#and azira almost says he loves him

[bijouzen]

god. Unknown / Nth is SO fucking ineffable husbands

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Howdy! I've got another poly AziraCrow x reader request for you, if you're interested

Ineffable husbands with a non-binary s/o who constantly gets misgendered and deadnamed during the holiday season since they're around family n stuff?

Ik its not malicious and it's out of habit but man, it's not great for dysphoria. Trying to disconnect myself from that so I don't hold it against anyone but. Idk. Sorry for rambling lol.

Sending love 💚

Their Name - Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Boy, oh, boy this hit close to home. So basing a lot of the house descriptions/holiday traditions on my family.

Ineffable Husbands snapping at Reader’s family

He/Him for Aziraphale || She/He/They for Crowley

Great Room - the spare room usually adjacent to the living room, typically where the foyer enters into.

There was a lot you couldn’t tell your family. How your husbands were actually ethereal beings well over six thousand years old, how Aziraphale found a miracle that would help you to live forever alongside them, or how Crowley was the serpent they so often cursed in Sunday Service. But there was one thing you made crystal-fucking-clear, your name and gender identity. You came out as non-binary almost four years ago, telling your family how you wanted them to refer to you in only neutral terms.

You had met Aziraphale and Crowley a year after that, marrying them in secret two years later, just the past spring. Crowley had told you how they used all pronouns, so your favorite pastime was to call him your wife when using he/him pronouns. Aziraphale told you that he preferred he/him but wasn’t opposed to they/them if it was to put a bigot in place. That if he chose to present as a woman again for the first time in thousands of years then he would update such choices. Just a small family the three of you were.

Meeting them had been perfect for your mental health, you weren’t ready to date anyone, and a rainy day led to you stepping into the red and gold bookshop, with plants scattered about, books older than time itself, an angel and a demon running it. And they took you in without a second thought.

“Darling, you seem lost in thought,” Aziraphale broke you from your thoughts, your bottom lip sore from chewing it in stress. “What is it that troubles you?” You looked at him in the rear view mirror, smiling softly as you felt Crowley’s hand on your thigh.

“Just nervous, and feeling bad. I want to tell them about us, all three of us, and yet I’m too scared…” your family wasn’t the most open to anything outside of heteronormative, including polyamory unfortunately, leaving Aziraphale to be the “best friend/co-worker”, he had actually volunteered the title, saying it would look better for Crowley to be your husband since he appeared closer to your age than the white haired Angel did.

“Don’t fret, I know it’s not ideal, but we can pretend for one night.” Aziraphale reassured, his blue eyes seeming brighter despite the dim light in the Bentley.

“We’re here, love.” Crowley said, parking behind your uncle’s familar white SUV. “You two ready?” You looked over to Crowley and nodded, unbuckling and turning back in your seat to give Aziraphale his final kiss of the night.

Immediately you wanted to slink back into the Bentley when you heard a chorus of your deadname being yelled through the house, directing Aziraphale to the dessert table to place the Eccles cake while you set down the ancient wine bottle with the other drinks.

“This is Anthony,” you introduced your husband to your family, he was dressed in their gray button up with his red tie, black blazer and slacks. “And this is our dearest friend Azira.” Aziraphale was done up in his usual outfit except he traded out the faded waistcoat for a newer one.

“What a pity we couldn’t attend the wedding, but I suppose (s)he’s always done things his/her own way.” Your mom said, feigning innocence as your hand tightened on Crowley’s.

“Ah, yes, I suppose that’s what drew me to them. Their fierce determination.” Crowley glared slightly, a faux grin on her lips as they enunciated your pronouns. That was how the night would continue, both Crowley and Aziraphale determinedly trying to correct your family through their own speech.

“That’s it!” Aziraphale was the first to snap, seeing tears in your eyes as he sat across from you at the dining table, luckily the children were eating in the great room, the tv playing football flickered at his outburst. “I have absolutely had it with you lot misgendering them! They told you four years ago that they preferred gender neutral terms and informed you of their very legal name change, what is so hard to accept?”

When your mom went to speak, Crowley interrupted. “Nope, wrong answer there, see it’s not that hard, maybe in the beginning, to adjust, to try. But you lot never tried, did you? Instead our partner here is almost in tears, they were stressed about even coming, but unlike you all, they value you. And yes, I said our partner. Azira is not just a friend, in fact he’s as much their husband as I am.” Crowley rose from her chair and offered you their hand, which you gratefully took, letting him guide you out of the house with Aziraphale following behind you.

“I’m sorry, that was improper and I know that-” Aziraphale stammered out, feeling like he messed up but being cut off when you suddenly hugged him, laughing softly against his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare apologize, did you see their faces? That was so worth it, I have you two, and we’re a big enough family for me.” Aziraphale hugged you back tightly and kissed the side of your head, you felt Crowley press against your back, joining your hug and kissing Aziraphale.

“Happy Christmas, loves.”

“Happy Christmas, dear.”

“Happy Christmas, little devil.”

[tawklinshii2]

My Good omens 3 thoughts

Disclaimer: Neil can do whatever he wants, these are just my rants!

Me busting in with my rant:

Welcome to my Ted talk.

Firstly, as many of us were, I was devastated by the ending, left me re-thinking my life choices, let’s break down why I think these choices were made by the characters.

Now, I think everyone here can say that the ex-ineffable ex husbands have trauma regarding heaven and hell. Aziraphale has had a deep rooted fear of disobeying Heaven, easily molding into this sense of obedience whenever he gets a grip on how he is betraying heaven, before he trusted heaven almost blindly but now he wants to fix heaven (to be good enough for Crowley, to be better in general for the greater good? We don’t know) and take Crowley with him. Aziraphale hasn’t fully let go of the hope of fixing heaven, still wanting to grasp onto heaven being good and hell being bad [ex. Of course you did, you’re the bad guys.]. He is able to fall back into submission so easily that he would after one conversation ditch the one who he loves for a hope that he can fix things for the innocent Crowley before the fall and bring back someone who doesn’t want to go back due to obvious trauma.

Now, I believe Aziraphale loves Crowley without a doubt, but he is so easily manipulated into trusting heaven again that he just says after Crowley confesses to him “I forgive you” and walks away and up to heaven, leaving Crowley to be the one to keep stepping up and fixing problems in their Relationship all the time (which is why I want to see aziraphale stepping up and taking responsibility and trying to fix this instead of Crowley like he always does.) Although I was deeply invested in the coffee theory for a while, I honestly think this is just how Aziraphale is as a character, and it is not healthy.

When it comes to crowley, his trauma is kind of overlooked. He asked a question to maybe see if he can protect his one passion in life and got thrown or “sauntered vaguely downwards” into a pool of boiling sulfur. And is constantly reminded how because of this he is a bad person, and is made to be evil by Azira and others around him. Crowley is in fact the opposite (ex. saving the goats, helping Job’s kids from not dying, saving the angel’s books, etc.) Crowley obviously has been in love with Azira for a long time, wanting to go off together like Beelzebub and Jim, but to put it in other words “the communication isn’t communicating.”

Now with the writers strike being over, all we have to do is wait for @neil-gaiman to tell us if someone has commissioned him yet. I beg of you companies, I NEED SEASON 3 TO HAPPEN😭

I honestly would rather an angst ending to having no ending at all, but please make my dreams come true Neil, give these angsty teenagers in ethereal bodies a happy ending

[lamenii]

Why I dislike the "Coffee Theory".

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2 SPOILERS AHEAD

Very wordy one for my first post but here goes:

I don't like the coffee theory.

For those of you not aware what this theory is, it's the idea that Metatron 'miracled' Aziraphale's coffee before he drank it to persuade him to come back to Heaven and leave Crowley behind. It has almost been used as a 'comfort theory' of sorts since season 2 came out, and whilst many people are clinging onto it as a lifeline, I've come to really dislike this theory for one key reason: it erases almost everything we have come to know about Aziraphale's character.

Aziraphale is a firm believer in the 'good vs evil' narrative of Heaven. He thinks that Heaven seeks out to do good, and so by taking on a role within the upper leagues, he genuinely believes he can make a difference. As much as I hate to say it, when given the choice between Crowley and Heaven, it is incredibly in character for Aziraphale to choose Heaven since he thinks with his influence he can save the world he had come to love with Crowley.

There are also a lot of parallels with Nina's toxic relationship with Lindsay and Azira's relationship with Heaven throughout season 2. Aziraphale can't see that Heaven is bad in the same way that Crowley does with Hell, which I think is a key reason why Crowley cannot understand him choosing to go back. Hell was very physical in its mistreatment of Crowley, which allowed him to know for sure that it was bad. Heaven, however, was a lot more emotionally and mentally manipulative, so it makes sense that Aziraphale, despite having been without them for so long, takes the opportunity to go back - he doesn't see that Heaven merely sees him as a pawn in their game against Hell.

If the 'Coffee Theory' were true, this would render everything we know about Aziraphale's character false. The amount of people I saw online saying that "Aziraphale would never leave Crowley!" or "This is so OOC for him!", who were failing to recognise that it is, in fact, very in character for Aziraphale to do this. He loved the Earth with Crowley - he had the opportunity to take a position that, in his mind, would allow him to save the world he knew Crowley held as dear as he did. He never wanted to leave Crowley - he very much wanted him to come with him - but he couldn't see past his desire to try and do good, and if he could, he wouldn't be the character we love.

[neoputo]

little Good Omens 2 rant. didn't think this through so just watch me come up with new ideas as i go (lol).

about: That Scene in s2 + Aziraphale being weird but also, not that weird.

[ will be referring to Aziraphale as a he & Crowley as a she to make it easier to understand whom i'm talking abt. ]

the fact that Aziraphale told Crowley she could be his second in command still haunts me. why tf would he say that? like, i can understand everything else he said (in spite of it being rough): perhaps he's deeply traumatized, perhaps he has been manipulated and had no other option but to say what he said (among lots of other possibilities). but second in command... ouch!

and look, i get the theory that talks about how Azira said all that in order to piss Crowley off and make sure she wouldn't try to follow him/protect him/stop him. but WHY would he do that, if later we find him insisting once again Crowley goes with him to heaven. i don't understand. something. feels. off.

HOWEVER, let me bring a new interpretation to the table: let's take a look at walt whitman's song of myself, 51, a poem that goes

(...) do i contradict myself?

very well then i contradict myself,

(i am large, i contain multitudes.) (...)

but neo, what are you talking about?, you may ask. well, what i'm talking about is, no matter what theory you believe to be the most reliable, Aziraphale is having an internal battle that comes down to what he has to do vs what he wants to do:

on one hand, he has to go to heaven, protect crowley, follow the plan he quickly came up with while discussing with the metatron, etc.

on the other hand, though, he wants to stay with the love of his life, kiss her a thousand times more, tell her how much he loves her & that he fell in love with her a long time ago, etc.

so, to me, Aziraphale says the things he says because he has to; he's forced to do it, for one reason or another. however, Aziraphale also has his own feelings and, even though he can be very good at disguising them, some of them pop up while he talks (he looks anxious, about to burst into tears at any moment, desperately fighting back the impulse to kiss crowley and hold her in his arms for a little longer). he almost even says "i love you" instead of "i forgive you". god, he literally tries to swallow down every last bit of Crowley that's left in his mouth after the kiss, as if he had been starving for it for ages (possibly over 6000 years)... DAMN, AZIRAPHALE, DAMN!

so, yes, Aziraphale does, in fact, contain multitudes. but remember, there's not one side more important, or valid, or truthful than the other. both sides are honest and both sides share a place in this angel's heart+mind+body. he doesn't have to choose one, he doesn't have to discard one, for he is large and he contains multitudes, and these multitudes coexist, they are what make Aziraphale the way he is. without one or the other, Aziraphale would be a completely different being... or wouldn't exist at all!

that's it. thanks for reading!

oh, and btw! if you find this analysis interesting, i strongly suggest you watch youtuber Ter's video un concepto que me ha cambiado la vida: la performance (a concept that has changed my life: the performance—the video is in spanish + has english subs for those of you that don't speak spanish). it is AMAZING and explains this "containing multitudes" concept very well.

[aziraphales-library]

Love your blog!! I wonder if you could recommend any Our Flag Means Death crossovers? I know the fandoms pretty new but I'm loving the parallels between Ed/stede and Crowley/aziraphale

Hello there! There has been a similar request in @stedes-incredible-library recently. Specifically listed here.

A few more recs below:

A Most Tender Subject by rowenablade [G]

Did that snake that fell on Blackbeard in Episode 7 look familiar to anyone else?

Double Vision by Vee_is_typing [T]

“Oh piss off,” Crowley said, lowering his sword.

“Crowley!” The angel sounded delighted from where he was kneeling on the ship’s rough wooden deck.

“Hang on, you know this guy?” Ed asked, looking between the two.

“He’s a friend from work,” Crowley slid his sword back into its scabbard with a resigned sigh.

“I thought this was your work,” Stede said, gesturing at the line of pirates slowly making their way onto the Revenge, hands full of loot.

Capturing More than Bargained For by Blackdelphinium [T]

Edward Teach takes Aziraphale hostage.

Crowley teams up with Stede Bonnet to get him back.

our echos roll by neila777 [G]

It takes a moment for Stede’s words to register, but when they do it hits Ed like a punch to the gut. Memories of hope crumbling into despair roll through him as all the pieces fall into place. An angel and a demon, working together to face the world-

“Oh-” He says simply, and reaches out to brush a hand over the book. The book which seems precious, almost sacred, now that he has the knowledge of what it contains.

It’s just a story, yes, but it’s a reflection of their own, holding echoes of their experiences within its leather bound pages.

OR, Stede gets choked up reading a book called "Good Omens" and Ed's trying to figure out why

Tell It To My Heart by BooknerdMiss [M]

“Well, now that you mention it,” Aziraphale began and Crowley turned away as he started to lead the way toward the Bentley. “I was thinking we could try - .”

“Yeah?” Crowley prompted, turning toward the angel when he didn’t finish his sentence and encountering only empty air. “Azira-PHALE!” he yelped as he spun fully around, coming face to face with a vicious snarl mere inches from his nose. He scrambled backward a few steps, unnecessary breaths leaving him in quick pants and his heart thudding frantically as his chest heaved.

The angel statue that Aziraphale had been so enamored with was off the plinth where it had been perched and was currently lunging for the demon, its face twisted in a terrifying expression and fingers curled into claws that were frozen mid-reach. Aziraphale was nowhere in sight, the area around Crowley quiet except for his harsh breaths.

A Weeping Angel sends Aziraphale back to 1717. What's a demon to do except call an old acquaintance for help? Meanwhile, Aziraphale is trying to survive on the pirate ship he's suddenly on, but some of the crew seem less than friendly.

Good Omens x Our Flag Means Death x Doctor Who Crossover.

~Mod N

[moose-muffin]

*BREAKS INTO YOUR INBOX* TECHNO. and Wilbur maybe if you haven't done him asgdhfj

HI AZIRA!! VERY VERY LATE BUT HERE ARE SOME HCS FOR YOU MY DARLING!! YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL, THANK YOU FOR BEING SO PATIENT (I KNOW YOURE PROBABLY ALSEEP RIGHT NOW SO GOOD MORNING!!)

Lee!Techno

▫️very cool, very epic, very wholesome, very lovely

▫️lee techno has my entire heart and I just think that is so cool

▫️he would probably blush pretty easily, sorry I don’t make the rules!!

▫️ he would get a tad bit nervous beforehand and then probably just let it happen. He might *try* to push you away, but not with much force

▫️He is just a very wholesome lee ok??

▫️he’s definitely pretty ticklish. But he also gives off the vibe that he knows how to like turn off the feeling?? so catching him by suprise is a big help

▫️spots?? this is probably the burning question. he is tall and tall people give me ticklish ribs vibes so have that ❤️

▫️In terms of he’s enjoying it, he’s enjoying it

▫️If I made the rules I’d probably tell you I thought he ended up as the lee more often, but based on evidence we know that to be untrue

▫️ in the one video where he says the word he’s explaining how, as a kid, he tickled his friend. And his school thought he was beating his friend up!! funny story right??

▫️yes, but also, if he like poked his friend?? I don’t think the school would’ve assumed he was punching his friend?? like he probably had to be *tickling* his friend if you get what i mean

And that is a perfect segue into the next part!!

Ler!Technoblade

▫️ as I kind of already talked about, he is very good at being ler. He’s has experience before!! Both with family and friends and that’s pretty important to note!!

▫️safe to say he’s skilled. he gives off the vibes that he would automatically know where your worst spot is before he’s even laid a finger on you

▫️not huge on teasing, but he likes narrating or commentating (which arguably is teasing but just not the traditional kind?? you get what I mean)

▫️he is very good at commentary, it’s like,, his content!!

▫️I guess you could call it teasing, because he *knows* it has an impact. he might use that to his advantage if he wants to

▫️when it comes to someone being in a lee mood, he might notice?? he’s getting better at it. he tends to ask before acting on it though so prepare to say that yes you are in fact lee

▫️I feel like he’d start at the lee’s worst spot only to go somewhere much less sensitive?? like as a “oh hey I know your weakness but hey everyone loves build up right??”

Alright onto Mr. Soot

Lee!Wilbur

▫️ok listen he is just the sweetest lee with the sweetest little giggles and laugh I swear to goodness

▫️also he genuinely doesn’t mind it either and it’s very wholesome about it?? I feel like he’d almost react in the way of like scratching a cat or dog’s (forgive me for using this word) belly?? like?? if that makes sense

▫️but that’s only if he’s lee, if he’s not lee and you get him he might be a bit more combative

▫️he’d try to wreck you while you’re wrecking him and it just becomes a whole thing!! he would successfully tickle whoever the lee is

▫️but spots wise, I feel like I’d say ribs and hips but also like knees?? dont know exactly why that’s just the vibe I’m getting!!

▫️ he generally tends to be more of a giggler than a laugher, but like if you get his ribs?? he just goes absolutely *feral*

▫️it’s adorable and he will definitely get you back for it

Ler!Wilbur

▫️Ya this is his specialty ❤️ Bon appétit!!

▫️he is probably the most teasy of all the smp members. That’s his favorite thing ever!!

▫️tends to use the more endearing teases like, “awww look at how cute you are!” Or “look at how much you’re enjoying this!”

▫️he wants the experience to be more personal for the lee!! he wants them to know how much fun he’s having

▫️as far as his vibe for tickling, he’s definitely a light tickles dude,,

▫️he also will wreck you whenever and has a lot of fun with the scenario where he tickles you mid conversation with someone and ignores what’s happening 😁

HI IM SO SORRY THESE ACTALLY TOOK MONTHS TO DO!! BUT ILYSM AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THESE AND ILL TRY TO CATCH UP ON THE REST OF MY ASK ASAP!!

[silverynight]

The Archangel and the Succubus

Part VIII

Azira doesn't expect to see Crowley that day; he's talking with a customer about muffins and cheesecake when the Archangel walks in the bakery and miracles everyone away.

"What? What's going on?" Azirafell stops himself from asking more when he notices the frown upon Crowley's face.

However, there's more than that; there's pain clearly written in his eyes... He's taken his shades off and it seems he's struggling to look at the succubus.

"What is it?" Azira insists, trying to take his hand, but the Archangel suddenly moves out of the way.

It hurts. The sex demon takes a step back and wonders if this is about Gabriel, perhaps he finally convinced Crowley to stop spending time with a succubus like him.

But then, the Archangel notices his expression and regret quickly replaces his irritation and pain.

"I'm sorry, Azira, I didn't mean to–"

"It's alright. I understand."

The frustration comes back right away; Crowley grimaces and lets himself collapse on a couch that appears in the middle of the bakery.

"No. You don't."

Getting irritated himself, Azira sits next to him and narrows his eyes; it's really unbelievable how much he trusts the Archangel. If he was any other angel, the demon would be terrified.

"I do," he protests. "You spoke with Gabriel."

The name makes the Archangel's eyes glow with anger and Azira, despite of the thousands of years he's known him, moves away.

"So you really just... didn't want me, huh?" Crowley mumbles painfully. "I don't understand. Why did you chose to have sex with Gabriel?"

"What?" The demon blinks a couple of times, not sure if what's happening is true. "I didn't have sex with him!"

Relief and confusion appear all over Crowley's face at that moment.

"But I heard some demons talk about it..."

"Why would you believe anything a demon says?" Azira asks, still very much irritated. "Why didn't you ask me first?"

"I apologise for that," the Archangel says sincerely, looking away from him for a moment. "It's–I was so consumed by jealousy I couldn't think straight."

The succubus doesn't have the time to think about the implications of what Crowley just said so he decides to tell him what happened.

And he regrets it immediately; Crowley is furious.

"I'll speak to him. I'll tell him not to get close to you again," he almost growls, surprising Azira again.

"But isn't his idea better for you? If you stop hanging around with me–"

"How many times do I have to tell you, Azira?" Crowley takes the demon's hands in his while he stares directly at him. "I don't care. I want to be with you. I love you."

The Archangel doesn't give him any chance to reply or even think about it; as Azirafell blushes to the tip of his ears, Crowley vanishes.

There's so much to think about. But the first thing in the succubus mind is that Crowley is going to get himself in trouble.

Because of him.

***

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[madquerade]

In Questo Paradiso ne Scopra il Nuovo Dì (10/10)

Rating: m Ineffable Wives (female Crowley x Aziraphale) Major Character Death, tw: illness, blood Human AU, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, just a lil fluff but like… You can read it on Ao3 @ sherwhotreksings Chapter: one two three four five six seven eight nine ten

Paris. 1851. She’s not sure if she’s real or imaginary, the girl sitting on a chair across from her bed. She sees her though: dark hair, golden brown eyes, dressed in white, Azira’s sister. She can’t be sure anything is real at this point. The only thing she knows for sure is that she’s home now and she’s dying. ~ This is just La Traviata but with the wives. I’m sorry. Antonia is a Parisian courtesan caught up in the intricacies of French society until a young madame, Azira, disrupts her whole world.

Chapter 4

A/N: Here we go! The final chapter! Thank you for sticking with the fic and I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have.

Antonia slips in and out of sleep. It seems like she hasn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep in weeks. The covers around Antonia provide little warmth for her cold body. On top of that, her skin has turned sensitive and even the silk feels rough and scratches her body uncomfortably. She sighs weakly and uses what strength she has to sit up. So this is what her miserable life has been leading to. Fitting that she’ll go out spotted with blood and stripped of love. A life lived for pleasure will only lead to unhappiness. Antonia squeezes her eyes shut, trying to block out her surroundings. They only remind her of pain. At least she managed to do one thing right with her life. She saved Azira’s sister.

Antonia opens her eyes. Azira’s sister stands opposite her in the room. Her dark hair falls gracefully around her shoulders, adorned with flowers and a white veil. Her golden brown eyes sparkle as she slowly glides parallel to Antonia’s bed. The wedding dress she’s wearing brushes the floor and trails behind her as she walks ever closer to her destiny. An invisible wind stirs the hem of her veil and plays in her hair. Antonia tracks her with her eyes. Azira’s sister floats the length of the room and disappears from sight.

Antonia leans forward, trying to catch another glimpse of the girl out of her field of vision, but the doctor enters and chides her for exerting herself. She reluctantly lies back against the pillows. Marceline pulls up a chair to Antonia’s bed side for the doctor. He sits down and thanks Marceline while pulling out his stethoscope. He listens to her heart and lungs, having her lean forward at his instruction. Antonia can’t imagine he’s hearing much over the dark crackle of her breathing. She has to fight for each breath now. It’s an uphill battle and one that she knows she’s losing. The doctor leans over to Marceline, hovering nervously nearby, and whispers something. If Antonia was stronger, she’d try to eavesdrop, but that would take too much energy.

“How am I doing?” Antonia offers a feeble smile, voice barely above a whisper.

He gives her a reassuring pat on the arm. “You’ll make a full recovery, ma cherie.” He says it with such conviction, but his facial expression betrays him, twisted into a concerned frown.

It’s okay. She knows he’s lying anyway. She’s nearing her final chapter.

The doctor pulls Marceline aside to another room, presumably to offer her advice on how to care for her in her final hours. Antonia reaches under her pillow, retrieving the letter delivered to her almost two weeks ago from Monsieur Donadieu. Though her hope has long since faded, it brings her a small comfort. She rereads it once more, fingers taking care to not rip the paper at the worn creases.

Madame Crowley,

You kept your promise, so I will keep mine. The duel has taken place! The Baron was wounded, but is recovering. Azira was not harmed.

Her heart flutters at those words every time she reads them. Even though she could not offer her the life she desperately wanted, Antonia was not the cause of losing that chance all together. One day Azira will be able to reach her destiny.

Azira, heartbroken by your act, has gone abroad. I’ll admit I was not planning on revealing your sacrifice, but I was moved by your letters.

Antonia spent quite some time thinking about what letters Gabriel meant. The conclusion she landed on was that Marceline found her unsent letters to Azira and mailed them herself, otherwise a letter fairy delivered them against her wishes.

I myself wrote to her as soon as I made my decision. She will return to ask your pardon. Take care of yourself. You deserve a happier future.

Gabriel Donadieu

Antonia holds back a sob. It’s too late, now. She’s waited too long and now she’ll die before she gets here. She throws back the covers, a sudden determination to keep her strength flooding her veins. She’ll survive long enough for Azira to arrive.

Shakily she puts her feet on the floor, testing her legs ability to hold her weight before standing. All seems right for the moment, so she chances it, and manages to walk to her vanity. She picks up the brush and messily runs it through her hair before picking up the mirror.

“Ah! How I’ve changed,” Antonia exclaims. The person looking back at her is a stranger, pale and weary. Her bright fiery hair has dulled. Her skin is grey and so dry it looks as if she might shed and become a snake. The only spot of color is her lips, but even they are unnaturally dark, stained red from the blood she’s been coughing up. She can feel her breathing get heavier and knows if she doesn’t retreat soon, she’ll have a coughing fit.

She slams the mirror down onto her vanity. “Adieu, sweet dreams of the past, with this disease every hope is dead!” Antonia turns back to her bed, taking small hesitant steps. Her lungs feel like they’re bursting, too late to stop her cough. She doubles over as she reaches the bed, one hand on the mattress to keep her up. Her cough is rough and hacking. She’s given up on using a handkerchief to contain the blood, it just soaks through to her hand anyway.

“Smile upon the woman who has strayed,” Antonia pleads with the air and whoever is listening, tears mingling with the blood on her lips. “No cross nor name will mark my bones when I’m gone.”

Marceline overhears her cries and rushes into the bedroom. “Merde! Antonia! What are you doing?” She grabs Antonia’s arms and urges her into bed.

Antonia tries to wave her off, but it doesn’t work. “I just wanted a change of pace and some air. This bed is suffocating.”

Marceline helps Antonia get situated in bed again, fluffing her pillows, and helps her sit up. “Let me open the window for you, but just for a moment. I don’t want you catching a chill.”

The sounds of outside come filtering in, muffled by the thick curtains, cheers and laughter.

“Is today a holiday?” Antonia stretches, trying to see out the window where Marceline is pulling the curtain back.

“All of Paris is going mad. It’s Carnival today.” Marceline opens the window more and leans out, examining the crowd gathering in the streets in front of their residence. “The parade will be happening any moment-” Marceline squeaks out a noise of alarm and quickly closes the window, pulling the curtains tight. “Madame, you must not get excited. I want to prepare you…”

Antonia’s heart speeds up. There’s only one reason Marceline would request she not get excited.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, getting louder as the visitor approaches. Azira appears in the doorway to the bedroom and freezes there, taking in Antonia’s state.

“Azira!” Antonia cries, trying to read her body language. She can’t tell if Azira is happy to see her.

Azira rushes to her side and scoops her into her arms. It feels like her hands are everywhere; on her hips, her back, her sides, her face. Azira peppers kisses all over her face and hair. “Antonia, mon amour, please forgive me. The fault was all mine- I know everything now. My father told me what he made you do. I felt like I was dying away from you.”

Antonia closes her eyes, focusing on keeping calm. “I felt the same, but it’s proof grief can’t kill because you’ve found me alive.”

Azira slides under the covers, helping Antonia adjust until she’s in her lap and laying back against her chest. “Nothing will be able to take you from my arms now, not man, nor demon, or angel.” She smooths the hair back from Antonia’s face. “We’ll escape Paris and live in the country again. We’ll make up for our heartache, and your health will come back again. You’re the light of my life and the future will shine upon us.”

Antonia is lulled into the daydream by the steady beat of Azira’s heart. “We’ll leave Paris,” Antonia echos. They can do this. They can be happy together finally. Her illness doesn’t have to stop them. Now that Azira is back she can fight it. She pushes herself up from Azira. “Azira, please, let’s go to the church.” She stands, fighting her wobbling legs.

“You’re so pale-” Azira gasps, but Antonia cuts her off.

Antonia sways, grasping her chest. “-It’s nothing! I’m just overjoyed.”

Her legs give out from under her and Azira jumps to her feet, catching her heavily. “Mon Dieu! Antonia!” Azira holds her weight completely and Antonia’s head tips forward limply against her chest.

Antonia takes a ragged breath. She breathes but she’s not getting any air. Her illness’ end feels near. This can’t be how she ends. This can’t be it. She just got her love back. The air around her feels thick and humid though it’s the beginning of January.

Antonia’s voice comes out like a wisp of her former self, “It’s only my illness, just a moment of weakness. I’m better now. See I’m smiling.” She attempts a smile, but it falls only a second later. “Marceline, get my dress.” She motions towards the dress hanging on the door.

“Now? Wait!” Azira tries to lower Antonia back to the bed, but she struggles and breaks free of Azira’s arms.

“No! I want to go out.” Overcome by the manic fervor of her creeping reality, she rushes to the dress herself. She manages to pull it down from the hanger, letting the weight of the material and gravity do most of the work, but the material is too heavy for her to hoist over her head, and she doesn’t have the balance to step into it. “I cannot!” Antonia breaks down sobbing.

Azira collects her back into her arms, letting the dress fall to the floor in a heap. “Marceline, call the doctor!”

Marceline rushes out of the room to send word.

Antonia cries into Azira’s arms, still standing for the moment. In between her gasps she calls out to Marceline hoping she’ll hear her, “Tell the doctor that Azira has come back to her love. Tell him I want to live again!” She slides out of Azira’s arms, sinking to her knees not unlike the dress next to them. “If your return has not saved my life, then nothing on Earth can save me!”

Azira holds her in her arms, letting her scream.

“To die now, when I might have at last stopped my weeping!” It’s Antonia’s turn to rage. Her fingernails bite into the center of her palms as she squeezes her fists shut. “I kept my love alive in vain!” She smacks the floor with her fists and throws back her head, letting out a scream that would break the hearts of anyone who heard.

Azira tries to reassure her, a look of abject terror on her face. “My breath of life, my pulse, you must stay calm! My tears flow with your’s, but we must now more than ever keep heart.”

Antonia looks up and sees that Azira is indeed also crying. However, her words do nothing to steady her heart. She’s losing control. Her chest heaves with each cry. If her lungs were healed she would be hyperventilating by now.

“My Antonia, be calm! Your grief is killing me! Please, be calm!” Azira’s own panic increases. She wraps her arms tighter around Antonia, hugging her with enough pressure to ground her.

Antonia calms after a few moments and Azira picks her up and carries her back to her bed. With her hair splayed out around her like a halo, she looks like a tragic painting. Her tears have left trails that glitter against her sickly skin in the dusky light. The doctor comes in, without his bag, followed by Marceline. Antonia smiles up at him. “See? I’m dying in the arms of the only dear one I have.”

The doctor shushes her and takes a handkerchief from Marceline, dabbing at her forehead. He passes it off to Azira, who wipes at her salty chest and cleans the blood from around her mouth. The doctor instructs Marceline to do something, and reprimands Antonia, probably for leaving the bed, but she isn’t listening anymore. Antonia leans over to her bedside table and pulls out a locket.

“Take my portrait of days gone by.” Antonia holds it out to Azira. “Let it remind you of the woman who loved you.”

Azira’s eyes flash and she pushes Antonia’s hand away. “No! You must live my darling!”

Antonia gasps and coughs up blood, splattering all over the sheets and her nightgown. Her lungs ache and burn, but she must survive the hellfire before she’s granted the peace she so desires.

“Please... “ Antonia doesn’t catch her breath this time, instead taking in small gasps of air. “...take it.”

Azira’s hand closes around Antonia’s slipping the locket into her hand.

“Remember me when I’m among the spirits.” Antonia relaxes into the pillow, closing her eyes.

If only she had more time with Azira, but there isn’t anymore time. The clock has struck midnight and it’s time for her to go to bed.

“Please, God, don’t take her from me!” Azira leans forward and sobs into Antonia’s lap.

Marceline carefully places her hand on Azira’s shoulder. “God calls her to her side.”

“Please live…” Azira begs Antonia taking both her hands in her own, “or a single casket will return both you and me to the soil of our Earth.”

As if through some magic, or a miracle, perhaps from love itself, Antonia sits up. “My palms! The spasms have ceased!” She holds her arms out in front of her, amazed at the improvement. “My energy! My life is back!” Antonia gets to her knees on the bed. “We can get married, Azira!”

The doctor glances to Azira, who is looking at him apprehensively. A single shake of his head is all she needs to know. Azira climbs onto the bed next to Antonia and wraps her arms around her love. Antonia takes one final deep breath and slumps back in Azira’s arms.

The room is silent save for the singing of Parisians outside.

Make way for the quadruped Queen of the festival, Wearing her crown of flowers and vine leaves.

Make way for the tamest of all who wear horns, greet her with music of harp and flute.

People of Paris, open the path to the heroic Queen. Light-hearted maidens, and frolicking lads, pay her due honour of music and song!

People of Paris, open the path to the triumphant Queen. Make way for the quadruped Queen of the festival wearing her crown of horns.

[10yrsyart]

I'm not sure what's the most smiley Azira moment in the series. It's between the Gavotte scene, which is the giddiest Azira I've seen. Or Azira in Heaven talking about how wiley and cool Crowley is. He loves Crowley so much that he fails at hiding it when talking about him to his superiors. >w

i’d say the Gavotte scene is PEAK happy Zira. like his eyes are almost squeezed shut and his cheeks look like he’s about to pull a muscle, he is so very happy. 

however, my personal fav smile, the one i think is the happiest, is the Shakespeare scene. cause he turns all that joy and sparkle onto AJ instead. it’s /because/ of AJ that he’s smiling like that, that’s why it’s my fav.

[asphodelsandpomegranates]

Feathers (Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley) (fluff)

(A/N): Guess what fandom I’ve dived head first into!!! And I’m watching it again!!!! Anyways, enjoy! 

Your sleeping methods with both angel and demon is...one of close proximity. All beds you shared were double sized. At night, the boys liked nothing more than to flex their wings and wrap them around your sleeping forms. It was perfect during the winter periods but not in summer. It was too much for you. Crowley, being a demon and with all the hell fire, didn't seem to mind. Aziraphale liked it to a certain degree but you didn't.

Flat out nope!

So, Aziraphale suggested that their wings would be best used to cool you all down. So, that's what happened. Furthermore, when sleeping in your bed, which is a little smaller than Aziraphale's or Crowley's, Crowley changed himself into his snake form. It was a little weird at first and it took some time to get use to. Eventually, you found it adorable. Crowley didn't like it when you used that word to describe him.

On one particular occasion, you woke up alone in bed, in the above flat of Aziraphale's bookshop, with feathers all around you.

All black and white.

Both angel and demon's wings had a little tendency to molt a little over night. Really that only ever happened on a few occasions.

You let out a puff of air, letting the two feathers on your face shoot a little into the air and land on your stomach. Gingerly sitting up, you saw a dozen or more feathers strewn all over the bed. You picked up two of the feathers – one black, one white – and examined them up close.

What to do with these feathers? Usually, when this happened Aziraphale or Crowley would sort it out. Aziraphale would apologise immediately and dust them away. Where he would put them, you had no idea. Crowley, however, would just shrug them off and say: “Leave them be. They'll disappear soon.” You guessed that they would just miracle them away.

But it just didn't feel right, throwing them away.

Then an idea came into your head. You look up at the wall behind you. There were just two portraits on the wall.

If you remembered correctly, there wasn't much on Crowley's bedroom walls at his place, and there definitely was nothing above your bed at yours.

You gathered the feathers into a bag and tucked it in Aziraphale's study. You then changed into some comfy day clothes and headed down stairs. Aziraphale was in the back part of the shop, examining a book. Crowley didn't seem to be anywhere.

“Morning, angel.” you cooed, walking up to him and kissing his cheek.

“Oh, good morning, darling.” he chirped, setting his reading glasses on the desk and looking at you. You never understood why he wore them, but then again it did make him look....refined. “Wasn't expecting you up so soon.”

“Well, I wanted to pop out for a while.” you explained as you grabbed your coat.

“Oh, I see. Well, I can call Crowley and get him to take you to where you want to go.”

“Oh, no, it's fine. I don't want to disturb him with...whatever he's doing. I'll try not to be too long, I promise.”

The golden haired angel smiled. “All right, then darling. Just be careful.”

You smiled back. “I will, don't worry.” You leaned down and planted a sweet kiss on his lips. When you pulled away, you saw that his cheeks were pink.

Giggling a farewell, you left the bookshop and headed into town.

You ended up at nearly every single craft shop in the area and, thankfully, got what you needed. Strings, beads, thread, ribbon, a few cardboard circlets, paints, spray, a puncture gun. Everything you needed for the perfect dream-catcher.

As you left the coffee shop, you heard a car honking and a familiar yelling voice.

“(Y/N)!”

Turning round, you spotted a familiar looking Bentley parked a little way along from where you were. Crowley was slightly leaning out of the window of his car with his usual snake like grin on his face, his fangs showing.

You hurried over to the Bentley and jumped in.

“Hey, how come you're in this neck of the woods?” you asked before he kissed you on the lips.

“Angel told me. I was out and I bought some treats.”

“Cake?”

Crowley smiled. “What else?”

In about a five minute drive – which usually takes twenty minutes in normal traffic – you both arrive back at Aziraphale's bookshop. Aziraphale was too busy serving two customers, which led to both you and Crowley kissing the angel on the cheeks and sauntering into the back of the shop, leaving a flustered and stuttering Aziraphale. You and Crowley started on lunch and by the time, Aziraphale came into the back, it was ready.

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

Later on, you sat in Aziraphale's study with music from your phone, playing in the background. You were just finishing on the third and last dream-catcher, tying off the ribbon for it to hang on the wall. All of the dream-catchers were a beige colour with white string around the middle like a spider's web. Pale strings of ribbon decorated with beads and glitter and, of course, Aziraphale and Crowley's feathers. In the middle of one of them was an open book with a intricate cover. On the second was a black snake with a red underbelly, its tongue flickering out. On the final one was a large red heart with a pair of wings almost closed around it protectively. One wing was white and the other black.

A possible anniversary present.

An early one, at best.

You laid then out beside one another, examining them. Your fingers danced along the entities' feathers.

“Ah, (Y/N), we wondered where you were.”

You looked round and saw both angel and demon were standing in the doorway of the study. You jumped up, trying to hide the dream-catchers from them. 

“What are you hiding, lovely?” Crowley purred, a slight hiss to his voice. One that was a little mischievous.

“N-nothing.” you stammered.

“Don't lie, darling.” Aziraphale tutted.

Sighing, you stepped away from the desk and showed the supernatural beings what you were hiding. They stared down at the three dream-catchers. In awe.

You stood there, nervous as to their reaction and hoping they liked it. Crowley moved forwards and picked up his dream-catcher. His eyes roaming over the small home-made item and his expression...expressionless. After a few moments, he looked over at you and grinned.

“So, this is what you've been doing?”

You shrugged. “Just thought it would be a nice thing. Saves you both having to miracle them away.”

“Oh, darling, they're beautiful.” Aziraphale cooed. “So creative.”

A blush came up on your cheeks. “There's one for each of us. The book is yours, Azira, and the snake's Crowley.”

“And I suppose this one's yours?” Crowley said, holding up the winged heart.

You nodded. Smiling, Crowley pulled you into a one armed hug, kissing the top of your head. Aziraphale stepped forwards and joined with the hug, squeezing both you and his demon lover. In the background, Tavare's 'Heaven must be Missing an Angel' played on your phone.

“Happy early anniversary.”

[jimvasta]

6000 years is slow enough

A little Incorrect Good Omens inspired by a few lines of writing prompt

It was easy to forget sometimes how adorably limited humans could be. One simple misstep and they got all uptight and upset. Now the Police had arrived and they were so excitable, but honestly, it was only a small fire and it was an accident.

Crowley rolled his eyes to Aziraphale. “Have you ever been handcuffed before?” he asked, forgetting conveniently the whole manacles in revolutionary France business because obviously, that did not count. His angel was far too innocent to get into trouble deliberately.

“Sexually or by law enforcement?”

The question alone was enough to make Crowley pause. Surely Aziraphale did not mean that.

“To be honest, I’ve been both. Although I'm not entirely sure which was which. The Policeman was a lovely chap, he runs a bakery now, I get a free cream cake every Tuesday.”

“Nnk.” Unable even articulate a single coherent thought, there was nothing sensible Crowley could say. By the time he was able to pull his mind into order, Aziraphale was talking pleasantly to the officer pressing him against the brick wall.

“Dear boy, please, this jacket it irreplaceable and I’d rather not have it damaged.”

“Name.”

“Fell. Mr Azira Fell.”

The officer paused halfway through putting on the handcuffs.

“Mr Fell? From the bookshop?”

“The very same.”

“Old Butty Bob’s special friend?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale smiled. “Bob, he’s such a wonderful fellow, very skilled hands.”

Crowley made a strange noise as he nearly swallowed his own tongue.

“His cake decoration is spectacular, and have you sampled his fudge brownies? Take my word for it, they are divine.”

The officer stepped back, putting the handcuffs away. “I’m so sorry, Mr Fell, this has to be mistaken identity, there’s no way you could have had anything to do with this. Bob brings a tray of cakes into the nick every weekend and if he found out I’d arrested you I’d never get another glazed doughnut. He’s always talking about how you saved him from police work and helped set him up with the bakery. Is this man with you?”

Aziraphale glanced across to the silent demon. “Yes, for my sins.”

There was little fuss as Crowley’s handcuffs were removed.

“Do you need a lift home or anything?” the officer was clearly worried about something.

“No, we’re fine, it’s a lovely night for a walk.”

“Right. Mind how you go.” he turned to walk back to the Police car, but turned back abruptly. “If you see Bob, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about this, I don’t want him to think-”

“If I do mention you, I’m sure you know about it, you might even get an extra doughnut. You’re a splendid young man, I’m sure you’ll go far.”

The officer’s cheeks were red as he turned away.

“What the hell was that about?” Crowley demanded, his walk bouncy and uncoordinated beside the angel’s sedate glide.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I go too fast but, no, handcuffs aren’t a problem. How can an angel know anything about the sexual use of handcuffs? You run a bookshop.”

Aziraphale allowed himself a smug little smile. “Precisely. I run a respectable bookshop so I won’t allow any second rate smut like that 50 shades nonsense on the shelves, but I do have some splendid early editions of the Kama Sutra. The illustrations are quite marvelous.”

Crowley could not stop staring, almost tripping over as he forgot himself and tried to slither away in his embarrassment.

Knowing precisely what he was doing to his demon friend, Aziraphale smiled sweetly. “We could peruse them over a bottle or two of wine if you’d like.”

“Ssss.” Crowley managed.

“Standards.” Aziraphale tutted softly.

Crowley trailed behind helplessly as they made their way through the busy evening streets to the bookshop, his yellow eyes never leaving the infuriating angel daintily sliding through the crowds.

The shop door was locked behind them, there was no need for customers who only made a mess and got in the way.

“Wine?”

“And a book?” Crowley hissed the question. He was not angry, he simply too confused to not revert to his natural state of being.

“If you’d rather not I’m sure I can remember it well enough.”

Once again, Crowley was frozen in place. He could barely believe this was his angel talking and he wondered if he was hallucinating or dreaming.

“I have lived in Soho for some time now, one does learn a thing or two.” Aziraphale was pouring wine as he spoke. “And I do think, perhaps, six thousand years is slow enough. Don’t you?” the question was asked as a glass was offered up.

“Angel, you’re a bastard.”

“Thank you, dear.”

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Hello hello, I hope you're feeling better! I had an idea for a request if you're feeling up to it, but don't feel pressured!

I was thinking of headcanons (or a scenario, whichever you prefer)- of how Aziraphale and Crowley would react to seeing their s/o mid work-out session?

Kinda cheesy lmao- sorry about that

-🐝

Routines

I am, thank you!

That’s definitely an interesting idea, wouldn’t mind taking a crack at it, my workouts are nothing too special so I’m having to use my best friend’s routine to go more in depth. (She and I have FaceTimed and talked so much crap while she worked out)

So sorry this took a while, last night had the glitch and then today has been a family day with Kiddo and Bestie.

Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Slightly suggestive

Crowley

He hadn’t really noticed your routine, it wasn’t to say he didn’t care, it was just that you had just begun and did so typically when he was out of the house. He had gone to Aziraphale’s bookshop for some sort of talk with the Angel, something about Adam and young master Warlock even though Armageddon and the Second Coming had both failed and the world was at last safe. You had your music playing in your earbuds as you began your lifts, hardly hearing him come in, paying no mind to the trembling plants.

“Sorry about that Pet, Azira-” he cut himself off when he was met with you in skintight athletic pants and a loose fitting tank top. “Bloody hell, Satan don’t take me now.” He murmured, watching as your muscles flexed and showed with every right move, his forked tongue wetting his lip as he finally surged forward to you, grabbing you by the waist, effectively startling you. “You know, I heard of a much better form of exercise.” He murmured as he placed kisses along your neck.

“Oh yeah?” You teased him, “how about you show me.” His signature grin forming as he pulled you into your bedroom, snapping his fingers to close the blinds and door.

Aziraphale

Aziraphale first noticed with the new protein powder, it was odd to him, and he decided he wanted to give it a try in some pancakes, thinking it was just for flavor.

“Oh, that is disgusting!” He exclaimed quietly when he took his first bite, “tastes nothing like chocolate.” He tried his best to rinse the taste from his tongue with his tea.

“Good morning, Azi,” you chimed, kissing his cheek lovingly, hardly noticing his lingering gaze as he took in your athletic wear, he almost sworn you were tempting him on purpose.

“Good morning, my dear.” He smiled, going up behind you and placing hands on your waist as his head rested on your shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up so early before?”

“Nope,” you replied, looking back to him, “but I want to finally be good about keeping my habits, so more frequent morning runs and workouts from me, rather than once in a blue moon.” Aziraphale nodded, a smile on his face.

“Certainly commendable, I know you’ll be just fine in keeping the habit, after all, you went from occasionally reading to reading everyday.”

“I think my boyfriend being the owner of the world’s best bookshop helped in that.”

“No, darling, it was all you.” He insisted, letting you go soon after so that you could get started, he certainly wasn’t about to complain, you definitely looked nice in the athletic style. Mostly he would only see you in the early mornings, right before your run, but one late morning he found himself needing your opinion on something and so he went into the spare room, not thinking to knock before he opened the door, watching in awe as you followed the instructions on your screen, different exercises he didn’t know all the names to being performed nearly flawlessly.

“Very good, my dear,” he smiled when you took a break, “very proud of you.” He adorned you in praises as he walked over and covered you in kisses.

“Aziraphale,” you giggled, “I’m all sweaty.”

“Don’t care, wanna just love on you.”

[new-endings]

it’s a gray day; have a whumpy wip.

(reverse omens; raphael is an archangel, living under the guise of crowley, a lower tier angel; azira is the poor demon that raphael lied to for 6 millennia and got his heart broken upon learning the truth) 

takes place at the bus stop after armageddon: 

---

Azira flinches when Raphael— appearing this time as Crowley— approaches.

Raphael opens his mouth, trying to get a word in, but Azira won't let him.

"You shouldn't be here."

Crowley— no...Raphael pauses. It's the same words he greets the demon whenever he shows a little too much enthusiasm at spending time with the angel. 

"They'll come for you, if they knew your involvement. You may be an archangel, but you'll be outnumbered."

"I don't give a damn about that!" Raphael automatically retorts.

For the first time since his arrival, the demon turns to look at him. "Since when?" Azira asks evenly.

This time, it’s Raphael that flinches. He always used that excuse to avoid getting closer to the demon, the excuse to stave off those feelings that have been brewing since the beginning of humanity.

What will my superiors say when they find one of their own fraternising with a demon?

Words he threw out so carelessly before, but Azira had always been undeterred, always saying that he'll be sure to be careful.

(he never was, hence why Raphael had to lie and say he was only manipulating the demon for Heaven’s benefit)

He’ll make it up to him. He will. "Since now," Raphael says, sitting next to him on the bench.

His heart aches when Azira stills before inching away from him. "There's no need. What's done is done. They don't need to punish both of us."

"I won't let you suffer alone— "

"You don't need to be here, Raphael." 

That word, that name, doesn’t sound right coming from Azira's mouth. It was always Crowley. He was always Azira's Crowley.

But Azira's not done. "You have what you want and I have what I want. Perhaps it's time to end this little arrangement—"

"What," Raphael grabs him by the arm, heart splintering when Azira looks at him with fright. "What do you mean—"

"The hellfire. It's yours. And I—" Azira swallows. "I have my earth. I may not have long to enjoy it but—"

"Then come with me,” Raphael pleads. "I'll protect you, I've always—"

"No," Azira gasps. "No, I don't— I'll be fine on my own."

"Azira, no, we both know—"

"Yes, yes, I know, I've always depended on you to keep me safe, isn't that right? Well, it's a damn good thing I'll no longer be your burden to bear!"

"Burden?" Raphael breathes out. Where is this coming from? 

"It's a fine thing you did, hiding your name, hiding your power, hiding your intentions all this time. I know I wouldn't have the patience to pull it off."

"My intentions—"

"Were to manipulate a demon, isn't that right? Gather intel for Heaven?"

The realization sinks in. His demon overheard him and misunderstood. "Azira, wait—"

"I'm no longer of any use to you. When they bring me back, it will be to my execution." He turns to Raphael, the warm, firebright glow that always used to shine when the demon looked at him, dulled to dying embers. "I don't have much time. Please, let me go."

"You're mad if you think I intend on letting you go—I'm telling you, I can protect you! I won't let them hurt you, you know that—"

"By what? hiding me away? Do you have a cozy little prison waiting for me in Heaven where Gabriel can torture me for more information with the bloody Sound of Music—"

Raphael's growing frustrated; time's running out and—he's never had Azira deny him before. Not like this. Not even with the hellfire. "Do you honestly think I’d do that to you!?" Raphael's grip on Azira's arm is beginning to hurt and the demon whimpers under the force. "How long have you known me, Azira? I would never—"

"I don't," Azira gasps, prying his arm from Raphael's grip and scrambling away from him in a panic. "I don't know who you are."

Raphael's heart breaks. "It's me. Yes, I lied about my name and my position in Heaven but that's all—Azira, I swear to you! I lied to the others so they wouldn't suspect a thing when they saw us together—"

"So you lied about being worried that your superiors might catch you?!"

"Azira!" Raphael knows he should be apologizing, begging for forgiveness, but he can't stand that look of contempt on his demon's face, not when that face had only ever shown him warmth and happiness when they were together.

"I loved him, did you know that?" Azira breathes out, eyes wet.

Something ugly twisted in Raphael's chest at the admission. "Who?"

Who is he? who stole your heart after all this time? After I thought you had only wanted mine?

"Crowley," Azira says, tears streaking down his face.

Raphael’s heart stops. "Azira..." A delirious warmth spread throughout his chest. Raphael wants to gather the demon in his arms, kiss him until the tears stopped and kiss him more after that. "I'm here, Azira, please— I lo—"

"But he was a lie too, wasn't he?"

that’s all i have so far. 

the idea i had in my head was a reverse!omens with a demon aziraphale and an archangel raphael who lives on earth under the alias of crowley

the gist of the whumps is that azira fell and fell hard for crowley and crowley....cared about him (this is really a reversal) and only learned to love him much later on—

only for aziraphale to realize that the person he fell in love with is a lie.

crowley never existed. only an archangel who lied to him for millennia

it's the reverse of Good Omens too in that azira is very open in his adoration and (giant) crush on crowley, but crowley always played it off, at first believing that— well azira's a demon so that's a no-go, but also later on when he does start admitting to himself that he cares for the demon a lot more, he ALSO puts the barrier up because... he knows now that he's putting the demon he genuinely cares about in danger by being with him

later on, when they have an argument over hellfire (crowley wants it as insurance; he may be powerful, but so are the other archangels), crowley calls their tentative whatever it is "fraternising" and it honestly breaks azira's heart 

like poor azira, he genuinely thinks that maybe there's a chance that he could be more than just good company to have, someone the angel can converse with over wine about topics that he can't with other humans—

but it's there that azira gets this feeling that crowley...might just be using him. 

it. hurts.

but azira's in love and has been in love for so long, and against himself, he gives crowley the hellfire anyways. he leaves it there, warming the cold, barren hearth of crowley's apartment

in the attempts at botching the Armageddon, azira misplaced the antichrist. crowley's furious, not really at the demon, no, but azira's right there and a target of the archangel's panic and ire

azira recommends that they run off together and crowley scoffs at the idea

in crowley's mind, he knows that he won't be able to protect them both this time. he won't be able to fend off the other archangels who not only want his blood, but his demon's as well

crowley needs a plan and needs it fast. and— he can't have azira flubbing it this time

((raphael, obviously stronger than azira, has spent maaany millennia saving the demon. weird, it's almost the spoilt thing wants to be rescued))

he tells azira to leave and go home; he already made a mess of things as it is and that he'll call azira if he needs something

((further cementing the feeling azira has that crowley is only using him))

heartbroken, azira leaves but not before finding the book of prophecy the witch-girl left after crowley, in his panic-stricken mind, actually ran over (she was okay; azira made sure she survived) he goes through it, poring over it and understanding the prophecies and goes to crowley to show him what he's found out— show him that he's not just a burden—

only to sense the powerful presence of several archangels

azira panics— what if they found out what crowley was up to? what if they take him, or worse, punish him for trying to avert armageddon?

he hides his presence (a neat little trick he picked up; very useful when following the trail of the angel you love) and listens in on the conversation and nearly has a heart attack when crowley drops the façade and shows his form, his true form, the archangel raphael

heartbreak 1: crowley lied to him. in fact, worse: crowley was the lie himself. the being that azira loved and cherished never existed

heartbreak 2: the archangels are talking to Raphael about the demon that he was supposedly 'manipulating' in order to gain intel (a lie Raphael came up with so that they wouldn't be suspicious about why he was hanging around a demon so much); of course, azira believes them and understands, truly, that he was just being toyed with from the start

heartbreak 3: Raphael sounds like he's all for war (he's not; he's playing the role the archangels expect him to) ready to eradicate the legions of hell and bring an end to this miserable world (the world azira loves, the world where he feels he belongs, the world where he fell in love and almost believed himself to have a chance at being loved in return)

azira leaves and vows to fix things

he doesn't need crowley, raphael, whoever— he is

he'll stop armageddon himself if he needs to

azira goes to track down the boy himself using the prophecies from the witch's book meanwhile, raphael is panicking; the plans are underway and even speaking to the metatron doesn't give him access to speak to God— his last-ditch effort

he thinks back to azira's stupid suggestion—that they run off together—and a part of him is desperate enough to believe that even prolonging their demise would be enough.

he can't—won't fight azira in the battlefields. and he'll slay his own kin if they so much as raise a sword to his demon

he's calling azira's bookshop but there's no answer. he goes there himself and finds it engulfed in flames

hell has found his demon and raphael gives up all hope

it’s azira that finds Adam and is the one to single-handedly convince him to stop armageddon, that he doesn't need to be a slave to this supposed destiny of his

meanwhile, crowley watches on, stunned—that his demon is alive and—actually competent?

raphael wants to be there, wants to stand by azira's side so badly

he knows he has a lot to explain, a lot to apologize for, over 6,000 years of lies and deceit but it's that look in azira's eyes from across the tadfield air base that stops raphael in his tracks.

fear

azira is afraid…of him

armageddon is averted all thanks to a demon that loved this world more than anything and no thanks to an archangel who would have committed treason to save the demon he loved

[lady-divine-writes]

For the fic prompt "You might have him now, but you can't keep him" for GO or Coldflash please

I wrote this for Good Omens :) I hope you like it

A Mortal Dilemma

“Oh … oh, Crowley … oh Go—mmm …”

“Ya like that, angel?” Crowley whispers, admiring the markshe’s made on his angel’s pale neck, each one sealed with a feather-light kiss, wickedlyproud that this is the fifth time he’s almost gotten Aziraphale to take theAlmighty’s name in vain. Lying beneath his angel on the lumpy sofa in hisbookshop, arms wrapped around him, hands keeping that column of soft skinlocked to his lips, he has his angel at his complete mercy.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Y-yes …” Aziraphale stutters, pushing up on his palms to catcha breath only for Crowley to draw him back into the temptation of his arms.

“Do you want me to continue?”

Aziraphale’s brows soar to the Heavens. “Do you mean to tellme that stopping is an option?”

“Absolutely.” Crowley’s yellow eyes flicker over his angel’sflushed face. “Stopping is always an option. If that’s what you want, we canput the kettle on, read a book, finish a crossword, get plastered …”

“No,” Aziraphale says. “No, I don’t want that. I don’t thinkI’d ever choose that over this.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’d have to leave you. Leave your arms, I mean.And now that I have you, I don’t ever want to be far from you.”

“Even if that meant never cracking open another book? Just sowe can do this?”

Aziraphale sniffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. We can do both at the same time.”

Crowley smirks. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. Would you like me to show you?”

Crowley mimics a cartoonish attempt at thinking it over while hoveringclose to Aziraphale’s throat. “Nah. Perhaps another time.” Then he goes back tothe task of marking Aziraphale up.

Airy musical notes tinkle in Aziraphale’s ears but he ignoresit. That normally happens when Crowley miracles in from wherever, but seeing ashe’s here now, it can’t be him. The thought that it might be someone else,manifesting into the room without knocking first doesn’t occur to him.

Because such a thing would be both illegal and rude.

But it’s Crowley who sees, Crowley who takes notice, bumpingAziraphale’s chin gently with his temple to make him look around.

“What in the …?” Aziraphale mutters because stationed not toofar from the sofa they’re sprawled out on is Sandalphon, rocking back and forthon their heels, hands clasped in front of their belly, grinning like thedickens.

“Well, well, well – if it isn’t our little fallen angel andhis demon boyfriend.”

“Sandalphon?”Aziraphale gasps, too stunned by the Archangel’s presence to climb off Crowley’slap and face them properly. “What on Earth are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to deliver a message from Gabriel,” they say, pausingafter for obvious dramatic effect.

“Yes, yes, get on with it!” Aziraphale barks. Crowleysnickers, every fiber of his being vibrating from his angel on top of him,desperate to be rid of their intruder so he can go back to being kissed.

“Principality Aziraphale, you’ve been called back to Heaveneffective immediately. I’ve been sent here to deliver you personally.”

This time, Aziraphale launches off his demon’s lap and up ontohis feet, leaving Crowley draped on the sofa, on his guard but unmoving fromthe spot. “I’m sorry you made the trip all the way for nothing but I’m notgoing.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I most certainly do.”

“You may have forgotten, but you aren’t subject to free will.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Free will is reserved for mortals. You, Aziraphale, are subjectto our will.”

“Since when?” Aziraphalesquawks.

“Since the beginning of time. You’re an angel. That makes you property of the Almighty.”

“The Almighty, yes, but not you, not Gabriel, not any of theArchangels.”

Sandalphon makes an irritated noise, smacking the roof oftheir mouth with their tongue. “Same difference.”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think that’s how that works. Even I know that,” Crowley says. “But go off,I guess.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, demon,”Sandalphon says with a steely glare for Crowley.

“Too bad. I’m talking to you, baldy.”

“Crowley …” Aziraphale warns quietly, sitting back down and puttinga hand on the demon’s forearm.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” Sandalphon asks.

“You’re probably not. But that just makes you stupider thanyou look.”

“Crowley!”

“We’ve played this game your way for far too long,” Sandalphoncontinues, focused on Crowley as if Aziraphale isn’t sitting right there, “butthat’s not the way this is going to work anymore. You’ve had your fun.” Theireyes shift to Aziraphale’s face, and for the first time, the angel can imaginewhat those poor people in Sodom and Gomorrah saw right before they turned tosalt. “Now it’s time for you to come back to our side.”

“I have no intention of coming back to your side!” Aziraphale insists. “Not until things change upstairs.Even then, the subject is a matter of much debate. Either way, you do not havepermission to be in my shop. I’m afraid I must ask you to leave.”

Sandalphon shakes their head in disappointment. “What do youthink you’re doing, Aziraphale? Do you think this is life? A reject angel shacking up with a reject demon and doing what?Wasting your Divine gifts lazing around in an old, musty bookshop?”

“You pay him no mind, angel,” Crowley says, turning his armover to hold Aziraphale’s. “They’re still sore that they lost. He can’t touchyou. He can’t touch either of us.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong …” Sandalphon pauses, theirexpression changing to discomfort as they smack their mouth open and closed. “ForHeaven’s sake! It’s so damned dry inhere. Probably these dusty books.” Sandalphon reaches into the inside pocket oftheir coat and pulls out a silver flask. “One cinder, the tiniest spark even,and this whole place would go up like a matchbox, wouldn’t it?”

Crowley sits up straighter, his grip on Aziraphale’s armtightening. Sandalphon grins.

“Of course you wouldknow that, now wouldn’t you, demon?”

“My angel said leave!”Crowley makes to stand but Aziraphale keeps him grounded with a gentle squeeze.“So get on!”

“I take it that’s a nothen?”

“That’s a no,”Aziraphale says.

Sandalphon shakes their head, appearing far too amused forsomeone who’s presumably lost an important argument, and that makes Aziraphalewary.

“The two of you …” They tut “… you think you’re so slick. Thatyou’ve got everyone fooled. But just you wait. You might have him now, but thatdoesn’t mean you can keep him.”

Sandalphon wipes their mouth with the back of their hand, thensnaps their fingers, disappearing in a swirl of blue shimmer into thin air. Andas relieved as Aziraphale feels by their retreat, something about how easy thatwas doesn’t sit well in his bones. He’s nervous, anxious over something he’smissing.

And he’s right.

It’s odd. Aziraphale had been so focused on the angel goingaway – and they did just that, they went away – that he never considered theremight be collateral damage.

That flask. It seemed so innocuous. Odd since most angelsdon’t consume or imbibe, but harmless nonetheless. Admittedly, Aziraphaledoesn’t know much about Sandalphon, but if he knows anything about Archangels,there’s a reason behind everything they do. Even the slightest, mostinsignificant gesture is important. Wiping their mouth with their hand, thensnapping their fingers - none of that was necessary. It was posturing.

But why?

And that’s when Aziraphale notices it.

Senses it is actuallycloser to the operative term.

A drop of water flying through the air.

It takes less than a second to travel, between the timeSandalphon snapped their fingers and Aziraphale put two and two together.

Before Aziraphale can move, before he can even think, thewater drop lands on Crowley’s skin.

It only takes a drop. Aziraphale knows that.

He doesn’t need to hear the demon wail to know what it is,what’s happening to him.

Holywater.

Sandalphon had been drinking Holy Water. They wiped it offtheir mouth and flicked a drop in the air, aimed in Crowley’s direction.

And now, Crowley is disintegrating before Aziraphale’s eyes.

“No!” Aziraphale screams. “NO!”

“Azira—!”

“No!”

Like the flying Holy Water, it only takes a second forAziraphale to act.

A second of fire.

A second of fury.

A second of love.

A second of pure rage.

A second where Aziraphale makes a hundred decisions andgambles and negotiations so quickly his body starts working before his mind hascome to peace with what he’s going to do. His hands move fast as lightning, pullingpower from the far reaches of the Universe, combining together from above … andfrom below.

If someone were to ask Aziraphale how he did it, he’d never beable to tell them. He couldn’t repeat it if he tried. If they asked him how heknew he could, that would be a harderquestion to answer. He doesn’t know farther than he can perceive, as if someoneelse were casting the magic for him. With his right hand, he brings down allthe power of Heaven he can rally to his command, and with his left, somehow, inexplicably,he calls upon the power of Hell.

Before the drop of Holy Water can burn through Crowleycompletely, Aziraphale lays hands on him, on his chest over his heart, his celestialflesh a swirling pyre of blessing and damnation. A flash of blistering white fillsAziraphale’s shop, flooding every corner, lighting the whole of the inside tofirework intensity, so powerful it leaves shadowy reliefs of every book, every teacup,every trinket burned onto his walls.

It happens in a second.

One single second.

The light bleeds away.

The Holy Water evaporates.

The fire and flood alive in Aziraphale’s hands subside and theangel’s vision returns. He looks around at the damage that’s been done – thebleached walls, the shadows bearing witness, a few of his books turned to dust. 

And on the floor at his feet, stunned but otherwise unharmed –Crowley.

But even as Aziraphale breathes a sigh of relief, he knowsthat nothing from this day forward will ever be the same.

“Wha—what did you do?” Crowley looks at his hands, turningthem over and over in front of his eyes, examining them as if they’re strangersto him. He touches his face, fingertips pulling his skin, searching for answerswithin the wrinkles and pores. When he can’t find them, he stares up atAziraphale, wide eyes begging without words to tell him what the Heaven isgoing on. Crowley can’t see the change, but he can feel it, deep within hischest where something new and awesome and excruciating has begun to fill thatvoid … and steadily beat. “Aziraphale!? What did you do!?”

“The only thing I could think of to save you, dear boy.”Aziraphale drops to his knees, cursing himself, cursing Sandalphon and Gabrieland all the Archangels … even cursing God herself. “I made you mortal.”

[malereader-inserts]

How to Date Two Ethereal Beings

Fandom: Good Omens Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader X Aziraphale Summary: In case of sudden amnesia, refer to this! Word Count: 2,006 A/n: Part two of this

After being touched from the little guidebook you found lying around in the bookshop, you thought you could do the same, you know if you were to lose your memories. You kept it on you at all times, in your backpack because you did not want it lying around in your apartment for them to see and they never go into your bag.

Since, last time, they found a concerning amount of weapons that were sharp and could easily harm them due to their religious nature - so they steer clear from your bag. 

It was both simultaneously hard and easy to write a how-to book on dating an angel and a demon. It was hard because they are of ethereal beings, who have been taking care of themselves since the start of time but it was also easy to write because they share one brain cell and each of them is a half of a whole idiot.

1. For the love of whoever, give them the affection at all cost.

Crowley and Aziraphale are both touch starved. Hell is full of demons, most, if not all, get repulsed by the thought of touch, care and affection. They never keep up with their appearance and they have no care for anything but themselves and their dedication to Satan. Crowley is a special type demon, he craves affection and is obsessed with his looks. 

Despite Angels being typically kinder, Aziraphale got little affection and was more belittled by Gabriel, so he’s afraid of affection sometimes because he feels like something insulting would come afterwards.

However, the two learnt very quickly that Humans strive off affection and you love giving it out.

ANd they love it from you, at first it was out of the blue and they were, not uncomfortable but surprised at the affection you were giving out because they weren’t used to it.

It started when you gave Crowley a hug, he was so stiff and he didn’t know what to do as Aziraphale looked confused. You ran your hand at the back of his neck, tickling it slightly before parting the hug and then moving to hug Aziraphale, in which you ran your hand through his hair.

You smiled at them before you leave them for the rest of the day, looking at each other.

“I like that.”

“So did I, angel, so did I.”

They don’t communicate with you about the topic at hand but you were there to pick up cues. So, if the had noticed that you were giving out more love than usual, they don't say anything because they benefit from it immensely.

So, when you brush your hand against them they don’t admit they lean closer to you. You make sure to hold them longer than usual, hold their hands and always give them kisses.

Kisses on the cheek, kisses on their temple, kisses on their knuckles, shoulders, neck, and of course, their lips. Your affection fuels them for a few days, you are always sure not to deprive them of your love and care.

“Hey, love-” Crowley calls you from the back room of the bookshop, only to respond by wrapping your arms around him from behind.

“Yes?” You asked, your chin resting against his shoulder as he blushed red but cleared his throat, trying to distract you from him sinking softly into your grip.

“Angel wants to know if you’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it,” You say earnestly, letting him go, and venturing out to the bookshop to find Aziraphale.

“Hiya sweetheart,” You ran your fingers upon his hand as he stills, smiling sweetly at you, “Lunch break?”

“Of course!” Aziraphale would never decline food offer, swiftly you interlocked your fingers with his, holding his hand as you gently tugged him towards the back room.

“Come on, Crowley, food,” You called him over, clasping your hands with his as well and tugging the two along.

You smile to yourself when you hear them ooze out of noises of delight, you are just taking care of your boyfriends. 

2. Make sure to ward away Heaven and Hell.

Truth be told, you have a bone to pick with Heaven and Hell anyway. Angels are dicks. Demons are even bigger dicks. But, when the two are being dicks to your boyfriends - well, that causes a little complication. 

It’s been almost three months since Armageddidn’t and your boyfriends’ supposed execution. Heaven and Hell haven’t been causing much of an issue for Crowley and Aziraphale since of that mishap, but that doesn’t stop them from sending spies.

“Hey,” You hummed, running into an angel spy, who looks at you as you eat a BLT sandwich, “Uh oh, where do you think you’re going?”

“Listen, human-”

“Tell Gabriel I will punch him if I see him harassing Azira,” You warned, munching on your lunch, you were on your way to the bookshop, “You’re like the fifth angel I’ve seen this week and it’s only Tuesday.”

“So, I’ll be the fifth angel to relay the same message.”

You nodded, “Don’t worry, I have demons going to Beelzebub too.”

“You’re very protective over them, and they’re superior to you, you’re just human.”

“Perhaps, I just like fights you dicks, really.” You shrugged your shoulders, “Just don’t tell Aziraphale about that.”

“Noted,” The angel cleared their throat, “I guess I shall send your good wishes to Archangel Gabriel.”

As you walked to the bookshop, Crowley sneers a smile towards you before you opened your arms to allow him to engulf you.

“We’re celebrating!” Crowley cheers, waving a bottle of wine, which you had just noticed as Aziraphale rolls his eyes in good nature, “Three months without them pestering us!”

“Is this an excuse to drink?” You asked as Crowley gives you a pointed look with a nod as Aziraphale shrugs his shoulders at you when you raised an eyebrow.

“Well? Aren’t you going to join us?” Crowley waves the bottle in front of your eyes as you shake your head, “Come on! Don’t make me tempt you-”

“Crowley!” You exclaimed as he gives you a snidey look, “Alright, one glass.”

The two share a look before grinning and pouring out one for you. You don’t really care if your boys knew your scheming with Heaven and Hell to keep away from your boyfriends and if they did they don’t mention it.

3. Take care of Aziraphale’s Books/ Crowley’s plants!

Okay, so there are times when they go away for some random reason, you don’t get know all the time, but when they do you are tasked to look after their prized possessions. Therefore, Aziraphale trusts you with his books.

That’s easy for you to do, just close the bookshop and do not drink anything around the books in case you spill them. If you wish to read some, you must make sure you handle with care. That was the easy part really, most of the time you can chill in the back room with one of the books or your laptop chilling.

“Having fun there, love?” Aziraphale calls out when he returns to his beloved bookshop.

“As always!” You responded, “Your books are fine.”

“I know,” Aziraphale shows his face, a grin seemingly plastered on his face when he sees you, “That’s why I trust you with them.”

Crowley, on the hand, is different. You never took Crowley as a gardener of any sorts, so when you first witness his weird greenhouse, it took you by surprise. Nevertheless, when you watch over his plants whilst he’s off being an annoyance to the world of London (and somehow screwing himself over in the latter time) you are much nicer to his plants.

Whilst he screams at his plants: “Grow Better!” you’re softly cooing at them, softly encouraging them to grow and praising them for growth.

Unsurprisingly, they grow better in your watchful eyes, much of Crowley’s dismay.

“Are you sure you’re not secretly a warlock?” 

“No, Crowley, I’m not. Just human,” You say for the umpteenth time of the conversation. 

“Are you sure-”

“You are really annoying me now, Crowley,” You interrupted him, looking at him whilst he smugly grins at you, as you hand him the spray bottle, “Now go water your plants.”

“You’re lucky,”

“Hm? That you love me?” You teased him as he looked unamused, as he shows you the middle finger, “I love you too, Crowley.”

4. Gift them!

Whilst you couldn’t miracle things to them, whenever you gift them, they’re always internally happy.

It took you a while to get the grips of baking so you could do the classic angel cake for Aziraphale, and it takes you twice as long in the shops when you’re in the wine section because you can hear the echoing hissing of Crowley to get the best bottle.

You get them a bouquet of flowers, Crowley gets darker colours, sometimes with a dash of orange to spice things up but mostly you get flowers that are red or black. If not, you get him a plant you are a 100% he does not own. With Aziraphale, you get him brightly coloured flowers, sparks of purple and blue in his bookshop window. 

You couldn’t miracle anything up for them, but when you go out of your way to get them something - it means so much to them.

“Hey, Aziraphale, I found this old book in a car sale last Sunday, thought you’d like it.”

When you slide it over to him as if it was nothing he looks up at you with a sparkle in his eyes, you give him a soft smile and a shrug as if it was nothing. Though you would never admit you hate car boot sale and you had gone out of your way to finding him new books to collect.

“Oh, thank you so much, dear!” Aziraphale engulfs you into a hug.

“It’s nothing love,” You kiss him on the cheek.

Crowley doesn’t own a record player like you would believe, so you got him one at his apartment. He never said anything about it until the shelf it was up upon had new accompanied. 

In the shelf below you have put a rack in for the vinyl. Suddenly, he was owning all the Queen vinyl and the Beatles collection too. 

“You know, you don’t have to,” Crowley mentions as you scroll through your phone, searching to find him some new albums to collect.

“Hm?” You asked, distracted, not letting your eyes shift from your screen, you ignore him huffing out like a child.

“The vinyl,” He drawls out, “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” You respond, and you leave it like that. A stubborn mule refusing to stop what you’re doing, “I like doing it for you, you need to broaden your music, Aziraphale says you listen to something like bebop?”

“I-” Then there was a string of Crowley’s noises, “Velvet Underground is not bebop!”

“Mhm, okay.” You nodded as Crowley groans.

“Pay attention to me, (Y/n)!”

“That’s nice, Crowley.”

Oh, you better write down number 5. Annoy your boyfriend to keep them sane.

You shut the book, deciding the finish the guidebook later. At least, you have all the time in the world to continue writing. 

You need to learn how to clean wings, hopefully, you get that point your relationship, they trust you enough to clean them, but as far as you know Crowley and Aziraphale clean each other.

You’ve been lucky to see them, and you’ve been lucky to witness cleaning each other’s wings. You find it touching, really, you do. 

You side the book back in your bag as you hear a knock on the door, getting up from your seat on the kitchen table, you open the door and smiled to see your boyfriends in the middle of a heated conversation.

“What’s it this time?”

The two opened their mouth and you know it ‘s going to be a long night, but you wouldn’t trade it for any other.