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doctorcrowleywho · 1 year

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December 2. “What’s that smell… are you making cookies?” (Crowley x gn!reader)

25 Days of Ficmas - Day 2

“What’s that smell… are you making cookies?” (crowley x reader)

Word count - 1797

Warnings - Maybe a few curse words, but that’s it!

Pairing(s) - Crowley x gn! reader

Summary - A demon tries to bake Christmas cookies...

Now Crowley desperately wanted to be a good partner. You somehow managed to make his Grinch-sized heart grow three sizes every time his golden serpent eyes caught a glimpse of you. He never expected nor exactly wanted to fall in love with a human, but there you were in the middle of the local plant store talking in a sickeningly adorable baby voice to some red roses.

It wasn’t his fault you obviously had no idea how to treat plants.

So, naturally, he invited you over for a private lesson in all things plant care. However, an hour conversation/demonstration turned into a quick chat over drinks, and a quick chat over drinks turned into…well this isn’t that kind of story.

The point was he loved you and wanted to do something special for you. Especially, since Christmas was apparently your favorite time of year. Even though he may hate how commercialized it’s become, he did adore how your face lit up every time Rodolph the red-nose reindeer came on the TV. So, with a quick chat with Aziraphale, he determined that humans loved Christmas cookies.

“Well from what I’ve read they make them into little trees and stockings. It's honestly quite cute and even ni-” Aziraphale paused eyeing Crowley who raised his eyebrow in the least menacing way possible.

“And you’re sure they’ll like this?” he asked propping his chin on the palm of his hand. Honestly, he was trying to fathom why anyone would enjoy eating little trees. But, then again he wasn’t human…..or Aziraphale.

“Positive, all you need to do is get the ingredients and start baking. I can put together a list if you’d like I-” Aziraphale began trying his best to hide the pride in his voice, baking was his specialty. Over quarantine, he spent countless nights making every kind of pastry you could possibly imagine.

“Nope I’m fine I don’t need a list, right I’ll be off thanks angel!” the demon sauntered out of his bookshop speeding away in the Bentley before Aziraphale could get another word in.

“I don’t need a list, lists scare me, nope lists are scared of me,” he muttered to himself as he slowly realized he had no bloody idea what he was doing. But, if any old human can bake cookies then so can Anthony Janthony Crowley. He was a demon for someone's sake!

With a screeching halt, he parked the Bentley in front of your favorite grocery store before heading in like he owned the place. He wasn’t even five steps before he saw something that horrified even him. Old ladies were fighting with kind dads in front of their kids for the last box of marked down corn flakes, a stressed-out mother peeled past him with her cart filled with nothing but milk and eggs, and a very determined teenager ran at mock speeds to grab the last boxes of jammie dodgers on the self. It was a war zone in there.

Crowley glanced down at his overpriced watch and an annoyed sigh left his mouth. “Oh today is black Friday, I forgot I invited that,” he mumbled before turning on his heel making the safe decision to just miracle everything up.

Once he stepped into his flat he made it his own personal mission to make you some come hell or high water. With a flawless snap of his fingers, all the ingredients someone would ever need to make cookies appeared in front of him. “Right, cookies…cookies….cookies…cOoKiEs-” an inhuman hiss left his mouth “, Crowley saying cookies over and over again won’t make this any easier.” he lectured himself as he grabbed the flour ripping the bag open when-

POOF

He let out several coughs as he had to wave his arms around to clear the giant mushroom cloud of flour. White fluffy flour was everywhere, on every surface, every ingredient, and especially all over him and his black clothes. “Well that could have gone better,” he muttered to himself as he removed his glasses which no longer served their purpose as they were coated in flour. However, to his surprise, some managed to get into the mixing bowl.

Next was eggs, how could he possibly mess up eggs right? There was no way! Confidently he added the first two cracking them open and cringing as he realized how slimy they were on the inside. “Oh this is ridiculous,” he grumbled grabbing the entire carton and simply dumping all the eggs into the bowl. Whoever said demons weren’t efficient was obviously lying, which is what a demon should do but never about your own kind!

He continued chaotically putting each ingredient in as he somehow began to nervously sweat, the realization drawing on him even more that he really didn’t know what he was doing. But, he was damned if he was going to give up, you deserved homemade cookies and that’s what you were going to get!

Finally, he was done with his masterpiece with twelve interestingly shaped tree, snowmen, and stocking-shaped cookies on a cookie sheet. With one more snap of his fingers, the oven roared to life brimming with a temperature that would make hellfire jealous. Sighing with relief he leaned against the counter whipping his forehead with the back of his hand, which smeared an unfortunate mixture of egg, butter, and a bit of icing across his face.

At least they were finally cooking, and oh how they cooked. Slowly, he began to clean up the mess that was known as a snake in the kitchen when all of a sudden things began to get very hot. Hotter than they should when he’s in the room.

Turning around to put the extra milk away in the fridge his eyes widened and he couldn’t help but stop and stare mystified by the sight in front of him. Great flames of orange licked to life trying their best to crawl out of the doors of the oven. The oven was on fire “Hahaha nice,” he thought out loud THE BLOODY OVEN WAS ON FIRE AND YOUR COOKIES WERE INSIDE “, oh SHI-” he shrieked snapping his fingers one last time making everything settle down.

Quickly, he yanked the tray out of the oven and threw it onto the counter with a loud clatter. Wide golden eyes examined the crime scene in front of him. “This is a sight that would make even Aziraphale cry.” he hissed running his hands down his face no longer caring how much mess he spread. To be fair the now burnt to a fine crisp cookies were a sight to make anyone cry. They looked as if you just took a blow torch to an unsuspecting snowman family.

“Icing I can save this with icing!” he desperately grabbed the two tubs of red, white, and green icing and got to work. Somehow he managed to make things even worse. To be fair he was a demon, not a decorator.

How on earth was he supposed to know what a happy snowman was supposed to look like? Everything was crumbling to utter pieces, the more icing he put on things the more it melted off. Once he ran out of icing he was left with a horror show of snowmen that looked more like they wanted to kill you than hug you. Of course, that’s when you decided to come home.

“Crowley you won’t believe the utter bullshit I had to endure to get Aziraphale his Christmas gift!” he heard you call from the entrance. Maybe you’d walk right to the bedroom and leave him to clean up, or at least that’s what he hoped. And, that’s what you almost did- until you got a nose full of the smells coming from the kitchen,

“What’s that smell… are you making cookies?” you paused setting the french cookbook down on a random chair before walking into the kitchen and you had to fight every muscle in your body not to laugh.

“Angel your home early! I can um explain?” he jumped in front of the kitchen counter trying his utter best to cover up the tray of murder suspects.

“Oh, my-Crowley…what happened here? What did you-why were you-how did you get flour there that's very impressive-what??” you stumbled on your words trying to wrap your head around the sight in front of you. To be fair he did look very cute covered head to toe in flour and other substances.

“I wanted to make you cookies because Aziraphale said that’s what every human likes during the Christmas season, so I did. But, making cookies is a lot harder than you humans make it out to be! So, um merry Christmas?” he choked out the end looking up at you with the most defeated stare in the universe.

“Oh my little snowman whatever am I going to do with you,” you tsked gently walking up to him gently wrapping your arms around him. Quickly, you got onto the tops of your toes stealing a kiss from his lips, and that's when you reached around him grabbing a cookie.

“Oh star I wouldn’t I-,” He gulped nervously realizing it was too late as you took a bite. It was then that he heard an awful amount of crunching. Cookies weren’t supposed to crunch that much.

You were bound and determined to not bruise his ego, but this cookie was making it awfully difficult. Praying on each and every god in the whole universe you had to fight every muscle in your body not to practically throw up. “Mmmm delicious,” you said trying to give him a pathetic smile. You fought your body once more as you forced yourself to swallow the bite.

“How was it?” he asked raising both eyebrows not understanding how he got so lucky with you.

“Oh, amazing-”

“Love I’m a demon I know when you’re lying.”

“Terrible, but the heart was there.” you smiled kissing his cheek before trying to rub away an icing smudge with your thumb.

His gaze softened as he looked down at you, his Christmas star. The human that shone brighter than that damn star in Bethlehem. “Right, how about I get changed and take you out to your favorite bakery for some professionally made cookies?” he suggested running his hand through a few strands of your hair.

“Oh you read my mind, I’ll work on the kitchen.” you beamed as you began your search for the proper cleaning supplies.

As Crowley ventured into the bedroom to change into a different black outfit, you couldn’t help but think about how excited you were for this Christmas. As long as you kept Crowley away from the oven everything would be fine.

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actual-changeling · 8 months

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a continuation of this post

Demons do not need to sleep, and yet he does, mostly because time spent unconscious is not time spent crying, which demons also do not do, and yet.

A deep, crushing pain resides in the middle of his chest—a heartbreak not entirely unfamiliar; he never forgot the smell of burning books and the lack of his angel's presence anywhere on earth. He never forgot what it felt like to lose Aziraphale, and the reminder he received was entirely unnecessary.

If anyone were to ask, he'd deny the crying, arguing that technically not a single tear has left his eyes in the last three months, sixteen days, and seven hours—not that he is keeping count—although there is no one left to care. Except Muriel, who adjusted surprisingly quickly to living on earth and having a demonic snake curled up by the window.

Crowley sleeps and endures a never-ending series of nightmares for about two months, and while he wakes and slithers out of his chair, he decides to remain in his serpent form.

The most surprising development is perhaps how easily he bonds with Muriel. They offer up a steady arm, having switched the uniform for a sunshine-yellow pastel jumper and a simple black skirt, and to hell with it all, the warmth, the touch, the soft breaths, and the regular heartbeat pulsating next to him do not heal the wound, but they stop the bleeding; for a while, anyway.

So they go about their days, Crowley coiled around their shoulders while they read or do inventory, reorganise books, and then organise them differently as soon as they're done, never selling a single copy. They sing, too, having apparently discovered a lot of earthly pleasures during his nap, low and quiet, soothing in a way he did not expect.

Once upon a time, not too long ago, the Serpent of Eden wrapped around an angel's shoulders was a familiar sight. The serpent remains unchanged, although if you were to ask anyone regularly passing by the shop, they'd tell you it seems sadder now, somehow.

The angel has changed, however.

As time passes, Crowley waits not in a garden but in a bookshop, longing for a thunderstorm and a white wing above his head. He watches the sky, he watches the door, and he waits and waits and waits.

#alex talks good omens #good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #muriel #crowley and muriel #aziraphale #good omens season 2 #go2 #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable divorce #sorry if you expected fluff angst is all i can offer at the moment take it or leave it

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