#Anthony j crowley imagine

[bi-bard]

When a Demon Stumbles onto the Doorstep of a Bookshop - Crowley Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: When a Demon Stumbles onto the Doorstep of a Bookshop

Pairing: Crowley X Reader

Word Count: 1,944 words

Warning(s): **SEASON 2 SPOILERS** mention of abandonment, drunk character

Summary: [Post-Season 2] After Aziraphale's departure, (Y/n) joins Muriel in the goal of taking care of the bookshop and the tasks that may come with that. One of those many tasks includes being prepared for the moment that a familiar demon finds his way to the doorstep at odd hours of the night.

Author's Note: Listen. I said that I was going to focus on my writing challenges. I know. But someone made this headcanon on Tiktok and I couldn't shake it. If anyone has the user, please let me know because I cannot find it, but I might also just be stupid.

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When I first found Muriel in charge of Aziraphale's bookshop, I knew that I needed to step in and help where I could.

Well, that's not quite right.

I actually started off very scared.

After what had happened the night before that with the legion of demons coming to attack and Crowley ushering everyone away from the building, I knew that I needed answers. The only way to get those answers was to get back to the bookshop when the coast seemed to be clear.

If I had slammed the doors open any harder, then they would have surely popped off the hinges.

What I saw was Muriel standing in the middle of the room with a stack of books in their hands. They jumped at the sudden noise, quickly scrambling to keep from dropping the books.

"Oh, you scared me," they said before placing the books on the table. "Hello!"

"Who are you," I asked, ignoring any introduction.

"I am a human police officer," they motioned down at their all-white uniform. Angel. Got it. "And bookshop owner... now."

"Where's Aziraphale?"

"Oh, just... off."

That was the very moment that my fear turned to annoyance and anger. "Off?"

"Yeah... y'know, off."

"Where?"

"Oh, well..."

I stepped forward. "Listen. Aziraphale has been one of the dearest in my life for years now. I know about the angel thing. I know about demons that were here last night. Hell, I know about the failed apocalypse. So, when I hear that he's 'off' and has left his beloved bookshop in the charge of some random angel that I've never seen, I get very upset and very worried. I suggest that you tell me what happened to him."

"I can't-"

"And I suggest that you do it quick because he is not the only celestial being that I have on speed dial."

That seemed to be the only push that Muriel needed to tell me everything that had happened while I was gone. Gabriel's memories coming back, Gabriel and Beelzebub running off together, the offer that Aziraphale had taken, and the one that Crowley had apparently turned down. All of it. Well, as much as Muriel knew at the time.

I stood there for a few moments. Stunned into silence.

"Are you-"

"He didn't even say goodbye," I muttered.

"Well, the Metatron seemed very insistent that he needed to go right away- where are you going?"

I had already turned around and walked out of the bookshop again. I looked down the street before going to grab my phone. I frantically clicked Crowley's contact.

It rang a few times before going to voicemail.

"Crowley," I murmured. "Please, answer. Please. I... I found out about Aziraphale and I... I don't know what to do or where to go. Please."

I hung up and walked a little further down the road, wiping my eyes as tears started falling.

The moment that I went to call him a second time, I heard a car engine racing closer to me. I looked down the road to see the all too familiar Bentley pulling up to the curb next to me.

I put my phone away as he got out of the car.

"Crowley-"

I was cut off by him pulling me into a hug. I hid my face in his shoulder for a moment.

"He didn't even say goodbye," I repeated pathetically.

"Trust me, it would've been worse if he had."

It was then that I knew that we were losing the same person, yet grieving two very different things.

After that day, I made myself a new home in the room that had previously been used by "Jim". I had thrown a bit of a fit about the bookshop being entrusted to some random angel instead of a friend. Muriel was kind enough to let me stay. I think that they needed the help, but I was willing to call it merely an act of kindness if it made them feel better.

I didn't know how beneficial my presence would be in the shop.

I knew that I could help organize and clean. I could protect Aziraphale's precious books and keep Maggie's record shop safe. I could try to teach Muriel how to appear more human. I knew that stuff.

I never expected to become accustomed to Crowley turning up at odd hours of the night, often- if not always- drunk.

He would knock on the door or just barge in, yelling for Aziraphale. He wouldn't stop until I had gone down there and broke the news to him that Aziraphale may not come back. That he might be staying in Heaven forever and we may never be able to see him again.

It hurt. And I imagine that it always will. Having to put him to rest on the couch or watch him stumble back outside.

He always wore his glasses, but the heartbreak was so clear that it passed the lenses too easily.

It was one of those nights that he told me the truth of what happened before Aziraphale left. What happened between them.

I had been startled awake by the loud sound of the door slamming open and shut.

I walked out of my room immediately. Muriel stepped out, but I held a hand out. I had been taking care of this since it all started. I wasn't going to stop now.

I walked downstairs, hearing Crowley calling for his angel as I made it downstairs.

"Angel!" he was spinning in circles as he yelled. "I know that you can hear me! Come here and talk to me!"

"Crowley," I said gently as I approached him. "Stop it."

"Angel!"

"Stop it!"

He didn't listen to me, instead still walking around and spinning as he yelled for Aziraphale to just talk to him.

He didn't stop until I grabbed his wrists and forced him to look at me.

"Stop, Crowley," I tried to keep my voice firm. "This is not going to get Aziraphale to come back! I don't even think that he can hear you! Stop it!"

The demon fell quiet as he stared at me. There was a long pause between us. I immediately began to question what I had said. I was constantly terrified of being too harsh. I didn't want to be some additional reason for Crowley to be hopeless over the whole event.

I grabbed the wine bottle that was sitting in his hand before placing it on the table nearby. "Come on... you're staying here tonight."

He didn't follow me when I tried to drag him over to the small couch.

"Crowley..."

"I don't... I don't want to sleep on that couch."

I frowned at him. "I'm not letting you sleep in your car right now, Crowley."

We both stopped. I had learned a lot about stubbornness over the course of my friendship with Crowley. And he knew that. And I'm certain that some part of him despised teaching me that skill.

"Come on," I said, dragging him toward the staircase. He followed me begrudgingly.

I pulled him to my room and motioned to the small bed in there.

"Go on," I pushed when he didn't move at first.

I heard him grumbling under his breath as he walked over. He somewhat flopped on the mattress, and I shook my head as I went to pull the blanket over him.

"Better?"

"Yeah, sure," he grumbled.

"Want to take off your glasses-"

"Leave them."

He hadn't taken off his glasses in front of me since Aziraphale left. Not that he often did anyway.

I took a deep breath and went to walk away.

"Would you...," he trailed off.

"What," I asked.

"Nothing. Never mind."

There's that stubbornness and closed-off attitude. "What is it, Crowley?"

"Would you stay?" he finally muttered.

"Just stay in here? Sure-"

"I meant lay with me. Please."

I glanced at the minimal empty space next to him for a moment. "Are you sure that you'd be comfortable with that?"

"I'm a demon. I have spent my nights in far more uncomfortable places than a small bed."

One day, I would need to question him on those 'I'm a demon' excuses.

I awkwardly shifted my way under the covers, fixing them over him as I did so. After a few more awkward moments, I reached out and wrapped my arms around his torso quietly. I expected some grumbling or some kind of fight. Nothing happened. Instead, Crowley merely sighed and seemed to relax into the pillow more.

I spent some time thinking. Mainly about whether or not demons actually had any need for sleep or for blankets to keep warm. I had thought about it before.

There was plenty that I knew.

I knew that food was more of a luxury than it was a necessity. I knew that they had a lot more control over things around me than I thought before. I knew that they could travel to and from Hell with a particular elevator or particular stairways.

I also knew that Crowley had the ability to sober himself up in an instant.

He had shown me that trick ages ago because I was curious.

So, when he began showing up at the bookshop while completely drunk, I questioned why he wouldn't sober himself up when on the couch or in his car or on any occasion like this.

It didn't take me very long to figure out why that was the case.

It was grief.

Not just normal grief, but grief for someone who was still very much living and breathing.

There was something so much worse about grieving someone who wasn't even dead yet.

When they aren't dead, there's always some remaining shred of hope that they will choose to come back. Which should be comforting, in theory. But when they don't come back... it only feels like a constant reminder that you truly may not be enough for them to fight for or want to fight for.

I could only guess that those thoughts were going through Crowley's mind because they were going through my mind.

"I kissed him."

My ears pricked up at his sudden words. "What?"

"I kissed him," Crowley repeated.

I knew that Crowley and Aziraphale loved each other. It was painfully obvious. I always thought that one of them finally saying something about it would have a dramatically different ending. I imagined them both hiding away in the bookshop. Not much changing... just what was normal for Aziraphale and Crowley but with a little more hand-holding. Not this.

I took a deep breath. "When?"

"After I rejected his offer to become an angel," he explained. "He had told me all about the Metatron's plan. I would have rejected it no matter what, but I had just been scolded by Nina and Maggie for not telling Aziraphale about how I felt. It just... It felt like the only chance that I had left to get him to stay."

I wondered if Crowley was telling me this because he trusted me or if it was merely because he was drunk.

"I miss him."

"I know," I muttered, hugging him a little tighter. "I miss him too."

I closed my eyes as I did that.

What else could I offer?

There was so much that I could understand. So much that I could offer him in terms of help and comfort. All I could do was hope that everything would eventually work itself out.

And at that point, that hope was getting harder and harder to hold onto.

Maybe some force in the universe would keep me from letting go of it completely. Eventually.

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Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[malereader-inserts]

Trial and Error

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Ineffable Husbands & Son!Reader Summary: It's all about trial and error, and a lot of error Word Count: 910 Request: @dexpairs-blog: Hey! I just read your ineffable husbands x son!reader fic! It's so good omg!!If you're okay with it could i request some headcanons/or a oneshot (your choice) with them teaching their son how to use his magic or how to fly since they're having a hard time learning A/n: I'm actually considering doing Chicago Med fanfics.

"He is a child!"

"He needs to learn at some point!"

"I'm literally right here."

Aziraphale and Crowley turn to look at you sitting on a chair, sure you looked like a teenager and if that is the form you decide to stay in, you were technically still a babe in the eyes of heaven and hell. You won't actually reach adulthood till a few hundred years old, so, you were the freest child on the whole planet.

"I want to learn," You say optimistically, "I think I'm ready."

"No, absolutely not," Aziraphale exclaim, coming to suffocate you into a hug, your face squished upon his chest as he holds you dear, "You're still a baby, and no baby needs to learn any flying or magic."

"Angel, love," Crowley drawls out, "Don't forget our baby is not normal-"

"Thanks."

"Watch it," Crowley scowls as you can't help but smirk as you wipe the sweat from your face, finally able to breathe from your father's grip, "He's a demon and an angel, so, we want to prove everyone wrong that he is neutral and better than everyone."

"Dad's right, father," You hummed, as Crowley smugly smiles at his husband, "But, father's also correct, what if I'm not ready."

"You literally said two seconds ago that you were ready."

"Now, now," Aziraphale hummed, "We can't force you to do something you're not ready. But, if you want to really start learning then," He sighs defeatedly, "I won't oppose you."

"I want to do it."

"Then it's decided."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale screamed, "Why did you push our child off a building?"

"He's durable."

"Not invincible!"

"Are you guys done arguing?" You asked, you were levitating in the air, looking at your parents, arms crossed over your chest.

There you were flying, sure, to the human eyes they can just see you as levitating, but your parents know better that your wings were the reason for you floating. You looked pretty unscathed as a little annoyed but Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief.

"See, angel, knew he could fly."

"That still doesn't warrant the fact that you pushed him off a building, you're lucky Crowley we're going this in the countryside with the only tall building. Imagine the mess we will have if anyone saw him like this!"

"I originally pushed him out of a window, but that didn't work."

"I almost broke my arm."

"(Y/n), I thought you wouldn't tell him that!"

You shrugged your shoulders, looking bemused as your fathers started to argue, you cannot help but smile at their stupidity before lowing yourself gently and hoping they sort themselves out.

"All you need to do is put your mind to it."

"As if I haven't heard that a million times already," You grumbled under your breath.

"What was that?" Aziraphale turns to look at you confused, almost intrigued with what you said.

You flush in embarrassment, "Nothing, father."

"Alright!" He claps his hands, rubbing them before placing them gently on his lap, "All you need is to focus on what you want to do, say, you were to turn the lights on. Then, you just need to think about lights being on and snap your fingers."

"Easier said than done," You huffed, as you looked at your father with a tired expression, "And this is super easy stuff, why can't I do it?"

"Hey," Your father coos softly, "You're still young, my boy, all we can do is try. Plus, your powers probably haven't come through yet, so there isn't a need to be sad about it."

"I guess..."

"Alright, why don't we try it again? And if not, why don't you get some rest."

You let out one last sigh as you turn to look at the lantern before you, you look at it in disgust as if you wanted to burst the lightbulb within it. You raised your dominant hand before snapping your fingers, what you were expecting was a defeated fizzle that the light attempted to turn on or nothing to happen, but what happened instead was the bulb smashing.

"Oh, dear!"

"Well, that worked," You say with little enthusiasm, as your father looks at you inquisitively, "I was getting annoyed and I couldn't get it out of my mind that I just wanted it to smash than actually turn it on."

"Well..." Aziraphale trailed off, "I guess it did work, well done my boy."

"Thanks, father!"

"You know, I heard him praying last night," Aziraphale hummed, stirring his tea as Crowley rolled his eyes, "I don't know who to."

"Well, you don't exactly pray to the devil," Crowley replied sarcastically as Aziraphale gives him a look, "I'm just saying, anyway, where is this going?"

"Maybe, we're pushing him too hard," Aziraphale expressed, sighing as he sat down next to his lover, "I heard him praying for his powers to be there, he doesn't want us to be disappointed in him."

"Maybe we are too hard on him."

"Yes, exactly, and he's still a babe, there are many years ahead to let him learn his powers, control them and use them. I don't think we need to rush him at all."

"Then, it's decided, we will talk to him about it."

Aziraphale let out a noise of satisfaction, "Well, this is a first for you, to talk things out."

Crowley simply gives him a smile, "You're lucky I love you and our son."

"Aren't we lucky?"

[emotinalsupportturtle]

neil gaiman and RTD are absolute legends for being the showrunners of 2 mainstream shows funded by large production companies in the year 2023, and proceeding to make the most queer positive episodes ever seen by man

meanwhile david tennant is just vibrating with joy because he gets more opportunities to wear his one-thousand-and-twenty-four pride pins

[fact-dogsarehappiness]

They’re all at Tesco’s at the same time

[disaster-bay-leaf]

- From Eden, Hozier

coloured in

[allysketches]

getting that season 3 angst possibilities out of my system... the usual fluff will be returning soon 🥹

lyrics are from 'neptune' by sleeping at last, give it a listen for the full heartbreak experience 🥺✌️

[crawley-fell]

[entitled-fangirl]

He may always be a demon from hell, but she still loves him.

Crowley x human!reader

Summary: The reader and Crowley discuss what she's reading. She says it reminds her of him, to which he panics.

Words: 1,784

Warnings: demon, heavy makeout session, angst, alcohol

Author's note: I don't own the character or the book mentioned in this! Eeeeek enjoy!

Masterlist <3

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Crowley looked up from the glass of bourbon in his hands as he sat in one of Aziraphale’s many chairs. There she sat across from him. The pretty little human.

Her legs were pulled up onto the couch, her body curled into itself as she held her book out in front of her to read.

She was quite pretty. He had always thought so. Of all his years on this earth, this one was by far the best he had seen. And her soul simply solidified it. Her mind, body, and soul were precious. 

She was entirely focused on her book, not noticing Crowley’s gaze. He took that to his advantage, his eyes scanning her entire frame before finally resting on her face. He opened his mouth to speak. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew he would do anything to talk to her as much as he could in her lifetime.

“What are you reading, Flower?”

That was his name for her. Aziraphale was his angel, sure. And she seemed like an angel herself, the metaphorical kind, anyway. She was not like a real angel, which is annoying and dull. No, she wasn’t like that at all. He hadn’t read many books but knew how humans romanticized the term 'angel.' The innocence it carried in its title. 

No, no, no. She was his flower. He spend many days searching for the right name, but once he came up with that one, it stuck like glue. He loved plants. He loved plants so much. And he loved her. She was his flower.

Now, her head perked up to let her eyes meet his. She held his gaze, admiring the snake-like pupils the demon had. She seemed to snap out of it quickly, regaining her composure. “Oh, uh…,” her voice soft, “it’s the Phantom of the Opera. Have… Have you read it, Angel?”

His eyes closed. He loved it when she called him that. He was no angel by any means, but she used the term every chance she could the day she learned that he had once been so. She had two angels as far as she was concerned. And while one had a significantly more gothic wardrobe, she still considered him just the same.

He nods, “I was around when it was written and published. Hated it then.”

Her lips slowly pull into an amused smile. “And now?”

He shrugs, looking back into her eyes, “…Do YOU like it, Flower?”

A soft breath comes from her lungs, “…Not sure, but I believe so. Won’t say until I finish it. You know how it ends, Angel?”

He shakes his head, “Can’t say I do. Didn’t care enough to finish it.”

She finds that quite amusing. She pulls her legs closer to her to get comfortable, trying to keep herself warm. “Well, I’ll let you know when I’m done, yeah? If it’s good enough, will you try to read it again?”

“Tell me why you like it so much, Flower.”

She considers his words carefully, “I… perhaps see similarities in it… sometimes. You know?”

His eyes move back down to the liquor glass in his hand. He remained quiet, a silent sigh for her elaborate on her findings. 

“That was… stupid. I shouldn’t have said it. I’m… I’m sorry…”

He was much more intrigued than before. Sorry? For what? He wished sometimes he could just see what was going on in that funny little brain of hers. “No. Tell me.”

She knew that wasn’t a reassurance that he wasn’t annoyed. It was more of a demand. 

“I don’t know, Crowley…”

He grins, pulling the glass to his lips to take another sip.

“Tell me what you DO know, Flower.”

Her eyes wander around the room in thought. “I suppose I feel remorse for the Phantom…”

He hums.

“…and… everyone makes him out to be a horrid creature. A vile beast worth ending. And he believes it too about himself. That he’s awful and cruel. But they don’t know anything about him. Nothing. They even assume it’s a ghost sometimes…”

By now, he’s hooked on her words. Not that he cared for the plot much, but just her. She was beautiful like this, the sunlight from the windows behind her casting a light against her back, giving her body a glowing effect. 

“…anyways, this girl falls in love with him. And she finds out he’s just a man. He’s a man like anyone else. He’s not the vile thing everyone makes him out to be.”

He’s taking in every word.

Her voice drops to a low volume, “They call him a demon from hell.”

Crowley felt his jaw clench at her words. 

“…But, he’s not. Not at all. He’s just a man. A man who deserves much more than life handed him. He was no demon. He could’ve been an angel. He’s kind and fair. Honest and witty. He protects her with his life. And he’s loyal. He is quite admirable, honestly.”

She held this look. It was a loving look as she stared at Crowley. This time, he could read her like an open book. She was referencing him. That everyone believed Crowley was vile and cruel. But he was just like a man. 

“…You’re awfully quiet, Angel.”

That sold it for him. Angel. Her angel. His eyes closed, taking in a deep breath. 

He stood up quickly, setting his glass on the side table before approaching the sofa she occupied. She noticed, scooting over slightly to make room for him, but he didn’t sit. He kneeled in front of the couch, in front of her. 

If his eyes could produce tears, they’d be running. “Flower? You truly think that of me? That I’m just a man?”

She nods, her breath quickening at his proximity. 

He wanted to believe her. He truly did, but he couldn’t. He leaned in, making their faces inches apart. 

“You think all this and you haven’t finished the book?”

She nods again, her gaze staring to settle on his lips.

His hand reached forward, grabbing her face gently. His voice became a low growl, “And what if this angel truly is a demon from hell? Would the girl stop loving him, Flower?”

She isn’t sure what to say. She’s not sure who they’re even talking about at this point. Her gut told her to say one thing, but her head said another. And his grip on her face was not helping her focus.

“I.. I don’t think… love takes what they are into con… consideration when it chooses them…”

Satan, she was perfect. She always knew exactly what to say, the sneaky thing. It stilled his vessel’s heart, his eyes still drilling into hers. 

“And… will she truly listen to her heart?”

She nods. “She would be a fool not to, Angel.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Here she was, sitting so pretty for him, her words causing a fire to erupt in his stomach. He leaned forward, pulling her face towards his. 

Their lips meet in a gentle kiss. It doesn’t last long because Crowley pulls away.

“Maybe you should finish the book before you make your conclusions, Flower. Perhaps he’ll always be that demon from hell.”

He stands, sliding his hands into his pockets with a sigh before exiting the bookshop.

…

Days pass and Crowley acts as if their interaction never happened. It broke her heart. Aziraphale couldn’t take the two ignoring each other and decided to fix it. 

He told Crowley to be at the bookshop at a certain time. But Aziraphale wouldn’t be there. No, this was to get the demon alone with her to talk again, as they had before. And that plan worked perfectly.

This time, however, she was placing books on the bookshelf when he entered. He walked in confidently, but the confidence soon fell as he saw her pretty face. 

“Oh. I… where’s Angel?”

She shrugs, “Haven’t seen him all day.”

Curse that blasted angel from his stupid plans that always work. 

Crowley sighs, “I’m sorry I ran out on you.”

Her eyes finally move to find his. “I finished the book.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat at her sudden change of subject, but he went along with it nonetheless. “…Well, Flower?”

Her fingers lightly played with the spine of the book she had in her hand. “He may always be the demon from hell, but she still loves him.”

He was so stupid to leave her. To abandon his sweet Christine like this. His little flower that was always in bloom. 

“Oh, Flower…”

He moved forward, immediately wrapping his arms around her. He pulled her in for a kiss.

This kiss was very much different from their first. Where the first was soft and hesitant, this one was heated and passionate, as if this was their only method of communication. And to Crowley, it was. He needed her to see just how much her words meant to him. How much he craved to feel her lips on his again. How he imagined her the nights before. 

Her hands move to him, the book in her hand long forgotten. One rested on his forearm, the other cradling his face. She kissed him back with as much reverence as he did. She needed him to know she didn’t care. She didn’t care about what he was. What he did. She needed him to know that she loved him.

She loved him.

His tongue darted out to swipe across her bottom lip. She left out a soft moan, paring her lips. His tongue gently began to explore her mouth, their bodies holding each other in fear that they could be ripped from each other at any moment. 

She gently pushed him away, needing to catch her breath. “Sorry… sorry, Angel.. just… just gotta breathe…”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her jaw lightly, trailing the kisses up towards her ear before whispering softly, “‘If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’”

She let out a soft gasp, and her hand moved to the back of his neck, her fingers playing with his hair. “You… you know it?”

She could practically feel his smile against her neck, his voice vibrating the bones there, “Read it again after we talked…. All the way through this time…”

She was speechless at his words. He had went back and not only read the story for her, but then was able to quote it. She had never felt love radiate in a room until this very moment in time.

She pulled him back in for another sweet kiss.

He was no demon. To her, he was an angel. Her angel.

.............................................................................

[spn-lesbian]

manifesting Aziraphale saying “heaven is a place on earth with you” to Crowley next season

[mybookstorecarlovinghusbands]

Aziraphale: Someone take me to art museums and make out with me.

Crowley: But they said not to touch the masterpieces.

Aziraphale: Well somebody's got to pin the artwork to the wall.

Y/n, on a walkie talkie: Those idiots are fucking around in the East wing again.

[hikarry]

Do you ever think Aziraphale watches Ducktales and went he hears Scrooge speaks he is like "...wait!"

"Why were you watching cartoons anyway?"

"That's not the point, Crowley." Aziraphale points at the tv. "Listen." They both keep quiet as the animated wealthy duck speaks to his house keeper.

"So?"

"You don't hear it?"

"Hear what?"

Frustrated, Aziraphale huffs and grabs the tv remote, turning up the volume.

"It sounds exactly like you! But Scottish!"

"Ngk-" Crowley looks up at the ceiling, moving his hands nervously as he searches for the sunglasses on the side table without looking at it.

"Crowley?"

"Mhm." He finally finds the glasses and puts them on, getting up from the sofa. "Gotta go, angel. Fun evening but cartoons are not my-"

"Wait up!" Aziraphale holds him by the arm, stopping him from taking another step forward. "You are nervous." He feels the muscles under his fingers tense up. "You are! You are lying to me!" The angel gets up, ever without letting go of the arm, and walks until he is face to face with the demon. "What are you hiding."

"Mrgyeahknownothing."

"Crowley-!"

"It was just for fun!"

Both fall silent, looking at each other.

"...What?"

"You know I created Disney. Greed and controlling the minds of the young and whatnot." Crowley starts gesticulating quickly, ever without looking directly at Aziraphale. "And then they decided to remake Ducktales and I thought 'Oh, that show was popular back then. And I make a mean impression of Scrooge. I could spread evil through it!' so I maneuvered my way into voice acting with a bit of manipulation and schmoozing and whatever." He was talking very fast and hissing, as he did when he got agitated. "And there I ended up voice acting for 3 seasons - with evil intentions, obviously."

Aziraphale stared at him, mouth slightly open, completely dumbfounded. Crowley finally looked down at him. The angel couldn't see it, cause the sunglasses were pretty good at protecting him, but the demon was indeed nervous. He would never admit to it, but he was. Truly. He never thought Aziraphale would end up so bored he would watch cartoons, much less evil greedy Disney and not some old almost-forgotten relic like Betty Boop or something.

"You...voice act?"

"I voice acted. Once. For one character."

Slowly, a smile spread on Aziraphale's lips.

"Can you do the accent?"

"No."

"Crowley-"

"Absolutely not."

"My dear-"

"Never again."

The angel reached out, putting his hands on each of Crowley's cheeks, stopping him from talking.

"I am an adventurer, boys!" Aziraphale's scottish accent sucked. Badly.

Crowley put his hand over Aziraphale's mouth and pushed him slightly away, just enough for his hands to leave his face.

"Never, ever disrespect Scotland like that again."

[bi-bard]

Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason - Crowley & Aziraphale Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason

Pairing: Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader

Based On: Call Your Mom

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): **LOOK HERE** depictions of mental illness/poor mental health, yelling

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are left on a hunt for something... well, someone quite important. When they find who they were looking for, they are confronted with questions that they have no answer to.

Author's Note: **PLEASE READ THIS** Let's have a serious talk here. This imagine is heavy. I use my personal experiences as a major influence for this (granted that I will not go into detail about that at this time). This is to say that it won't reflect everyone's experience and that is not the goal. This story is not meant to be educational in any capacity and I will not claim as much.

If you are experiencing struggles with your mental health, then I would invite you to skip this story. Please be responsible with the media that you are consuming. Thank you.

NOAH KAHAN - STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

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It all started with pacing.

Quite annoying pacing, really.

Crowley had walked- no, sauntered into the bookshop and found Aziraphale pacing the floor.

Over and over. Back and forth.

Annoyingly consistent steps. Floorboards seemed to creak along with each one, no matter how many times before that he had crossed them.

Crowley's voice was slow, "Angel..."

Aziraphale's pacing didn't change much as he hummed in response to Crowley. Crowley's face scrunched up a bit. He wasn't used to Aziraphale's attention not turning immediately to him when he spoke up.

"Angel," he said more firmly. Aziraphale finally looked at him. "What's going on?"

"I haven't seen (Y/n) in some time," the angel replied. "Have you?"

"I was honestly getting suspicious that they just hid in the shelves," Crowley muttered. "I don't visit them outside of your shop, Angel."

Aziraphale frowned even further than before.

"How long has it been?"

"Weeks," he answered simply. "I will admit that I have been getting a bit worried."

"Then, go visit," Crowley suggested. When there wasn't a response, he continued, "You didn't think to do that?"

"I didn't want to intrude!"

"Well, I do," Crowley turned on his heels and began his walk to the door. He stopped when he didn't hear an extra set of footsteps behind him. "Angel."

"Are you... What if they don't want to see us," Aziraphale asked.

"Well, (Y/n) can tell us that to our face," the demon shrugged before continuing his path out.

It wasn't until they started walking that the pair realized that neither one of them truly knew where (Y/n) lived. They had been told small details. Colors of curtains, what books were on shelves, the collection of notebooks that they always seemed to have. However, beyond that, the demon and angel had not thought much about where their dear friend lived.

Why would they when (Y/n) spent more time in the bookshop than they ever did in their own home?

It took some time- and a small miracle- before the pair found themselves outside an apartment door.

There was a small welcome mat sitting before their feet. It had been clearly well-loved. It had followed (Y/n) from place to place. An old gift from a parent that was meant to symbolize being a proper adult for the first time.

Aziraphale hesitated. He was still thinking about how (Y/n) may simply not want to see the two of them and that this visit would be incredibly intrusive.

He had tried to stop Crowley on the way there in the hopes of avoiding such a fate. He had mentioned that (Y/n) may just be sick, but Crowley reminded him that (Y/n) would still stop by because the pair of them couldn't catch a cold. He suggested that (Y/n) was on a trip, but Crowley mentioned that (Y/n) would have told them to keep them from worrying. Any and all alternative explanations for the unexplained absence fell less on deaf ears and more on a stubborn mind.

Crowley raised his hand and knocked on the door, hitting the wood a little harder than he probably meant to. He'd never admit that though, so it's best not to ask.

There was a long pause. A pause that caused Aziraphale to feel even more like their presence was not wanted. A pause that made Crowley contemplate how much harder he could truly knock on the door.

The two stared at each other. It had been thousands of years since the pair had met each other. A conversation done with no words exchanged was alarmingly common for them.

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale said through the door. "Are you home?"

It was still silent.

"Open the door," Crowley added after a moment. "Aziraphale may not give up, but I am far more stubborn than you think."

(Y/n)- who had confined themself to their couch- knew that the demon was being honest.

With a heavy sigh, they pushed themself off of the couch cushion and trudged to the door. They considered leaving it shut. Leaving the two celestial beings standing on their doorstep until they gave up. Like one would do to missionaries or door-to-door salesmen... which were truly one and the same when you thought about it.

They rolled their eyes at the thought and finally unlocked the door, pulling it open a second later. The angel and demon stood there as if this visit was the most normal thing in the world. Crowley in his standard all-black outfit with his glasses seemingly glued to his face. Aziraphale is ever formal attire, a grin on his face that was meant to offer some silent comfort wherever it may be needed.

"Hi," (Y/n) greeted quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we haven't seen you for a while," Aziraphale explained. "We were worried."

"Well, I'm fine," (Y/n) didn't even bother to question the angel's statement... no matter how certain they were that the demon would never admit to feeling the same worry as Aziraphale had. "You two can go."

"What's going on," Crowley asked.

"Nothing. I'm just tired and want to be left alone."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at them.

"Please, just go."

"When will we be seeing you again," Aziraphale asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Can we come in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Because we're your friends and we care for you-"

"Friends would respect my boundaries when I asked them to leave."

Crowley scoffed. "Not if they got a proper look at you."

"Thanks," (Y/n) replied sarcastically. They knew how they looked. How the bags under their eyes looked and how their clothes looked and their skin and their hair. They knew.

"Tell us what's going on," Crowley pushed.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you."

"That's not my problem."

Aziraphale tried to step in, "(Y/n), we just want to help-"

"Well, I don't want your damn help!"

The door slammed shut in front of them.

Another silent conversation was enough for both of them to be fully prepared to break in. This kind of anger was not common from (Y/n). (Y/n) was typically very levelheaded. They made a point to be so. It was meant to keep the angel and demon from picking too many pointless fights.

Crowley vaguely moved his hand to ensure the door had unlocked before going to walk inside. Aziraphale walked in awkwardly, making sure to close and lock the door behind the two of them.

(Y/n) jumped at the sound of the door opening. "What is wrong with you both?"

"You're lying to us," Crowley said simply.

"Oh my..."

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale's voice was much softer than Crowley's. "I promise that we're only trying to help-"

"Fine, then help me," (Y/n) stepped even closer to them both. They both seemed puzzled at (Y/n)'s reaction. "Go ahead. Angel and demon, right? Do one of your little miracles and fix me! Rewire my brain! Adjust all of the chemicals and impulses! Make me suddenly feel better! Get me to stop feeling like such... crap!"

The pair fell silent as they caught sight of the tears building in (Y/n)'s eyes. How long had (Y/n) been holding this in? How blind had the two of them truly been?

"Go on!"

Aziraphale spoke up first, "(Y/n)... I- I can't-"

"Fine, what about you?" they turned to Crowley. "Or is this all part of Hell's hope of causing suffering and torment? Is that why you won't properly help me?"

Crowley felt guilt begin to sink in his stomach like a weight. "(Y/n)-"

"What's Heaven's excuse," they turned back to Aziraphale. "The race of angels that claim to want to protect the humans and all of God's creations... what's their excuse for... this?!"

Aziraphale didn't have a response.

"What is it? Some garbage excuse about God wanting his bravest soldiers to face the hardest battles?"

He didn't want to respond. There wasn't a response that wasn't going to sound like some variation of exactly that.

"Because I don't want to be brave!" they continued shouting. "I am so tired of being brave and strong and calm and controlled! I am so tired! So stop acting like you can fix it!"

Any further attempt at conversation from Aziraphale or Crowley got interrupted by (Y/n) storming out of the living room. The next sound was the slamming of (Y/n)'s bedroom door.

The silence after the fact was nothing short of suffocating.

Admittedly, it was foolish of (Y/n) to assume that the pair would give up at the sound of a slamming door. The two had been around for far too long to let such an action truly stop them.

When they opened the bedroom door, (Y/n) was lying on their side, back facing the door. They were shaking a bit, clearly crying or overwhelmed or both.

Crowley stayed behind as Aziraphale stepped forward.

"(Y/n)...," Aziraphale said softly.

No response.

"I know that you don't believe that we can help you, but you have to understand why we can't just leave you alone right now."

Still no answer, but there was some kind of small shift as (Y/n) wiped their eyes.

"You know... if there's one thing that I've learned about humanity," Aziraphale explained, "then it's that they are creatures of profound hope."

(Y/n) closed their eyes. They had been told to hold onto hope. They had been told to look on the bright side. It always felt so pointless. Almost condescending.

"But I know that they commonly will hide themselves away in the absence of it," he continued. "That there's this embarrassment that comes with finding oneself without hope. And I think that such a thought leads to such loneliness that it makes the hope even harder to find."

There was still no response.

He hesitated for a few moments longer before sitting on the mattress next to them. "I am not going to demand that you complete some search for hope now. I think that you will find it when you need it most. I am going to ask that you don't isolate yourself. Not from us."

Crowley was still in the doorway, leaning against it as he listened to the angel talk. He knew that Aziraphale was much better at this kind of thing. Who was Crowley to speak on not isolating when that was all he had done for most of the time since he had fallen from Heaven?

Aziraphale didn't feel like he was the right person for this moment. Not in the silence that followed his words. He felt as if he had failed. As if (Y/n) would tell them to leave again and he would have to finally accept defeat in this situation.

He was about to push himself off of the bed but didn't get the chance before (Y/n) sat up and suddenly jumped forward. They wrapped him in a tight hug, hiding their face in his shoulder. He hugged them back as he glanced at Crowley.

Crowley stepped forward, letting his mere presence be a comfort. Physical affection in a time like this was never something that Crowley was particularly good at. In all fairness, he had never really had to be. There were two people in this world that he cared about enough to even entertain the idea of such an action.

"Thank you," (Y/n) muttered into Aziraphale's shoulder.

"You're welcome," he mumbled back. "How about you lay down here and I will go make you some tea... maybe a light lunch?"

(Y/n) leaned back and wiped their eyes before nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he nodded before standing up.

(Y/n) didn't speak up until Aziraphale was at the door, "I'm sorry."

The two looked at (Y/n) with confused expressions.

"For yelling at you both," they explained. "You two didn't deserve that. You were only trying to help."

"It's quite alright," Aziraphale promised, nodding with a gentle grin on his face.

There was a pause and a pointed look from Aziraphale before Crowley spoke up, "Consider it forgotten."

(Y/n) nodded before going to lay back down on the mattress.

After taking a deep breath, Crowley rounded the corner of the bed, going to lie on the other side of them. He plopped down on his back, legs thrown over each other rather lazily as he tried to relax into the mattress.

"So, what's the plan," (Y/n) asked, listening to the distant sound of Aziraphale waltzing around their kitchen as if he belonged there. "You two are just going to stay here?"

"Yup," Crowley replied. "You're stuck with us."

(Y/n) sniffled and wiped their nose. "At least take your shoes off if you're going to lay in my bed."

A small chuckle escaped the demon as he sat up for long enough to pull off his shoes. When he laid down, he reached over and grabbed their hand. He offered a small grin. Maybe the gentlest gesture that he had done in hundreds or thousands of years.

(Y/n) accepted it, merely moving closer and resting against his shoulder. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, pretending to be completely unbothered by the situation. "Just don't go telling people about it."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good."

By the time Aziraphale had made it back with tea, (Y/n) was in a light sleep, hand still clasped tightly in Crowley's as they did so.

He set the dishes on the bedside table and moved to sit with the pair on the mattress. A quiet comfort for the time being.

And for once, (Y/n) found fighting that isolation to not be nearly as terrifying as it had once been.

They just needed somebody to truly hear them and still be stubborn enough to stay.

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[mercyraph]

Actually the real reason Crowley dibs on being a nanny was that he cant start to imagine Aziraphale being motherly to a child or else he'll start building their imaginary family tree then he'll be truly, deeply, insanely fucked. Baby fever runs deep and Crowley is not exempt from that.

[the-butterbun]

She's an icon, She's a legend AND SHE IS THE MOMENT✨

[azultecnicolor]

AU were Aziraphale gives in to temptation and chooses Crowley instead of heaven

[marauderswolf22]

how the hell did i never think about crowley with tattoos???? other than the snake one ofc, but how? just a bunch of small, astronomy tattoos and little symbolic things/places that would bring him up some of his and aziraphale's memories togheter.