reasons.

Mood: drunk dialing and dirty talk, idiots in love

Something clicked in Aziraphale’s mind, and he held back a curse word threatening on his tongue. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, he found himself just in that sweet spot of intoxication where he was cognizant enough to recognize that he was doing something he absolutely shouldn’t do, but not quite enough to stop himself. “I would, you know,” he said, full of newfound confidence. “I’d – if you were here, I’d make it… very much worth your while.”

(3.6k) Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.

Mood: Jealousy, lashing out, withdrawal, oblivious idiots slowly learning how to use their words.

Is Crowley jealous of a musty old flat above a used book store? In the millennia he’s spent slowly twisting his own heart around Aziraphale’s little finger, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s been jealous of, to be honest.

(11k) A Touch Like Sunlight by goodomensblog / @goodomensblog / @just-quintessentially-me

When Aziraphale is threatened by angels who seek justice for Aziraphale’s crimes against Heaven, Crowley comes up with a plan to keep him safe from harm.

Mood: PTSD from witnessing the attempted murder of your husband, it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, self-sacrificing idiots & badass idiots protecting eachother.

“Right! Brunch!” Aziraphale says, bouncing up on his toes - as if they hadn’t just been discussing the murder of archangels. “Do you think they have crepes?”

(13.6k) These Things Were Here by MajorEnglishEsquire

Crowley, following times of overwhelming distress, resorted to the snake form as a means of finding comfort and solitude.

Mood: displays of affection, love shown through care-taking, using your ineffable boyfriend as a security blanket.

Nothing like it happened again for years. The pattern, however, was too recognizable to be mistaken when it did reoccur.

When commended for some catastrophe of which he was no part, Crowley became a completely disconsolate mess, but he still actually handled those occasions better than when he was, in fact, party to such disaster.

If he was blamed, but not actually at fault, Aziraphale may find him on the verge of discorporation due to alcohol poisoning, but at least he would say what was wrong. It was worse when he had an assignment he couldn’t breathe a word of. It was worse when he would smile bitterly and leave silently, haunted beyond expression.

(4.6k) let sleeping snakes lie by kythen / @kythen

The world doesn’t end. Crowley falls asleep. And Aziraphale stays by his side, waiting for him to wake up again.

Mood: acts of love, comfort, warmth, home

To some extent, he understands Crowley’s need for sleep. It had been an exhausting decade for the both of them, what with the end of the world business, and it had culminated spontaneously in them cutting off their ties with both Heaven and Hell rather dramatically, which were the only ties that either of them have ever had since the Beginning. Just as Crowley had sauntered from the ranks of Heaven to Hell, he had finally found his way out of Hell and into something that finally felt like freedom.

(6.4k) All The Dreams We Had by ImpishTubist / @impishtubist

This time will be different, Aziraphale thinks. This time, Crowley will remember.

Mood: amnesia, groundhog day - but centered on a single relationship - and with more angst

It takes a year for Crowley to fall for him again, a year until the air raid and the church and the books; a year before Aziraphale finds himself pressed up against a brick wall and exchanging desperate, burning kisses.

Crowley’s forgotten again by morning.

(70k) The Place You Need To Reach by Zetared / @zetablarian

When Crowley is forcibly recalled to home office, Aziraphale conspires with a denounced saint and strikes a deal with the agents of Hell to get him back.

Mood: sacrifice, loss of self, trauma, love, tenderness and fantasy-novel-esque world & character building

“I have a journey to complete,” Aziraphale reminds the Adversary, primly. “May I begin?”

“In good time, Aziraphael. In good time. Tell me, do you recall the rules correctly?”

Aziraphale grits his teeth at the purposeful use of his forgotten name, but he doesn’t mention it. “Yes, of course. Using no miracles or ethereal influence of any kind, I must walk through the circles of Hell and complete an unknown task in each to earn passage to the next. I must not look behind me, where Crowley will walk. I may speak to Crowley, but he cannot speak back. I will not hear him or see him or feel even a hint of his presence. I will move forward, and, God willing, he will follow me.”

(1.9k) Kissing, Accidentally. by skybound2 / @skybound2

The one where Crowley gives in and kisses Aziraphale while he has him pinned against a wall.

Mood: hilarious footnotes, brilliant Crowley internal monologues and ineffable kissing against a wall.

No. No what actually happens is that when Crowley slams Aziraphale up against a wall in the middle of a hallway at a former-Satanic-hospital-turned-paintball-complex to express to him how very not nice he is, his hindbrain, forebrain and all other portions of his brain, decide that while denial has been a lovely place to reside for the previous six millennia, they are rather due a relocation at this point. And “Oh! Would you look at that! Here’s the oh-so-very soft mouth of an oh-so-very-beautiful angel right in front of us! And all we have to do to get there is to just…lean forward an inch. Less than an inch, in fact! How fantastic!”

(9.3k) Build Our Kingdom by Mackem

Mood: : ineffable dates, promises kept

“Ready for lunch?” Crowley drops to his knees to start unbuckling the straps on the basket as though this is something they do all the time; as though he hasn’t just effortlessly catapulted Aziraphale back in time almost fifty years.

“You remembered,” Aziraphale breathes as wonder courses through him. He mentioned something once during an awkward moment, half a century ago, and now here kneels a demon atop a picnic blanket.

“Hmm?” Crowley barely shoots him a sidelong glance as he concentrates on opening the basket.

Aziraphale’s eyes do not move from him. “You remembered,” he repeats, no less stunned. “Crowley, you really didn’t have to.”

Crowley’s hands still. Eventually, his eyes still on the basket, he murmurs, “Well, we did The Ritz, didn’t we?”

(9k) On The Matter Of Touch by Somedrunkpirate

For two ineffable husbands, they don’t really touch each other much. Here is a story on why that might be.

Mood: touch-starved idiots in love, heart-breaking internal monologues, misunderstandings, miscommunication, protective idiots.

Crowley had decided long ago that curiosity should have been a sin, because it has been the one thing consistently tempting him in his existence. He’s done everything he can think of and more, just so see what it was all about. But this, with Aziraphale, feels more than just an experience he can add to his endless tally

(8.2k) dum memor ipse mei by NeverNooitNiet

There is something, Aziraphale thinks, that is inherently selfish— unangelic, even— about grief. But then of course, the same could be said about love.

Mood: identity angst, calling Aziraphale out on his bullshit

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous ,” Crowley snaps. “Of course I don’t— angel, do you have any idea just how much more straightforward my life would be if only I were able to hate you?”

(5.6k) bent to the very earth by Ark / @et-in-arkadia

Use me, please, Crowley had said, so Aziraphale takes him at his word.

Mood: tenderness & kisses & sex against a wall

Aziraphale kisses him back because that is what makes sense, kissing Crowley, why, the thought crosses his mind often enough—he just never had the sort of momentum that seems to fire up Crowley now. Crowley whose hands are shaking before they ball up as fists on Aziraphale’s lapels, Crowley who keeps kissing him and kissing him like otherwise he’ll drown.

(40k) Lit in the Darkness by ToEdenandBackAgain / @toedenandbackagain

Mood: Aziraphale and Crowley sleeping together through the ages. Mutual pining.

Aziraphale, despite being nowhere hear as gangly as Crowley, is somehow still all arms and legs when he sleeps. Crowley takes an elbow to the face three times before he wedges the angel between the wall and his body with an angry growl, making sure to trap the flailing limbs tight beneath his own.

Works In progress

this gorgeous ineffable wives snippet by @mia-ugly

Mood: beautiful writing, emotional vulnerability, submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known,

“Whatever happens tomorrow -“ And something will happen, they won’t walk away from this. They’d never be allowed. “Darling, you should know -”

the bucket list

by darcylindbergh / @forineffablereasons / @watsonshoneybee

If you’re going to go native, you might as well go all the way.

Mood: saying the absolutely wrong thing at the wrong time, reaching your breaking point, miscommunication and heart break.

“You know, we are the way we are,” Aziraphale said slowly, pressing it a little, brushing his wing up against Crowley’s, “but we can also change, Crowley. We have done, over the years. We’ve changed quite a lot, since we first met.”

#ineffable husbands #good omens fic #ineffable husbands fic #good omens fic recs #ineffable husband fic recs #this is basically a love letter to this wonderful fandom #good omens #good omens fic rec

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earsofducks · 4 years

Text

Day 8 - Soulmates

Well, this is it.

Wow.

Thank you to @ineffablehusbandsweek for a fantastic week of prompts, and for setting this all up and reblogging and stuff. Amazing.

Thanks also to everybody that read my stuff. It brought me a lot of joy to know that some people actually ENJOYED some of the things I wrote. Y’all are fantastic.

Also thanks to Gaiman and Pratchett and Tennant and Sheen for a fracking amazing OTP. Gawsh. They’re so good.

Anyway, I’ll shut up now. Thanks for everything.

Crowley took a long time to realize Aziraphale was his soulmate.

It certainly wasn’t the first time he’d met him. Crowley hadn’t heard any of the lore at that point, probably because he hadn’t spent any more time than was necessary in Hell. All he knew was that the angel had beautiful eyes and lovely wings and a heart that prioritized a pregnant couple’s wellbeing over his own.

And that was more than enough.

It wasn’t even when he first heard the chatter about soulmates.

He’d gotten himself discorporated. Hung around Sodom just a little too long. (He’d been so sure he could convince - well, it doesn’t matter now.) And while he was waiting for his new body, he’d had nothing better to do than hang around and listen to the other lowlifes discussing the latest news, which was that apparently every demon had an angelic counterpart that was their soulmate. (When Crowley asked why the Almighty would give demons angelic soulmates when they could never really be together, the consensus was that it was all a big joke. That was when Crowley first started feeling bitter at Her for creating soulmates.) Also, continued his hellish colleagues, when demons were in close physical proximity to their soulmate their black-and-white vision would burst into colour, but the angel would remain unaffected.

And Crowley, being an idiot, thought huh, weird, instead of when I was around Aziraphale I noticed his eyes were blue.

No, Crowley didn’t put two and two together for a very long time. This was mostly because somewhere between being told about soulmates and being given his new body he’d managed to convince himself that it was all a big misunderstanding. Soulmates weren’t real. How silly! No, they were probably invented by some poor sod who was missing being an angel and thought to comfort himself with a daydream. (Crowley had not yet realized that ‘imagination’ was not very popular in Hell.) And then, shortly after Golgotha, he and Aziraphale were drinking in a tavern somewhere and he absentmindedly remarked on the bright red of a piece of pottery and then it struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Oh no, he thought.

He spent a while trying to avoid Aziraphale and the many difficult feelings that arose when he was around Aziraphale, because it was all so much to handle. But the longer he spent away from his angel the more miserable he felt and the more bleary and unbearable his black-and-white existence became and when Aziraphale turned up in a bar in Rome he found himself unable to say no to oysters.

After that, Crowley accepted his fate. He was in love with Aziraphale. Aziraphale was his soulmate. He would never be able to tell Aziraphale about either of these things, because Aziraphale was an angel and he was a demon and angels and demons weren’t allowed to… well. Do the things Crowley would like to do.

And life goes on like this, with Crowley loving Aziraphale as quietly as he can and having his heart broken every few years and screaming drunkenly at God about how the soulmate joke isn’t funny, until the Apocalypse. Which doesn’t actually happen.

After he and Aziraphale go to the Ritz, they retire to the bookshop for a good old-fashioned nightcap. They drink and drink and drink until they’re both thoroughly smashed, and that is when it happens.

“Why’s your corporation so faulty?” Aziraphale asks, apropos of nothing.

“Wha?” Crowley asks, understandably confused.

“The - the - the - ” Aziraphale waves his wine glass around and makes a variety of expressions while he wracks his brain for the right words - “The colours.”

“What about the colours?” asks Crowley, whose stomach has gone very cold. He feels very sober very suddenly.

“They’re….” Aziraphale squints as he thinks very hard. “They don’t happen.”

“Oh,” says Crowley, relieved. “Nah, can’t see colours. Lost that when I - you know.”

“I’m terribly sorry, dear boy,” says Aziraphale, looking less drunk. Crowley looks at the wine bottles, which are less empty than they were a moment ago. Looks like they both accidentally sobered up a little.

“Doesn’t matter,” says Crowley, trying to shrug and discreetly sober the rest of the way up at the same time.

“But not all the time,” says Aziraphale, pointing a finger at Crowley.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Uh,” says Crowley.

“When your corporation was near my corporation,” continues Aziraphale, oblivious to the panic which is rapidly taking over Crowley’s brain, “colours happened.”

“Ah,” says Crowley. “Mm,” says Crowley. “Ngk,” says Crowley.

“Why?” asks Aziraphale again.

Crowley hems and haws and hedges until Aziraphale starts to get annoyed and says, “really, my dear, I don’t know why you’re making such a fuss. It’s not as if you could say anything that would make me like you any less. I wish you’d just tell me.”

Undone by the ‘my dear’ and the ‘nothing would make me like you any less,’ Crowley does.

Aziraphale sits very still. Crowley sits still, too, tense and nervous and full of regrets. What a pathetic excuse of a demon he is. In love with an angel. Unable to let go of said angel, even when he knew it wouldn’t work out, wouldn’t lead to anything but pain for him and awkwardness of Aziraphale. Refusing to let go of -

“Soulmates?” says Aziraphale, very softly, and there’s something in his voice that makes Crowley’s foolish heart leap.

“Er, yeah. ‘S - dunno what She was thinking. That it was good for a laugh, probably. Watching me - uh, I mean us - I mean, demons, you know - when we couldn’t have what we - uh - dunno. Weird. Silly. ‘S silly, isn’t it? Sorry.”

“No,” breathes Aziraphale, and Crowley’s heart climbs higher. Stupid organ oughta know that the higher you are the more the fall hurts. “No, my dear, my very dear, my most beloved - oh, no. Not silly.”

Crowley’s brain cannot be expected to handle both very dear and most beloved at the same time.

“Yungrhwha?”

“Crowley,” says Aziraphale, and he’s beaming, he’s shining, he’s radiating… something, something that Crowley is scared to think about, scared to hope for - “Crowley, you’ve waited so long for me.”

Crowley doesn’t say anything. He’s blushing and painfully aware of how pitiful he is and unable to meet Aziraphale’s eyes.

“Crowley, my darling,” says Aziraphale, and Crowley can’t breathe, “I love you.”

Crowley lets out a sob at that, a harsh, punched-out sound. He didn’t mean to. It just happened.

“Beloved,” says Aziraphale tenderly, and reaches out and pulls Crowley into a soft, tight, warm embrace. Crowley cries harder and grasps at the fabric of Aziraphale’s jacket. “I love you,” Aziraphale says again, and Crowley doesn’t know how to do this. “I love you more than I will ever be able to say. I’ve loved you for millenia. I never knew - ” Aziraphale’s voice trembles. “Soulmates,” he says at length, full of awe. “We’re soulmates, Crowley. We were - darling, we were made for each other. She made us for each other. I’m yours, lover of mine. I always have been. I always will be.”

“‘Ziraphale,” gasps Crowley, overcome. He’s reasonably sure that demons were not meant to hold this much happiness. “Angel - angel - ”

“Shh,” croons Aziraphale, clutching him impossibly tighter and rocking back and forth. “I know, my heart. I know. You gorgeous, brilliant, impossibly sweet thing. You’ve been telling me as long as we’ve known each other. I know.”

It takes Crowley a long time to calm down, to start breathing normally again, to stop hanging onto Aziraphale like the angel will float away if he so much as loosens his grip. Aziraphale murmurs comforting, devastatingly lovely things the whole time.

“Love you,” says Crowley, as soon as he’s found his voice again. It’s croaky and hoarse. He doesn’t care. “Love you. Love you, love you, love you.”

“Crowley,” says Aziraphale, sounding like he might cry, “I love you, too.”

And they sit there, holding each other, for most of the night. Crowley’s breathing evens out completely. He gets a crick in his neck but doesn’t budge an inch, unwilling to risk anything when he’s just gotten everything he’s ever wanted. “Soulmates,” Aziraphale says wonderingly, every so often.

Crowley falls asleep thinking that he’s not mad at the Almighty for making soulmates. Not anymore.

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ineffablemiracles · 5 years

Photo

In which the angel Crowley gives the demon Aziraphale a predatory plant as a joke, and immediately regrets everything:

Soho, 1968

It was meant to be a joke. The angel known on earth for a large number of years now as Anthony J. Crowley--and A.J. Crowley Jr., etc, etc as the years passed--was very, very fond of plants. And the demon Aziraphale, as far as Crowley had been able to determine, didn’t really think much of them one way or the other. So when Crowley came across the small venus fly trap at the greenhouse, he couldn’t resist. Maybe a plant that caught its own food would at least amuse Aziraphale, who’d been inexplicably grumpy the last couple of centuries. Someday I’m going to learn not to listen to my impulses. “It, uh… you just water it.” Crowley said to the demon, who was holding the little potted plant as though it might explode. Or worse, get dirt all over his neat suit. Now that the angel was here in the demon’s shop (Mr. Fell’s Curious and Carnal Antiquities), it didn’t seem like all that good of an idea after all, but it was rather too late to take the thing back. “It’ll feed itself. It eats flies.” “Ooooooooh.” A complete change came over Aziraphale, his expression brightening as he poked curiously at the nearest bud, watching as it closed in response to what it hoped was prey. “You mean, it’s carnivorous?!” Crowley began to doubt every choice he’d ever made. “Well, yeah. I guess. Technically.” Rubbing the back of his neck, Crowley debated his chances of grabbing the thing and making a run for the door. Not good, since Aziraphale was now practically cooing to the tiny plant, holding its pot close without even worrying about his clothes for once. “It’s not like it could eat anything much bigger than a fly, after all.” These things didn’t grow much, did they? Crowley didn’t think so. It should have been a comfort, but he knew as well as any celestial being that when something got exposed to Divine or Infernal energies for extended periods of time, ‘normal’ tended to go out the window. Especially energies with intent--like the devious gleam he saw in Aziraphale’s eyes now.

“Well. We all have to start somewhere, now don’t we?” Aziraphale said, cheerfully, talking to the plant as though Crowley had already left. He looked around, finally deciding to put the little pot on his huge, ancient desk. “And flies. Hmm. You know, I think I’ll call you Bub. Lord Beelzebub can’t be too displeased with my naming you after them, with you being such an adorable little hunter. Even if you do help get rid of all the little pests they leave behind every time they visit.”

“...” None of this was going as planned. Crowley had expected Aziraphale to give the plant back to him. Possibly by throwing it at his head, considering the demon’s recent moods. Certainly the most positive outcome he’d imagined was Aziraphale being faintly interested or amused before telling the angel to take the thing away. This strange, almost paternal response was, quite frankly, terrifying.

“I shall have to go out and find a book on proper care tomorrow,” Aziraphale was still fussing over the plant, oblivious to anything else. Crowley cleared his throat, and the demon looked up. “Ah, oh yes. Crowley. Thank you for the unexpected gift, my dear Angel. I’ll take such good care of it.”

That’s what I’m afraid of. Crowley managed a thin smile, and shook his head mutely when Aziraphale asked him if he’d dropped by for anything else. He needed to get away from… whatever this was. Seeing Aziraphale acting like someone with a new baby over a plant was definitely one of the oddest things he’d ever seen the demon do. Crowley fled. Climbing up the outside steps from Aziraphale’s dark basement shop, Crowley couldn’t shake the feeling that the joke was on him.

Soho, Present Day

The plant had disappeared from Aziraphale’s desk a few months after Crowley had brought it to him, and a while after that, the angel had honestly forgotten about it. Life resumed as normal, the two coming into contact regularly, either for company or to discuss something that fell under the Arrangement. Tonight was one of the former, Crowley happily sprawled on a chair in the demon’s shop and sipping wine. He could feel that Aziraphale had something he wanted to spring on him, but he was too pleasantly drunk to be apprehensive.

The shoe dropped sometime around their third glass of wine, and it took Crowley’s stomach with it.

“Crowley, my dear, all of these years and you’ve never once asked how Bub is doing. Why is that, I wonder?”.

“When I didn’t see it on your desk anymore I figured--” Hoped. “--that you’d gotten tired of it and gotten rid of it. Or that it died or something.” “Oh, my, no. He just needed a bit more space. Would you like to come see him?”

“Him?”

“Well, it turns out that Dionaea muscipula aren’t gender specific plants, so I just picked at random. Besides, he seems like a he.” Aziraphale’s pale blue eyes sparkled wickedly.

“Right. Of course he does.” Crowley’s legs felt like they were made of lead, and it was all he could do to get up and follow his longtime friend. Over the years his nightmares had been periodically visited by various imaginings of a predatory plant under extended demonic influences. Reality, for once, didn’t disappoint. Of course not. Not when I want it to.

Bub, or ‘the thing’ as it would forever after be known as in Crowley’s head, had his own room. He had to. The plant barely fit as it was, brushing the ceiling as though looking for more space to expand. It had at least three times as many mouths as when Crowley had last seen it, and each one was more than large enough to fit an entire person in. In fact, one of them was closed around a large lump that Crowley absolutely refused to look more closely at. He might actually see what was in it.

This is it. This is the thing that gets me kicked out of Heaven. If there’s anything left to kick after Gabriel gets done with me, anyway. ‘How did you Fall, Crowley?’ ‘Oh, I gave a demon a man-eating plant. You know. Just for a laugh.’ “Crowley?” Aziraphale’s voice cut into Crowley’s horrified internal monologue. The demon was standing right next to Bub, patting the outside of one of its mouths. The angel wasn’t sure if it was that or the fact that the plant actually lowered its head to be ‘petted’ that disturbed him more. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“Hello… Bub…” Crowley’s mouth was currently working without any help from his brain. So was his body, because when the entire assemblage of leaves, vines and gaping maws actually turned in his direction, the angel took an involuntary step backward.

“Oh, don’t worry, Bub. Uncle Crowley’s just impressed with how much you’ve grown.” Aziraphale gave the plant another reassuring pat, then looked up and smiled. “Crowley. You’re not scared, are you?”

“Aziraphale…” Crowley cleared his throat, continued almost a full octave lower. Uncle Crowley? Really? “You can’t. That thing is…”

“Oh, nonsense. Bub has never had a meal that wasn’t already firmly destined for Hell,” Aziraphale tsks. “In fact, he’s probably helped you out indirectly by getting rid of some of the worst--” “Nope.” Crowley shushed the demon with a gesture. Plausible deniability. That’s what I need. The less I hear, the less I have to pretend doesn’t exist. The only alternative was to destroy Bub, and probably a six thousand year old friendship with it. Call him selfish, but Crowley wasn’t ready to do that. “I don’t want to know. I was never in here. I never saw this. If you mention Bub again, I’m going to imagine you’re talking about a cute, fluffy little kitten.”

“Ah. Ah, right. Yes.” Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “I suppose I wasn’t thinking about that side of things. Very well. Back to the wine, then?” “Yes. Wine. Wine is good. Wine is nice.” As if there was enough wine in the world to make the angel forget he saw this. Crowley sighed. “Better open a few extra bottles.”

((Now also on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/21076571 ))

#good omens #reverse omens #crowley #aziraphale #angel!crowley #demon!aziraphale #my art #my fic #fic blurbs with art #good omens fanart #good omens fanfic

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z0rdic · 5 years

Text

Demons Embrace

Sum: Crowley doesn’t want to accept his feelings towards the reader, and is denying it till one day, where the reader has an anxiety attack due to past trauma. is when he realizes he fucked up.

Warnings: Angst, Anxiety mention, Trauma, Abuse Status: Angsty Fluff Theme: x Reader - They pronounce.

Authors note my spelling and grammar sucks. sorry about that, English isn’t my native language and this is probably very out of character, but I wanted to do something different, and I haven’ written in a long time. so here you go <3

This day, fucked him up.. Badly. Crowley pasted back and forth in his flat, unsure of everything. Angry, passionated- all these emotions he’s used to. but the feeling of “loving” someone makes his blood boil. He’s a DEMON, he can’t love!?.. “Fuck Me...” -He sighed bitterly as he slummed down in his throne-like chair, unable to make sense of when and how he fell in love with [Y/N].

Was it when they looked at him like he was something.. someone? was it when he noticed their eyes sparkle when he spoke to them? or was it the first time they hugged him, impulsively due to them being scared of losing him and Aziraphale when armageddon was about to happen.? Crowley honestly didn’t know. and he was oh so annoyed with the feelings he had.

Crowley smashed a pot against the wall and groaned loudly. “what the FUCK is wrong with me?? why a HUMAN, a HUMAN for crying out loud.” and then his phone rang. Crowley composed himself again, in his smug facade and picked up the phone “Speak to me, Angel” “Crowley, I- Uh, oh dear, We have a problem..” Aziraphale's voice said, nearly in a whisper making Crowley’s brows furrow slightly “What? why- what’s happening?” Crowley gripped his jacket, and as soon as his hands curled around the tight leader he heard sobbing in the background. “..it’s [Y/N] Something happened...and I- I don’t know, Oh goodness hurry” With that everything sunk for Crowley, his pupils almost retracted into thinner slits behind the tinted shades resting on his nose. worried.. he felt.. worries build inside him. and with that, he slammed the door to his flat and hurried to the bookshop. He usually drove fast, it’s Crowley after all. but this very day, things were just a little slower for his liking. ... You sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed, tears streaming down your face- your breath hitch in the back of your throat as you hugged yourself, rocking back and forth looking at the floor, just feeling like an absolute wreck.

you weren't supposed to see HIM, your Ex. the Man who abused you, kicked you, hit you. He was a MONSTER- if anyone was the embodiment of the devil himself, it was this guy. And you had just seen him, after weeks of freedom, you trapped yourself again. in your mind. You could still feel the last bruises he gave you. You knew it was all done. That he wouldn’t hurt you anymore. But the haunting of him still compelled you to fear.

The angel placed a hand on your back, slowly rubbing your shoulder blades on the outside of your tank top. he cooed your name softly, trying his very best to make you stop. But you couldn’t. The anxiety inside you made you shake and the sobbing got hoars as your voice caved in- still rocking your body for the comfort. You sat there, wishing you had never survived all of the abuse. “[Y/N] You can’t let him control your life like this. Crowley and I did assure you that you could always be with us if anything happened- you know this dear” Aziraphale did everything he could, and with each comforting sentence, you felt a little less scared, but as soon as you heard the door fling open to the shop with a crash you screamed in your mind and jumped to hide your face in your arms. “I’m here!” you heard Crowley shout.. angrily. It sent shivers down your spine and made you even the more scared. You kept your arms up, so shun him from your red eyes, wet cheeks and pale face. You didn’t want Crowley to yell, or shout, or anything remotely like it. After all the Demon usually did make you feel safe and at home.

You didn’t know when, but you grew to like him.. a lot. Yes, Aziraphale was, a literal angel but the demon always seemed to catch you just a snatch more. He didn’t want to admit it, but he treated you like he treated Aziraphale, if not better. he didn’t have to smile at you directly, but when you got a smirk out of him from a witty comment or made him laugh your heart fluttered and your stomach grew a knot of joy. Though, at this very moment, he scared you.

“[Y/N] What the fuck happened?!” Crowley did sound worried he truly did but the anger in his voice overpowered due to your status of mind. and you curled up, flinched even, which made Crowley so much madder. “Did that jerk do this? Huh!? is this why you curl up like a cat scared of everything. ?? didn’t we assure you that you were alright??? isn’t that enough for you??? aren’t WE enough for you!??” his questions made you whimper, and you asked him to stop. your voice shaking and you didn’t know what to say. Of course, they were enough.. they meant so much to you. Hell, HE meant so much to you. Why was he so aggressive all of a sudden? “C-Crowley I’m sorry. I’m so- so sorry I didn’t- I just” Your voice got caught up in your thoughts and sobs, you just kept shaking “I didn’t want to bother you and Azi’ with my p-problems. I didn’t want to make you feel like I’m a burden... I’m so scared” Your last sentence sounded so broken it almost made Crowley go straight for you in an embrace, but he didn’t. He didn’t want to accept this feeling of longing to make everything okay. He was chaos, the Servant of Sin. He just stood there, clenched his fists in anger, and worry. and after your sobbing dimmed down, Crowley looked at you, and simply said “I’m going to kill him, he’s not worthy of the earth anyway, I could send him to where he belongs” His voice emotionless. “Crowley. please don’t I - I just” Your body sought closure, so without thinking you stood up, even if your legs denied to burden you. “He didn’t do anything this time, He simply w-walked past me I just had a-” Crowley cut you off “Listen, If you want to protect this asshole of a man, then FINE I’m DONE with this, and I’m Done with YOU. Humans annoy me to no end, they’re Selfish, they’re so emotion-filled it’s SICK, YOU MAKE ME SICK!” You stood there. mouth slightly agape. Did he really mean that?... Tears started to roll again and you just couldn’t handle it anymore the constant contrast between love and hate from this man, this rollercoaster of fear and adore. If he wanted you out of his life, Fine he’s got it now. Aziraphale tried to speak up but you simply burst. You’ve never yelled before so you didn’t plan to but for the first time ever in your entire life, you stood up for yourself. Your tears rolled but your voice didn’t hitch, I didn’t soak in sobs. You looked at the man you thought you loved, hell the man you DO love and you simply said “Fine.” the coldest tone you’ve ever mustered to use, the deadest glare you’ve ever sent someone. And you could see Crowley regretting everything. But this time he had to come to apologize if he wanted you in his life. you didn’t do the chasing and you didn’t plan to start. with that, you dried your eyes and gave Aziraphale a small smile of sadness and walked out the door. ... “Well done Crowley.” Aziraphale breathed as the door slammed shut. “ I thought you might’ve been a help, yet here I am, wrong for once” The angel sat down again as if he just fell from heaven. He just might’ve lost a friend, because Crowley had to wear big boy pants and act like a hissy. “We don’t need them anyway. we’re celestials. we’ll make it without. Better to not get attached.” Crowley breathed out as he sat in the chair, acting un phased. Aziraphale cleared his throat “ You mean it’s better YOU don’t get attached dear friend” That sent Crowley to sit straight up in the chair, eyes glued to his angelic friend. “Now, why would you say that?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes for once in a century at the demons oblivious behaviour and explained to him that he’s seen how Crowley looks at you, the way he speaks to you when he’s not on a hissy fit run. The way he miracles you things just to make your life easier. and Crowley with each explanation dreaded his decision to yell at you. “Crowley. I’ve known you for 6000 years. Don’t you think I know you just a smidge? If you want to admit it or not, you have feelings for this human. And it’s fine and jolly if you do not wish to act upon them, but I do think you owe them an apology for your misbehaviour. I think you really did indeed hurt them more than you realize” The angel said all this with a furrowed sigh and stood up to go take customers or at least order the books that were left around from people. Crowley, on the other hand, slummed again. Thinking about how he ever could fix this fuck up. And when. ... You did everything you could from falling apart over the next week or so. You tried to comfort yourself with movies, series. anything that could distract you from Crowley, the words he used. Did you really make him feel sick? How? by treating him with affection? How could that make someone feel so sick they had to blow up like that? your feeling where messier than regularly- Mind fuzzy. Probably because of all the pills you had to take to calm your nerves. and On the Friday of the week, you decided that you’ve had enough of this way of living. you needed some comfort, if not from the man you loved, then at least for a night. So you dressed up and texted a friend of yours to tell her that you had a free night and you wanted to go get drunk. You put on a black outfit and some cool accessories that fit elegantly with your outfit. As you had everything ready you smacked your door, locking it and got on your way, for once in weeks without fear in your body. If you could be cold to a demon, you could do anything.. or so you thought.

Never have you ever imagined being this sober with your friend, She was nearly blacked out on the couch in a club with some fancy wall street British wanna be and here you were single and with no one to mingle- and that’s when you saw him. Your heart raced and you felt like running. Your Ex had his eyes glued on you like a piece of meat. WHY THE FUCK WAS HE HERE?!. You sipped your drink anxiously, feeling your throat close up from fear. But He didn’t go closer. and you soon figured out why. A long slender hand grabbed your waist almost as gently as a feather, and you jumped a little looking to whom this hand belonged to. When you where met with Crowley’s shades your heart stopped. your cheeks heated up slightly. He’s never been this close before. and God did he look and smell good. and That’s when he spoke loudly, enough for your ex to hear it over the music. “Hello, Darling, sorry I am late, It pains me to see you all alone looking so ravishing” His slender hand squeezed your side gently, in a reassuring way and he smirked from the redness on your face. You couldn’t Believe him! he yells at you and then he shows up, basically swooning over you. now it repeats WHY THE FUCK WAS CROWLY HERE?! You couldn’t think of a reply before he spoke again “How ‘bout we go to my flat and have a talk, it’s better than here with these flesh bags” He looked in the direction of your Ex. You understood the memo and nodded softly, Crowley gave a smile. a Real smile, goodness he made you swoon now. And your friend was clearly jealous of your “catch”... She looked at Crowley like a piece of candy and you couldn’t help but feel proud of how attractive your demonic companion was. Crowley took your hand gently and followed you out with you holding his arm like a true gentleman would. Unlike usual gentlemen tho, he subtly showed your Ex a finger on the way out with a shit-eating grin. Which made you giggle softly. ... About twenty mins you stood in his flat crossing your arms, waiting for an explanation to why he picked you up if he truly hated you. Crowley motioned you to sit, and so you did. -He came in with a glass of water for you and sat next to you. “Listen [Y/N] love, I have a confession. I’m not good with apologizing. and I am frankly not good with talks either. So if you don’t want to accept it, it’s quite understandable.” He continued folding his fingers nervously “I-...How do I put this, I have feelings.. for you and It’s a bit unusual for me to feel anything. I’m a demon and I’m not supposed to actually like people- or angels or anyone but I’ve been so hooked on you for so long and it’s killing me.” He took your hands and your face was more than shocked from these news, but he continued “I tried to push you away, to make you hate me. and I don’t know.. I think it worked, and it’s ripping me apart somehow, I’ve pushed many humans away and I’ve never felt like I do now. And I just can’t help to know I’ve fucked up- really bad. As I said if you don’t want to accept the shitty apology I get it, I su-” You’ve shut him up by pressing your lips to his, softly and you cupped his face with your hands. with your eyes closed, you just acted on impulse. and that’s something rare for you. Crowley had to get over his shock and right before you felt like pulling back, he snaked his hand onto your neck and back to deepen the kiss, you ran your fingers through his hair and enjoyed the smell of his cologne. Shit, he kissed well. When you finally pulled back you opened your [E/C] eyes to look at him. He looked so confused and yet so happy, brows sky high and that smirk you loved so much. But you had to be a bit of a brat so you simply said “How do you feel now? Still sick?” It made him laugh and he pulled you into his lap, as you pushed his glasses up, to look at his beautiful eyes. “Oh yes, terribly sick, I could be dying any second now, as of fact” He brushed his nose against yours and you sighed as you placed a small sweet kiss onto his lips again. “I love you” The words just slipped out of you. You blushed looking away waiting for him to just push you off or something, but you felt a hand on your cheek and a small “ I know, and I love you” escaped him before he stole a kiss again. letting his mind rest on one sentence: what the fuck is wrong with me. But in a more loving manner. and your thoughts had only three words. Best, Friday, Ever. as you straddled the most gorgeous man in the world, to you he was not fallen, not a demon, not an angel, just Crowley and that was all that mattered. .... Next day you had multiple texts from your friend, asking you who the handsome dude was, and you snapped her a picture of Crowley, sleeping partly clothed in his bed with the text “he my man bby girl” with a devil emoji. Oh god Aziraphale was going to burst to laugh when he found out that FINALLY, you guys have made some progress in your relationship. You placed down your phone and crawled back in the arms of a demon, safely and proudly. Authors note: I hope you liked it! I am sorry if it seemed rushed or is very bad again I am super rusty:C ahhh plz don’t kill me xD fellow Omenlovers.

#good omens x reader #good omens #crowley x reader #imagine #short #short fanfic #fanfic #x reader #x gender neutral reader #crowley good omens

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marveliciousfanace · 5 years

Note

Prompt: “you deserve more”

I’m not entirely happy with this, but writer’s brain has been recalcitrant. There’s been quite a lot of poking it with a stick to even get this out. I hope it satisfies.

___

It’s not that Aziraphale was ungrateful for the gifthe’d been given. Quite the opposite: after years of shying away, of building barricadesof cutting words and crushing Crowley’s subtle offers beneath his heels as ifhe were oblivious to their meanings, Aziraphale felt quite blessed to stillhave the demon’s love, and to have the opportunity to cherish it openly. No, itwas not the love that made him hesitate now, made him pause that extra second beforerelaxing into Crowley’s comforting arms, made him still before melting intoevery kiss. It was not fear any longer. It was guilt.

A pair of arms wrapped around him, and Aziraphalestartled as a kiss was pressed to his cheek before Crowley rested his chin onAziraphale’s shoulder, draping himself over the back of the sofa. “I don’tthink I’ve seen you turn a page in over an hour,” Crowley saidconversationally. There was warmth bubbling in his voice, as there so often wasthese days, and Aziraphale’s stomach turned in an all too human way. Crowleynuzzled into Aziraphale’s neck, “What’s got you thinking so hard, angel? I knowit’s not the book.”

Aziraphale sighed. He closed the book in question andset it aside, leaning back into Crowley’s touch. “Why do you still love me?” heasked softly.

Crowley stiffened, then straightened. “What kind ofquestion is that?” He stalked around the sofa, dropping down next to Aziraphaleand planting a hand on the back of it. “I’ve always loved you. You know that.And I’m always going to love you.”

“But that’s just it!” Aziraphale insisted wretchedly. “Aftereverything I put you through, making you wait, making you hurt, knowing how you felt and ignoring it-“

“It doesn’t matter. Heaven-“

“It matters to me,” Aziraphale said. He reached out,cradling Crowley’s cheek and shaking his head mournfully. “You deserve more, mydear. You deserve someone who didn’t knowingly push you away. Someone who hasalways cared for you the way you care for them.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Crowley told him, “but you’rethe only being in existence who fits that bill.” He turned into the hand on hischeek, pressing his lips against it in a faint kiss before covering it with hisown hand. “Yeah, you pushed me away, but it was because you cared for me, and that scared you. And I get why. I’m ademon. You’re an angel. And maybe that doesn’t mean much now, but it used to.”He sighed, and brought their joined hands down between them, lacing their fingers.“I used to hate myself for wanting this. For pining after an angel, forthinking you could ever love me back the way I wanted. But I never blamed you.I blamed Heaven and what they did to you, I blamed God for putting us on oppositesides, but I never blamed you. Because I love you, angel. Always have. Alwayswill. Whether you think you deserve it or not.”

“I really don’t.”

“That’s alright.” Crowley smiled, not a snakelikegrin, but a soft one. No teeth, but his yellow eyes shining like miniaturesuns. “I’ll still love you anyways. And you’ll just have to deal with that.”

Once upon a time, the words might have sounded like athreat. Aziraphale might have read them as sinister, regardless of the intent. Butthat was because, once upon a time, Aziraphale had been afraid of falling. Now,he’d already hit the ground. Or, more accurately, Crowley had caught him. Andmaybe he didn’t think he deserved it, and maybe he never would. But he lovedCrowley, and against all odds, Crowley loved him. It’s wasn’t precisely astorybook happily ever after, but it was a start.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #my thoughts #my writing #ive got three more prompts to get through #im trying for at least one a day but well see

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charliesshitposts · 5 years

Text

Supernatural Omens (part two)

The nice and inaccurate prophecies of someone.somewhere about something that never happened. A fan fiction.

Warnings: None. :) Feel free to read this in front of your family and pets.

Word Count: Idk but it will probably take you 20-30 minutes to read. Maybe less. This chapter is much shorter than the first one,I think.

_______________________________________________________________________

Jack, once on the other side of the portal, felt sick to his stomach. He collapsed onto the floor behind Crowley’s chair. His groans weren’t heard from the boys. They were to busy complimenting Crowley on how nice his apartment was.Crowley didn't see him either as he was too busy proudly thanking them. But Aziraphale did notice.

Once the boy collapsed the angel rushed to his aid.He laid Jack on his back and ever so slightly leveled him up. He laid his free hand over Jack’s stomach and said “Don’t worry. I’ll fix you right up. You wont feel a thing.” Within seconds Jack was sat upright feeling much better. He looked at Aziraphale in surprise.

“I do feel better.”he stated.”Thank you. I guess angels everywhere have the same gift.”

Aziraphale smiled widely.”You’re welcome.I guess we do. Jack, is it?”

Jack nodded.”Yes sir.”

Dean,Sam,Cas and Crowley gathered around them. Sam looked down at Jack worriedly. “What happened?”

“My stomach was hurting.”He explained while the angel helped him to his feet.”But Aziraphale made it go away.”

“Thank you for helping him.” Dean said.”Now too business. What's our next move?”

“Well-”Began Aziraphale.”We don’t really have a next move. But until we think of something I think it’s best if we split up. I’ll take Sam and Jack here back to my book shop. Dean,you and Castiel stay with Crowley. That is assuming he wants company.”

“No I do I do.”Replied Crowley.”It’ll be fun. Dean here looks like he could use a drink. What will it be,Dean? Wine? Whisky?”

“Neither.” Dean replied.

“Well we’ll find something that peaks your interest. And Castiel. What will you be having?”

“Nothing.”Said Cas.”I don’t eat either.”

“Alrighty well I’m sure we’ll be fine.Go on now Aziraphale. Keep in touch.”

“We will.”answered the angel. “I’m just going to need your house phone to call a Taxi.”

“By all means darling,go ahead.” After the Taxi arrived Sam,Jack and Aziraphale left for the book shop.Later Jack would tell Dean how beautiful he thought The United Kingdom was. The people he met were incredibly nice too.He liked the buildings and parks in particular. Especially the parks with duck ponds.

Crowley grabbed two more chairs and brought them to his desk. He asked Dean what his alcoholic drink of preference was. When Dean replied with ‘beer’, Crowley thought of it as a rather bland drink, thus thinking that Dean was a rather bland person.But remembering what Aziraphale had taught him about what to do when he had company, he swallowed his comments.

Cas had gotten into the habit of opening Deans beers for him. It started out as something nice he occasionally did but later on became a habit. Cas didn’t mind. Neither did Dean. The seraph popped the bottle cap off and handed it over to his favorite human. Dean took a swig and smiled.

The three strangers sat in silence for a long time. Crowley looked from Dean to Cas. He racked his brain trying to think of something to talk about. But he suddenly remembered he needed to take care of something. He rose from his chair and excused himself for a moment. “I need to check on my house plants.” He didn’t wait for them to answer. As he walked towards his house plants he grabbed a spray bottle off a table by the doorway.

Once alone, Cas let out a huge sigh.”Things seem fine so far.”

“See.”Dean smiled.”Look, i’m going to be honest with you. When I first met Crowley I thought the same thing you did. Heck, I still do. But Aziraphale trusts him. That should be enough for us to trust him too.”

“It’s partly that but..theres something else thing too.”Dean leaned in to persuade Cas to continue talking.”He scares me.” The Seraph admitted.”He’s probably the first creature we meet who's ever scared me. I can’t look him in the eyes without shaking. Without feeling weak or naked,even.I don’t know what it is.”

Dean was about to open his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sound of rumbling leaves. From the corridor they could hear Crowley threaten his house plants. The realization that the plants were terrified of the demon made Cas’ skin crawl. They watched as Crowley strode back to where they were.”You gentleman are more than welcome to turn on the television. The remote is right there on the desk. I just need to do something. Then I’ll be with you.” Crowley walked with his whole body. Meaning that when his feet moved,his hips move too. So did his arms. Even his head leaned back a little to give the walk style. Castiel raised his eyebrows, somewhat impressed. Dean clicked away at the remote.

“The only thing on right now is the news.”

“Leave it on.” Castiel Said.”Maybe they’ll say something interesting.”

“Alright. If you consider how to make a 3 layered chocolate fudge cake interesting.”

“As a matter of fact I do. I’ve been thinking of getting into baking.”

Dean smiled thoughtfully. “You could make me pies.”

Castiel smiled.”I could make you pies.”

Crowley came to meet them. He held an empty pot in his hand.”Sorry about that boys. If I don’t yell at them they’ll never learn. What are we watching?”

“The news.” Dean said.”It’s in a baking segment.”

“Ah I see.” The phone suddenly ringing made the three jump.”I’ll get it boys. You keep watching the baking show.” Crowley picked up the receiver.”Talk to me baby.” After a few minutes agreeing and disagreeing he hung up and turned to Dean and Castiel.”Time for a road trip fellas. Have any of you ever been to an ex convent?”

—————————————————————————————————————

“Your brother,the boy and Aziraphale will be there too. They’re taking a taxi to meet with us.”

“Good.” Dean nodded.”You’re car is really nice. What kind is it?”

“A 1926 Bentley. This car is my pride and joy. Well it shares my pride and joy with my flat.”

Dean looked at Crowley with admiration.”I know the feeling. Our bunker may not mean a lot to me but my car does.”

“What do you drive?”

“A 1967 Chevy Impala.”

“The Impala is an excellent car model. It goes fast but you can’t feel it.”

“I can feel it.” Cas chimed in. He sat in the backseat holding for his dear life. Crowley was going 100 miles in downtown London. Cas was surprised they hadn’t hit anyone. Dean looked sympatheticly at the Seraph. Crowley picked up the conversation again.

“Music?”

“Sure. What do you have in here to listen to?”

“Guns n’ Roses. AC/DC. Bon Jovi.”

“Guns n’ Roses it is.” They continued their chat with Welcome to the Jungle playing lowly on the radio.

___________________________________________________________________

Aziraphale anxiously checked his watch. It was very unlike Crowley to be late or to arrive somewhere before he did. At the rate he drived Crowley was always early. Sam swayed back and forth on his feet next to the angel. He was worried about Dean and Castiel. And at Sams feet sat Jack. Aziraphale had given him permission to take a book to read along the way. He planned on giving it to him as a gift later on. Jack had picked Sherlock Holmes. He sat oblivious,submerged into the pages of the book.

“It’s very unlike him to be late.” Aziraphale said.

“Don’t worry. They’ll be here.” Sam assured. As if on cue the black Bentley came into view. Sam and Aziraphale sighed in relief.

The car stopped at the curb where they were waiting. Crowley came out and was greeted by an upset Aziraphale. His arms were crossed against his chest.

“Can you explain why you’re late?!” The angel asked.

Crowley wrapped an arm around Aziraphale.”Aw come on now don’t be so sour. I’m here aren’t I? The traffic in central London is hectic.”

“Yeah.” Dean said.”We needed to slow down because Cas was getting vertigo.”

“I didn’t know Cas could get vertigo.”

“Neither did I. So why are we here?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat.”Right. I’m sure Crowley told you that this place used to be a convent/hospital.The son of the antichrist was switched with another baby here. The family he was placed in wasn’t the one we were taking care of all these years. We hope that someone here kept the hospital birth records. If we can access them we can look for the records for the exact day and year he was born in. We find that,we find the parents and we find the boy.”

“That’s brilliant.” Castiel said.

“Thank you.” Smiled Aziraphale.”Shall we?”

The six of them walked through th courtyard and into the building. Most of the hallways were empty,which made things much easier for them. Castiel kept both his hands on Jacks shoulders to steer him while he read. He worried that if he didn’t do so Jack could hit a wall. Or walk into a different hallway and get caught. Sam looked at Aziraphale.

“Do you think this is going to work?” Sam asked.

Crowley answered for the angel.”I know it’s going to work.”

“Okay...but I mean you have a backup plan in case this doesn’t work?”

“Nope. Because i know this is going to work.”

“You can’t be so cocky Crowley. What if it doesn’t.”

“It will.”

“But What if it doesn’t?”

Crowley growled. Through clenched teeth he said.”It will.”

“But-“

“Sammy.” Dean warned.

Sam looked at his brother.”All im saying is-“ Sam was cut off when Crowley grabbed him from his collar and pulled him in. They’re faces were inches apart.Crowley hissed.

“Listen to me boy. I can be easy going if you don’t test me. If I were you i’d find my place and stay put. You really don’t want to see me when I’m mad.”

“You don’t scare me.” Sam smirked.

Crowley glared. Aziraphale walked over to break up the fight but was caught off guard when Crowley’s head turned into a snakes head. He hissed terribly loud in Sams face. All the color in the younger Winchester’s face drained,leaving him pale white. Dean,Jack and Castiel all had the same reaction. They stepped back a few feet. Aziraphale didn’t flinch.

“Now was that really necessary?”Aziraphale scolded.

“Yes it was.” Crowley said,now back to normal.”And that goes for each of you. Know your place.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. He turned his attention to the four who accompanied them.”I hope he didn't; startle you too much.”

Dean smiled.”Nah we’re okay. Sam and I have both seen the devils actual face. By this point nothing scares us.”

“Yeah.”Sam said. He was now standing next to his brother.

A woman dressed nicely walked up the hallway towards them. As she drew closer she asked if they needed help with anything. Crowley turned and said “Yes actually we do.”

“We’ll i’ll be happy to..oh dear! It’s Master Crowley.”she turned to leave but a snap of Crowley’s fingers made her freeze. She involuntarily turns around. The boys, the seraph and the nephilim watch Crowley and Aziraphale interrogate her.

“Would you mind answering a few questions, love?”

“Yes.”replied the woman, who was under a trance.

“Very well.”The Demon began.”Were you or were you not a nun here a few years ago?”

“Yes. My name was Sister Loquacious.”

“Ah yes I remember. Were you here during the night of the switch between the a baby and the antichrists son?”

“Yes. I was.”

“Excellent.” said Aziraphale.”Did you by any chance save the birth records before the convent was shut down?”

“Sadly no.” Said Mrs. Loquacious.”All of those files were lost in the fire. Oddly the fire started the same night we were all let go. As if someone said they no longer needed the convent and everything inside of it.”

“DAMMIT!” shouted Crowley. “DAMMIT DAMMIT DAMMIT!”

“Thank you very much ma’am.”Aziraphale said. He snapped his fingers, pulling her out of the trance. By the time she assimilated what had happened, the six were already gone.

________________________________________________________________

The car ride home wasn’t pleasant. Crowley wouldn’t stop complaining about his bad luck. The boys were actually impressed with Aziraphale. Crowley would cuss and shout but Aziraphale would always respond to him calmly. Thanks to him the car ride was tolerable.It was also thanks to him that the car now had enough room for everyone. Sam,Dean and Was road in the middle. Jack rode in the extension back seat behind them. Aziraphale had whipped it up with a simple eye blink.

The angel and the demon were so distracted by their conversation that they didn't notice the bike rider coming towards them.

“I need a good long bath followed by a nap to help me get over all this disappointment. Is there any chance you can house Castiel and Dean tonight?”

“I was going to offer anyway. There’s plenty of space where I live to accommodate them.”

“Good.” Crowley sighed loudly.”I still don’t see a silver lining in our situation.”

“How about we play music to help with the stress. Sound good boys.”

“I wouldn’t mind listening to the rest of that Guns n’ Roses album.” Dean said.”Let’s just try not to play it so loudly. Sam and Jack are asleep.”

“Okay. Just press that button right there Aziraphale.” Crowley pointed to the button he was talking about. In that second he took his eyes off the road.

“CROWLEY WATCH OUT!” Castiel screamed. But it was too late. The front of the Bentley struck the bike rider. She was thrown a few feet away into the grass. Aziraphale and Castiel ran out to aid her. She groaned as Aziraphale lifted up her wrist.It was broken.

“Ah ah.”Aziraphale warned.”Try not to move sweetheart. You’ll only make it worse. I’ll fix that up right away.” The second she could move her wrist she gasped in surprise.

“How did you do that?” She asked.

“No time for that. Let us help you to your feet.”

Castiel held her steady by the elbow.”Does anything else hurt,miss?”

“No. My head hurts a little but i’ll be okay.”

“Let us give you a ride home.” Aziraphale offered.

“That would be great, thank you.”

From inside the Bentley Crowley protested.”Nope.No no way.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just having a bad day.Get inside now. Watch your head” She helped her into the car.She took a seat next to Jack.

“Aziraphale.” said Castiel.”Her bike. It wont fit in the car.”

“It will fit in the bike rack.”

“What bike rack?” The bicycle disappeared from in front of Crowley. It was now safe placed on the back of the Bentley in a bike rack that hadn’t been there before. Both the angel and the seraph got back into the car. When they asked the girl where too she gave directions to her house in a village not that far away. They road in silence. It was at this moment that the girl placed the book on the floor by her feet. She didn’t realize it then, but there was another book right next to hers.

The car pulled around the side of her house, stopping at her gate. When she stepped out of the car her bike was already against the fence of her house. She thanked the strange men for the lift, reached in and grabbed what she thought was her book, and closed the door. The car drove off without a glance.

________________________________________________________________ Crowley was kind enough to leave them in front of Aziraphale’s book shop. This place doubled as the angels home. Not that Aziraphale slept or anything. In the back room where his personal belongings were,the angel had set up mattresses on the floor. He felt absolutely ashamed of it.

“I do apologize for this last minute set up. I don’t own a bed frame. And if I were to whip 3 up there will be no space for us to walk.”

“No it’s okay.” Castiel smiled.”What you’ve done is really nice.”

“Yeah.” Dean said.”I like it. They look comfy. It kinda looks like a sleep over.”

Sam would have agreed but he was already asleep in his mattress. The warm blankets wrapped around him. Jack was sitting upright on his mattress having a panic attack. Aziraphale looked at him worriedly.”Everything okay,son?”

“No.” Said Jack as he stood up and walked towards the angel.”No everything isn’t fine. This book isn’t my book. My book was Sherlock Holmes. Not this. I lost it Aziraphale. I lost your book. I’m so so so sorry! I’ll pay for it. I’ll find a way to get money and pay for it. I’m really sorry-“

“Hey hey whoa.” The angel put his hands firmly on Jacks shoulder.”You don’t owe me anything. I was going to give you that book as a present. This book that you have was probably unintentionally switched. It belongs to the young woman we gave a ride to tonight. You didn’t meet her because you were sleeping. Here.” He took the book out of Jacks hands.”I’ll mail this back to her in the morning. By now she probably knows the book she has isn’t hers. She seemed kind enough,perhaps she’ll return it to my mailing address.If not then I will let you have any other book in my shop free of charge. It’s quite alright son. Don’t worry about it a second more. Now go to sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

Jack thanked the angel plenty. He hugged him before turning and getting under the blankets. Next to him Dean and Sam slept soundly. Aziraphale turned to Castiel and whispered.”Care for some hot cocoa?”

“I don’t..I..” Castiel gave in.” I would love some.”

“Let’s go talk in another room so the boys can sleep properly. They need there rest for tomorrow.”

Castiel followed Aziraphale out into the main bookshop entrance. It suddenly dawned on the angel that he didn’t see what book Sherlock Holmes had been switched with. He lifted the book to eye level and read the front cover. There was a catch in his breath. Lowly he whispered.”On dear god.” When the Seraph asked what was wrong, Aziraphale said nothing. Instead,he showed Castiel the front cover of the book. “The nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter.”

“Our answer is in here.” Aziraphale breathed out. A smile creeping on his face.

** authors note**

There might be typos. I’ll fix that tomorrow (: enjoy! And stay tuned for part 3.

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tinsley-goldsworth · 5 years

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is this the real life? or is this just fantasy?

Summary: crowley and shane had been friends ever since they became demons and when ryan finds out, he’s extremely confused and terrified, to say the least

read on ao3!

Wc: 2514

Crowley and Shane had been best friends ever since they became demons. Fallen angels were usually filled with too much vengeance and anger to make friends when first entering hell but with their similar sarcastic humor and cynicism, Crowley and Shane became fast friends. Ironically, they both happened to be the two demons sent to watch over Earth, for different purposes of course. Crowley was sent to ensure that Armageddon would occur smoothly while Shane was sent by the department of management of otherworldly effects and inspection of human activity regarding such.

Throughout the years, Crowley and Shane only met once or twice a century, depending on how violent wars were in the current era. Whenever they met, Crowley would always complain about how oblivious Aziraphale, an angel who was also sent to supervise the occurrence of Armageddon, was and how no matter how hard he tried to flirt with that angel, he never seemed to pick up on signals. Frankly, Shane felt like he was witnessing a six-thousand-year romantic comedy with all the hilariously sappy updates Crowley offered. While Crowley was busy running around wreaking havoc and chasing after Aziraphale’s heart, Shane didn’t have much to do other than make sure that people didn’t go around performing enough Satanic rituals to tear open a vortex to hell.

As intelligent as some humans were, some humans were extremely dumb and fooled around with Satanic rituals and joked about holy water so Shane had to deal with those idiots to make sure nothing dangerous would happen. There wasn’t too much to worry about until the witch trial craze and rituals and human interference with otherworldly beings increased and Shane kept himself busy. Once that died down, Shane got a bit of a break before cameras were invented and people began spreading tales of catching demons and gathering evidence to prove there were creatures other than the ones humans were familiar with. Shane managed to get some of these rumors to die down with his sharp cynicism and logical remarks that made people question if they really saw what they think they saw. He also got rid of some evidence of his fellow demons and finally felt like he had solved the problem of these pesky humans poking their noses around in demons’ business.

Unfortunately for Shane, his job on Earth wasn’t done yet as some guy by the name of Ryan Bergara created a show about proving demons, other supernatural beings, and ghosts were real. And even worse, the show was rapidly gaining popularity so Shane couldn’t just wipe the show off the internet and expect people to not be suspicious. So, Shane booked the first flight to Los Angeles and applied for a job at Buzzfeed. He became fast friends with everybody in the office, including Ryan and he convinced Brent, the co-host on the show, to drop his role and pursue his other dreams of filmmaking. Soon, Shane became the new Buzzfeed Unsolved co-host. Ryan has caught some compelling evidence on camera but Shane always made sure to have scientific evidence to back up his rebuttals. Unexpectedly, Shane also gained popularity on the internet for his witty remarks and banter on the show and fans of the show began to suspect that he was a demon based on circumstantial evidence that could easily be refuted.

Shane and Ryan had just finished filming another season of Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural when Armageddon occurred. Or rather, it did, then it didn’t. Pretty soon, the internet had a new conspiracy to chew on, and Ryan was convinced by internet forums that Armageddon had occurred and almost started writing up another episode on that event. Shane managed to steer Ryan away from that path and he could tell that Ryan was starting to get suspicious.

After Armageddon, Shane decided to meet up with Crowley again at Aziraphale’s bookstore now that Aziraphale had finally realized that his love for Crowley was requited and Crowley didn’t want to spend a second without Aziraphale within a one-mile radius. Since Shane and Ryan happened to be in London after just wrapping up filming the last couple of supernatural episodes, it was easy for him to slip away with the excuse that he was visiting an old friend.

As Shane pushed opened the door of the bookshop, Crowley was already waiting for him in a large plush chair with a book in hand. His legs were dangling over the armrest on the chair and as he looked up to meet Shane’s eyes, he sat up properly, swinging his legs around to rest them where they were supposed to be. “Well if it isn’t Shane Madej.”

“Crowley, how have you been? Hi Aziraphale,” Shane greeted the angel as he walked into the room, holding two cups of coffee and placing them on the small coffee table. Aziraphale offered a small smile before disappearing to the back of the bookshop, giving Shane and Crowley privacy to talk.

“Good, good. Life with Aziraphale has been great. How are things with you?” Crowley asked as he put down the book and gently held the cup of coffee, taking a sip of the hot liquid. He crossed his legs and leaned forward in his seat.

“Good. I’ve kept Ryan from interfering with our business too much. You know, he’s the one who created that show on YouTube and chases after ghosts and stuff,” Shane carefully lifted his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a small sip to find that it was burning hot, just as he liked it.

“I thought YouTube was just for cat videos. So, have you settled in with Ryan yet?” Crowley downed the last of his coffee and set down the cup on the coffee table. He leaned back into the chair, sinking down as he rested his hands against the back of his head.

“Oh, we’re just friends. I did fall in love though,” Shane smiled as he thought about his girlfriend and Crowley raised his eyebrows, silently urging him to share more. He took another sip of coffee before continuing. “Her name is Sara and we moved in together. We’ve been dating for about 5 years and we have a cat named Obi. She also works at Buzzfeed so I get to see her really often.”

“She sounds so sweet! Do you mind if I take off my sunglasses? It’s getting a bit dark in here,” Crowley asked and Shane nodded, placing down his cup of coffee as well.

“I might as well take off my contacts. I’ve been wearing these too much nowadays since having red eyes isn’t socially acceptable anymore,” Shane sighed and took out his brown contacts, blinking his red eyes as Crowley took off his dark sunglasses to reveal his yellow, snake-like eyes. Now, up to this point, Shane and Crowley had no idea that they were being watched by Ryan Bergara.

Ryan had a feeling that something was off with Shane ever since he met Shane. For example, Shane was able to control his emotions scarily well and he seemed to never be scared of anything. Lately, Shane has been acting more weird than usual and the last straw in convincing Ryan that Shane was a demon was how he abruptly steered Ryan away from making an episode about Armageddon. When Shane made an excuse about leaving to visit a friend, Ryan followed him. He watched Shane enter into the bookshop from the front and snuck in through the back, managing to sneak past the bookshop owner.

Ryan had been watching Crowley and Shane talk about their lives as if they hadn’t caught up in decades from behind a bookshelf. The conversation had been relatively normal, up until the point when Shane revealed his red eyes and Crowley flashed his snake-like ones. This scared Ryan so much that he jumped out from his hiding spot with a small bottle of holy water, pointing it at the two demons.

“Freeze! I have holy water and I’m not afraid to use it!” Both demons froze in place and turned around to see Ryan pointing the bottle of holy water at their faces. His eyes were wide with fear and his hands were visibly shaking.

“You don’t want to use that,” Crowley warned and his eyes flashing with doubt and disapproval as Ryan slowly inched his way towards him and Shane. He didn’t seem too worried that Ryan would randomly use the water without being provoked but still kept a bit of caution.

“Are you both demons? Shane, what is going on?” Ryan asked with fear gripping the edge of his words. He didn’t know what the procedure was to get rid of demons via holy water so he prayed that he wouldn’t have to use it.

“Oh, Crowley, this is Ryan. Ryan, this is Crowley, an old friend of mine. And we are totally not demons,” Shane deadpanned, a mischievous grin on his face. Even when Shane knew that he could get hurt by the holy water, he couldn’t help but inject some of his classic sarcasm into the conversation. Ryan’s eyes widened and he took a giant step forward, still holding the bottle of holy water.

“You’re kidding,” Ryan stated with a questioning tone in his voice. He narrowed his eyes with suspicion as he kept slowly advancing towards Shane and Crowley.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re both demons. Congrats, you caught us!” Shane admitted, realizing that there was literally no other excuse that could cover up the truth this time. Ryan was so shocked by the fact that he was correct that he almost dropped his holy water.

“Ha! I knew it! I was right all along! I knew you were a demon! No human could ever create something as terrible as the Hot Daga!” Ryan exclaimed gleefully as his initial fear started to recede. However, he still maintained a firm grip on the bottle of holy water.

“Hey! You know, some people actually enjoy watching the Hot Daga. In fact, I’m going to start another season during the post-mortem! Everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing,” Shane responded defiantly and Crowley glanced at the two, very clearly confused by whatever they were discussing.

“Sorry, what did you just say about a corn and a hot dog now?” Crowley asked, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Ryan glanced over at him and noticed the strange tattoo on the side of his face, and as he opened his mouth to ask about it, Aziraphale walked into the room with a pot of coffee, oblivious to the strange interactions that were occurring.

“I brought some more coffee for you two and-” Aziraphale paused when he saw Ryan and fear flashed in Ryan’s eyes again. “Oh dear, Crowley, you didn’t tell me more people were coming! Should I bring an extra cup?”

“Who are you? Are you a demon too?” Ryan turned around, pointing the bottle of holy water at the angel menacingly. Aziraphale didn’t seem to be fazed at all by Ryan’s paranoia and smiled in response to his reaction.

“Of course not. On the contrary, I’m an angel.” Aziraphale poured coffee into the empty cups before pressing a quick kiss on Crowley’s cheek. Crowley blushed furiously but broke into a giant grin. If Ryan wasn’t so enthralled by the fact that he was talking to two demons and an angel after spending years of trying to prove that supernatural forces existed in the world, he would have found the brief but affectionate interaction adorable.

“Wait, hold up. So, angels and demons exist? In this world?” Ryan must’ve looked really shell shocked as he took a seat in an empty chair, eyes wide with disbelief. He couldn’t process the fact that he was correct all along and Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged knowing looks, clearly having dealt with humans who had unexpectedly found out what they were before. “I definitely need to write up an episode for Unsolved for this.”

“That is if you still remember this in the morning,” Shane replied with a smirk on his face and before Ryan could ask what he meant, Shane snapped his fingers and everything faded to black.

Ryan woke up the next morning with a noisy headache and he groaned as he rolled over in his bed, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a generous gulp of the water. He sat up in his bed and looked around the dim hotel room, wondering why he couldn’t remember half of yesterday. Ryan could only recall asking Shane where he was heading out to but couldn’t remember anything else after that. Shane was already up and dressed, and he was sitting at the desk, his eyes trained on his laptop, presumably working.

“Hey Shane, what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything and I have the worst headache,” Ryan pressed his fingers to his temple, hoping that would relieve the pain. Shane swiveled around in his chair to face Ryan, his warm, brown eyes magnified by his glasses.

“You had a really bad headache when I went to visit some friends and when I came back, you were already asleep. You’ve been working too hard,” Shane answered nonchalantly and returned back to staring at his laptop screen. Ryan was unconvinced but the story Shane offered would explain the headache and gap in his memory. He decided that he was convinced and got up from bed, the headache slowly receding. By the time he, Shane, and the Buzzfeed Unsolved crew got to the airport and were waiting to board their flight back to Los Angeles, the headache was gone.

Ryan forgot about that strange headache until they were filming the first post-mortem for the new Buzzfeed Unsolved Supernatural season. After Shane and Ryan finished answering all the questions they chose, Shane went to his Google docs app and Ryan knew that he was screwed. Just as Ryan finished the outro, Shane immediately began, “I would now like to-”

“I thought you weren’t doing a new season of this horrible little cartoon of yours,” Ryan dropped his head in his hands, letting out an exasperated sigh. Shane paused and grinned, staring directly into the camera.

“Well everybody wants to know how their favorite holographic lesbian corn is doing so I just had to continue this thrilling saga!” Shane continued on to read the story from his phone and Ryan frowned as he tried to remember where he heard that same specific phrase from. Suddenly, memories of the afternoon before his headache in London spottily flashed back in Ryan’s mind in fragments. He remembered seeing Shane with red eyes and his friend’s yellow, snake-like eyes. The words “angel” and “demon” were floating around with those memories, and Ryan was pulled out of his memories and back into reality.

Nobody in the comments section pointed out Ryan’s disturbed look as that was generally the look he always wore during the Hot Daga and since Shane was still loudly reading his story, Ryan could only sit and wonder if what he just remembered was a vivid fantasy or reality.

check out my bfu fics by clicking the link in my profile :)

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maonethedwarf · 4 years

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REC AU snippet

this is another snippet from a fic that I was planning to write last year before I abandoned it.

„Are you scared, angel?“ Aziraphale winced at the way the demon addressed him. His reaction didn’t go amiss and the creature made a gurgling noise that Aziraphale assumed was supposed to be a laugh.

“Do you think your acquaintance will run to your aid when I rip those wings off?“ The creature raised its bony hands towards the ghost of Aziraphale’s wings. They weren’t there, he knew it, but the motion still made him shudder, he slapped the hands away and took a rather large step back. It was a pathetic gesture that only cemented the demon’s mockery.

„Don’t be afraid,“ the demon smiled fondly, oblivious to its sizzling skin from Aziraphale’s touch,“you like demons, came to me with one after all.“

Aziraphale started backing out. The demon copying his every step like it’s a dance.

„He’s putting an awful lot of effort into keeping them off of you, smell that?“ The demon sniffed the air.“Children have such an intense aroma in hellfire, you don’t get a lot of those down there.“

Aziraphale barely dodged the first strike, shelves of various bottles shattering behind him as he stumbled out of the way of the falling objects. Visibility in the apartment was awful to begin with, but with a demon that could move as fast as it did, he didn’t stand much of a chance. Aziraphale frantically searched the poorly lit room, looking for something he could use as a weapon against the demon, he didn’t have claws or anything of the sort as his enemy did. Papers and other documents went flying as the angel’s hands ran over the surface beneath it, hoping to find something sharp or pointy, or whatever you could shove between someone’s eyes at would stay in there.

His hand finally bumped against something, his fingers closed around the item without second thought and sensing the demon right behind him once again, Aziraphale blindly and violently shoved the item, which turned out to be a needle, behind him. A loud screeching noise followed the motion as Aziraphale felt the needle bury itself deep within the demon’s damaged human husk, at the same time the angel felt a searing pain in his arm as the demon’s claws buried in his flesh.

The sudden flash of pain made him cry out and release his temporary weapon as he stumbled forward, craddling the injured limb against his chest.

„You’re making this awfully difficult,“ the demon tutted,“I can’t be killed, all you’re doing is just damaging the poor girl’s vessel.“

Aziraphale flexed his arm, wincing while it slowly knitted back together. He’s used up too much energy prior to this, healing was going to be complicated.

„No more than what you’ve done to it already, I’m afraid.“

The demon hit him hard and flung him across the room, more shelves shattered and Aziraphale was showered in shards of broken glass. The angel winced as the shards cut his skin at the slightest movement. Before he could get up, he was yanked upwards by his hair and shoved against a wall.

„Let’s see how long that smugness sticks, angel,“ the creature growled and Aziraphale felt one of its sharp claws slowly and agonizingly push through the skin of his throat, drawing blood.

His eyes widened in panic, he could feel his body slowly but surely growing heavier as it weakened. He heard the wet drip of his own blood beneath his feet and he was terrified.

Aziraphale died before, he wasn’t foreign to the feeling of losing his body, it wasn’t something you’d forget once it happened. Both he and Crowley went through that experience and each time it made them even more cautious of what they put their bodies through than before. Aziraphale hasn’t experienced death in more than five hundred years. What if the demon possesses his body after it kills him? What if it uses it to kill Crowley-

Da Mihi Virtutem Dei

As Clara regained consciousness, she was hit with the smell of burning flesh, she gagged and groggily covered her nose. There was a scream and the sound of body hitting the ground, Clara looked up to see two figures on the other side of the room, one laid on the ground, smoke coming off of the body as if it was just on fire, the other leaning over it.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw Zira.

Zira who was still very much alive and standing over what looked like to be corpse of their attacker.

„Is it dead?“ she rasped.

Zira’s attention snapped to her, and he quickly rushed over to help her up.

„Are you alright, dear?“ he asked softly, checking her over.

„I’m fine,“ she shrugged him off,“How did you kill it?“ she eyed the body on the ground, smoke still heavily coming off of it.

„I, ah-„ he turned back to the body. When he did so, Clara saw two large tears in the coat on his back. The ripped edges blackened as if the fabric was burnt off. She reached out to touch it and as soon as the tip of her finger made contact, Zira swiftly turned back to her and took a step away, a horrified expression on his face.

She looked at her stained fingers and rubbed them together.

Soot.

„It’s nothing,“he said quietly.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #aziraphale

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imaginaryelle · 5 years

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On Aziraphale and “I’m soft”

I was talking with @irisbleufic about differences between show! and book!Aziraphale, and especially about the line “I’m soft” in the show, because it really threw me for a loop, but the reblog chain contracted some incredibly odd formatting, so this is a hopefully more-comprehensible version:

@imaginaryelle: random but re: Aziraphale's show characterization vs book: I enjoy both, but they are so, so different in weird ways and when I rewatch the show I'm just left with dissonance & wondering WHY that change happened. The "I'm soft" line struck me the hardest, because I have literally never thought of Aziraphale as soft. Not emotionally. The closest to the book we got was maybe the french executioner? But then he just ignores the implication. The show version feels almost unfinished, as a character.

@irisbleufic: I mean, Aziraphale is physically soft, no question, but in any other sense? Whoa, nope. Not unless you count how soft he is for Crowley once he gets put through the wringer of a failed apocalypse and unlearns some of those rude, holier-than-thou tidbits he says to Crowley from time to time. I mean, he’s soft for Crowley before their ordeal, but the ordeal is what adjusts (and hopefully eradicates) his prejudice. I’ve always found the whole “I can’t expect you to know what love feels like” thing remarkably callous, and the fact that Crowley gets cut off before he can say what his perception of a great sense of love is like just…ugh, I’ve always loved that moment so, so much, because it’s quite a perfect encapsulation of this entire disconnect between book characterization / miniseries characterization that we’re talking about:

“Odd,” muttered the angel, “I keep getting these flashes of, of…” He raised his hands to his temples.“What? What?” said Crowley. Aziraphale stared at him.“Love,” he said. “Someone really loves this place.” “Pardon?” “There seems to be this great sense of love. I can’t put it any better than that. Especially not to you.” “Do you mean like—” Crowley began. There was a whirr, a scream, and a clunk. The car stopped. [Enter Anathema, etc.]

@imaginaryelle: Yes, yes, I love that moment too! Okay, it took a bit longer than I hoped but I finally got my thoughts in order on this, and it ended up way longer and more like an essay than I originally thought it would, but I really enjoyed playing with it so I hope you enjoy it too.

Yes, absolutely Aziraphale is physically soft. He’s even described exactly that way by Shadwell (“the soft one in the camelhair coat”), and it seems to be pretty clearly about his appearance and presentation. Shadwell thinks Aziraphale is gay, fastidious (tries not to touch anything in the WFA headquarters) and an easier mark than Crowley, though he still finds the idea of threatening him “terribly risky.” We also have Aziraphale’s plump hands in the gun conversation at Tadfield Manor and the Compline reference too. But those and the intelligent/English/gay footnote are actually the only description of him I can find in the text. The only reference to height is that snake!Crowley has to look up at him, but that doesn’t tell us much. Which was surprising to find, because I had thought there was a little more than that, but yes. Physically Aziraphale is soft and I love that about him.

On a non-physical level, yes, exactly, in the book Aziraphale is extremely callous. Quite often. It actually surprised me, going back through my notes, how rarely he’s portrayed as anything else, but I think it does overall build a picture of him that, to me, has always been pretty immovable. I’ve never really been able to set aside that Aziraphale is, as Crowley says, a bastard. And he’s fairly thoughtless about it a lot of the time. He’s offhandedly pretty harsh on Crowley on a number of occasions, most of which got really toned down in the show. There’s the conversation about love, yes, which got especially confused in the show (the presentation made it seem like Aziraphale was talking about the Manor rather than all of Tadfield and they didn’t follow up on it well, and then it’s further muddled by the stain-miracle interaction). I would love to read pretty much anything on the subject of what Crowley was going to say there and how things are different for demons, because mmmmm, world building, and of course I love Crowley too.

But back to Aziraphale: there’re other callous remarks to Crowley too. In their very first interaction we have this:

“Yes, but you’re a demon. I’m not sure if it’s actually possible for you to do good,” said Aziraphale. “It’s down to your basic, you know, nature. Nothing personal, you understand.”

And then, when Crowley keeps on with his “but what is it about, really” line of conversation:

“Best not to speculate, really,” said Aziraphale. “You can’t second-guess ineffability, I always say. There’s Right, and there’s Wrong. If you do Wrong when you’re told to do Right, you deserve to be punished. Er.”

Like, here, let me just rub your face in the Fall for a second. You can’t help your basic nature but also you deserve punishment. Ouch. (And this is not in the show. In the show he references Crowley’s being a demon as related to “[making trouble] is what you do” and has what looks like a pretty disturbing experience watching his gift of kindness result in the immediate death of a lion by flaming sword.)

It’s implied book!Aziraphale is embarrassed about having said that, but he doesn’t actually change his tune. He brings up the “you’re a demon” thing twice more, both in situations where it’s clear he thinks he has the moral high ground, because of course he does, he’s an angel. (book!Aziraphale is less openly doubtful of Heaven’s rightness until closer to the end, I think.) In contrast, throughout the show it’s often Crowley who reminds Aziraphale that he’s a demon, and thus not nice, not forgivable and not to be thanked while Aziraphale maintains that Crowley is a good person. For another example, book!Aziraphale, in the wake of failing to find records of Adam at the manor, has zero reaction to Crowley’s fear, and Crowley is pretty obviously freaking out:

“What are we going to do now?”

“Try and get some sleep.”

“You don’t need sleep. I don’t need sleep. Evil never sleeps, and Virtue is ever-vigilant.”

“Evil in general, maybe. This specific part of it has got into the habit of getting its head down occasionally.” [Crowley] stared into the headlights. The time would come soon enough when sleep would be right out of the question. When those Below found out that he, personally, had lost the Antichrist, they’d probably dig out all those reports he’d done on the Spanish Inquisition and try them out on him, one at a time and then all together.

He rummaged in the glove compartment, fumbled a tape at random, and slotted it into the player. A little music would …

… Bee-elzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me …

“For me,” murmured Crowley. His expression went blank for a moment. Then he gave a strangled scream and wrenched at the on-off knob.

“Of course, we might be able to get a human to find him,” said Aziraphale thoughtfully.

“What?” said Crowley, distractedly.

And shortly after this, of course, Aziraphale finds the Book and just leaves when Crowley’s trying to confirm they’re still on the same side. In the show, this interaction doesn’t even happen. Crowley’s annoyed that they can’t find anything, but he’s not scared, and Aziraphale’s idea about using human operatives and his discovery of the book are split across several scenes and a fair chunk of time passing. Tv!Crowley watches him go into his shop into a sort of confused way, where book!Crowley is “feeling very alone” after not getting a real answer to two questions in a row.

In the show, lines like the Eden dialogue and “Crowley, do something, I’m the good one,” and “I don’t even like you” etc, are heavily offset by a wider range of scenes showing how obviously in love Aziraphale is, with both Crowley and with Earth. His love of food and clothes, his obvious joy in dancing, the adoration in his expression over and over when he looks at Crowley, and the pain in his face when they fight. And when he says “I’m soft,” after his jogging conversation with Gabriel, I didn’t get the impression he was talking about physically, even thought that’s what Gabriel was talking about. To me, that line sounded a lot more like “I don’t like conflict and unpleasantness, I’m too nice, I care too much, I’m a soft touch.” And for tv!Aziraphale this seems largely true. We see a lot of his softness, on an emotional and philosophical level, and a lot of investment in both Earth and Crowley. But the book only gives us little clues towards that. Mostly in little Earth details Crowley brings up while trying to convince him to influence the Antichrist, or notes about his learning the gavotte/helping with book translations/ those lines of, He ought to tell Crowley. No, he didn’t. He wanted to tell Crowley. He ought to tell Heaven, directly after which he admits to himself they have more in common with each other than respective sides.

The show also completely cuts out some of his more oblivious caustic-ness towards other people. Tv!Aziraphale watches that French executioner go to death in his place without any apparent care, and he stands by as terrible things happen (the flood, the crucifixion, even Armageddon in the start), but he worries about it more. He’s not smug about it, he’s concerned that maybe—maybe this isn’t right, even though it’s Heaven doing it. In both versions he seems to tell himself that any time something really bad is happening, it’s some one else’s fault and he can’t really do anything. But for all that he admonishes Crowley about not wanting to help Anathema and hypnotizing Mary Hodges, book!Aziraphale is quite smug (“We’ll win, you know”/ evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction/[..] and everyone knew Heaven would win in the end –literally there are two times “smug” is used in the book and they’re both about Aziraphale) and he’s pretty blithe about the use of guns, terrorists freedom fighters, the idea of killing Adam (at least until Adam is in front of him), and just straight up saying that Heaven doesn’t really care about humans at all (most obviously when he’s speaking through the television evangelist while body-hopping). For me, the “softest” we ever see him is at the air base:

“There are humans here,” he said.

“Yes,” said Crowley. “And me.”

“I mean we shouldn’t let this happen to them.”

“Well, what-” Crowley began, and stopped.

“I mean, when you think about it, we’ve got them into enough trouble as it is. You and me. Over the years. What with one thing and another.”

And I agree that he really needs to go through this whole trial with Armageddon to realize that he might be a bit wrong, about himself and especially about Crowley, and also about Heaven, and that he can afford to be a bit more compassionate and considerate and ask a few more questions all around. It feels like he’s learning things about himself that Crowley figured out a long time ago (Crowley gets a lot more description and character insight than Aziraphale does), and I love that. But I also feel like tv!Aziraphale is approaching from the opposite direction. That what he learns from the whole ordeal is to be firmer. To take a stand and act with more confidence and conviction. Which feels really weird to me. I like them both, but I watch tv!Aziraphale awkwardly pick up the sword and tell Crowley to do something and it feels like a completely different story, because book!Aziraphale is the one who initiates doing something, and he’s dreamy when he picks up the sword. He muses about “the good old days” and sets it aflame on purpose, and reaches for Crowley’s hand. And Crowley feels “free at last.” Finally free of fear, not terrified and desperate, and he takes Aziraphale’s hand and they turn to face Satan together.

It’s a good moment that illustrates what they’ve accomplished internally, and I’m actually really disappointed it was changed for the show, and the emotional payoff shifted to their trials.

I suppose in the end all of this is to say: I miss Aziraphale, when I watch the series, and I miss that story. The one that ends in crystal clear moments of taking responsibility for who you are and the role you’ve played and knowing yourself better, and then doing something with that knowledge. The series is fun, it’s a love story, and those versions of Crowley and Aziraphale are enjoyable to watch, but they feel very much wrapped up in each other, reflecting each other. I’ll probably play in that universe a bit. But it doesn’t hit the same chords, and it doesn’t speak to me the same way the book does, and I think the softening of Aziraphale’s character plays a huge role in that.

#aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens #tv omens #good omens spoilers #irisbleufic

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

Text

Wait For You (Good Omens One-Shot)

Summary: An angsty songfic for these ineffable bastards. I’m bad at summaries but it’s much better than it sounds.

Word Count: 1.8k+

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26

Ask to be on my taglist! Let me know if it’s for a specific fandom(s) or not. All of my fandoms are in my bio.

Warning(s): general angst, swearing (I think)

Inspirations: Wait For You by Tom Walker, the fact that Good Omens is my new obsession and is promptly taking over ever waking moment of my life, Great Omens (The Big One) by falsepremise on AO3, A Lot Of Love And A Little Bit Dumb by LollipopCop on AO3, Only A Bad Dream by Bookwormgal on AO3, This Fanart by @whiteleyfoster

A/N: Yeah so I write for Good Omens now, what are you going to do about it? I have nothing else to say other than enjoy and please let me know what you thought because every single comment makes my day and that is not an exaggeration in the slightest.

“Angel, I-” Crowley’s voice broke before he could even think of what he was going to say, but there was something in the way the pearly eyes of the angel in question shot up to look at him, something that understood everything that Crowley himself didn’t.

Aziraphale had known that this was going to happen at some point, but that didn’t make him any more prepared for the conversation he knew they were about to have. He nodded deeply, taking great care to not show any hint of annoyance or irritation, knowing that consciously or not, Crowley was looking for any sign that told him his feelings weren’t valid and that he should shut up right there and then. He moved so that he was sitting opposite Crowley instead of straddling him, pulling him into a hug that almost glowed from the love he poured graciously into it. He took it gratefully, throwing his arms around Aziraphale’s neck and burying his face into the crook of his neck. He held onto him for dear life as he sobbed, trying to be as quiet as possible from instinct. The angel cradled the back of his head as he did so, the painful break in his heart deepening with each second that passed; he wasn’t sure if it was from the tiny sobs that escaped his mouth or the fact that they were barely audible. He didn’t even want to think about why he felt the need to stay silent.

Once he’d started, he just couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried. Every time he thought he had his emotions buried down, they would resurface when he was reminded of how soft Aziraphale was, and he meant that both figuratively and literally. He couldn’t silence the voice in his head that screamed at him that he didn’t deserve this he didn’t deserve this he didn’t deserve this, repeating over and over again like some morbid mantra.

Despite everything that he was, there was something inside of him, something fuzzy and warm and alien, something he hadn’t felt any remnant of since before the Fall. It terrified him because deep down he knew what it was. It was the sensation of butterflies in your stomach, and your heart racing at a greyhound’s speed, and the sinking realisation that hit you like a ton of bricks that you only got when it was far too late and you were in too deep. It was quite possibly the only thing that united each and every human on God’s green earth.

Love.

Or the closest thing a demon could experience. And that was exactly what terrified Crowley so much, demons couldn’t love, shouldn’t love. He knew that, Aziraphale knew that, everyone knew that. It was one of the only things both Heaven and Hell agreed on, and they were few and far between. For millennia, it had been cruelly drilled into his head, and everyone else’s heads for that matter. So how the Heaven could Aziraphale be so blind? His angel was oblivious at the best of times, but he wasn’t an idiot. Was he just playing dumb for the sake of a love that couldn’t happen? Or was this all some sick game, carefully fabricated to mess with the demon’s head?

But Crowley held on tighter to his angel and the squeeze he got in return destroyed all of those fears in an instant. How could he ever imagine Aziraphale being that cruel? Sweet Aziraphale who never questioned, just acted as he saw best. No, this wasn’t his fault.

“Crowley,” he murmured, voice soft as the nonchalant clouds above them but still managing to make Crowley flinch slightly. Aziraphale must have felt it for his next words were even gentler, even slower, “Darling, you need to talk to me so I can help you.”

Crowley swallowed thickly as he felt the tears begin to subside slightly, “What if you can’t help me, angel?”

Aziraphale pulled away so he could look him in the eyes, any remainders of his heart shattering when he was met with a despair so intense, he struggled to maintain eye contact. However, he persisted; he wasn’t going to give up on him that easily, “Don’t be silly,” he carefully stroked the side of his face, brushing his hair out of the way, “Of course I can help you. I might not be able to fix everything, but it’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“It’s not your problem to deal with, that wouldn’t be fair on you,” he cast his eyes down as he smiled sadly.

“It became my problem when I realised how much this was hurting you,” he said as firmly as he could without startling Crowley, “I can’t guarantee that I’ll understand, but we can figure this out together. You don’t have to be on your own.”

Even though he didn’t need it, he took a deep breath and, after a moment or two, he said, “This terrifies me, whatever this even is. We’re an angel and a demon, how is this ever going to work? I don’t want to put you in danger because I’m too selfish to stop this before it starts. Because if it does, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

“Who says this needs to be stopped?” he suggested.

“Heaven! Hell! I don’t know what they’ll do to you if they find out. For your sake, I can’t risk it.”

The angel shook his head at his defeated tone, “I don’t understand how you can call yourself selfish when you’re putting yourself through all this just to protect me,” he sighed, “You do realise that it scares me too, right?”

Crowley looked up at him in confusion, “You’re scared?”

“Of course I’m scared, darling,” he said sympathetically, “But that doesn’t mean I want to give this up,” he paused for a moment, “If you think about it, everything happens for a reason. The Almighty wouldn’t have let us bump into each other over and over again for millennia, and She wouldn’t have let us get to where we are now, if She didn’t want this to happen.”

“So, are you saying we were meant to be?” he raised an eyebrow sceptically, looking as though saying those words caused him a great deal of discomfort.

“Perhaps,” he shrugged, infinitely relieved that Crowley was starting to revert back to his usual self, “But there’s something else, isn’t there? I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. Something else is worrying you, what is it?”

Crowley found himself almost cursing Aziraphale’s intuition, but deep down he knew that he’d much rather do it this way than having to bring it up himself. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right, you almost always are.”

He let a small smile appear but quickly wiped it away, “What is it, darling? And take your time, I’m not going anywhere,” he added when he saw the hesitancy on Crowley’s face.

“I don’t deserve you,” he admitted quietly, “Whatever you’re trying to do for me, I’m not worth it.”

“Whoever told you that? Who’s made you feel like you’re not worthy of being loved…” he trailed off as the realisation sunk in. Maybe no one had ever outright told him he didn’t deserve good things, but the prejudice that Aziraphale himself had carried all these years, every little comment or snide remark; that amounted to a great deal. “Oh, Crowley, I’m so sorry-”

“No, no, no, no, no,” he rushed to assure him, pushing his own pain aside, “Angel, don’t apologise, it’s okay, you were right.”

“But I wasn’t right, Crowley,” he cried, “I’ve never been more wrong! Especially after everything you’ve been through, you deserve all the love in the world,” he paused for a moment before whispering, “I’m sorry that I ever made you feel like you were unworthy of being loved.”

“Angel…” he murmured as he felt the stinging tears well up in his golden eyes again, desperately trying to brush them away.

Aziraphale clasped his hand around Crowley’s wrist gently, bringing his hand away from his face and kissing it lightly, “That prejudice I carried, I promise that it was never really aimed at you. You’ve always been different, deep down I’ve known that since Eden. Something’s always been different about you. I haven’t quite been able to put my finger on it for a long time, but I know what it is now. What separates you from everyone I’ve ever met.”

“What is it?” he asked softly, listening intently to everything his angel had to say.

“Love, my dear. The love I sense from you isn’t quite like anything I’ve ever felt before, but it’s familiar somehow. Homely might be a better word for it,” he mused, more to himself than to anybody else.

His brows furrowed in confusion, “But I’m a demon,” he countered, stressing on the last word as if that explained everything perfectly, “Demons can’t love, I thought that was the whole point of – well, you know…” he said, leaving Aziraphale to fill in the blanks; the last thing he needed right now was to be reminded of The Fall.

“Yes, well, your aura says otherwise. I’ve no idea if it’s just you or not, but I think the important part is that it is you. You’ve had love in your soul for six thousand years, you’ve shown it every time you’ve stopped me from getting discorporated or just stopped by for lunch. I think that makes you deserving of being loved in return, don’t you?”

Crowley looked at him blankly for a second before coming to his senses, “You’re just saying that to try and make me feel better.”

“Am I? Well how about this,” he contemplated what he was about to impart for a second, “What if I was to tell you that I too have had that love for six thousand years? What would you say then?”

“You deserve the world, angel,” he said immediately.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I would feel the same way about you?”

Crowley didn’t say anything to that, his mind had completely given up on trying to conjure up a response or at least rationalising everything that he’d just heard. His head was at a loss but his heart? His heart was swelling with each passing second with love for the angel sat opposite him, so he did the only thing that made any sense at the time: he kissed him. It lacked the passion and the drive from earlier that evening, but adoration and a strange kind of relief stood in its place, towering above any other feeling he’d ever felt. It sealed the deal between the two of them, surrounding them with a love that shone brighter than Aziraphale’s own halo, that burned harder than the fire behind Crowley’s eyes, that beat louder than their hearts would if they had them, synchronised and perfectly in time with one another. It was the bond that had kept their souls intertwined since that first conversation in the Garden of Eden. It was an all-encompassing love that almost made anything in its near vicinity bask in its glow, warm and welcoming and oh-so-familiar.

It was the overwhelming realisation of yes, this is where I’m meant to be, this is what I’ve been searching for.

It was home.

#good omens #good omens angst #good omens imagine #good omens headcanon #good omens one-shot #aziraphale #aziraphale imagine #aziraphale headcanon #aziraphale one-shot #crowley #crowley headcanon #crowley imagine #crowley one-shot #ineffable husbands

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eightdoctor · 5 years

Note

A/C + 14 for the fic meme! :)

things you said after you kissed me

Crowley’s pupils were blown wide. It wasn’t very snakelike of him, but he’d seen a cat’s eyes do it once, their pupils dilate at almost every stimulus, and that had been that. Golden irises were quickly overtaken by black that twinkled in tandem with the dim candlelight. He didn’t know why Aziraphale had insisted on having candles in his bookshop considering how flammable everything was-- and Heaven, the building had already burned down once, but he was quite glad about it now; candles made some rather nice mood lighting.

Aziraphale’s lips separated from his. They had been soft and plump, much like the rest of him. Crowley stood, staring, as Aziraphale smiled. He swallowed. The angel was quite good at that. Kissing.

“You’re quite good at that, for an angel,” Crowley breathed. “Kissing.”

“Well,” Aziraphale replied defensively, straightening his bowtie, “I’ve had a lot of practice in the area. Much like you, I’m sure.”

Crowley blinked. “What?”

“I’ve kissed other people before, Crowley.”

“What?” Crowley said again. He couldn’t find many other words in his vernacular, at present.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised. We’re not all that different--”

“I’ve not,” Crowley interrupted, mind reeling through the entirety of the English language at once. “I’ve not, kissed anyone before.”

Aziraphale paused at that. He was in the midst of straightening his waistcoat, his hands frozen on his lapels. “But,” he reasoned, “but you’re a demon. You do that sort of thing. Lust, you know.”

“That was never really...my area,” Crowley said. His heart had stopped beating, literally; he was too shocked to keep it going. “Who?”

Aziraphale looked like he was thinking about a lot of things at once. “What?”

“Who have you...practiced on?” there was another feeling nestled in his ribcage next to his frozen heart. All bitter. Jealousy.

“Oh, let me think,” Aziraphale said, oblivious to Crowley’s inner turmoil, “Oscar Wilde, Walt Whitman, Herman Melville, Shakespeare, Petronius--”

Crowley’s eyes widened minutely with every name on the list, until they were outright gaping. “Petronius?!” he exclaimed.

Aziraphale finally might have gotten the hint that Crowley was not as nonchalant about this as he was. “Well, dear, oysters are a, well, an aphrodisiac, and when we’d gone out that one night to try them in Rome - remember? - you’d left rather suddenly, and I was sort of...left there, and Petronius seemed nice enough, so...” he trailed off. “You’ve seriously never kissed anyone?”

“No!” Crowley cried out, “I was rather focused on - on other things.”

Aziraphale stepped closer to Crowley, hand reaching up to caress his cheek gently. “Like what?” he prompted.

“Like you.” Crowley said quickly, as if he were afraid that if he waited any longer, he’d never say it.

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn for the entirety of his vocabulary to fly right out the window. “What?”

“You. I’ve been waiting for this, for, for you.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. “How,” he stuttered, “how long, dear?”

“Forever, ever since Eden.”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “Oh, I, I’ve been a bit of a fool, haven’t I?”

Crowley didn’t do anything, didn’t say anything. Aziraphale filled his silence with rambling.

“It’s just - oh, Crowley - it’s just that there were no rules in Heaven forbidding Angels and humans, erm, you know, but there were rules against Angels and Demons, and, well--”

“I get it, angel,” Crowley said softly, “you were scared.”

“Not anymore,” Aziraphale resolved, “never again. I shall have to make it up to you, I think. All this lost time.”

It was a lot of lost time, Crowley thinks, a lot of lost kisses. “That’s a lot of kisses, innit? 6,000 years worth.”

Aziraphale inhaled sharply as Crowley assigned their eternities a number. 6,000 years. That’s how long it’s been. “Doesn’t matter. We have a lot of time,” Aziraphale pulled Crowley closer, “We have forever.”

“Then kiss me again, for Someone’s sake,” Crowley whispered.

And so he did.

#this got away from me.#also its probably NOT what you wanted buthk jfgmnkjbm #in which aziraphale fucks his way through history #anonymous #my writing #good omens #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #crowley

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macabretrees · 5 years

Text

Title: Reprimand A/N: Read here on ao3 @diversetolkien Summary: When Aziraphale makes an offhanded comment about snakes and their eyes, Crowley takes it to heart. Upon realizing what he's done, Aziraphale moves to make amends. or Crowley is insecure about a lot of things--his eyes included. Unfortunately, Aziraphale forgets this when comforting a girl who is terrified by a snake toy.

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It wasn't often that Crowley enjoyed his time outside. There was something about the wide outdoors that made him feel exposed. The demon couldn't put his finger on it, but his kind didn't do the light. Not when they'd waged an entire war trying to escape it, and not when they bore the scars of the Fall as plain as day.

Crowley wore the glasses to cover his and had unintentionally evolved the gesture into covering his entire body. He kept to himself often, drew his posture in, and hunched his shoulders. He kept away from people--too close and they'd see his eyes, or smell the burning, or notice the way he leaned too freely like a snake or stayed still like a statue.

And when he had to be in public, it was with Aziraphale. He bared it for Aziraphale. His angel who loved the light, who loved to be exposed, and who loved to be conversational (to the point of dragging Crowley along with him). Today was one of those days.

Between the ice-cream man and the friendly dog owners, Aziraphale had spoken to just about everyone in the park while Crowley lurked behind him. It was hard to make conversation with his partner when he'd given his full attention to the humans, but the demon wasn't too bothered. It was nice to watch Aziraphale interact with the very beings he was meant to protect. It was in his nature after all, and Crowley found himself leeching onto the angel's happiness.

Though today it was short-lived.

Aziraphale was midsentence in his conversation with a park worker about the different types of plants lining the walkway and their care when a child came ramming into his legs at full force. Crowley looked down slightly concerned but hid his gaze behind his glasses. He'd always had a soft spot for children, but this was better left to Aziraphale.

"Oh dear, little one, what on Earth is the matter?" Aziraphale, ever the angel, knelt down to the distraught child's level. She was a mess of tears and hiccups, though upon settling her eyes on the angel she seemed to calm. Crowley kept a distance away, just in case the little girl's gaze wandered.

The little girl, seemingly calm, managed to gather her stammering words and still her quivering lips, just long enough to say two words: "S-snake eyes!"

Aziraphale made to turn over his shoulder, the gesture barely noticeable to anyone accept Crowley. But the girl's whimpers reclaimed his attention, and Crowley's throat suddenly felt very tight. Not to mention, he felt guilty. It was he who caused humanity to fear snake after all.

"What on earth do you mean, little one? Have you seen a snake?" There was a slight edge in his voice, though barely audible to human ears. But Crowley didn't have to think twice to know what the angle worried about. Even with his shades on, at the right angle, the sun could--

"My-my brother g-got a t-toy that w-was a snake and h-he chased me a-around with it, and I-I got scared. It-its eyes were scary, l-like on a movie." Whatever calm Aziraphale had placed upon her seemed to disappear as she willed imaged of whatever movie had traumatized her back into her mind. Once more, she was a mess of tears and hiccups.

Though Crowley was happy. It hadn't been him.

"Oh dear one, come here." She threw herself onto the angle like a life source, her tiny arms trying to encircle his body. For someone who hated getting his clothes dirty, Aziraphale seemed little bothered by a crying child smothering her wet face in his jacket.

"They are ghastly things, aren't they dear. Bright and yellow, positively scary for one such as yourself."

The relief had withered away, and all that was left was a feeling of emptiness. Crowley felt more self-aware than he had in a long time. Bright and yellow? Ghastly? Was that really what Aziraphale thought of his eyes? A hopeful part of him wanted to believe otherwise, but the demonic part of him--the one that whispered uncertainties and insecurities in his ears, learned towards the more reasonable side. The girl hadn't even described what kind of eyes she'd seen, yet Aziraphale had just offered a description of his.

"Angel, I just realized I had some business I needed to attend to." He said with a slight hysteria in his voice, trying his absolute best to sound casual. And judging by the angel's pure obliviousness, he'd accomplished it.

"Crowley do you think you could wait? On top of being terrified this poor girl is lost. I was wondering if you could help me look for her brother! She says he's here."

"Oh, I don't know about that. With the ghastly, yellow eyes, maybe I wouldn't be the best person for the job."

Now there was a realization, and Aziraphale whipped his head around like he'd been slapped.

"I hadn't even realized, Crowley, oh goodness I didn't mean--" He was torn between leaving the girl alone and running after the demon, but ultimately his nature and Crowley's reprimand stayed his movements.

"It's alright, Aziprahle. You said what you needed to say, no use in arguing."

Whatever Aziraphale said, Crowley didn't hear. In a rush, he vacated the park.

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Aziraphale had nearly thrown himself into a mad frenzy searching for the demon. As soon as he'd relocated the little girl and her brother, and given the latter a stern scolding about teasing his sister, he'd made his way to his book shop. It had been a silly mistake, as there was no way Crowley would return to the shop. Not when Aziraphale had hurt him.

Now, his sanctuary of safety had been anything but. His largest insecurities had been spat in his face, and Aziraphale had been the cause of them all. He ran to the phone and dialed Crowely's number, waiting anxiously as the dial tone went on and on. With every ring, his heart plummeted, and when the phone went to voicemail, he stopped breathing.

The right thing to do was to hang up and wait, and while Aziraphale did the former he hesitated to do the latter. Crowley wanted to be alone. That much was obvious. But Aziraphale was selfish at his core, especially when it came to Crowley. What he'd done was inconsiderate and terrible, especially considering how insecure he knew Crowley was. And while Aziraphale meant no harm, his habit of running his mouth had hurt the one he loved the most.

Moreover, encroaching on his privacy would no doubt hurt him more. The angel sighed and redialed Croweley's number. When the phone went to voice mail, he did the proper thing and left a heartfelt message.

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The next day, Crowley stood awkwardly outside of the bookshop just as the sun settled in the sky. There weren't many people out, and they're certainly weren't many people out near the bookshop. According to its erratic hours, today it was closed. That said, Crowley had the key, and was invited to visit whenever he wanted.

However, the more he stood in silence, the more he thought that showing up was a bad idea. There was no telling how Aziraphale actually felt about him, and while he was initially devastated that his angel had found his eyes unappealing, making him uncomfortable would absolutely ruin Crowley.

Right, thought Crowley, best to count my losses and just go back to the flat. No use in c-

"Crowley?"

Just as he made to turn on his heel and disappear, the door swung open to reveal a rather dejected looking angel who's eyes seemed to brighten at the sight of Crowley. And while Crowley's heart jumped, he kept his expression schooled.

"Well do come in." Aziraphale broke the silence and stepped aside letting Crowley enter, and though the demon was hesitant he willed his body to move passed over the threshold. He showed himself to the sitting room as usual, though he stood awkwardly before he took his typical seat, and in fact waited for Aziraphale to seat himself first. Some might call it overreacting, but he genuinely did not know where he stood.

"I got your message." He avoided the angel's gaze as he spoke, instead, looking at his feet against the smooth floor.

"I see." Aziraphale cleared his throat, and straightened himself up in his chair, "You should know I meant it. What I said about snakes and their eyes--"

As Aziraphale spoke, Crowley tensed. He hadn't expected the angel to get to the point so quickly, but he was never one for beating around the bush. Crowley supposed he should be grateful, but acknowledging the situation at hand seemed to hurt him more than he thought.

"Was completely uncalled for. I admit it hadn't even registered to me that I'd offended you with what I said. But then you said what you said, then ran, and had gotten all small like you do when you get upset."

"I don't get all small." Crowley interjected, "I just don't like to be seen."

"Well regardless of what it was, I was in the wrong. There is nothing wrong with your eyes, Crowley. Or any other serpent's eyes for that matter. In all truth, your eyes are some of the most beautiful things I've ever seen."

The demon scoffed, "You don't mean that, angel."

He wanted so badly to believe Aziraphale, but he was just so uncertain. If his eyes had truly bothered him, what else about the demon did? And what if he was telling the truth? What if he had genuinely made a mistake. Would Crowley be willing to risk an episode like this again?

"I don't lie, Crowley." He was upon him in a second and had moved so quietly that Crowley hadn't even noticed he'd left his chair.

"I do, however, run my mouth. And I will endeavor to watch what I say in the future" Now his hands had made their way to the handles of Crowley's glasses, and gently he removed the shades from the demon's face.

"But make no mistake Crowley, your eyes are beautiful. You are beautiful. And that is something I will never take back"

Crowley would have looked away, but Aziraphale's gentle hold kept him from doing so. And in the angel's eyes was pure remorse and genuine love.

Suddenly, Crowley felt foolish for even making a fuss out of it. Maybe he could have just asked Aziraphale how he felt instead of storming off.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, Angel," Crowley said as his own fingers wrapped around Aziraphale's wrist.

"Nonsense, you're entitled to your feelings." Aziraphale chided, "never feel bad for speaking out."

Crowley sighed, and let his face lean in Aziraphale's grasp.

#aziracrow #ineffable humans #good omens #Aziraphale #anthony j crowley

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