#and crowley finally lets himself fall completely apart

[acheemient]

Where are all the Aziraphale/Crowley fan videos set to "Take Me to Church"??

This is an outrage, I would like to make a complaint.

[angelizs]

[Club Activities - part 2]

Summary: Crowley keeps knocking at your door, quite literally, wanting to hear your club choice. You might as well get this over with.

Notes: gn!reader, humor, it's kinda long, reader is oblivious, mentions of minor injuries but in a funny way dw, it's the looong overdue pt2

Part: 1.0 / 2 (you're here!) / 2.5 (soon!)

"So, have you decided?"

Crowley stands by the doorway. He looks completely normal, a pleasant smile plastered on his lips. You blink, sluggish, resisting the urge to slam the door on his face.

"It's five a.m. on a sunday."

"Yes, that's correct, good to see you're keeping up with the passage of time."

You feel there's a jab aimed at you for taking your time on choosing a club. Or on answering the door. In your defense, Grim was sleeping on top of you and you didn't want to disturb his sleep. Nor yours. You were hoping the Headmaster would just give up and leave you alone, but instead he only knocked louder. 

"Well?"

"Uh..." You take a bit to remember the first thing he said. "No, I still have some meetings to go to."

"Were the sports clubs not to your liking? I'm sure you'd do well in one, should you put your efforts on it."

"Nah, I'll pass."

"I see. Then, you'll tell me your decision by the end of the week, yes?"

"Since when did we agree on this." It was a question, but with your drowsy state it just fell flat.

"Since now, of course! I was very kind to let you take so much time to chose a club, but you must understand I'm under some pressure as well to make sure you'll have the best possible education here. We can't afford to lose too much time!"

You blink again, your brain still sleepy. "Oh. Alright."

Crowley claps his hands in an excited manner. "Wonderful! I'll be eagerly waiting for your decision, then!"

Only as you watch his retreating back getting farther away that it finally registers just what you agreed on. You groan, closing the door and leaning against it.

Well, nothing to do about it now. You should really get onto it, anyway. Still, your break will be missed.

Film Research Club (Vil, Ortho platonically)

You had finally left the sports clubs behind, time to try something new, like arts!

Since you've worked with Vil at the SDC, you were already used to his strict personality and thought you'd be able to handle yourself pretty well. You might not have that much experience with acting but you did know how to pretend everything was ok and your life wasn't falling apart, so you think you might have potential.

It was quite surprising to see Ortho there, but the sight of your friend's welcoming eyes and cheer made you feel relieved, relaxing amidst the Pomefiore students. They were intimidating, though in a different way the guys from the Spelldrive club were. The latter looked like they could easily beat you to a pulp, while the former looked like they'd give you a disgusted stare and call you a peasant in such a condescending tone you'd implode on spot. They were all very pretty as well, but you wouldn't let that make you self conscious since you knew no one could beat Vil anyway.

Speaking of, Vil himself comes to speak with you and explain about the club with a professional conduct as he says that Crowley had warned him of your special situation and that he'd let you help out, since they always needed extra hands on deck. You got hopeful at that, perhaps it was time for you to shine and discover a hiden talent of yours! These daydreams are soon crushed as Vil puts you on backstage duty and turns around, having something or other to talk about with the other members.

Well. That was... not what you were expecting. Ortho explains that in order to enter the club as an actor, you must audition beforehand and prove yourself worthy. That makes sense, you guess, so you accept it with grace. Backstage work might not be as exciting as being on the actual stage, but you had Ortho by your side to make sure things won't be too dull. And a side of you wants to make Vil proud of your work, so you suck it up and ask Ortho to lead the way.

Ortho shows you around the set you'll be working on for the day. It's one of Pomefiore's dorm ballrooms, and it's huge. You look in awe at everything, even though it's a bit plain in terms of furniture, it's quite detailed. In moments like this you remember Pomefiore's dorm is a castle, as you feel the royalty emanating from the ceiling, with it's luxurious chandeliers, to the walls, with it's intricate golden patterns, even at the floor, by it's quality.

He teaches you how to operate the lights and sound for a bit while the actors decide on what they'll film that day. You feel just the tiniest bit of jealousy at them, especially because Vil seems to be very focused on everything they say. Ortho must notice this (of course he would), and tries to cheer you up. After all, you're his friend! He doesn't want you to feel bored at the club when there are so many insteresting things to do!

You move from the more technical parts and go to the storage room, where they keep most of the props and extra accessories. You explore it, looking at everything but not touching, not wanting to get in trouble if you break anything on accident. As you're looking at an old mirror, Ortho picks up one of the pink cowboy hats and puts it on your head. It looks goofy, not matching with your uniform at all, and it makes you laugh.

You retaliate by putting a pirate hat full of colorful feathers that's way too big on him. It slides down and covers his eyes, making him look like a little kid trying on their sibling's clothes. Not to mention the feathers, that also clash with his body's design. You both laugh and go to different directions, trying to find more things to put on.

Ortho ends up with a vivid red sash wrapped around his waist and a wooden rod in hands, while you've got a pink feather scarf around your neck and a hollow steel rod in hands. You stare down at each other from your sides of the room, pretending you're on one of those western cowboy movies, even acting like it too. You drawl out something about the town not being big enough for the two of you. Ortho goes along, putting up the worst pirate accent with his robotic voice and telling you to prepared to be boarded.

Between giggles, the two of you meet at the middle, your rods clashing as if they were swords. You make exaggerated moviments that would be impratical in any fight while dropping the most cliche lines you can think of. Ortho dodges your attacks in slow motion and retributes with his own, making it seem more like some funny dance than a sword fight.

You were having so much fun you kind of forgot you were there to do a job. You're quickly reminded as the door suddenly opens and you, startled, let the steel rod slip from your hands mid attack and hit the wall with a loud clang. There stands Vil, hands on his hips as he stares at the two of you with one arched eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face even after almost being hit right on it. You're not looking the most dignified, with your whole attire. Nor is Ortho, which helps you to not feel alone on the receiving end of Vil's judgment.

The three of you leave the props behind and return to the main area. More precisely, to the actors' dressing room part. It's not an actual separate room, but rather a space of the ballroom reserved for this. Most have put on their costumes and are adjusting the finer details, Vil instructs you to help them while he sets up the stage.

You try your best, but every actor sends you a glare as you approach them, making you turn on your heels and try another one. And another. And another. You're not feeling very helpful. How you wish you could just ignore it like Ortho does. The only thing you actually do is helping zip up some clothes when they can't reach their backs and do it themselves. You don't dare to touch their hair or you feel they'd explode you with their minds. There is one instance when you have to lace a guy into a corset, but you get a bit confused with all the laces. Maybe it's like tying a shoe? You pull on it with too much force at first, leading him to complain at you the entire time. In your defense, you've never done this before! You tie it up with a cute lace at the end to make up for it and scurry away before he could release more of his wrath upon you. You settle on following Ortho around like a lost puppy.

Finally, everyone finishes up and you move to the middle of the room, where the scene will be taking place. From what you gather, the movie they are making is about a royal family that's having their heir assume the throne, but there's a plot against him going behind the scenes. The main character seems to be corset guy, who still glares at you whenever you pass by his camp of vision, much to your (un)luck.

Ortho leads you to the first place he showed, since they'd start recording soon. You watch him work with the lights, turning them on dramatically as they start the scene and making it follow the main lead as he monologues about his woes of assuming such a big responsability and how he feels between the sea of people present. The actor does a good job, good enogh to appease Vil, who watches attentively near the camera. The thing is, he's trying to replicate a foreign accent and that, combined with his melodramatic lines, makes you have to stifle a laugh.

You try your best to stay quiet and pay attention to the story, but some of the lines and the way they dramatically deliver them sound so silly you can't help but giggle in your palm. Ortho looks at you inquisitively, tilting his head and trying to understand what you found so funny. You whisper an explanation to him, making him see the words in a different manner. As you laugh, he laughs along discretely, both of you having fun again.

Vil motions for you to keep your volume down, as to not disturb the actors and break their concentration, and you send him a thumbs up. Still, you keep on reacting, even mouthing their words with exaggerated facial expressions. Ortho seems much more interested in what you have to show than the lights, since he misses some of his cues and gets it later or sooner than intended. Which is also funny, since the confused looks on the background actors' faces are very entertaining. 

It comes to a point in which you're holding in your laughter so much you're a bit out of air, and you end up bumping into one of the controls, making the background music change suddenly, from a calm waltz to an action scenesque one. Your startled eyes meet Ortho's, and in true friendship fashion you both burst out laughing. Vil cuts the filming and strides up on you two, reprimanding you once again, and you feel like a guilty puppy being scolded by their owner. You must look like that too, since he sighs like an overworked mother and takes pity on you, deciding on something else for you to do and leave Ortho to do his job without distractions.

Vil gives you the role of an extra to play, just for you to have an idle conversation with the protagonist that won't last even five minutes. He shows you exactly how the scene should go, taking hold of your hand to conduct a dance and dropping casual chatter with you, looking you in the eyes, with a conduct that's so charming you're sure you feel your heart skip a beat (too bad it's just acting though). You feel like you can do that as well, so you hurry to change into one of the formal outfits and repeat the line Vil told you over and over again in your head, heart beating way too fast.

There is just one thing you didn't count on: you apparently have a bad case of stage fright. Or perhaps it's happening especifically because you know Vil will be watching you like a hawk. As you position yourself amidst the other extras, you feel your heartbeat accelerating and your hands start to sweat. You try to relax your tense shoulders and clear your throat, looking at the floor to steady yourself.

As your cue approaches, you move closer to the corset guy, whose attention snaps at you as soon as you enter his vision field. Even if his face looks polite, like a prince, you can feel the glare he's still sending your way, just on a more subdued level this time. You can also feel the stares of the others on your back and your tongue seems to have been tied. Your head comes up with a blank when you try to remember what Vil told you to say. Oh, this is not good. Why did this have to be so nerve wracking?

Time passes slowly, seconds feels like hours as the protagonist waits expectantly for your words. Trying to not disappoint, you blurt out a joke improvisation line, like the ones you see on movies sometimes. Unfortunately, your sense of humor is vastly different from Pomefiore's students', and the joke falls so flat everyone has to take a moment to recover. You wish for the ground to swallow you as Vil yells a "Cut!" and the other actors look judgmentally in your way. Maybe if you close your eyes it will go away? You can still hear the other's whispering, and although you don't understand what exactly they're saying, you can only guess they're mocking you. Welp, guess it's time to become a hermit at ramshackle and never show your face at school ever again!

It takes only a minute, but as soon as Vil has recomposed himself he commands everyone to be quiet. You open your eyes again, gathering all your courage to see the disappointed look on his face, but you're surprised that's not what greets you. Instead, Vil's got a nasty glare that's sharp enough to cut a man, and it's not directed at you at all! Vil procceds to reprimand the rest of the cast for being so inelegant as to make fun of a begginer and even mocks their need to feel superior. You've never felt more grateful for him in your life, maybe you can still go to classes after that, since no one will dare to mess with you and risk his wrath.

As the others look ashamed for being yelled at by their leader, Vil pulls you aside and tells you that maybe it's better to try something else if your stage fright is going to affect your performance so much. He sounds strict as always, but he has an almost soft look in his eyes as he congratulates you for trying to overcome that fear and that you did well enough for someone with no experience. You feel a lot better after that and thank him sincerely, promising to give it your all at whatever other job you can do to help! He smiles at your enthusiasm and it's as if the clouds have parted ways for the sun to shine. (The other club members look amazed, as they've never seen such a soft smile on Vil's face before.)

He then asks you if you know how to work with a camera. If taking pics with Cater to post on Magicam counts then yes, you do have some experience with it. Vil says he's got the perfect job for you: being part of the camera crew and helping to film everything. You accept, after all, how hard can it be, really?

Apparently, a lot. Vil had just left out a little detail from this job: you'd be filming the aerial angle of this scene. Which meant using Kalim's magic carpet. As you recall, you're not the most adept at riding it, flashbacks from winter vacation entering in your mind. Still, you had promised Vil you'd help on this, and you weren't sure if he'd find you another thing to do or get your complaining the wrong way, so you decide to give it a try anyway.

You wobble on it, camera propped up on your shoulder and secured by a sling strap just in case you losen your hold on it. (Which is very likely). Surprisingly, you manage to get the carpet off the ground without many complications, so things are looking up (quite literally)! And then comes the part where you have to guide it and you're almost thrown out of a window with the force it makes a turn. Your grip on it tightens and you try to wrestle it into submission, with little success.

Things procced like this, you trying to learn how to drive the carpet while making turns on the air and holding on for your life. (And making sure the camera is safe. You don't want a repeat of the chandelier accident from the start of the year, so you're not taking any chances). Anything you might have tried to film is probably so shaky and blurry it isn't even usable, but you have more important matters to worry about.

That goes on until you make a particularly sharp turn, causing the carpet to lose control and go spiraling straight to the floor. Luckly, you manage to land on a convenientely placed couch (has that been there before?) and doesn't get much hurt. You're clutching the camera to your chest in a protective manner, so it isn't damaged either. At least, not much, but it isn't anything the Ignihyde guys can't fix.

Vil and Ortho are by your side in an instant, asking if you're alright. Vil extends his hand and pulls you up like a gentleman, fixing your hair softly. He's really close to your face and you can feel your heart beating faster, though you're not sure if it's due to that or the adrenaline of the fall. Ortho reassures you that not even him got the hang of piloting the carpet, as it seems to only actually obey Kalim, and that you did your best!

You really did try, so you can safely say you won't discover any hidden acting talent any time soon. Time to check out other clubs. 

(Ortho tells you to drop by another time at practice and watch the recording with him, since he had a lot of fun! Vil tells you that should you wish and work hard for it, you may have potential and he'd be willing to help you reach it. You agree, since it was very nice to visit and, most of all, to get to see Vil on his element like this. There's an added bonus of you not having ended up at the infirmary as well, which is enough to put the club on a positive light in your books. It's a bit sad that's the standard, but oh well, nothing to do about it.)

Science Club (Trey, Rook)

Alright, art may not be for you, but maybe science is! Or... whatever it is that they do in this club.

It's a bit intimidating since there are way too many people there, more than you've seen in any other club. What could they possibly be doing to attract this many people?

Rook, as observant as ever, notices you before you've even set foot inside the lab, coming close to greet you and ask if you were going to join them for the day. You relutanctly agree, staying close to his side as he leads you deeper into the room, opening the path. You make sure to not bump into anyone and cause an accident.

Trey is at one of the work tables at the back, sharing it with Rook. He sends a calming smile your way and explains that it's a club with a vast variety of activities, as long as they're not of the physical sort. You sigh in relief, listening to him reciting things such as plant cultivation and chemistry experiments. You already have to do those things on your regular classes, so you're confident in your ability of succeding for once. Rook adds that this flexibility in activity has attracted many people, creating a beauté diversity of members. (Trey explains that there's a lot of odd people as he side eyes Rook).

You sit with them, since you don't know anyone else. Rook goes on about the experiment he'll be doing this time, something that will leave a beautiful impact and stay on the mind of anyone looking. It sounds a lot like what happens when you partner up with Ace and Deuce at alchemy class, that is, stuff is about to be blown up. You scoot closer to Trey.

Taking pity on you, Trey reminds Rook that there's an ingredient missing, since they had used all from the lab's storage on their last class, and offers to get it at the botanical garden for him, inviting you to come along. You jump at the opportunity, agreeing and getting up to follow him. Rook thanks his generosity and explains that there's no way a gentleman like him would leave all the hard work onto the two of you, so he follows along. Trey looks a bit annoyed, but you only wanted to get out of being roped into a crazy experiment so you don't mind much, as long as you keep Rook away from any potential explosive plants.

The fresh air from the gardens is much better than the stuffy feeling from the crowded lab, and you take a deep breath to appreciate it. Trey takes you to the temperate zone, the path filled with beautiful flowers of all colors and scents. The sound of the little river below you only adds to the pleasant atmosphere, the sun rays warming up your skin and soul. It's wonderful. You'd like it if your club classes were to take place there. It might be enough to convince you to join, the nature so full of life energizing your mood, a smile blooming on your face.

You pass by an area that has thicker vegetation and stands out from the whole, attracting your curiosity, so you ask Trey what could be there. He warns you to not wander to that side of the garden, as there were carnivorous plants being cultivated by the third years. You wave him off, saying you had those back in your world and they were pretty harmless. Trey looks at you in doubt, but decides to not question it, aceptting your answer and going back to his search for the missing ingredient. 

Since you have no idea what you should be looking for, you leave the boys to it, deciding to observe the flowers instead. Distracted, you end up getting farther away from them, the flora enticing you and putting you under a spell, demanding your attention. It's not until you bump into a tall... something, that you realize how far you had gone. You lift up your head, wondering if you had bumped into a tree, only to find two open hinged lobes dripping with sap closing on your face.

A scream gets caught in your throat as you take in the gigantic carnivorous plant in front of you, that's only coming closer. You didn't know that when Trey had mentioned them, he didn't explain that they aren't like the one from your world at all. Not only were they huge, but also seemed ready to eat a human at any given chance.

You're pulled by someone behind you, falling into a secure chest and feeling strong arms embracing your waist as the plant's jaw's close into the air where you were just a second ago. The sigh you let out shakes your whole body and you let your weight be supported by your saviour. You find out his identity soon enough, as a familiar voice by your ear calls you chéri and asks if you were fine.

After thanking Rook, he guides you to the main area of the garden with a protective hand behind your back, making sure you wouldn't stumble into any more potential dangerous plants, as he goes on about how they were "the hunters of the natural world" and how "such danger has it's own alluring charm, non?" You don't catch the glint in his eyes as he asks the question, too busy trying to get your heart beat back into a normal rhythm. 

Trey scolds you lightly for ignoring his advice, but he seems busier trying to equilibrate the plants he harvested in his arms and glaring at Rook, probably for leaving him alone to do all the work. Rook stays unbothered, putting his hands on your shoulders and staying close as he directs you to the exit, his usual smile stamped on his face.

As you put the fresh ingredients near the others that Rook had selected earlier, you notice some strawberries in the mix. You shot a questioning stare at Trey, making him laugh and explain he took the chance to harvest some of his hand grown special strawberries. He takes some from your hands, brushing your fingers together before lifting them up to inspect closely. The strawberries are a beautiful shade of red, making you salivate only by looking at them. Trey has a contemplative expression as he murmurs he should use them as soon as possible in order to make the best use of their ripeness.

You suggest him to make a strawberry tart with them and offers your help, on the light price of getting to eat it as well. He smiles and agrees to your proposal, telling you to follow him to the kitchens. You do, happily so as you carry some of the strawberries in your arms, leaving Rook to take care of the potions experiment. Really, you feel like you've killed two birds with one stone, so you pat yourself on the back for doing a good job.

Back at the first month of classes, you remember cooking with Trey, Ace, Deuce and Grim, and how much fun you had, despite the circumstances. With the group reduced to two, it might be more toilsome, but you were confident it would be worth it.

Trey finds an extra apron for you, tying it himself to make sure it would stay in place. He gently explains the steps to prepare the ingredients, helping you whenever you didn't understand something. It was quite nice, seeing Trey look so in his element, an unconscious soft expression on his face, as if he was enjoying himself. It's domestic, even, how you dance around each other in the kitchen, passing bowls and cutlery back and forth. He is good humored as he recalls stories from the club, making you laugh whenever he bemoans Rook's experiments.

The stories he tells are very captivating, so much so that you don't look at the recipe book, doing the steps on automatic. Once or twice you almost spill what you were mixing or use too much force to cut something, but it's salvageable every time, so you don't comment on it. You leave the crust on the oven for a bit too much, but it's only slightly charred, so you're pretty sure it's still edible. One of the flour bags slips from your hands and falls on the sink, covering your face in flour powder. Trey helps you clean up, but he's laughing at you and your now white hair. It comes to the point in which you're mixing the crème pâtissière and you get too close to the stove, making the ends of your sleeves to catch on fire. Trey quickly puts it out and runs your arm under cold water. The crème ends up a bit too lumpy, since neither of you were stirring it for a while, but it's not too bad.

Alright, maybe you're not the best at cooking. Still, arranging the strawberries in a circle on top of the tart was pretty fun. The last thing left to do is to let it cool. You lick your lips thinking about eating it once it's ready. You're about to help Trey clean the mess you've made in the kitchen when Rook bursts through the door, looking excited. He tells you there's no time to explain and takes you by the hand, dragging you back to the laboratory. You send Trey your best regards and wish him luck in cleaning everything alone. He sends you a pitying look back.

You should wish yourself some luck as well, since the motive for Rook to have brought you to the lab was for you to help him with the new formula he thought for his experiment. He explains that the one he was trying didn't have it's desired effects, as you could clearly see from the scorch marks on the table you were sitting before. He says that for the new formula, he'll need help to get the ingredients prepared and handed over, since he couldn't stop stirring it until everything was added in. You don't know how he came up with this solution, and honestly? You don't want to know.

Having no other choice, you agree to help him. He reminds you to put your gloves and safety googles on before starting, making a comment on how your cute apron would do as your lab coat. After getting into place, you follow all of Rook's instructions, preparing and handing over the ingredients he asks for. You have no idea what it is that he's going for, as your potions classes are still on a basic and more theorical level, but you decide to trust that he, as your upperclassman, knows what he's doing.

Dread pools on your gut as you watch the ingredients going into the cauldron. There's a hissing sound and bubbles emerge from the deep purple concotion. You have no time to react as Rook thows his arm in front of you just in time for the explosion to take place. You grip onto the table tightly and manage to stay upright, thanking the Sevens for your safety googles. If it were not for them, your entire face would be covered in a sparkling purple powder, some getting into your hair as well. Rook laughs and tells you that you shine bright like the sun. You look on unamused. Trey appears, having heard the explosion, and sighs, clearly being too used to this happening. He tells you and Rook to clean up as he starts to clean your mess, bless him.

Rook takes you to the nearest bathroom available, both of you trying to wash the explosion's results off. It has stuck like glue, and you have to splash your face with the cold water over and over for it to go away. You think there's still some of it on your hair, but can't bring yourself to care much. The apron wasn't enough to cover your body, so your clothes weren't spared either. Rook doesn't comment on it, but you can see him looking at you funny by the corner of your eye.

As you enter the lab, you see that the students that stayed after the first explosion had left. Rook wonders out loud on why they didn't like the innovation of his experiment, sighing as he goes on about the beauty of curiosity. You and Trey exchange glances as you clean everything together. You feel like you stayed way past the club's scheduled time and your arms hurt from moping the floor. At least you get to share your wonky strawberry tart. It doesn't taste as good as Trey's usual ones do, but you like it. You can't decide if it was worth all the trouble though.

Grim laughs at you once you get back to Ramshackle, your face is itching for the rest of the day, there's some sparkles in your hair for the rest of the week, your slightly burnt arm won't stop aching, you sent your clothes' laundry bill for Rook to pay. As much as you respect scientific advances, you feel that being involved in the research isn't for you (nor the cooking). Time to check out other clubs.

(Rook keeps approaching you at the halls to update you on how he's thought of possible changes to make the potion work. Trey comments he liked having company in the kitchen and help for cleaning up for once. They aren't very subtle. You don't even have to agree to visit the club again another time, as Rook has already volunteered you as his lab assistant and Trey has gifted you a recipe book with markings on which recipes you'll try to bake next. Guess you have no other choice but to go back now.)

Pop Music Club (Cater, Kalim, Lilia)

And back to the arts you go. But this time, instead of performing, how about playing some music? Joining the school band might be fun!

You're surprised to only find three people in the club. All the others had a bunch of people, but in this one, once you enter the classroom you're met with three of your friends hanging out in a couch. Why was there a couch in this classroom in the first place!?

It's not just three random people, either. It's the chillest and most extroverted people of the school, the ones that got along with everyone and were very popular. They whip their head so fast to the direction of the door once you enter you get a little worried for their necks. They seem elated to have a visitor, so you suppose this won't be so bad, even if you don't feel confident enough to play an instrument in front of other people.

Kalim jumps at you and envelops you in a big hug, a smile shining on his face as usual. Lilia pats you on the back, pushing you closer to the center of the room and welcoming you. Cater takes out his phone and takes a selfie with everyone, declaring it would go viral to have the cutest people of the school all together in one place and gushing over how many likes he'd get. They sure are a lively bunch.

Lilia plops you down on the couch, telling you to feel at home and winking. There's a center table with food containers in front of you, Kalim offers you a bite, explaining they made the snacks to bring to their club meetings, and Cater proposes to make it a culinary competition, in which you'd judge which one was the best. You were pretty sure you had left the cooking behind at the science club, what did it even had to do with music? Well, you weren't going to complain about getting free food!

Cater insists you try his first, a round tupperware with fried corn tortilla chips and guacamole in a dipping bowl at the center. It looks amazing, making your mouth water a bit. You take one of the chips, lightly lower it on the dip and take a bite. It's overall very good, the consistency and the crispness are wonderful, there's just one little problem: it's very spicy. Very spicy. Not the "oh no there's a tiny bit of spice in my otherwise bland food" type but the "my eyes are burning my thorat is burning my stomach is burning I'm going to burn from the inside out" type. And that's how you feel as you fan your face and drink the water Kalim brings you, though it only makes the burning worse, spreading it throughout your mouth and making your eyes water. Lilia appears upside down, hanging from the ceiling and scaring you, and offers you a glass of milk instead. You gratefully take it and chug it down as quick as you can.

Once you've calmed down, Lilia explains how he keeps milk around for Cater's food, that's way too spicy for his liking. Cater looks at you with puppy eyes, asking if you liked the chilli peppers he added to the recipe. You didn't, not really. It would be one thing to add some, sure, but it's like there's more pepper than anything else. You weakly smile at him and explain apologetically that it might not suit your tastes so much. Cater seems a bit down, but he only shrugs and jokingly says that not everyone can have good taste.

Kalim bounces up to you next, shoving his container in front of your face and telling you to try it. He proudly says he made it all without Jamil's help and that he hopes you'll like it. You look at the fried dumplings, remembering it's a sweet called awameh. It looks good as well, although a bit burnt, nothing that would stop you from eating it. You take one, getting surprised by how crunchy they ended up being, the sweetness exploding in your tongue. It would be very good, but you have the impression Kalim must have used the wrong measure of the ingredients. Yes, it was sweet, but it was way too sweet. Not only that, the sugar mixed with the cinnamon on the syrup also left you thirsty, as you downed another cup of water. It was like cinnamon was impregnated on your mouth, there was definetly too much.

While you accept your tongue will never be the same after the combo of strong flavours, Kalim reveals he tried to follow one of Jamil's mom's recipes for it, declaring it to be the best he's ever proved. He just got a bit confused when taking the measures for some ingredients, but he was proud of his work! You make a mental note to try to eat one of Jamil's awameh later, sure that it would taste delicious, and compliments Kalim on his efforts, suggesting gently to ask for help next time he has trouble with it.

The last one is Lilia, and you start dreading what might be hidden on his container. He seems preppy that someone will get to try his food, telling you that he's the one that cooks dinner at Diasomnia and how Silver and Sebek love his food. Cater and Kalim look at you with pity, shaking their heads. You've heard of Lilia's infamous cooking skills before, so you have to mentally prepare yourself before looking at what he prepared. It's... uh... something alright. Though it's unrecognizable, a dark glob that just looks sticky and burnt after the point. Your desperate look does nothing for Cater and Kalim to try to save you, as they look away furtively.

Aceppting your fate, you take one of the spoons Lilia brought and take the smallest bite possible while he stares at you attentively. It tastes foul, as expected, as if something had died in your mouth. You resist the urge to gag, trying to go for a smile and ending up with a grimace instead. It's horrible, there's no other way to describe it. All the rumors don't do it justice, it's way worse than what they say. You suspect you will get food poisoning later, as you down another glass of water. At least you're keeping yourself hydrated. Lilia seems to either not notice or pretend he didn't, as he keeps his cheery attitude and asks if you liked it. You nod weakly, hoping it would be enough for him to not force you to take another bite. He mercifully looks satisfied with the answer and you sigh with relief.

In the end you tell them you don't know which one was the best (you side eye Lilia's, thinking on how you knew which one was the worst at least). They don't look disappointed, content in having you prove their food as each munchs on their own snacks happily. You wonder how they manage to do it. Suddenly you miss Trey's baking and the wonky strawberry tart you've made.

As everyone sits together, Cater puts on some electropop song on the background that reminds you of the famous vocaloids from your world. You have an epiphany that Cater would listen to Hatsune Miku. You're not sure what to do with that information, staying quiet in shock as the other three talk between themselves. You remember him mentioning something like it when you went to do the SDC auditions, but you had other things to worry about and it must have slipped your mind. Once you've recomposed yourself, you ask what the food had to do with music, since the question had been burning in your mind for some time (not as much as your tongue burned tho).

They explain that the pop music club doen't really do much music, as the name suggests, they mostly just hang around to chat and chill. It has gotten them in a bit of trouble with the Headmaster, as they don't do anything that could actually be considered a club activity, causing him to have threatened to disband the club. Not to mention there's no new members for a while, no matter how much they try to attract more students. You consider joining this one just to spite Crowley. They clarify that they do play their instruments every once in a while to cover some song, but with their different music tastes they never reach an agreement on what to play most of the time.

You're curious on how they might sound as a band, sure it would be a chaotic but entertaining sight. You would ask to see this, if it was not for Cater excitedly declaring it's "gossiping time". They put on elevator music to play at the background and huddle close together, leaving a spot open for you to join their little circle, as if you were about to be in into the school's secrets. And that's exactly what happens, as the three of them seem to know about everyone and everything that goes on Night Raven College. There's so much drama you've never heard about, and you feel you know way too much about the lives of people you've never even met, but it's nice to create conspiracy theories about what would happen next in the soap opera that was other people's lives.

The topic changes to Magicam, since you were lowkey stalking the boy that had caused a ruckus in the cafeteria the past days. Cater likes his account's aesthetic, saying it passes the bad boy vibes he has, and whines about their club's magicam page. You weren't aware they even had one, so you ask to see it. It's... not what you were expecting. They might as well not have an account, since there are no photos other than their icon, which was the symbol of the club. Cater complains that they couldn't come to an agreement on how the page should look and were too lazy to try to work something out, so it has stayed like that for months.

Since you know how much he cares about this stuff, you offer your help! After all, it could be a lot of fun, and it'd feel as if you're the manager of the club. Cater lightens up with joy, throwing his arms around you and bringing you close to affectionately rub his cheeck on the top of your head, thanking you for being such a prestative underclassman. You enter your business mode, thinking on how you could go about this. It makes sense to promote the club doing something other than hanging out, so you tell them to pick up their instruments and pose.

You go around them and try many different angles. Kalim and Lilia have fun doing weird poses that makes very clear they aren't playing at all, but there's a charming genuine smile on their faces. Cater poses with his guitar like a professional, making captivating facial expressions that make even you swoon, only encouraging him to make different ones. He could be a model, you think, with how he knows all the right ways to smile at the camera and tilts his head just so to make him look cute and alluring at the same time, fingers skillfully positioned at the eletric guitar's chords, eyes lidded, hair messy deliberately, body facing forwards with confidence. He has everything to ace the rockstar persona, at least in looks.

You try taking some of them together as an unit, but none pleases you enough. There's something missing, but you can't quite put your finger on what. You give his cellphone back as you ponder about it. Cater looks through the photos, commenting how one looks "super cool~" and in the other he's "slaying". He decides it'd be a great moment to take advantage of his cuteness streak to take a photo with everyone together, yourself included. Cater drapes his arm around your shoulders and keeps you close to him, cheek coming to rest at your forehead. Kalim and Lilia make poses behind you two, laughing at how silly they look with all the filters Cater tries on. 

He ends up telling you to decide which photo looked better, as he couldn't chose just one, something like: "any photo with you would look cute, of course I can't chose!" You look through all of them, but only one gets your eyes, the only without a filter. Everyone looks genuinely happy, making your heart warm. Cater's is not looking at the camera itself, but slightly to the side, where you are, with such a soft expression you can't help but be endeared by it. It's him, not a forced smile and exaggerated pose, just Cater, happy. That's what the other pictures were missing. 

You show it to him, insisting it's the best and should be the first photo on the club's Magicam page. He pouts about the lack of filter, saying how the other ones look much cuter, but you explain that you like the real him much more than any filter, since nothing could ever come close to the real deal, no filter in the world could make him justice. You're very genuine with it too, since it's the truth. Cater stares at you, caught by surprise, and turns his face away from you, ears tinted pink, taking a minute to recompose himself, leaving you confused. Lilia looks on knowingly, smirking at him. You weren't alone in your confusion, as Kalim seemed to be just as clueless as you.

Your argument manages to convince him, though, as he soon comes up with an eye catching description and posts it, grumbling that you should be happy now. You are, actually, so you simply smile at him, giggling at his playful eye roll. Only after the picture was already posted and you entered on your own account that you notice your eyes were closed. You yelp and try to convince Cater to change it to another one, but he refuses, telling that you were the one that chose it so you should stick with it, sticking his tongue out at you in a childsh manner. You whine some more before giving up. Cater seemed really content with the choice, if the soft smile on his face as he glanced at it meant anything, so you let it be, resigning to your fate. You weren't even a member, so you hoped you wouldn't attract that much attention. (You really hoped Ace wouldn't find it, otherwise you'd never hear the end of it.)

He suddenly gets an idea to decorate the classroom to make it look more "magicamable", dragging Lilia with him to get the decorations. Lilia whispers something to him that makes him glance back at you with a red face, quickly scurrying away and leaving you and Kalim to look on in confusion. How weird, what had gotten into him? 

At that moment, the playlist shuffles, coming up with a song that has a very upkeep beat. Kalim jumps in excitement, saying that was his favorite song and he couldn't not dance to it. You can't help jumping your leg and moving your head to the beat, swaying to the contagious rhthym. Kalim notices and extends his hands in your direction, inviting you to dance with him. You know you're nowhere near his skill level and you'd look clumsy compared to his fluid moviments, but his earnestness convinces you to give it a try. You were sure he wouldn't make fun of you, so why not have a good time too?

Hand in hand, the two of you move together, not completly in sync, but in a rhythm that feels right, that's only yours. It's nice, seeing his content expression up close, foreheads almost touching, feet following the other's steps, hips swaying together. You spin once, laughing, he spins once, grinning wildly. You're lost in the trance of the hypnotizing beat of Kalim's heart.

The song gradually comes to a stop, making both of you calm down too. Kalim has one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours. You hold onto his shoulder, your noses touch, breaths coming in puffs, his eyes crinkle and it's warm, he's warm. Your chest follows his in it's rise and fall, your stomach does pirouettes, to the point you're dizzy, your cheeks feel hot. You start worrying you might have really gotten food poisoning from Lilia's cooking.

Before either of you say anything else, the sound of Cater's giggle burst your bubble, bringing you back to the real world. You whip your head to the door, watching as Lilia and Cater giggle deviously, Cater's fingers working fast on his cellphone's keyboard. You separate from Kalim's burning touch, your hands suddenly feeling cold, and stride up to them, demanding to look at what they found so funny. Lilia shows you, on his own phone, a videoclip of you and Kalim dancing together, nearing the end of the song. Your focus is initially on Kalim, as he glows, movements showing years of expertise, it's... beautiful. Then your gaze averts to yourself, and how, like you suspected, you were looking goofy near him, not matching the tempo at all.

You whine up at Cater again, asking him to delete the stories he posted, but he refuses, saying it was way too precious to miss. You lightly hit his chest and look up your lashes at him, pouting. His teasing expression falters, as if you were on the brink of convincing him. Lilia pulls you away and explains it was only on close friends anyway, so you needn't worry about the whole school seeing it. Kalim agrees that the video is very nice, beaming as he watches you two having fun. You sigh and give up, not having the heart to be a killjoy.

Lilia and Cater's hands are empty of any decorations, so you question them about it. Cater frowns exaggeratedly, drowning on dramatically on how they couldn't find any and how it was such a pity. Lilia covers his hand to hide a giggle, only making the action more obvious. Cater glares at him subtly. Kalim notices how the club's reserved time is almost coming to an end, deciding that to make a grand finale you should play an instrument, after all they should at least pretend they did something club related for you to report back to the Headmaster. And it'd be a lot of fun for you to play with them!

Lilia claps his hands together, agreeing it would be a most gleeful experience. He insists on teaching you how to play the bass, not wanting to hear whether you already knew how to or not. He gives you the instrument and shows how to hold it in the right way, trying to teach a few chords. It's a bit difficult to understand the confusing terms he uses, so he sighs and comes behind you, taking your hands in his and doing the movements, pressing his chest against your back, his deep voice right by your ear as he explains. You can't pay attention to it all, for some reason. You kind of feel dizzy again. Perhaps it's the food poisoning for real this time?

His fingers guide yours along the strings, gently pressing on the right spots, strumming the chords at the bridge. He murmurs the instructions, voice ressonating like the low pitch of the instrument, hot breath tickling your skin. You let him do as he pleases, dazed. The simple notes ring in your ears, lulling you into calmness, eyes closing as you let your sensations take the wheel, the frequency making your heart vibrate in your chest, as if dancing along, your head floating in the clouds.

It's all good and well until Lilia starts singing along. Or whatever it is that he calls "singing". In reality, he starts screaming some punk-rock lyrics right by your ear. Your heart jumps so quickly you swear you almost had an arrhythmia, your soul leaving your body for a second. Your eyes snap open so fast the lights from the classroom blind you and make black spots appear in your vision. You elbow Lilia in your surprise, thankfully making him stop trying to burst your eardrums. You get away, taking off the strap of the bass and giving it back to him. You think that's enough practicing for now.

Later on the day you confirm your food poisoning suspicions to be true. You've gained a new found respect for Sebek for enduring the poison Lilia calls cooking everyday and still managing to keep that impressive disposition of his. At least you helped the pop music club get more followers on magicam and spread their word out there. A bunch of people sign up to know the club, so you're all really happy! You felt like you've done a good job. (In the next week, the people arrive and see no sight of you, only of the dynamic trio. They don't show up again, leaving the members number back to it's original three.)

It was pretty fun, all things considered. You didn't get hurt other than in your pride and your social image, so it's a win in your books. Still, you're not sure you could handle their energetic and chaotic personalities combined like this evey week and risk getting deaf or suffering stomach failure. Time to check out other clubs.

(Cater comments on how the photos you took together got the most likes, insisting you come over again for a photoshoot. Kalim says he's got new songs to dance with you and that he's asked Jamil to help him cook for the next club meeting. Lilia tells you that you still have to take some more bass lessons to get the hang of it. Well, you suppose you could pass by sometime to be in the know about what goes on at the school and to get to prove Jamil's cooking. And to enjoy your friend's company, of course!)

Masterlist

[mimisempai]

Letting go

Summary

As Crowley and Aziraphale, still in the early stages of their relationship, dine together at the bookshop, Aziraphale notices a certain tension in his lover. Will he be able to help him loosen up a bit?

Notes

As requested by some readers, another little ficlet in the Barista and the Bookseller universe.

On Ao3

Rating G -  784 words

"You haven't touched your food. What's going on?"

Crowley had joined Aziraphale in the bookstore at the end of the day, and now they were eating the dinner Aziraphale had prepared. However, the bookseller had clearly noticed that his partner was tense and strangely agitated. 

Crowley, as if to show him otherwise, grabbed his fork and replied, "Nothing, I'm fine."

Aziraphale placed his hand on hers and, tilting his head to one side, said quietly, "I know we haven't known each other that long, but I can see something's bothering you, Anthony, so talk to me. Please?"

Crowley released his fingers from the fork and set it down on the table with a sigh.

"It's about tomorrow."

Aziraphale, realizing what he was talking about, replied gently, "Your exams to validate your first year?"

Crowley nodded.

"But you're ready, aren't you?"

"I think so..."

Crowley sighed again and Aziraphale looked at him fondly. He was sure Crowley was ready. He'd spent the last few weeks preparing for these exams. Nina had even rearranged his schedule at the coffee shop to give him more time, and Crowley had made good use of it, so much so that Aziraphale had to coax him away from his small desk in his apartment more than once to keep his lover from overdoing it.

He said quietly, "I understand," then stood up under Crowley's puzzled gaze. 

As he came up behind the barista, Aziraphale placed his hands gently on his lover's shoulders, and Crowley was so tense that he flinched in response. Aziraphale did not remove his hands, however, and said softly, "Let me help you a little, will you?"

Crowley, as if he couldn't keep up the fight against himself, sighed and lowered his head.

Aziraphale's touch was gentle, but the barista couldn't help but flinch when his lover's thumbs pressed against a particularly knotted muscle.

Leaning forward, Aziraphale planted a kiss on his lover's temple before saying softly, "Oh, Anthony, my dear... You're so tense. Let go, I promise I've got you."

Crowley leaned back into the warm hands and Aziraphale continued his massage of the more than tense muscle. Crowley's next moan was not one of pain but of contentment as the muscles in his shoulder relaxed under his lover's gentle, caring hands. He let his head fall gently forward and, for the first time in days, Crowley felt the tension within him finally begin to ease. 

Aziraphale encouraged him as tenderly as ever, the softness of his voice matching that of his hands, "That's it, dearest, just try to let go. Concentrate on my hands. Just on my hands. You've worked hard and what you've learned won't disappear just because you let yourself go for a few moments. So forget everything and just concentrate on my hands and my voice. 

He leaned forward and planted a light kiss on Crowley's hair before continuing.

Crowley let himself go completely, trusting his lover's hands without reservation, and the delicious mixture of pain and release washed over him.

Feeling that his lover was now completely loose under his hands, Aziraphale stopped the massage and let his hands rest gently on Crowley's shoulders, the massage turning into a gentle caress before Aziraphale's arms wrapped around his lover's shoulders and slid along his chest in a warm embrace. 

Crowley turned his head toward Aziraphale, who now had his face close to his own, and pressed a light kiss to his cheek, then a deeper one to his lips before murmuring, "Thank you. "

Aziraphale returned the kiss and replied softly, "Glad I could help."

Crowley moved back, forcing Aziraphale to let go, before wrapping his arms around his lover's waist and pulling him against him. The bookseller gave in and had no choice but to sit on Crowley's lap, wrapping his arms around his neck for support.

Pressing another kiss to his lover's lips, Crowley said in a voice hoarse with emotion, "You have helped me more than you know."

Aziraphale pressed a long, tender kiss to Crowley's lips and when he tried to pull away, the barista held him back to continue the kiss. Yet they were almost immediately interrupted by the growl of Crowley's stomach. 

Their lips were only millimeters apart, and they froze, looking at each other in silence for a split second before bursting into laughter.

Then, after one last gentle kiss, Aziraphale stood and returned to sit across from Crowley and they resumed their meal. 

This time, the bookseller was pleased to see that Crowley, much more relaxed, was finally able to enjoy it, and he relished the feeling of having been able to help the one who was becoming more and more dear to his heart.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

The barista and the booksellers series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[dreichrainbow]

DO IT AGAIN???

I'm not quite sure what happened here.. I was a woman possessed and wrote 736 words on my tablet because I couldn't sleep. I was actually enjoying writing some nonsense smut for the first time in years. But I needed to get this out of my system..

This fandom is going to end me.

I just need to shout this into void okay? Thanks.

No Nightingales

“You idiot, we could have been… us”

Aziraphale turns away from his best friend because it’s too much to bear and so he doesn’t realise that Crowley has strode over to him for one final desperate attempt at becoming an us. The angel barely has time to gasp in shock before Crowley grabs him by his lapels and slams their lips together.

Aziraphale vaguely wonders if the demon stopped time, because everything seems to happen in slow-motion.

No. Yes. Wha- what is he doing? Kissing? Is he kissing me? No, this can’t be happening. Stop.

Aziraphale grimaces and stares at Crowley through half-open eyes. He falters, his hands flailing at his side. Crowley pulls the angel impossibly closer and the blonde unintentionally closes his eyes and lets himself be drawn in.

I can’t. We can’t. Heaven and Hell will.. This is dangerous! But Crowley is right here. With me. Us.

For the briefest of moments, Aziraphale loses the battle inside his head and he melts into the kiss. His hands try to grip at the demon’s shoulders but they find no purchase. His hands instead press uselessly into Crowley’s back as Aziraphale leans into the serpent’s warmth.

Closer. More. Please. No! We mustn’t!

He lets go of Crowley’s back, but doesn’t have the willpower to push him away completely.

Selfish. Greedy.

But then Crowley roughly pulls himself away, his obscured eyes filled with pain. Aziraphale gasps, opening and closing his mouth to say something, anything, to make this all okay.

“I..”

His mouth is moving but no words come out. Crowley looks at his best friend with such profound sadness that Aziraphale wants to take him in his arms and fly them both away to the nearest star and never look back.

The universe needs me to be in heaven.

“I...”

Why would Crowley do this?

Aziraphale feels dizzy and confused. His lips still burn from the sudden onslaught.

We can’t be together. Not like this. The planet, our planet, is in danger.

He knows what he needs to say now and every fibre of his being is telling him not to.

Crowley will never come back.

He steels himself and looks at the demon with a mixture of heartbreak and resolve.

“I forgive you.”

Crowley sighs and Aziraphale nearly breaks down at the sound of utter hopelessness.

“Don’t bother.”

Crowley turns around and starts walking towards the door. They both feel the finality of 6000 years of companionship being torn apart. Aziraphale can’t breathe. His chest heaves as his eyes fill with tears.

Did Crowley really just...

The angel brings his hand up to his lips, trying to memorize the feel of Crowley’s bruising lips on his own. He is already struggling to remember and his heart shatters.

“Do that again.” He whispers when tears begin to fall onto his creased lapels. “Please, right now.”

“Do you mean that angel?”

Crowley had one hand on the door when the barely-there plea reached his ears. He’d spun around but not released the doorknob, which meant he stood in an uncomfortable twisted position. His serpentine spine could cope though as he stood frozen staring at the angel.

I can’t. Selfish. Greedy. Dangerous.

“I...”

Neither of them moved. Neither of them could. The tension and emotion weighing them down, overwhelming them.

“I...”

Thick tears continued to stream down Aziraphale’s cheeks.

We can’t.

“Yes.”

The word had barely left Aziraphale’s lips before Crowley’s were on his again. Aziraphale grabs the demon’s shoulders this time and pulls him so close they could have been one entity. Maybe they were.

“Angel...”

Fresh tears start falling on Aziraphale’s cheeks and it’s like a knife to his already battered heart when he realises that these are Crowley’s. He breaks their kiss to look at his kind, vulnerable, demon. The curly-haired angel gently kisses the tears away, one-by-one, before placing his hands on either side of the black sunglasses.

“May I?”

Crowley nods.

Slowly, Aziraphale removes the spectacles to reveal red-rimmed yellow eyes.

“Beautiful.”

He places a feather-light kisses on each eye, desperately trying to take away some of his demon’s pain.

“Angel..” Crowley says again.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I..”

The serpent’s eyes fill with new tears and Crowley’s voice breaks.

“I..”

“I know.”

Because he does. Some part of Aziraphale has always known. He and Crowley are parts of the same whole. Meant to be together. Meant to work together. Meant to safe the world they created, together.

“Me too.”

[neurolady]

My current obsession is "Where is Crowley’s mind at!"

I know disaster puppy and all, he's definitely a mess (both of them are), but how is that gonna manifest!

Aziraphale's is going to suck it up! He's going to have to! He's just been marched into the lion's den and forced to leave his sheild on Earth. He probably won't have much space to process before being chucked into Heaven's machinations. His process is going to be about holding it together while trying to figure out what Heaven is up to? And as far as him understanding Crowley's decision, I don't think he has as far to go as Crowley does in understanding his!

Crowley, on the other hand, has got space to wallow. I mean, REALLY, just get all up in his feelings! There really is nothing keeping him afloat right now. We've seen him wallow before, but this might actually be worse. Of course, he was devastated when he thought Aziraphale was dead. That, however, definitely wasn't Aziraphale's choice. In Crowley's mind right now, Aziraphale chose Heaven over him. With the final outcome, pretty much the same (at least he likely believes there's a chance), he might never see Aziraphale again.

He's hit the trifecta Homeless, Jobless, Loveless! God has slammed him into rock bottom and is grinding his face in the dirt for fun!! As of right now, Crowley is that classic, nothing more to lose character. I'm fascinated with where Neil and John (and Terry from above) chose to have him start S3 emotionally. I guess it depends on how much time is going to have passed - days, weeks, months, or even years 😬. And where in the universe is he physically - London (Soho), somewhere else but still Earth, off Earth (Alpha Centurai) or Hell.

Here's what I'm hoping -

We need a meltdown of epic proportions!! It'd be great to see David break out those big emotional ("and I would like to spend...hmmmh"💔) acting chops here. BUT I'm thinking more GO comedy meltdown. London/UK wide blackout! Takes out a newly repaired Big Ben as he erupts driving past in Bentley! Demand outstrips supply for alcohol in the Soho/London area, causing the economy to crash or brawling on the streets! Something comically absurd and big enough that it might just get Hell's attention.... see where I'm going?!

But after his meltdown(s) and obligatory self-destructive period, because of course there will be! There's not a chance there won't be. We mere mortals fall to pieces after relationships of measly months fall apart, we are talking 6000 years here!! BUT after this, I want to see the nameless fallen angel, who redefined himself as Crawly, who redefined himself as Crowley and then finally as Anthony J Crowley show that same level of resilience. I want him to figure out what 'his side' now means to him, even if he can only be an 'us' in memory (because may be at this point he still belives Aziraphale is lost to him for ever). I want him to decide why he wants to be on Earth for himself, so that he wants to protect it just as much as Aziraphale, not just BECAUSE of Aziraphale. So he understands why Aziraphale could and would never be happy if they had just left Earth to Armageddon and run off together. Perhaps this is all facilitated by him being on the run from Heaven, trying to get rid of him before Aziraphale finds out. Encountering the kindness of strangers. Rediscovering the demon who designed the M25, who was an infamous bootlegger in WW2 or a Black Knight in medieval times. Because let's face it by S2, it looks as though he's abandoned all that and just settled into "married" life.

But he can't be on the run forever realises his best protection is Hell and Anthony J, the cunning demon that he is, approaches them. Convinces them he's sick of Earth, done with backstabbing angels for good and (not actually a complete lie) knows all about Heaven's plan for the next Armageddon. Hugely comical meltdown (I like the idea of Big Ben burning 😂), plus maybe a few mishaps here and there to protect himself along the way, means they lap it all up! Crowley, however, by now, having recovered himself mostly (he'll never be totally whole without his yang), has realised the best way back to Aziraphale is also through Hell, giving him even more hope. As a by-product, maybe a realisation that Aziraphale was never rejecting him, but trying to protect him in the only way he knew how. Now we have double agent Duke Of Hell Crowley, but he actually wants to protect Earth and humanity for himself as well as so he and Aziraphale can make their home here properly (*cough* *cough* the South Downs enters the chat - you never know maybe discovered a nice little retreat while on the run).

Kick off S3, or may be we're a few episodes in already?!

I'll embrace my masochism, I don't think it would be at all true to them or him if he just bounced back, so I want to see that grief from him. A comical meltdown is a must for me, personally. But I think a note of seriousness within there would be beautiful. We are, after all, in David Tennant's safe hands. My main point is that I would be hugely disappointed if that is all we see. Crowley just drunk in Bentley doing nothing until Aziraphale turns up to drag him out of his stuppor. He's SO much better than that!

As a bonus to Duke of Hell Crowley, Aziraphale will know none of this having been kept completely in the dark by Heaven. So that when Hell proudly announces their newest Duke is Crowley, he is rapt with anxiety that he's pushed him over the edge and lost him forever! Until their first meeting, negotiations between Heaven and Hell about how they will ensure Armageddon actually gets going this time. Midway through, Aziraphale in a total panic at this point, Crowley casually growls at one of his minions to "get outside and stop that blasted Nightingale from singing outside the window, it's too bloody distracting", before continuing with the plan to start a nuclear winter.

[who-dat-homeless]

people keep saying like "oh it would be sad if azicrow becomes human in the finally :( " or "oh it'd be sad if crowley rejects aziraphale" or " oh it'd be sad if they wipe aziraphale's memories and he forgets crowley"

And I can't fucking relate because looking at the story we've got so far I SEE ABSOLUTELY NO EVIDENCE THAT ANY OF THIS COULD HAPPEN EVEN THEORETICALLY.

oh they'd become humans -- thematically they are already humans. At the end of the season one crowley says that hell and heaven would start a war against humans and now both crowley and aziraphale are not demon and not angel but something grey, something in the middle, something that actually can decide their action and their future (which ahem ahem is how humans described by the aziraphale) there's absolutely no need to make them human's thematically because they're already are. The only reason I can think of for making them humans is to get a bittersweet emotion from the audience, BUT IT'S FOCKEN CHEAP and I really can not see Neil Gaiman going for this. The man is mad genius of tragedy and bittersweetness and he is because this tragedy always has a reason/theme.

oh crowley would reject aziraphale -- BABE HAVE YOU WATHCED THE SHOW??????? CROWLEY BREAKS UP WITH AZIRAPHALE EACH FIVE MINUTES FR FR AND THE NEXT SCENE IS HER STANDING ON HER KNEES WET SAD AND MISERABLE BEGGING AZIRAPHALE TO COME BACK. REALLY. For fuck's sake Crowley is the sensible little kitten that lingers to the stranger's pants leg hoping they will get at least a little bit of sympathy. He's optimistic at it's core. But also he's so FUCKING lonely.

DID YOU ALL COLLECTIVELY FORGOT THIS SCENE??? "I'm a demon I lied" -- AND THIS IS THE CONFESSION OF HER FEELING THE WORST, FEELING ABANDONED AND LONELY AND MISERABLE.

She literally drove Bentley slower TO GIVE AZIRAPHALE A CHANCE TO CATCH HER. Good god.

Yes, of course there'll be conflict and there'll be fights and misunderstanding yada yada yada BUT DEAR GOD the second aziraphale is hurt (even emotionally) crowley is here ready to fight god, satan and whoever there is, and then accept his angel back in a span of a second

AND IT ALSO MAKES ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE THEMATICALLY TO GET THEM FALL APART. They're each other's yang!!! bitch!! they're the human's nature dichotomy THEY LITERRALLY CAN NOT BE APART. WRITE THEM APART AND THE WHOLE MESSSAGE OF GOOD OMENS FALLS APART

oh they'll wipe aziraphale's memories -- let's start with that they couldn't even wipe off Gabriel's memories (he and beelzebup did, putting it into the fly, Metatron did not do it)

and now, aziraphale first -- knowing what to expect from heaven, second -- specifically going there to fix it and stop second coming HE WILL BE SO CAUTIOUS that I really can't see how the wiping can even occur

"oh the angels would catch him and torture and.." no. I mean I think they're capable but like. They're an extremely ass licking office workers, who prides their reputation and stupid brute force is not their style. Yes they kidnaped aziraphale(crowley) once but even that kidnaping was so sanitized and almost non violent that I hardly can imagine them getting into actions. I think that they wouldn't even chase aziraohale across the heaven because running is heaven is prohibited, so. Unless Aziraphale himself would want to wipe his memories.. I absolutely can't see it happening.

but y'know what is the only thought that does make me sad?

That there's a possibility that Crowley would accept Aziraphale back no questions asked

This is the real shit

Because Crowley already did that in the past. It's in his fucking character. Because he's optimistic, because he's lonely, because he already lost his friend once. Because he has it all, he can go back to hell become a respected demon, take back his cool brutalist flat, he's self-sufficient, he can be all by himself if he really wants but he can never shut this hole of lonliness in himself no matter what he does

In Crowley's eyes Aziraphale makes him complete. It's the lost part of her soul she was looking for so long.

And I so fucking afraid that she will give up her dignity, she'll repress her feelings and needs once again, she'll do the first step ONCE AGAIN, only to shut this ugly feeling deep inside that makes her want to disappear.

AND IT MAKES SENCE because then Aziraphale can see how desperate Crowley and how wrong he was to just pretend that everything is fine between them, and Crowley can be confronted about this really unhealthy behavior and so on and so on

and just the thought that it makes sense and that it's in character MAKES ME SO AFRAID and so sad...

[thescholarlystrumpet]

I always say I don't do Meta but here I am stuck in my head over the Family Systems lens of viewing our beloved Ineffable Idiots.

Crowley, as the Black sheep (scapegoat) has done a lifetime+ (6000 odd years) of unpacking his identity and detaching from his toxic family of origin (Heaven and then the "found" family of Hell). He started to differentiate from Heaven first by reveling in the assigned role of the outcast - being Unforgivable. Because if you are told long enough that you are the Bad One, you will start to believe it, internalize it. But that is only a reactionary identity, not a whole one.

So In GO S1, we see Crowley recognizing his own growth away from even his assigned role. He doesn't identify with Hell anymore than he identifies with Heaven because they both want him to stay quietly and obediently in a box. Whereas all that time around humans, with all our complexities and gray areas, has (I think) helped him realize that boxes just don't work. Obviously his ability to be completely head over heels for Aziraphale has also played a part in this.

With Az, Crowley gets to be the Savior - a roleplay they both clearly enjoy. Crowley gets to be covertly "good" as is still part of his nature. But goodness does not define him and it's very important to him that this remain true. Being "good" is for Angels and the resentment toward Heaven is an unhealed wound. He also gets to roleplay "tempting" Az in a safe, controlled way - since we all know Az wants to be tempted anyway. Through their relationship, Crowley gets to be more fully himself than anywhere else.

Aziraphale reaps this benefit, as well, but he is far less aware of it (on the surface). Because Aziraphale was never cast out, he is still living with the comfortable level of denial regarding the toxicity of his Family of Origin (Heaven). Az still harbors hope that things can be changed for the better, that the people in charge (caretakers) are operating from a place of fundamental Good. Az is the adult who seems to function highly on the outside but is always falling apart within because they still feel that they *do* have to fit neatly into the "boxes" Crowley long ago eschewed.

Azriaphale is a ball of walking Anxiety and Perfectionism because he is still so enmeshed with the exalted expectations of his Family of Origin. He can only "rebel" in secret for the most part. Good Omens 1 is a major moment of growth for him - the first open act of rebellion against the Family. He is able to do so because Crowley has his back (like a supportive partner) and, I believe, at least in part because Gabriel has been such a bully that Az reaches a breaking point with it in that moment. I'm sure it helps that they get to save actual children from harm.

But one big moment of rebellion doesn't mean the cycles of a thousand lifetimes will be automatically broken. Az does well enough with being an outcast of Heaven when it means the bullying and expectations on him are finally relaxed but as we see by his responses to the Angelic visits all through S2, he hasn't truly severed his feeling of responsibility toward the Family (Heaven).

When a major Caretaker (Metatron) steps in to offer Az everything he has never hoped to dream, of course he can only see it as essential. He has never had to process a full break from the Family like Crowley so he truly cannot understand where Crowley is in his emotional journey. Az has basically just had his wounded inner child told that Mummy and Daddy not only wanted and loved him all along but that they now want to give him the respect he never got before.

And Az truly wants to believe this illusion because it fulfills every emotional wounds that was still open within him. Hence why he also lets himself believe that he can be the one who *does* make a difference in Heaven. He wants to genuinely believe that he can bring Crowley back into the Family - where they can both be blissfully loved and accepted. To Az, it's the opportunity to stop hiding and rebelling in secret. To be able to offer Crowley what Az sees as the dearest gift anyone could bestow: Redemption.

Crowley, having seen the two of them as being in far more similar places, emotionally, is blindsided by this. Crowley no longer sees Heaven's acceptance as a positive. He knows how cruel and unjust the Family can be - and has been to him for centuries. He cannot, for the life of him, understand why Az does NOT see it. And Az offering him a return to Heaven is salt in the wound of "you're not good enough as you are." Crowley feels that the only person who has ever felt safe in his existence is suddenly telling him that everything he has worked to be, the emotional mountain he has climbed to be *himself* is worth less than reverting back to the being he was *before* he did all the work.

What Az sees as opportunity for unity, for fulfilling the childish dreams of being "accepted" by their Family of Origin, Crowley sees as a fundamental rejection of himself.

Maybe all of this was obvious and I may have been off about a few things - haven't watched S1 one in about a year. But this was my overall impression and I needed to get it out of my system. Not beta'd or proofread.

Thank you to anyone who actually bothers to read all of this XD

[antiquarianandunusual]

I know we’re all very psyched for Disaster Puppy Crowley this season, but I genuinely think, despite him seeming to thrive, we’re going to see Aziraphale fall just as much apart. It’s clear that Aziraphale wants people to think he has it all together; he’s content and free with his books and his budding friendships with the other local businessfolk, and it looks like he’s going to have the time of his life trying to solve the Gabriel mystery (Detective Aziraphale looks way too happy to be there). But knowing Aziraphale, I think he’s going to struggle just as much as Crowley with his newfound freedom.

I really think we’re going to see Aziraphale pile WAY TOO MUCH on his plate. Aziraphale who occupies himself way too much with the Gabriel mystery, who throws himself into Nina’s relationship troubles, who secretly NEEDS Jim’s chaos in his life. We’re going to see Aziraphale eventually unable to balance it all and Crowley snap at him for taking on so much and neglecting the precious, peaceful life the two of them have tried to build. We’re going to see Aziraphale crumble to pieces because if his mind and hands aren’t occupied 25/8 with messy chaos and problems that no one else wants to solve, then he has to confront the fact that he really completely fucked up everything he ever knew. He has to let the regret, the guilt, the pain of being out to sea finally come to the surface, and he isn’t sure how to deal with that. He isn’t going to be sure how to deal with the messiness of being so relieved to be free, but so terrified of existing independently of the abuse that has been so strongly woven into his very being.

Aziraphale is going to be just as lost as Crowley. He’s just going to deal with it much differently.

[babbelswoofominides]

Ok I was re-watching the last scene of ep6 and I feel like the light of understanding dawned on me, how did I miss so much nuance the first few watches??? Aziraphale and Crowley literally were saying 2 different things: Crowley wants to run from Heaven and Hell ("both toxic"),but Aziraphale only understands that he wants to run away as usual, he doesn't understand Crowley loves him (even Crowley didn't realize it until 5 minutes before).

Not at first. That confession is a mess and from a communicative pov, quite a fail. Basically Crowley is saying "we've always been a team, let's keep being a team by running away like Gabe and Beez run away from their responsibilities". That's what Aziraphale understands, he's so confused when Crowley says "We're a group, a team, an us". That has to be the dumbest (affectionate) confession I've ever seen actually, is he confessing or hyping his team right before a big match?

Aziraphale doesn't understand the love behind the "love confession": he probably still thinks Crowley thinks of him as a "friend" and he still wants him by his side. He loves him so much that he is ready to go back to Heaven and offers him what he thinks is the thing Crowley wants the most: become an angel again. From Az's pov, that's the best thing he could ever give him. Crowley, his nice, dear Crowley, finally safe and happy again. They can finally be safe, together, doing good, making a difference. But Crowley is throwing it all to the wind, choosing to stay a demon instead of choosing Aziraphale and "good, light". Az considers himself to be the good in their "us". Crowley is refusing good, Heaven, him. It stings, that refusal, feels like a betrayal of all those 6000 years where they helped and protected each other. Crowley is always saving him, but is refusing to be saved.

"We could have been us, you idiot". Aziraphale doesn't understand, because the kind of us Crowley was proposing was the same thing of 6000 years. Yes, a beautiful agreement, companionship in their loneliness, but also forced to hide from Hell and Heaven so they don't get killed. Hiding, running away, always a breath away from being together, but never together, because they're so fundamentally apart, demon and angel, always separated by this big rift. That for a moment seemed adjustable, but now no more.

He's not expecting a kiss. He's shocked beyond everything imaginable: he loves Austen, sensible romances, people having misunderstandings but in the end, agreeing and seeing it eye to eye, a sensible marriage/union, chosen together over shared goals/ideals. A kiss is, if anything, the seal of that agreement, the culmination of all that sensible, old timey wooing stuff. Instead, Crowley just rejected the best offer and he's tempting him again, like that night when he offered him the meat and he thought he'd be a fallen angel, after that. But this time he's offering so much more. Something Aziraphale has probably denied himself for centuries. Come with me: you will have me. But choose me, not heaven. It's lonely. It's us. Our own side.

Did he actually understand what Crowley meant? Or is he just hearing "you have to come with me on my own terms and completely give up heaven, the good side and possibly yourself, possibly at the cost of Falling"? Which is also what Aziraphale is asking Crowley: "renounce to who you are and you can be with me, doing good, eradicating the part that is now you forever". A different Falling, a reverse Fall. An ascension to light, pureness, good (very interesting choice of poses, btw).

It's all this and a lot more: there's pride, there's prejudice, there's 2 people who see things differently and have a lot of problems, they're "never saying what they're really thinking" (like Maggie said). Like that night preparing for the West End:

Aziraphale: "thank you for saving my books (why do you keep saving me and being so nice to me?)" Crowley: "shut up (Don't make me say it)". Crowley: "Cheers for getting me off the hook (are you just doing this out of the agreement, for yourself, for me?)" Aziraphale: "Oh don't hank me (don't say it out loud), that's what... friends... are for (we'll always be there for each other, like always, we just can't say it more explicitly than this, me and you, angel and demon, forever bound to suffer because of our natures).

Saying what they really think, for once. That way they could have actually discovered all the things that transpired in the final discussion... a little sooner? Before the Megatron came into the picture meddling, muddling the waters? Who knows.

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: Put Out The Fire

Aziraphale finds himself in a very awkward position as some sort of spell makes everyone merely glancing in his direction instantly fall deeply and desperately in love with him. Absolutely everyone. Well, apart from Crowley, that is. And while both angel and demon search for a solution to this fairly unique problem, Crowley can’t help wondering whether Aziraphale might finally figure out some things he kept hidden for so very long.

Length: 133,896 words

AO3 Rating: Teen and Up

Best for: Safe in Public, Pick-me-up, Comedy

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by Aleakim

*Minor Spoilers* This is going to be another rusty on the details post as I read this one weeks ago at this point. At first I was a little skeptical of the concept, a love spell? Would it just be corny? Well maybe a little, but in a good way. Actually my favorite takeaway from this story is that it remembers that Good Omens is fun! It's funny and silly! So by the summary you know that Crowley is seemingly unaffected by the love spell, and being a Good Omens fan you know why that is. The journey of figuring out what is going on and why is engaging and full of little surprises. The new characters are fun, and the returning characters are used to great effect. I'll let you find out about the plot yourself. There's too many twists and turns to summarize quickly anyway! Bottom line, when you're in the mood for some comedy in your fic this one will be perfect! And completely safe in public. I read it at every available moment at work, maybe spending a little too long hiding in the bathroom to read.

Read it here, fic by Aleakim

[the-nocturnal-writer]

💘 HEART W/ ARROW - what traits do they look for in a relationship? do they believe in love at first sight?

P.S. It's your fault for posting Crowley's first drawing and us hammering Crowley's name into the talented artist's mind (don't misunderstand, in a good way🙃).

You and your honey words pffft. On a serious note, thank you, all the attention he’s getting is so sweet. Now to finally answer the question! Sorry it took a bit. 😭

Ashborn believes in love at first sight, even fated encounters, she knows the world is a mysterious place and does mysterious things. As for traits, Ash looks for someone to be their partner in crime, who isn’t afraid to follow them into darkness and come out the other side laughing like idiots. They want a relationship that feels like two peas in a chaotic pod, like a team. Even if Ashborn has a bad habit of putting others before herself. 

Constantin doesn’t believe in love at first sight but then again, how would he know? Love is a confusing maze to wonder and he’s barely understanding what he wants from it. From what little he’s experienced, Con would be attracted to kind hearts. Someone who won’t judge him for what he is and be by his side when shit hits the fan. In other words. He’s not a hard man to impress.

Eden believes in love at first sight but is also careful with whom she falls for. It’s really important to Eden that her partner is family-orientated, she has a daughter who’s going nowhere anytime soon and all she can hope for is someone to love Fern as much as she does. Be a good parental figure and Eden’s an easy heart to win. 

Heka doesn’t, he feels love is far too complicated to happen instantaneously. Love needs time to nurture. Heka looks for one thing when wanting a relationship and that’s safety. He wants to feel like he can be himself around them. He wants to have a home to share and cherish. Heka doesn’t ask for much, just a life and relationship that makes his existence feel complete. 

Rowan doesn’t love without first having some sort of bond, so they think love at first sight is a load of shit. Very negative view for someone who wants to have that bond so badly, seeking someone who will hold them close and not let go. Rowan will do everything to deny they have feelings for someone and need a relationship, so someone who challenges them and pushes to be by their side will be cherished for eternity if successful. They need some stability after a very unstable past. 

Sonja doesn’t believe in love at first sight but she likes to think it’s real for others, it’s such a sweet idea to think someone falls so easily. Sonja is someone who appreciates honesty and having a relationship that isn’t built on lies, so often she’ll admit and talk about her past. Stick around for that and it’s a step in the right direction to having a very loveable devil. Another romance option that craves some stability. 

Crowley doesn’t believe in love at first sight, much like Rowan, he needs some sort of bond to feel anything. Where to begin with him… Crow is drawn to strong people. Not physically strong (though he won’t complain), just someone with a strong will and mind, who sticks by their beliefs and morals. It never fails to impress him when someone isn’t afraid of him or shutting down his pessimistic views and encouraging him to see the world differently. He needs someone to make sure he doesn’t tear the world apart. Optimism, kindness and being a stubborn ass is key.

[amanda-melly]

My Good Omens season 3 headcanon, part 3

As always this is just my own headcanon and it's not how I think it will be or how I think it should be.

Part 3 - The part in which my headcanon becomes a fanfic fanfare

* first of all, I believe in the miracle theory - that the metatron realised he needed to keep Aziraphale and Crowley apart after seeing how powerful they were together. They had already prevented one armagedon and would want to prevent it again. They needed to be separated. I just don't know what's the deal with the book of life. If it was easy to use it, then someone would have used it by now. I don't think someone has used it, though. If they had, Aziraphale and Crowley would be goners by now. Who knows. I also think that Aziraphale and Crowley will have to perform an amazing, massive miracle together at some point, probably to win the big climatic battle against the big final Threat. But this is a somewhat loose comment because I don't know how these things will play out.

Ok, so far, in parts 1 and 2 I covered the importance of going back to Lucifer's rebellion and Crowley's fall. In part 2 I initially laid out the episode by episode season structure that makes sense to me, then I listed some things that I think Crowley and Aziraphale might be doing while they are apart. Then around episode 2 of the season they meet again. Let's go from there.

* I'm guessing "something" will happen and I have absolutely no idea what. It'd be pretty hard for any of us to be able to guess what exactly. But the season needs an inciting incident to get things started. Let's suppose here that's it's something about the second coming. Perhaps something about baby Jesus. Perhaps Aziraphale gets caught. Perhaps it's something with Crowley. Perhaps Crowley is in danger or puts himself in danger.

* a pretty fanficky scenario I can think of is that Crowley, after a couple of years of desperation and depression, trying to communicate with Aziraphale but never getting any response, decides to take his grievances to God herself. Or Crowley is convinced by some malevolent character that Aziraphale has been destroyed forever. And so Crowley goes to the same church that got destroyed in 1941 (and has been rebuilt). He doesn't care that his feet burn, he gets to his knees but the physical pain is soothing because it helps him to finally translate his emotional pain into something tangible. The church is completely empty but for him. And he cries and questions god for everything, including the trial we've seen in flashbacks. And he questions god for making him and Aziraphale her pawns in preventing the armagedon a few years back. And he asks what was all that for it it's just going to happen again. (point-less as he says in s2). And why would god do all that to him. He might say OK, I mean, I'm a demon, i deserve bad things to happen to me, but why do it to Aziraphale? You can't do this to him, he's good, he's so good, he's the best person there ever was, why do it to him? (yes in this version Crowley is upset but does not truly resent Aziraphale, he understands that Aziraphale doesn't know the full story and was manipulated by the metatron - WITH WORDS, not with coffee or whatever) (Crowley also guesses that heaven kept Aziraphale from accessing earth because Crowley knows heaven is afraid that Aziraphale and Crowley will try to prevent the second coming and that's why the metatron took Aziraphale).

* Crowley possibly gets this very emotional, heartbreaking scene while something is going wrong for Aziraphale. Perhaps Aziraphale somehow discovers that Crowley is in a church. At some point perhaps Crowley starts eyeing the basin containing holy water. And Aziraphale makes a run for it. He's done what he could in heaven anyway, it's time to retire the act. Yes "time to retire the act" is a reference to 1941 when Crowley says that exact sentence to Aziraphale and I totally interpret it as having a double meaning. (the ineffable idiots are killing me).

(yes this is very fanficky - I'm a fan and I want Aziraphale to do something for Crowley because Crowley has done pretty much all the emotional heavy lifting so far and it's time for Aziraphale to do his part!)

* Aziraphale rushes to earth and goes straight to the church to find a desperate Crowley kneeling facing the altar, his monologue more incoherent than ever, hesitating to go to the holy water. So far what's kept Crowley going was the certainty that he was needed. Maybe something happened to make him consider extinction. Perhaps heaven or hell lied to Crowley and convinced him that Aziraphale had been destroyed? After all, both heaven and hell want armagedon and will try to convince both Aziraphale and Crowley that it's pointless to try and do anything about it. The number 1 argument to convince Crowley to give it all up is to convince him that Aziraphale is no more.

* intense emotional scene as Aziraphale enters the church. I don't think either of them would be exactly angry at each other, nor that it'd all be immediately ok, but they both want to believe they can fix things. But they're ineffable dumbasses as we all know. Perhaps Crowley won't believe that Aziraphale is really Aziraphale, since any Angel or demon might take his appearance. Or Crowley will scorn Aziraphale saying "years without showing your face and now you chose to appear. Let me guess, your royal magnificence wants to convince himself that he's 'good'? Wouldn't like my blood on your hands? What are you going to do, convince me not to snuf myself and then go back to your fancy office?" anyway something of the sort. Crowley wasn't really that mad at Aziraphale, as I explained previously, but he reacts like this because he's being irrational and afraid because the last time he was vulnerable to Aziraphale, Aziraphale left and left him alone. Crowley usually understands rationally why Aziraphale did thing the way he did, but in the heat of the moment he gets a bit irrational and it takes some talking for them to calm down. And during this tense conversation Crowley would menace Aziraphale by stepping closer and closer to the holy water as Aziraphale would see how Crowley was scorched by kneeling in the church and Aziraphale would talk Crowley out of it.

</end of the most fanficky bit>

Then they would team up relatively early in the season, mixing dealing with heaven and hell hunting both of them down with scenes of them sorting out their emotions and their communication problems, and the big standoff is heaven and hell against Crowley and Aziraphale - but in the end the angels that Aziraphale quietly recruited help save the day. Some demons choose to help them too. So in the end it's basically the mindless bloodthirsty bureaucrats if heaven and hell against the freethinkers (Aziraphale, Crowley, humanity, and the liberated angels and demons). Furfur would probably join this group that I'm calling the freethinking angels and demons because Neil Gaiman has recently answered a question on tumblr that seems to confirm that Furfur is a nice person with a soft heart after all.

* I still haven't decided if the series will actually go so far as to have the return of Jesus in any way - if there will be a baby, if Jesus will appear as a fully grown person... I think it would make more sense to the timeline to not have a baby. Perhaps the "plans" in heaven were to have Jesus return as a baby but by the time Aziraphale defects and abandons heaven they're not ready yet and they never get the chance to do it. And perhaps in the end when the final showdown is over and Aziraphale and Crowley somehow win, Jesus (the original) will come down and say... Something. Not as a second coming (the birth of second-coming-Jesus will be averted) - but as the spirit of THE Jesus from the bible that we saw in season 1. He will probably remember Aziraphale and Crowley. Perhaps he will reveal that the whole thing wasn't a trial for humanity (yet), but a trial for heaven. After all, heaven is supposed to be God's team, the purest, best intentioned ethereal beings. And Aziraphale and Crowley were part of God's plan to assure herself that her team in heaven was really righteous. It's not that they didn't have free will or weren't responsible for their choices - and god never predicted they'd actually come to love one another one day (a pleasant surprise). She was trying them all and heaven was proven to be the shiniest example of hannah Arendt's banality of evil.

(this is getting fanficky too - I just want my boys to be happy you see)

(and for everyone to be thankful for their part in all that)

(just like Aziraphale interpreted that the delivery guy was thanking them in the ending of season 1 and he was disappointed to see that actually... No)

(we love you Aziraphale and Crowley, don't bother with them, we know how important you are)

(I actually think there isn't really a need to have God appear to them. By the end of season 1, Crowley seems to understand that God never really meant to kill the earth after all, and he seems genuinely reassured and less revolted at God. Maybe when they save the earth by the end of season 3 Crowley will be able to make peace with god for good, understanding that God wasn't complicit with heaven) (I'm guessing that the big finale involves putting a stop to heaven's corrupted system).

(back to the story)

* I'm not really happy with the last bit of my headcanon because it's a bit too deus ex machina (jesus ex machina ?) but hey. Crowley is ALWAYS trying to talk to god and god never talks to him. We know that s3 will be a lot about Jesus. So it made sense in my head. But in my head Jesus or god only talks to them AFTER they've won the battle with their own efforts.

* the book of life is a MASSIVE chekov's gun. It will HAVE to play a part... Somehow. No idea how.

[arent-i-the-fairest]

𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

you decide to take a week-long break at rsa. while you’re out having fun with neige, his 7 dwarf friends, che’nya, and whoever else you might know at rsa, how are the nrc boys doing while you’re gone?

“prefect, please reconsider!” crowley begged, hands clasped together. “the school may suffer from your absense! —and by suffer, i mean completely fall apart.”

“you’re way too dramatic! it’s just a week, what’s the worst that could happen in such a short amount of time?”

actually.. a lot, when you think about it. the whole reason you’re taking this break is due to the exhausting amount of chaos at nrc. you totally possible you could come back to the building in flames.

“you told me i can do whatever i please during this little vacation, and what i want to do is go see my rsa friends. my decision is final!” you declare. “after all, you would much prefer me gone for a short little week than having me permanently transfer, wouldn’t you?”

crowley shudders at the idea, nodding vigorously.

“t-that’s absolutely right!! you can go to rsa for your vacation! do enjoy your time there, prefect..”

heartslabyul

there’s no doubt riddle is grumpier than usual— more people find themselves being extra careful around the little redhead. but on the flip side, he’s actually excited you get a chance to bond more with one of his childhood friends! it’d be nice to have you, him, and che’nya in a little friend group.

ace and deuce’s performance in school is getting worse with each day you’re gone. to pour more salt on the wound, they’re stuck babysitting grim because the last thing this school needs is grim going around unsupervised. they often bicker about who takes grim to the next class, each of them crying about how they don’t want to— much to grim’s offense.

trey manages quite well! he makes sure to bake you lots of treats before you leave and to bake you a whole bunch when you return to welcome you back. of course, he has to play dad as always, calming riddle down in your place, helping adeuce with their grades, and even taking grim off their hands for a while.

cater sends you lots of messages! …then quickly realizes he isn’t gonna get a reply anytime soon and sulks over it. he’s gonna have little to no contact with his crush for a week? is he even gonna survive? kidding, kidding. he’s actually able to hold up pretty well like trey, but he’s definitely more expressive than trey is about how he misses you.

savanaclaw

leona is super pissy about the whole thing. just what about rsa is so relaxing to you? it’s the last place he’d think of as calming. just napping with him in the botanical garden wasn’t good enough, huh? during the week, he finds himself making more demands to ruggie and dozing off more often to cheer himself up.

ruggie is just suffering bro. not only is he lonelier without your company, he’s got an extra lazy and pissed off leona to do more work for. without extra pay. he could be all sneaky and pay you a visit, but it would only be a matter of time before leona drags him back. man, this sucks.

jack is another one of the few who are able to go through their week pretty normally. also, him being a goodhearted junior, he goes out of his way to help ruggie whenever he can. bless him.

octavinelle

azul, ever the perfect businessman, doesn’t let any of his displeasure show. at least.. not during business hours and in the face of clients. when he’s all on his lonesome doing work in his office? that’s another story. he seems to be working less efficiently than usual. but he’s not doing terrible— then he remembers rielle goes to rsa and that you could totally be hanging out with him right now. cue his glasses shattering.

jade is similar to azul, not letting his displeasure effect his work performance. but even when mostro lounge has closed for the day, he doesn’t show any signs of displeasure either. always unreadable, this guy. even in private. but don’t be mistaken, he does miss you!

we all saw if coming, floyd is on the opposite side of the spectrum to jade. he shows his displeasure on full display and lets it effect his work performance, and wooo is it bad. he’ll go and annoy customers since he’s bored, more often than not will mix up orders (either on purpose or by accident), or will just straight up not show up to work— dragging mostro lounge’s reputation like never before. it’s one of azul’s worst nightmares come to life and jade’s favorite comedy show.

scarabia

the pair misses you a ton, though kalim shows it and jamil doesn’t. kalim’s definitely expressive about it, telling every person he knows that he misses you— but the fact you’re enjoying your vacation cheers him up! he knows it’s a break well deserved, he’s seen just how much you do around nrc. also, he’s definitely planning a huge ‘welcome back prefect!’ party with a wide variety of food, exotic animals, colorful balloons, confetti, streamers, and party favors everywhere. it makes jamil worry it’ll overwhelm you and drive you right back to rsa.

pomefiore

vil feels like his lifespan gets cut shorter by 5 years each day you’re gone. knowing you’re hanging out his worst enemy puts him in a terrible mood. he’s wants to throw a fit at the thought of neige doing something all cute and princely like kissing your hand. (please don’t tell him it was the first thing neige did upon seeing you.)

let’s be real, rook probably checked up on you. more than once. okay, several times. he can’t help it, he just misses you so much! most of the time, it wasn’t even him speaking to you face to face, it was him shooting an arrow near you with a long dramatic letter attached to it. much appreciated, rook.

epel is pretty sulky the whole week, which earned him scoldings from vil to not frown so much. (as if vil wasn’t frowning all the time either!) since he can’t hang out with you, he hones his talent and goes on apple carving overload— he could start his own mini gallery of carved apples!

ignihyde

as he always does to cope, idia stays shut in his room playing video games. and as ortho usually does whenever his older brother gets like this, tries to cheer him up. he recommended getting out of his room and sneaking over to rsa visit you, which shockingly, idia actually agreed to try— but ultimately ended up failing as he saw several extroverts and ran off back to his room before they could even see him.

diasomnia

malleus is sulking the whole week— one of his only friends is gone for the week. he doesn’t get to see you much to begin with, only really chatting with you at night outside of your dorm and seeing you pass by in the hallway. however, he decides not to be rebellious and sneak into rsa. after all, he can’t imagine their headmage and students would be okay with his overwhelming presence and doesn’t feel like causing the trouble.

lilia spends extra time with malleus in an effort to cheer him up, taking a walk around ramshackle, inviting him to hang out with kalim and cater in the light music club room, things like that. he’s not so sure it’s working though… not to worry! a nice meal, recipe created by lilia himself, is sure to make him smile!

silver has to endure more of sebek’s ranting.. “ah, silver, did you see the young lord’s face just then?! i’ve never seen his greatness so miserable and distressed before!” he put a hand up to his chest, clutching his heart dramatically. “wake up! let’s make ourselves useful and brighten his mood!”

“see, headmaster? i knew you were being overdramatic! everything and everyone was just fine while i was gone!” the campus didn’t look like a warzone, nobody died, and everyone was in a good mood when you saw them! you were worried for nothing!

“now that i know they can all behave themselves after all, i think i just might go on another vacation soon!”

[caranfindel]

Oooh 9 and 17 for the ask game! :D

9. Best season finale?

Oh, can I count All Hell Breaks Loose part 1 as a finale? Because it’s kind of perfect. Sam dies on his knees in the mud, in his brother’s arms, as Dean clutches at him and cries and calls his name. It just doesn’t get any better, friends.

But if I have to pick an actual final episode of the season, I’ll go for the season 8 finale, Sacrifice. I am not a fan of the front half of s8 (and that’s putting it mildly), but the back half? The trials? Jesus H. Christ that’s some good shit. And I know a lot of people don’t like Dean’s “what, all those times I told you how horrible you were, you believed me?” speech, but let’s ignore that. Let’s just concentrate on Trials!Sam, falling apart but pushing forward, doing what needs to be done to close the gates of Hell. Let’s think about Crowley slowly humanizing, and Sam’s badass dispatching of Abaddon. Let’s think about “So?” Let’s think about Sam being dragged out of the church, collapsing against the car, and watching the angels fall. Let’s think about that a lot.

(Let’s also agree to ignore Dean’s suggestions for things Sam could confess, because it makes us angry.)

17. Favorite villain?

You know, one big problem with Supernatural is that it tends to ruin its villains if they hang around too long. The most obvious example is Lucifer. Season 5 Lucifer? He’d definitely be at the top of this list. That shiny, genial exterior over a completely rancid core. Subtle, patient, “I’ll never lie to you” evil. It is glorious. And Hallucifer is just as good, because he’s a combination of Sam’s memories of Lucifer and his own self-doubts. Chef’s kiss, friends. But then later seasons Lucifer turned into a whiny disappointment. It’s a shame.

(Sidebar: I am disturbed to find that some of you apparently think Lucifer never lied to Sam because he told him he’d never lie to him. I hate to be the one to break it to you, but that is what a liar would say.)

Gordon Walker has always been special to me, because he’s not a mustache-twirling, cartoon character type of evil. He’s complicated. He has reasons for everything he does, and the reasons are not “he’s a bad guy.” Gordon would easily be the hero of a story written from his POV. Honestly, you could make him as sympathetic as Sam Winchester himself, without breaking a sweat. The horror of his sister being turned, the turmoil of his decision to kill her, the violent thirst for vengeance, and then the final quest - to take out the future Boy King before he can burn the world. And eventually the tragedy of becoming a monster himself, the heroic decision to end his life as soon as he fulfills that quest, and the heartbreaking failure. We know it was sweet little Sammy Winchester he was trying to destroy, but he only knew he was hunting the ultimate monster. Gordon’s story arc is Shakespearean, my friends, and Sterling K. Brown plays him masterfully.

But how can I ignore Zachariah? Zachariah, my beloved, you had my heart from your first appearance as Dean Smith’s cheery, friendly boss who suddenly wasn’t. “In Heaven I have six wings and four faces, one of which is a lion!” I’ll never get over that. I don’t know who decided to take Kurt Fuller, who was designed by God to play goofy side characters, and cast him as this powerful petty villain, but they were a goddamn genius.

Honorable mention: Meg and Ruby. I tip my hat to you glorious badass bitches.

Thanks for asking, @trials-era-sam!

[sparkkeyper]

Variations on a Theme

I’ve been working on this one for a while and finally managed to finish it up for the Ace Omens discord prompt - Dancing.

The music I had on repeat while writing the second half was “So Close” from Enchanted. I like to imagine the record they end up with is one of those piano-only arrangements of it.

Also, you can’t tell me that Crowley didn’t jam to every Top 40 since music charts were invented.

(Now on AO3!)

---------------------------

"You mean you've only danced the gavotte?"

Crowley's sunglasses were barely hanging on to his nose as it was, what with the both of them being several drinks into their first bottle of the night. It didn't take many to banish the glasses these days, not when the pair of them were nestled comfortably in the back room of the bookshop, the failed Armageddon several weeks behind them. The demon stared incredulously over the tinted lenses as Aziraphale straightened from where he had begun to slouch with his wine.

"And why is that such a surprise? Angels don't usually dance at all."

"Yeah but you're not a 'usually' angel, you're you!" Crowley waved a hand wildly but did his glasses the mercy of setting them on the end table before they could fall. "You like the...the singing and the harmonizing and stuff. Humans have been moving to music since the Beginning and you really never, ever wanted to learn?"

"I did learn," the angel pointed out.

"Never wanted to learn more than the one?" Crowley amended. "Just the one in six thousand years?"

"It just didn't strike me as something I wanted to try," Aziraphale shrugged and refilled his wine glass. "The humans seemed to enjoy it sure enough, but it looked like such a hassle to attempt."

"A hassle!" Crowley threw his head back and grabbed his hair, and goodness did Aziraphale love to watch him wax dramatic when embroiled in a topic he was passionate about. "Dancing a hassle! Dancing a ha- It's not a job, angel, it's for fun!"

"Yes but in order for one to dance well, one must put in a certain amount of work."

"It's not about dancing well, it's about letting loose." Crowley rolled his eyes, stalking over to the angel's record collection next to the gramophone. "Unless you're in a professional stage company, you're not required to dance well."

"Somehow that sentiment isn't the least bit surprising coming from you."

"Oi, I'll have you know I'm an excellent dancer even though I'm not required to be. Come on, there's got to be something in here you can dance to."

"I don't know the proper steps to anything else."

"Bah, steps!" Crowley waved him off. "Don't need steps. Just make it up."

"I most certainly cannot."

"You most certainly can so. Oh for Satan's sake-" Crowley gave up his hunt and snapped, materializing a record in the gramophone and giving the handle a few solid cranks. "There we go!" His shoulders began moving to a heavy clapping beat that had definitely never been released on 78.

He turned back to Aziraphale, a grin on his face as his hips twitched to the music. "No steps, see? Just freestyle it. Come on, off the sofa, let's see it."

"This hit, that ice cold,

Michelle Pfeiffer, that white gold,

This one for them hood girls,

Them good girls, straight masterpieces-"

He made a get-up gesture and Aziraphale rose uncertainly. "I really don't think I know what to do with this-"

"Don't have to, that's the best part. Just move to the beat. "

Aziraphale tried to imitate his friend, he really did, but there was no pattern to follow. One moment the movement was in Crowley's shoulders, the next it was in his hips, and now his feet were acting out a stomp-like rhythm on the carpet. It was a fascinating thing to watch, how dancing seemed to take over his entire corporation. With the gavotte, one's back remained quite straight. There was a level of control and skill to it that Aziraphale had greatly enjoyed: maintaining some parts of yourself in position while moving others. But with Crowley's dancing, the entire line of his body twisted and flowed. A movement that started in his neck might end in an arm, or maybe it would travel up one leg and come back down the other. He made it look effortless, like it took no thought at all.

"I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Call the police and the fireman.

I'm too hot! Hot damn!

Make a dragon wanna retire, man-"

The demon's eyes flicked over his stilted attempts to copy the motions and Aziraphale watched him bite back a smirk. "No, angel?"

"Perhaps it's this century's music - goodness, there's not much melody, is there? - but I really don't understand this sort of dancing."

"Not much to understand, really, but here. We'll step it back a few decades." He snapped again and a new record appeared in his hand, which was quickly swapped out for the one on the gramophone.

Crowley snapped his fingers to the beat, hips moving in time. "Oh, don't give me that look. You can't possibly dislike Bill Haley and His Comets."

"One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock.

Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock.

Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock.

We're gonna rock! Around! The clock tonight!

Put your glad rags on and join me, hon',

We'll have some fun when the clock strikes one-"

"It's not that I dislike it..." Aziraphale did his best to imitate the hip thing, and the demon's stifled snort told him exactly how unsuccessful he was at it. "I just don't...connect with this style of dance, I suppose. That's the only way I know how to put it."

"So try your own style. It's not a right and wrong, it's just whatever motion speaks to you." Crowley threw his torso into a shimmy and goodness, what were his knees even doing? Aziraphale gave up trying to copy any of it.

"That's just it! Motions don't 'speak to me'. Dancing isn't...isn't...aimlessly gyrating! It's about form and style - about using form and style to bring the music to life. There's a language to it the same way there's a language to literature. Every kick and dip and bow means something and it's all spoken into being through movement! But there needs to be a form in order for that to happen."

"No no, that's the problem! That's so limiting! So much of the universe is already made up of forms and rules!" Crowley threw his hands up to encompass the heavens. "Laws and etiquette and physics, everywhere! Inescapable! Dancing is freedom! Music is emotion distilled down into pure audio form precisely so you can do what you want with it! How does it make you feel? What does it make you want? You take it and you process it and you feel it and move however it moves you! It's speaking, yes, but in a way no one else has control over! The thing about dancing is you get to be purely you, no matter what anybody else wants."

"I already am me," Aziraphale insisted. "And I like knowing what movement comes next. I like having straightforward expectations to fulfill. That's what's satisfying - completing the steps and knowing you've gotten them right!"

The moment stretched out between them as they both let this soak in. Somewhere along the way, the gramophone had made the executive decision to go silent.

"Certainly can't fault you for that," Crowley said slowly. "Preferring a solid plan. Expectations outlined and all. It's very you."

"Nor, I suppose, could I fault you for preferring more freedom in your movement. You've always had a penchant for finding new ways to express yourself. What with the clothes and the hair and all." Aziraphale fidgeted with the corner of his waistcoat absently. "It suits you, it really does. But not me. If that were my only option, I'd rather not dance at all." He shook himself with a tiny smile and sat back in his armchair. "Ah well. I had a good run with the gavotte, anyway. Got a few good decades out of it."

Crowley pursed his lips for a few moments, then switched the record again to fill the room with a smooth piano. "Can't have that, though, can we? One dance goes out of style and you're done? I don't think so. Come on, angel, get back up." He made a come-here motion until Aziraphale stood again.

"Look, I'm really not-"

"You want defined steps? I'll give you defined steps."

Aziraphale paused, considering. "What sort is it?"

"Easy one. Simple, can use it for a lot of dances. Waltz, foxtrot, all kinds of things."

Aziraphale chewed on his lip. He wasn't anxious to make a fool of himself stumbling over a completely unfamiliar style. But goodness, he missed dancing.

Crowley held out a hand to him. It was a hesitant thing, far enough out to be an offering but close enough in to be passed off as a casual gesture if it went unaccepted.

Aziraphale braced himself and accepted it. "Right. So how does this work?"

"Easy. Here, I'll lead. So you just - hand here... Other hand here..." Crowley positioned Aziraphale's right hand on his shoulder and loosely grasped his left. They stood like that together for a moment, a good distance apart so the angel could look down at his shoes. "And I step like this..." Crowley moved one foot forward. "So you step backwards to match me. Go on, then."

Aziraphale stepped as instructed.

"Right. And then I move here -" His other foot came forward and to the side - "And yours comes back and over along the same route. Yep. Now feet together, like they were at the start. Good?"

Aziraphale made certain he had his balance and nodded.

"Good. Now I step back, like you did, and you come forward this time... No no, leave your other foot there. Right. Now bring your other foot forward as mine comes back and over. Just stepping in a big square, that's all we're doing. And feet back at the start. Make sense?"

Aziraphale pulled in a deep breath. "Simple enough in theory."

"Here, we'll try it again. Back-two. Side-two. Forward-two. Side-two...that's right. Now we just add a bit of a turn to it and that's all it is. Like this... Back-two, side-two-"

Aziraphale clutched at him as they worked their way around the room to the music. (The furniture wisely backed itself up to give them space, twisting physics occasionally to avoid being tripped over.) The problem wasn't the steps, exactly. It was combining the steps with everything else: holding tight to Crowley to keep his balance while still trying to keep enough distance to give his legs room to work, figuring out which foot to have his weight on and when, incorporating the dratted turn into the rest of it, moving precisely in time with Crowley so that they didn't step on each other.

Humans had so many pieces to keep track of. So many parts moving a specific distance at the same time. He'd been in this corporation for thousands of years and usually had an excellent handle on how it operated, but that only made new movement patterns more difficult to master. It took so much work for him to commit such things to muscle memory. Each misstep threw his rhythm off and dammit, there, he was so close to overbalancing them both -

But Crowley kept him in place.

Crowley's palm rested just under his right shoulder blade, guiding the motion of his body through space. Holding him so steady even when he felt himself floundering. Wasn't that always the way? he thought distantly, eyes trained on his feet. Even after stepping repeatedly on the demon's toes (and heels, and instep, and in one spectacular fumble the back of his left knee) Crowley was a solid anchor keeping him upright.

Dancing of any variety did not come naturally to Aziraphale. Angels were built to be sturdy, immovable. It had taken him ages to make any headway at all with the gavotte. But Crowley didn't seem to mind. He chuckled a bit when Aziraphale stepped too early. He murmured advice, a smile on his lips. And his eyes sparkled. Goodness, how they sparkled.

Letting the music wash over him, Aziraphale put his trust in Crowley. Let the demon guide him here in their own little circle. Slowly, slowly, he was getting the hang of the steps - treading on toes less at any rate. It was nice, dancing like this, it really was...

And then Crowley spun him.

He didn't realize what was happening until it was practically over. The motion of Crowley's arm coming up and turning guided his whole body smoothly around and he clicked back into place against the demon like he was never meant to be anywhere else.

Aziraphale's feet faltered to a stop, eyes wide and all steps forgotten.

Crowley froze with him. "Too much?" he asked quietly.

"I - I..." Aziraphale felt like he was still spinning, heart beating entirely too fast. "I don't..."

"Too much," Crowley answered himself, releasing his hold and taking a step back. "Thought I might try mixing it up, but I misjudged. Won't do it again."

"Mixing it...oh. Of course." Aziraphale looked down at the space between them. It was barely two feet but it suddenly seemed so much farther. "This is holding you back, isn't it? This repetitive step. You'd much rather be improvising."

"I...well I didn't say that..."

"Like you said before. You'd prefer to let the music move you rather than be limited to a predetermined pattern. I can understand that even if I can't relate. You shouldn't be beholden to this."

"It's good," Crowley blurted out, making the angel pause. "For music like this. The down-tempo, largo stuff. This is a good way to dance to it. I like it." He swallowed hard and tried for a nonchalant shrug. "I mean, don't ask me to dance like this to Uptown Funk but for this style it's...y'know. It's good."

"Right. Good." Aziraphale fidgeted, hands feeling incredibly empty. "I admit, I'm very much out of my depth here. Angels don't... I don't know what I'm doing.”

"We can stop. No sense pushing it."

"I didn't say... I'll get used to it."

"You don't have to get used to anything you don't want to." Crowley made to step back but Aziraphale, in an instant of panic, stepped forward after him.

"I want to!"

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft piano. Crowley stood frozen, as though his next movement required the most careful consideration of his life.

Aziraphale steeled himself and raised his hands back to their dancing positions. "Please."

The demon looked over the two of them and very hesitantly replaced his hands, as though doing so might scare the angel off.

They stood there for a long time. Not moving, just holding on to each other with the breathless tension of men on the gallows, waiting for the trap door to open beneath them.

Aziraphale pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "I'm afraid it's going to take a long time for me to get this right. All of this. I'm not very good at this sort of thing when I don't know the steps."

"Take all the time you need," Crowley replied softly. "I'm just sort of making it up as I go, honestly."

"It might be very long. I can't improvise as easily as you can."

"I wouldn't expect you to." The demon tightened his grip ever so slightly and Aziraphale suddenly couldn't conceive of pulling away. "No spinning, promise."

"I - I didn't say that." Fingers itched to trace a familiar nervous pattern - straighten bowtie, adjust waistcoat. They tightened in Crowley's hands instead. "Just...warn me before you do. Let me prepare."

"I can do that, yeah." The demon held him so carefully, as though giving him every chance to break away, and started them off into their pattern once more.

The hesitant grip grew more sure with each rotation around the room, and it was impossible to tell if it was one or both of them. Each successful round of the sequence made Aziraphale feel a little bolder. It was the reassurance of a task set and completed: the very ancient satisfaction of expectations met. That desire had been ingrained in his bones since bones were invented and in a way it calmed him. There was so much he suddenly felt unprepared for but at least he could do this. 

He wasn’t successful every time, of course. He still fumbled, still trod on snakeskin shoes. But the guiding hand was back under his shoulder blade and God, did it make a world of difference. It stayed with him through each failed attempt and carried him through to try again. Any wrong positioning of his legs seemed less important when he was sure Crowley would keep him where he needed to be. 

He could see the tension draining from the demon as well. The sense that he was holding something fragile and afraid to break it was melting slowly back into the confident strides Aziraphale had seen from the start. The lines of motion flowed through him the way they had earlier, though more predictably at present. He was still amazing to watch, all moving lines and sharp joints. Aziraphale blamed more than one stagger on it.

"All right if I spin you?"

The angel braced himself. "All right."

"'Kay. Three, two-" Crowley twirled him again and for a single, dazzling moment it felt like flying. It felt free and easy and the most natural thing in the world -

And then he stumbled over his own feet coming back in and nearly collapsed against the demon's chest and drat, now he'd lost all the steps-

"Forward-two, right-two, back-two, you've got it, come on, forward-two -"

Aziraphale clung to the instructions and managed to get back on track within an eight-count, concentrating fiercely on the movements of their feet together.

"That's what I'm talking about. Look at you. Angel dancing something other than the gavotte. Who would have thought, eh?"

"Who indeed." There was a warm fluttering in his chest. So much to keep track of with these human bodies.

He was still going to need a lot of time and a lot of practice. He had a feeling there was a lot of unknown territory ahead regarding the two of them.

But he had Crowley to keep him steady. So they’d be all right.

[lemontwst]

crossing the line. ❤️ ace x m!reader

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: in which ace runs his mouth and then gets his cheeks clapped by an mc with immense big dick energy.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: ace trappola x m!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.2k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: non-con to dub-con, revenge/hate sex, mentions of voyeurism, public sex, enemies to lovers, mc has magical devices he definitely should not be having, grim is not present in this particular scene. 

“You don’t even know about the Great Seven?—”

His malicious voice bounces around your skull like thunder, drowning out the rest of the world like you've suddenly plunged into deep, cold water.

“Are you that ignorant?"

Tranquil rage licks at your insides, your stomach twists with nausea and your hands twitch with the impulse to wrap around his neck.

“Maybe you should go back to kindergarden before thinking of coming to this school.”

Don't punch him. You dig half-moons in your palms, inhaling a deep, shaky breath. Your muscles tighten from the strain of holding yourself back, from resisting the urge to punch this idiot's face in and drag him across the boulevard by the hair. Your heart thump thump thumps against your ribcage like it wants to jump out of you. Don't punch him.

"Aww I'm sorry, did I offend you?" The redhead's features morph into an expression of cheap remorse. His hands clutch his chest like he's so heartbroken, then the joke is over and that obnoxious smirk curves his lips once more, "—just kidding. Why don't you go cry about it to your mom? You won't last long in this place if you can’t stand up for yourself.”

Your reach into your pocket and your fingers brush against one of the slips of paper Crowley gave you before you parted. Paralyzers, he called them. They look pretty useless to you — just a bunch of small, fragile talismans cut from some yellowed paper, but according to Crowley, these things can subdue weaker magical beings for a limited amount of time. The headmaster gave them to you predicting that you would end up in less than savory situations, being the only ordinary human in a school full of wizards, shapeshifters and God knows what else.

“The immobilizing effect will last for about ten minutes,” Crowley had mused as he handed you the talismans, “Do try to escape the situation before the time runs out, would you? It would reflect poorly on our beloved school if one of our students were to die, after all.”

Escape. You snort, your eyes slowly appraising the other student who is still mouthing off. This place still doesn’t know you’re not one to go down without a fight. You’d much rather cling to the monster that’s tearing you apart, digging your teeth in its flesh even as you bleed out all over the pavement than turn tail and run. The carrion on your skin is a hard enough shield, the rot that stains your soul a powerful balm that turns the sting of your wounds into repugnant adrenaline.

"...Anyways, unlike you I actually have classes to attend to," The redhead throws you one last condescending smirk before turning around and giving you a half-assed wave, "Have fun cleaning the halls, janito—"

The words catch in his throat as you stick the Paralyzer to his vulnerable back, grabbing him by the hair and throwing him not so gently behind the obnoxiously large statues and out of the open street. 

The student rolls a few times across the grassy side of the road, almost crashing into the flowerbeds that fence the statues off, then he finally lands on his back, coughing and spluttering more from the shock of the sudden fall than actual pain.

He quickly tries to hoist himself up, but his arms and legs feel boneless and he falls back down, eyes wide and panicked as a jolt of electricity runs him from head to toe. He tries to get up again, but it seems like the more he struggles, the weaker he becomes. The talisman saps every ounce of his energy in a matter of seconds, leaving him unable to do anything more than lay there, eyes to the sky as he tries to catch his breath.

"What—the fuck—did you do?!" He snaps, his crimson eyes filling with hate when you slowly enter his field of vision, blocking out the sunlight and hovering over him with disinterest written all over your handsome face.

His temples throb with the strain of his thoughts traveling at supersonic speed, his head hurts like he just slammed it against a wall, and the cold look in your eyes makes his stomach twist into tight knots in what he stubbornly decides to be fear—even as his skin starts to heat up like he's been sunburnt the longer you look down at him.

"Oh, you know…" You casually put one foot on his stomach and lean in, ignoring the long, pained gasp that scratches his throat raw, "Just thought I'd teach a cockroach in my path a little lesson. I was thinking of letting you go quietly, but all your whining really got on my fucking nerves." You step off of him and he twitches and coughs, trying and failing to curl into himself for some sort of comfort.

"...Ha...so what, are you just gonna beat me up?" He says, smirking through the pain as if he's used to it. You don't doubt it—his mouth has probably gotten him in trouble plenty of times before—but simply hitting him would be so boring. You kneel between his legs, spreading them apart with ease and his smirk falls, "Hey—what are you doing, you idiot?! Get off me!" You ignore him as he tries to squirm out of your grasp.

"Since you act like a little bitch..." You take his shoes off without untying them and throw them somewhere behind you, then you unbuckle his pants and do the same thing, slightly annoyed with the way he whines and struggles—as if he has any chance of wrestling you off when his body is about as responsive as jello, "I'm going to fuck you like one."

The redhead's breath stutters and he stops moving, looking at you like you just escaped the nearest psych ward, but the sudden flash of crimson that lights up his face and the subtle way his eyes fall to your crotch before quickly focusing back on your face betray just a smudge of confused desire—he's probably seen something like this in porn and he’s relieving it in his mind.

"W-we're in public, you bastard! Are—are you insane?! Get away from—" His brain slams on the brakes and his head empties like it's hyperspace.

A shocked gasp leaves his lips when you bring your index finger to the front of his boxers, lazily drawing a circle over the growing hardness beneath. His stomach clenches, ripples of pleasure seemingly falling from where you're touching him to pool in his belly like molten lava.

His breathing picks up the pace, loud and humid in his ears as his eyes stay on your hand like you've hypnotized him, "...H-hey, s-stop that—this isn't fucking funny—"

"Says you." You hum, stopping your slow circling on his now visible erection to finger the elastic band of his boxers. The intimate touch makes his muscles clench and his head fils with air, "I find the way you're sprawled on the grass with no pants on absolutely hilarious." He makes a sound between a shriek and a gasp when your fingers grab his cock and pull it out of his underwear.

This isn't happening. He looks at his cock standing out in the open with a horrified look on his face.

It's not happening—it's a dream—the thought of other students walking the boulevard and seeing him there, behind the statue of the Queen of Hearts, his erection out and his body unable to move makes bile pool in his mouth—and his dick throb, but he doesn’t have time to consider his fucked up reaction because you suddenly blow on his glans and his entire body spasms, his head hits the grass and his eyes find the clear, blue sky once again. He briefly registers the feeling of his underwear sliding off his legs. This isn't happening.

You ignore his useless protests and start unbuttoning his shirt, tugging it off his shoulders roughly but not quite taking it off -- the contrast of his pale, heaving chest and his flushed face as he lies helpless in front of you with his dick out almost makes you forget how irritated you are with him. Almost. But just because he’s cute doesn’t mean you’re not going to make him pay for daring to talk to you like you’re a piece of garbage on the side of the road.

You envelop his hard shaft with your hand and start pumping, slowly, letting him feel the soft texture of your palm and ignoring his pleas for you to wait. With every stroke his sensitivity increases, the thought of being caught flies away as if someone just blew in his skull and the redhead can only claw at the ground and pull at the grass with jerking fingers as a sweet voice starts spilling out of him.

It's just broken gasps at first, confused, scared and excited in equal measure—and then the world loses focus and it's full blown moans, little sighs that grow in volume the more you manhandle him. His shaft and your fingers become slick with precum and the movements become easier and smoother, the tingles in his crotch fly up his spine and he has to remind himself that this is wrong to keep himself from bucking up into your hand.

Stubborn as he is, he almost succeeds in resisting you. But you know just how to break him, allowing yourself a few seconds to listen to his cute moans while you wet your fingers, saliva dripping down your wrist as you methodically suck on the appendages as if they were the hard, leaking dick in your hand.

When you decide your fingers are wet enough, you bring them down to his ass and spread his cheeks to find that tight hole no one has ever touched before.

His entire body jolts when you start circling it, the sensation completely knew and so unexpected that he momentarily comes back to reality. "Wait—not there!" He tries to raise his head but his willpower leaves him when your middle finger draws a deep semi-circle around the rim.

It feels so fucking weird, he jerks his head this and that way as he tries to focus on the hand on his cock and the finger prodding at his hole at the same time. It's tingly and intense and he doesn't want it, his hot asshole parts under your push, welcoming you in a cavern of velvet, and the gasp that leaves him is the loudest one yet. 

"Relax, you little moron." You stretch him carefully, briefly wondering if he's going to come from your handjob before you even have the time to reach his prostate. He's so fucking tight, unused, pure and yet vulgar as he moans and twitches under your skilled hands.

You insert another finger in and his voice turns high-pitched, then you brush against that little button inside his ass—barely, just the ghost of a touch—and he falls off the edge, convulsing like he's been electrocuted and cumming all over himself.

His semen lands on his chest and jacket and as he slowly comes down from cloud nine, eyes glazed and drool on his chin, he briefly wonders how the fuck he's going to go back to his dorm with cum on his uniform. Then he feels you crawl on top of him and that thought too seems to dissolve into thin air.

No one can blame him for being unable to think, unable to act and, somewhere in the deepest recess of his mind, unwilling to move when you start stroking his sensitive dick again, your hair tickling his chin. He can feel how warm your body is and how nice you smell now that you're so close. If you weren't such a fucking demon it would almost feel nice.

"What's your name?" You exhale next to his ear and he shivers, feeling sick to his stomach when he realizes it's because he wants your lips on him.

"A-Ace…" He mutters, tilting his head away from you as much as he can. The white expanse of his neck is right there and you place a few slow, open-mouthed kisses on his vulnerable skin. Ace's heart does a fucking pirouette, little sparks of pleasure run down his abdomen and he lets out a soft moan, one he wishes he could stuff back in his mouth as soon as he hears it.

He feels the sudden urge to cling to you as he lets you kiss him everywhere. He wonders how it would feel to have your mouth draw a line from his collarbones to his stomach before you take his cock in your mouth and the thought alone makes his entire body tremble with need, little gasps leaving him as you lick the curve of his jaw and then blow on it.

"Ace." You growl his name against his skin and the vibration threatens to destroy the rickety dam that keeps his sanity in place. You're doing something unforgivable to him, fuck, Ace knows it and he hates you for it, but the way you say his name makes him so fucking glad to be born, glad to be lying in the grass like a slut with his pants discarded somewhere and your hand slowly stroking his cock.

"Fuck—don't say it like t-that…" He practically wheezes, squeezing his eyes shut as he focuses on the scorching waves of pleasure that pulse through his abdomen when you chuckle against his skin. This feels so fucking nice, one of his hands reaches down to grab your wrist while you continue to stroke him and he absentmindedly caresses your hand as you pump his cock.

He curses loudly as he takes in the hard curve of your knuckles and the wetness of your fingers. Your touch is different than what he's used to, rough but with a regular rhythm that pushes him closer and closer to his orgasm with every flick of your hand. You lazily nibble at his jaw and he suddenly finds himself overrun by the universally irresistible urge to come. Fuck, he's gonna come so hard in a hand that's not his own—

"S-so—sensitive—fuck, gonna cum all over your fingers—" His other hand grabs your shoulder in a way that almost feels too romantic given the situation, but Ace doesn't give a damn. The only thing that matters right now is your hand jacking him off and the trail of stars that dances behind his eyelids as you shatter his galaxy.

So close—so close—his moans become loud and shameless as he bucks up into you, ignoring how useless his body still feels because right now he really fucking needs to come again. 

The muscles in his abdomen tighten, hot white pleasure flashes in front of his eyes and Ace is so fucking ready when he arches his back, but instead of feeling relief, a tidal wave of frustration and disappointment crashes into his electrified body and his loud voice trails off in a pained whine as you suddenly take your hand off his dick, denying him the sweet mercy of orgasmic bliss.

The disparity between what he’s feeling and what he expected to feel is so vast it takes him a minute to realize what happened, the dam in his head breaks and he’s left gasping and sobbing and twitching, hands flying and grasping at the grass beneath him as he struggles to catch his breath.

"—What the fuck?!" He basically screams, looking at you with teary eyes and a face that screams betrayal, "W-why did you s-stop?! I told you I was close!" His chest heaves and he looks almost possessed when his own hand reaches for his abused, throbbing cock, fully intent on finishing the job one way or another.

You stop him before his fingertips even reach the shaft, meeting no resistance when you pin his hand back against the grass.

Ace glares at you but it's feeble and pathetic, the last remains of his rejection completely snuffed out by the shock of being denied an orgasm for the first time in his life. He doesn't look proud and hateful anymore; he’s now just a brat naked from the waist down, this close to crying because he didn’t get fucked the way he wanted.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I thought you wanted me to stop? Did you change your mind, Ace?” The voice that whispered his name almost lovingly in his ears now drips with venom, almost as if you’re imitating the way he talked to you just a handful of minutes earlier.

Ace flinches, his heart sinks and he looks fucking crushed as he takes in your cold expression. You’re not going to stop, are you—? Not now that he actually wants you to touch him—?

“No...that’s not—I didn’t—” He splutters, flushing up to his ears when he realizes he doesn’t even know what he wants to say. Do you want him to beg? Because at this point Ace doesn’t really care enough to even object to that. He just wants you back on top of him. He wants to feel your warmth and have your scent fill his head while you bring him to his release again.

“Dont...be like that...come on,” He groans, letting his head fall to the ground. His dick hurts. His back hurts. Fuck, everything hurts, even his heart for some fucking reason. He doesn't like it when you look at him like you hate him. If anything he should be the one looking at you like that, not the other way around.

"Y-you want me to beg? Is that it?" Ace scoffs and weakly spreads his legs, leaving his cum-stained self complete exposed to your scrutiny. He has the decency to look embarrassed, but when his glazed eyes slowly go from your face to the tent in your pants, what you see in them is not disdain or shame, but pure, unbridled lust.

"You'll beg without me having to ask for it." Ace follows your hand as it goes to your belt, and when you unbuckle it, the soft, erotic click makes his body tremble and his heart flutter.

It's not like he wants to see it—his eyes stay on your crotch as you slowly pull your pants down, revealing the black underwear beneath.

Are you—are you going to pull it out? Out here where everyone can see?—Ace momentarily forgets that he's had his dick out in public for more than it's considered appropriate in every fucking country across the world. Every one of his thoughts comes to an abrupt halt, like he's suffered a concussion.

Except he hasn't, he's just drooling in his mouth at the thought of your cock.

"You don't get to come again, I told you you're going to be fucked like the little bitch you are." You finally pull your dick out, hissing when the air hits your feverish skin and Ace thinks he’s going to spontaneously combust.

The rush of heat that flares beneath his skin is unlike anything he’s ever felt and his slow mind has trouble comprehending whether he suddenly feels on fire because he can see your erection right in front of him or because of the sound you just made. Both. It’s probably both.

“Is that right…” He probably sounds as dazed as he feels—his breath catches in his throat when you lean down again, hovering over him but not quite touching him, the ghost of your breath on his lips threatening to turn him delirious.

You teasingly drag your wet erection across his stomach and Ace moans, his eyes falling shut when your dicks touch. He grinds up against you without thinking and suddenly his body is weightless and he's on the verge of coming all over himself. It feels like every nerve he has is experiencing its own little earthquake, the sound that leaves your lips makes his mind fall apart at the seams and the only thing he can say is a long, desperate "Fuuuck."

His eyes flutter open and he finds you smirking down at him; the sight is so surprising and so beautiful that Ace’s heart lodges straight in his throat.

"Turn around and raise your ass." You chuckle and he goes redder than his hair, but ultimately doesn't protest, waiting for you to give him some space before complying.

The sleeves of his uniform are completely ruined at his point, wet with dew and mud and grass as he pulls himself up on his elbows and gives you an expectant look from over his shoulder. 

What he doesn't expect is to feel your thick fingers push into him again. He almost falls face first into the dirt as he gasps, waist shaking as he's once again wrecked by the feeling of his rim being teased. 

You stretch him more insistently then before, the saliva and cum on your fingers aiding you in your preparations. You try to avoid his prostate, because Ace is already shaking like a leaf and you know how close he is to his climax, but your redhead seems to have had enough of being edged and insistently grinds back into your fingers until you touch that sweet spot inside him that makes his dick leak precum like a faucet. 

He's still not used to it however, and the shock of such an intense stimulation makes his elbows give out as he falls unceremoniously on his face. But he doesn't seem to care, cheek pressed against the grass and eyes squeezed shut as he experiences having his prostate massaged for the first time.

Fuck, he’s sure his legs are going to give out soon too. If just your fingers feel this good, what’s going to happen when you stick your dick in—? Is he going to lose his mind—? Somewhere along the line he seems to have completely forgotten that he's outside in broad daylight with his ass in the air. But even if someone were to see him getting fucked like a slut, would it really be so bad—?

"Hold on tight, stupid," You take your fingers out and he whines softly, sounding surprisingly disappointed for someone who has never had their ass played with before, "I'm gonna make sure you can never come just from touching yourself ever again."

You line your hard cock against his opening and Ace shivers from both anticipation and fear. You’re so big—is—is this gonna hurt? I mean, after everything you've done to him this should be a walk in the park, right—?

It isn't.

You slowly push your dick inside and Ace's first instinct is to scream.

His mind shatters into oblivion as he takes in the feeling of your thick cock stretching him like he's a fucktoy. But this is still nothing, you haven't done anything yet and he's already broken. You pull your hips back and thrust into him hard, your dick scrapes against his prostate and Ace falls into a state of euphoric delirium.

He was made for this, he thinks. Born with the sole purpose of being your slut, ass up and legs spread as he invites you to plow him harder, to mess up his head until your cock is the only thing he can think about. 

And he doesn't even know your name, Ace realizes as his body bounces back and forth against the grass with the force of your thrusts, his tongue lolls out and he tries his best to match your movements with his exhausted body, his hole squeezing your dick like it doesn't want to ever let go.

"Fuuuck—can we do this like…..every day from no—ah!—now on?!" He'll let you do anything you want if you promise to keep fucking him like he's your girlfriend. On his bed in front of his roommates, in class, on the headmaster's desk, anywhere you want him, Ace will be a good bitch for you.

In response to his nonsense you griiind into him and the explosive pleasure that flashes in front of his vision is almost seismic, devastating like nothing he's ever experienced as he breaks and cries and cums all over the grass, eyes rolling back when you roughly grab his hair and thrust a few more times before painting his insides white with your own release.

You make sure to fill him to the brim and Ace doesn't pull away. Instead he remains obediently glued to your crotch as the feeling of hot semen running down his legs completely obliterates his sanity.

Your nasty temper placated for the time being, you pull out in one swift motion and let his boneless body fall to the ground.

Ace groans and curses you under his breath, then he very slowly rolls onto his back, still dazed by the fact that you just came inside him.

If he thought everything hurt before, now he thinks he might actually need to pay a visit to the nurse's office. The effects of the Paralyzer have worn off by now but he's so fucking tired—he startles out of his drunk reverie when something like a curtain falls on his head. 

Except it's not a curtain, but his pants. He takes them off his face and gives you a weak glare as you adjust your belt.

"Wear a skirt next time," You throw him a smirk over your shoulder and Ace hates the way his heart quivers, "Like a good girl."

You barely have the time to dodge the shoe that comes hurtling towards your head, Ace quickly reaching for the other shoe when you start running back towards the school building.

 "Fuck you!—"