#azraphale

[rudaartista]

The Glasskin Queen when she was a few thousand years younger. Azrael looks just like her which makes sense since they're her child

[brainwormcity]

These bastards, I cannot cope. 😭😭😭

[tampire]

Good Omens S01E03: Hard Times / The Last Of Us S01E03: Long, Long Time

[kindledrose]

my sillysssssss <33333 (the first blorbos i ever had :) they're both so stupid i love them)

[stonedonblues]

OKAY SO PLS HERE ME OUT I THINK I HAVE SOMETHING

So as we know there is an Archangel, the Angel of Death, called Azrael. Now, Azira from Aziraphale sounds pretty similar to Azrael, right? But then why call him Aziraphale? Well, as we see in this season, he calls himself "Mr Fell", (which not only does it stand for falling, but it refers to a fall happened in the past, so it seems pretty obvious that it's about him leaving the Paradise to live down on earth. This is also very interesting considering that he uses this name with humans).

What i'm trying to say is that his name seems to be "Azira/Azrael (the angel of death) fell".

Also, can we remember that the cafeteria where Metatron buys the coffee is called "Give me coffee or give me death", and Metatron even indulge himself on asking Nina about the name? He literally asks if someone ever asked for death. I think it's clever that the series take its time to emphasize this particular detail, mainly because Metatron is still a misterious character and we really don't understand what that scene was all about yet.

But i don't know what this could mean: we already know that Aziraphale is a cherub and not an archangel, so maybe it's a foreshadowing for something more? Maybe he's not actually Azrael but it's more like a symbolic thing? Idk honestly, just thought this might be interesting

[planetsnakes]

Crowley & Sourcemates

Oh I do love sourcemates. I'm not terribly attached like other fictives seem to be, I did go a thousand years without Crowley I think I can manage a human's life span.

The thing is I do love the idea of more than one Crowley being in the world, more than one Adam and Anathama, more than one of any of us even those I would have considered co-workers. It brings me a kind of indescribable joy.

Even more of me! It's lovely.

[ziggystardust8675]

Relax

Pairing: Crowley x Aziraphale x reader

AN: This is purely self indulgent so that’s my bad. 

Summary: After a long day at work, Crowley and Aziraphale help you unwind for the night. 

Warnings: SMUT, Established relationships, AFAB reader (no pronouns actually used), threesomes

The day had been long, it was hot outside and the air conditioning inside the coffee shop you worked at had broken. To top it all off you were understaffed, leaving you with not a moment's rest. A nice shower and your bed sounded absolutely heavenly to you at the moment. 

Opening the door to the flat you shared with Crowley and Aziraphale, you quickly found it to be empty. Sluggishly you made your way to the bedroom and peeled off your work clothes before picking out some sweatpants and an oversized shirt for after your shower. 

Once you got to the bathroom, you turned the shower on and set aside a towel. The second the warm water fell over your back, the tension of the day immediately melted away, leaving you to let out a satisfied groan. Your hands washed the grime and fatigue that built up over the day away, soon settling themselves between your thighs. You made delicate work rubbing leisurely circles against your clit. Soft breaths fell from your lips as your body eased even more of its tension. Soon a knot started to form in your lower abdomen only for you to be unable to release it with your fingers alone. Eventually you gave up on your efforts, finishing washing yourself you turned the water off and started to dry off. 

You paddle your way out of the bathroom, hair still damp and feeling unsatisfied to find Crowley and Aziraphale bickering in the kitchen about whoever knows what. 

“Hello dear,” Aziraphale’s face immediately broke into a smile the second he laid eyes on your form. “How was your day?”

You told them about how exhausting your day was, about how tired and tense your body felt. Aziraphale offered a hug, pulling you to his chest while Crowley sandwiched you from behind. Immediately you relaxed into their embrace, gripping Aziraphale’s shirt in your hands. Crowley kissed your neck softly from behind, finding that soft spot under your ear that made it impossible to not let a sound slip. He smiled against your neck when you let out a small gasp while Aziraphale started to rub small circles into your lower back with his thumbs. 

You angled your head up to capture Aziraphale’s lips in a longing kiss while Crowley’s hands slipped from his back to grip at your chest. Unintentionally, you let a moan slip into Azraphale’s mouth, your hands tightening their grip on the fabric of Aziraphale’s shirt. 

“Please…” Your voice came out as more of a gasp than anything else but the men obliged all the same. Soon you were led to the bedroom and your comfy clothes soon lying on the floor. Crowley kissed and nipped at your hip while Aziraphale devoured your mouth. One hand was buried in Aziraphale’s hair while the other gripped at Crowley’s. Your lips broke away from the angels when the demon placed a deliberate kiss right on your clit. Aziraphale’s tongue made quick work of the opportunity to enter your mouth, encouraging you to moan against it. 

Crowley lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders as he used his thumbs to spread your folds, causing you to buck against him. 

“Easy now… let us take care of you.” His words came from deep within his chest as he teasingly licked your most intimate area. Aziraphale’s hand lightly dragged up your torso to grip at your chest, quickly finding a nipple to teasingly caress. It seemed like everything these two did was teasing. 

You felt that familiar knot in your stomach tighten as Crowley’s forked tongue alternated between slipping inside of you and sucking on your clit. Their grip on you tightened as your back arched and you struggled to keep your voice down, not that they minded in the slightest. The knot broke causing you to cry out, gripping the two a little more firmly as your thighs tensed and your body shook. Aziraphale stroked your hair as you came down while Crowley continued to eat you out, helping you ride out your high until you attempted to pull your hips away. 

“There you go dear… just relax and breathe.” Aziraphale’s voice was soothing as he encouraged you to relax and just enjoy the feelings washing over you. Crowley set your legs back on the blankets but his hips were still slotted in between your thighs as he leaned up to kiss Aziraphale.

Crowley’s hand found its way in between Aziraphale’s thighs to the erection standing proudly there and suddenly you don’t remember them ever taking their clothes off. The demon was always a giving lover and today was no different as he languidly stroked Aziraphale’s erection. The hand Aziraphale had been stroking your hair with faltered as soft moans started to fall from his lips. You took it upon yourself to gently grip Crowley’s erection at the base and start pumping. Crowley’s pace on Aziraphale faltered but only for a fraction of a second before it quickened all together, resulting in Aziraphale’s breath stuttering. You kiss Aziraphale before bringing Crowley to his climax resulting in Crowley bringing Aziraphale to his climax. 

The two of them laid beside you with you in between while they tried to catch their breaths. You leaned over to lazily kiss Crowley and then Aziraphale, they then leaned over you to kiss each other. Aziraphale rolled over to pull you into his chest, he splayed his hand across your stomach and gripped Crowley’s hand with the other. Crowley used his free hand to absentmindedly trace patterns into your back. All the tension in your body was nonexistent as you laid sleepily between the loves of your life.  

Buy me a coffee?

Masterlist

[mimisempai]

Quiet, Gentle and Romantic Omens - Day  47

Crowley checking on Azraphale before leaving.

Aziraphale turning his head several times as he leaves...

Oh and what... Aziraphale has still got his hand up...

Master post : here

[willyoubethepookietomypookster]

"Not so common cold"

Hey yall!! Its finally out!! The ending was a little rushed because I wanted to get it over with, but i hope you still enjoy it! This one is a little longer than the others, which I'm really proud of cuz i usually lose motivation very quickly on writing projects. Also sorry for any bad grammar or non capitalized i's. Its my adhd. Happy reading!!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

It was a cold, rainy day in Soho. You lay restless on the bookshop floor, the cold wood being the only thing keeping you from melting. You basically lived here at this point, but when you woke up with your blistering fever, Aziraphale was no where to be found. He left a note saying he was out for business with Crowley, but he wouldn't answer any calls. After about 2 hours, you decide to call them one more time. You reach for your pocket before realizing you left it on the couch. You pull yourself up by holding on a table, and trudge over to the couch. You grab your phone and speak into the phone.

"Call Aziraphale." You strain.

"Calling Azraphale." The cheery british bot says. It said his name wrong and that makes you chuckle, which then makes you start coughing up a storm.

"Damnittttt. Pick upppppp!!" You whine. "C'mon! You can't be this busy." You're on the verge of tears when Aziraphale picks up.

"Sorry y/n, I seemed to have accidentally set my phone to silent before Crowley told me to check it, because there's no way you haven't checked in. I saw that I had nine missed calls, is everything alright?" He sounds really worried.

"I'm sick out of my mind. I'm dyinggg." You whine again. Aziraphale starts audibly freaking out over the phone.

"Oh heavens!!! Crowley we've got to go home right now!" You hear him yelling in the background.

"Sorry dear, we'll be right over, don't even worry about it." He says hastily.

"Wasn't. See u soon Pa." You reply. Your fever has been steadily going down, but you're still a little delirious, as you called Aziraphale dad on accident. Aziraphale and Crowley have asked you about your parents before, but you always refuse to talk about them for some reason. The truth is, you don't even remember your parents, but whenever you try and think about them you get a weird pit in your stomach, filled with fear, sadness, and a little anger, so they decided to stop pushing.

"Y/n wh-" Aziraphale starts, but the line cuts, and you assume that his phone died or something. You go lay back on the floor, awaiting their arrival.

About half an hour later, Crowley and Aziraphale arrive. They both have a bag of something. You try to peel yourself off the floor, but it makes you dizzy and you give up.

"You look like death." Crowley says.

"I feel like death." You reply, barely moving. He almost rolls his eyes, but he hesitates, and for a second you can see his gaze soften, before he decides to roll his eyes anyway.

"Okay kid, this isn't Romeo and Juliet, you'll be fine." He says, walking off somewhere. Aziraphale walks in and kneels beside you.

"Okay y/n, roll over so I can feel your forehead." Aziraphale says. You groan and protest, but do it anyway. His hand is warm, and while that would usually be nice, its terrible right now.

"Your hands are too warmmm." You say, trying to wriggle away.

"Jeez, y/n, you're burning up! Come on, up we go. Lets lay on the couch, okay?" He states, lifting you up by your arms and basically dragging you over to the couch. You lay down flat and get hit by a wave of nausea and groan.

"This really sucks." You sniffle, your voice wavering as you feel like crying.

"I know, I know, its okay." Aziraphale responds, rubbing your back. He waves his hand and suddenly the room is very cold. He shivers slightly, but you sigh in relief, as you felt like you would shrivel up and die any second from heat stroke. Crowley walks in and almost recoils in shock from the temperature.

"It's like a freezer in here! What happened?" He yelps. Aziraphale gives a sympathetic nod in your direction and Crowley calms down almost immediately. Crowley hesitates for a second, but reaches down to feel your forehead. His hand is surprisingly cold and you lean into it.

"Jeez, you really are burning up." He whispers. Aziraphale makes a comment about how Crowley really is nice, which makes him rip his hand off of your forehead and down into his pocket, which makes you whine.

"Noo your hands are cold and nice." You pout. You typically wouldn't be acting like this, but your fever has you delirious. Crowley gives you a funny look, and almost reached back down before seeing Aziraphales smile and deciding against it.

"Too bad. I'm not gonna pamper you just cuz you're sick, you know." He says and you whine again. He leaves the room to do hell knows what and you talk to Aziraphale.

It had been an hour and a half since they returned and you had thrown up once and then fallen asleep. The bags that they walked in with were now stuffed in the back office. One filled with medican from a local pharmacy and the other filled with your favorite take out. Crowley was the one who suggested the takeout, but when they got home they saw that you were in no state to eat and so Crowley put it in the small fridge they bought for you in back.

After a few minutes, you woke up, but kept your eyes closed to conserve energy. While you were lying there, Crowley walked over to you and sat on the couch beside you. He gingerly reached over and brushed some hair out of your eyes. You hold back a smile to see what he would do next.

"You poor creature. I had forgotten how fragile you are." He states. This catches you off guard, as this is totally out of character for Crowley. Crowley notices you twitch, and you pretend to wake up. He quickly pulls his hand away and goes to stand up.

"Where are you going?" You say, faking a yawn and rubbing your eye. His gaze softens slightly as he sits back down next to you.

"Nowhere. Don't worry about it." He says and smiles, obviously being nicer because you're ill.

"Good." You say, and grab his hand. You guys sit in silence for a while before Aziraphale comes and takes your temperature again.

"101.." He sighs. "But at least its going down. You were 109 an hour ago." He smiles.

"109?????" You exclaim. "Aren't I supposed to go to the hospital at that point??" Aziraphale looks a little stunned, but Crowley makes a noise and sprawls out on the couch.

"Too late now. You're fever has gone down to a normal-ish level." He states. You guys all move to a table in the back room, and Crowley grabs the previous take out from the fridge and places the bag on the table.

"Ya still nauseous or do you think you can eat?" You look inside the bag and your face lights up.

"From (fav restaurant)????!!! I'm starved!!" You exclaim, and immediately start pulling the containers out from the bag. Aziraphale is typically the one who eats with you, as Crowley doesn't enjoy it as much as he does, but he decides to eat with you guys today just to make you happy.

"Damn Y/n, if I knew any better, I'd say you hate this restaurant." Crowley says and chuckles as you pull containers out at the speed of light. Aziraphale gives him a look.

"Well obviously not, look at the speed they're-"

"Sarcasm, Angel." Crowley interrupts.

"Ah, well. Of course." Aziraphale says.

"Its okay dad. Pa was just teasing. He meant no harm." You say, while opening a container and digging some food out of it. They decide mutually not to pay attention to the fact that you called them dad, and to just enjoy the moment. They didn't mind the term. Quite the opposite in fact, (though Crowley would never admit that) but they often didn't know how to react. They just smiled and chatted while you ate. Crowley ruffled your hair and Aziraphale made you some hot chocolate. Suddenly your terrible sick day wasn't so terrible after all.

[spotlightlowlife]

Alastor hazbin let down

By overhype and a lack of tone setting.

He isn't creepy

Try as they may, the glitchy effects just tell me that this is a quirky character, only most of the cast are quirky in character just not too flashy.

Nobody is particularly menacing, including Alastor who so far has been a bit menacing to a character who isn't going anywhere and unnamed extras who not even Charlie 'everyone is worthy', 'these are my people/family' cared about.

His secrets mean nothing to anyone

Where has he been for seven years? The same absence period of Lilith? Who cares?

What Alastor knows is what the audience and clueless Charlie doesn't, but others do.

All someone else's talk

In the pilot it was Vaggie who let us know who exactly Alastor was and ehat he was capable of, she wanted no part of him around, but nothing to loose, no opinion in the matter Charlie did.

Mimzy in her passing visit told us more about him, she actually bought his character down to earth a little which was actually a good thing, Mimzy let us know that Alastor could be fun, reminded us that he had a whole life, she offered us a time frame of his existence and let us know he has friends/acquaintances/connections.

Though the 'bringing down to earth' negative aspect would happen too this episode, through no doing of Mimzys but entirely of Alastors. Unfortunately Alastor appears to have cut off Mimzy as a friend, leaving him with a shorter reach.

Any other reputable character steals his spotlight

Alastair was outshone by Mimzy, who literally interpreted his song baiting the actual devil. In this episode he showed that he wasn't all too composed when not in control of the situation or when outclassed, his attitude to Lucifer case in point, who he can't possibly topple any time soon in any way. All would be fine if we got to see what he did about it when he had time to himself or what he would do when things escalated, a missed opportunity being in the last episode he would lose to Adam, which was great, Alastor gave off overconfidence and lack of interest as usual, but by now we have seen how much he wishes to insert himself among those higher, only for him to treat Adam like a nobody - how did he feel about the looming danger he was in and not being in the same ballpark as someone who felt confident enough to challenge? Who knows, he as good as drifted away like piss in the ocean.

We didn't learn of any particular interest or reason for lack of in Adam, for someone who does so much research.

Between these encounters, Rosie too managed to stand out more than him as his confidant who successfully run an operation, had a clear goal, seemed unconditionally helpful, a people person and got through to Charlie with nice enough advice and a ear to listen.

He struggles to keep up an act, something that's not utilized at all when it could be

Being overactive to Lucifer, showing dislike for no apparent reason and dropping the bomb seems like it was meant to get a laugh out of the audience, only for Alastor to go on to continue tormenting Charlie's dad and to build a rivalry. If a rivalry was the intention then the usual composed attitude would have fit. If there's a reason for a hatred he struggles to contain, it's a shame the time wasn't made to delve into this.

Significant characters could have done with more time in general honesty.

In other media we have Good omens had composed and sweet angel Azraphale drop an unexpected but very understandable fbomb (which may have been the first of the series) when he accidentally lost his body of 6000 years. There was a build up of the looming end of the world, years of preventative work going to waste, nobody listening and a pest in his home.

HH really missed a beat in having a character like Alastor first snap for no particular reason.

In other media, Durarara did excellent at deconstructing and humbling an unbothered and mysterious troll character, this being Izaya. In this supernatural series he would manage to stand out and consistently be a strong villain/antihero, managing to not become lesser dispite going from a menace holding a number of cards who claimed to love humans, to being proven to be a human with the introduction of his sisters, his very uncomplex backstory and generally getting dealt with by the series's most illusive gangsters.

Coherence could make things work, hopefully there's less going on next time and the ensemble cast can be dispersed out a bit better.

Better luck next time Alastor

[gaiaseyes451]

Return to Eden - Chapter 3 - Final Chapter!

Chapter 3 - the final chapter! - of Return to Eden is live. Our story from @goodomensafterdark is now complete. I may visit this universe again in the future, but the story has a definitive resolution now (for all my WIP adverse folks and those who avoid angst before the comfort is written :) ).

Also, there is art at the end of the story - the piece that inspired Return From Eden was a gift from the r/GoodOmensAfterDark Secret Santa. Go check out the artist, copics_on_copypaper over on insta!

Return to Eden is rated Explicit, this chapter is Mature. Please, mind the tags for Chapter 1.

This work can be read alone, but it will make more sense (and be more impactful) if you've read Fractured and Shatter first - they're all part of the Before Eden There Was a Garden Series.

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale averted the second coming and were trying to pick up the pieces of their relationship when Aziraphale became plagued with nightmares. After hearing Aziraphale murmur a phrase from a previous life in his sleep, Crowley went in search of the one place that may be able to set everything right. Now Aziraphale must decide how much he wants to know and if he wants to remember at all.

Excerpt (Continue reading on AO3):

~*~*~

Aziraphale stepped up to the wall, tentatively ran his hand over the stones he’d placed in the Eastern Gate, smoother now after eons of wear deep in the Earth’s mantle. The wall was low, worn down such that it resembled a border around a garden bed more than the formidable structure of Biblical times. “Why did you bring me here?”

Crowley paused, his expression both sorrowful and hopeful. His eyes roamed over Aziraphale’s face, as if he were trying to recall and memorize every expression. “Shall we go in?”

“Eden,” Azraphale whispered and he took the first tentative step over the ruins as Crowley followed.

The garden was familiar yet foreign. The path leading from the Eastern gate to the center of Eden was visible but overgrown by vining ground cover and grasses. The lushness of what had once been a carefully curated paradise had been allowed to flourish unrestrained. Tree limbs intertwined creating a canopy over the path that blocked the stars from view and could hide an angel and demon from curious eyes. The night blooms of primrose and gardenia and jasmine created a heady perfume as they competed with the day flowers and shrubs for their chance to thrive. 

Aziraphale wandered down the path in silence. Even in its overrun state he knew Eden. He recalled delighting in the blooms and birdsong, eyeing the serpent of Eden warily before making his acquaintance on the wall, guiding Adam and Eve down this path to be exiled through the Eastern gate. These memories he recognized, they were familiar and bracing—he had turned them over in his mind time after time until they were worn, smooth and comfortable. He was unprepared for the flashes of other recollections, fleeting and rapid like lightning, illuminating what he knew into sharp contrast to what he had once known. Before he could grasp the flashes, make sense of the fragments they plunged back into the darkness.

“Crowley, I can’t do this.”

A firm hand on his bicep turned Aziraphale toward the demon and he looked into his earnest, golden eyes. “You can, Angel. One step at a time. I’m here.”

Aziraphale slowly shook his head. “This is too much. I can’t- it’s all running together. Like that night- I don’t,” he paused. “I don’t trust myself to know what’s real and what’s not.”

“Then trust me.” His voice was soft but brokered no argument. “Sometimes the only way forward is through.”

Aziraphale wasn’t listening, his eyes had locked onto a patch of sweet peas that had grown unruly; the shoots casting tendrils on the surrounding plants as a makeshift trellis. He knelt on the path beside the plant, wrapping the delicate tendril around his index finger, contemplating the wafer-thin petals of the white flowers. Crowley watched him, silent and waiting.

~*~*~

As always, a huge thanks to my beta readers @the-literal-kj and @hakunahistata!

[fru1typunch]

So WHAT if autistic folks find comfort in Aziraphale and see ourselves represented in him? So WHAT if ADHDers find comfort in Crowley and see ourselves represented in him? Neurodivergent folks think these characters are like us and it's comforting, so WHAT! I'm an auDHDer (autistic as well as ADHD) and I absolutely see traits in both characters I relate to and I adore it. My closet is pretty much just a dozen flannels and button ups and various graphic tees for shows I like, and hasn't been updated since, oh, I'd say around the 1800's (I joke with you amusingly). I get upset almost too easily and have a hard time expressing my emotions "properly", even as a grown man. I have a safe space from the world that myself and only very close very trusted loved ones can enter, and I get incredibly upset when it's being disturbed by unwelcome visitors. I'm very observant and inquisitive about how the world works and why things are the way they are and get really upset at even slight injustices. I flap my hands and shake my fists and smile and giggle when I'm happy or excited. I wear tinted glasses, yes even indoors, to deal with sensory overload. All that shit is shit Aziraphale and Crowley do, too. So I LOVE these characters. Who cares that neurodivergent folks find comfort in them. I highly doubt Neil Gaiman's the type of asshole to tell me I shouldn't. He's always been a pretty big advocate for the folks that society doesn't like, as a writer and as a person, so I think he wouldn't mind if I find comfort in seeing my autistic traits in his angel or my ADHD traits in his demon. Michael Sheen literally said "god bless the happy flappers" with a bunch of heart emojis to an autistic fan saying they loved Azraphale's hand stimming because they did it too in 2019, so I highly doubt he'd care either. And I keep seeing the argument thrown around that angels and demons couldn't be neurodivergent because they should be "perfect" celestial beings, which is grossly ableist. If angels and demons can be visibly physically disabled, they can be invisibly mentally disabled too, I reckon.

Anyways, rant over, Good Omens is neurodivergent as hell because I say so, fuck you.

[cat-clawz]

I just know Anthony "not even at gunpoint" Crowley is going to end up taking care of Azraphale's bookshop at some point in season 3. Muriel is a wonderful cinnamon roll... but they would 100% sell books, because that's what you're "supposed" to do when you run a bookshop.

[aziraphale-ineffable-angel]

“I’m an Angel. You are a Demon. We are hereditary enemies. Get behind me,foul fiend! After you.”-Azraphale

[sightofsea]

more fic preview stuff because why not

Instead, he finds Crowley bent into a depressed trapezoid at the end of the bar. He’s got an arm curled around a bottle of Talisker.

“Ah,” Aziraphale says over the music. “There you are.”

Crowley disengages himself from the crook of his elbow and hazily looks up. His glasses are sliding off of nose. “Oh,” he says. “You.”

“Me,” admits Aziraphale. Crowley makes a noise and brings his lips back to the Talisker. Aziraphale attempts to pull his eyes away. Fails. “Listen, I know you think I’m wrong about Heaven, but—”

Crowley pulls off the bottle and gestures to his ears. “Can’t hear you!”

As he gestures, the music seems to get louder. Aziraphale huffs and speaks louder. “I know you think I’m wrong, but there’s been developments—”

“What?” Crowley yells. He twirls his finger and the music goes up another round of decibels. He grins.

“DE-VEL-OP-MENTS,” Aziraphale enunciates irritably.

Crowley’s grin grows wider. The music is starting to puncture ear drums. “Music, sorry, can’t—”

With an eye roll, Aziraphale reaches over and grabs Crowley’s wrist, tugging him off his stool. He pulls Crowley through the crowd, which parts not unlike the Red Sea, lowers the music with a snap of his fingers, and drags Crowley up the stairwell and out of the club. Crowley seems to forget his demonic strength and gets tugged along not unlike a child’s blanket.

“Right,” he says, walking them down the street, “I am going to tell you the good news I have, and you are—”

He suddenly becomes aware that, in between the crowd and stairs, he’s somehow shifted to holding hands with Crowley. He stops in his tracks. Crowley stops as well. They stare at this union, the pressing of their palms. For a second it feels nice. Then, remembering they aren’t on the best of terms right now, they collectively push away from each other. Aziraphale takes a step back. Crowley does as well, but then takes another step on accident. Then another. Then falls against a bike rack with a clang and small, “Whoopsie.”

Aziraphale rushes over. Crowley has bent himself into another shape, this one involving gear shifts and a delivery basket. “Oh! Oh, I am sorry, I didn’t—” He takes Crowley’s hand again and pulls him up. He makes sure not to linger this time, and rubs his palm against his chest unconsciously. “Are you alright?”

Crowley sways a bit. “Peachy keen,” he announces. His smile matches his lopsided glasses.

Aziraphale looks him up and down. “You're drunk.”

“Meh.”

“Not going to sober up?” Azraphale asks.

Crowley shakes his head. “Noooooo.”

Aziraphale tuts. There’s no use bragging to Crowley when he’s like this. The last time he did, there was a defenestration in Prague. He spies the Bentley the next block over. “Let's get you home, then.”

“Maybe I don’t wanna go home,” Crowley slurs. “Ever think ‘f that?”

Aziraphale lets out a beleaguered sigh and grabs Crowley again, then time by the sleeve. Crowley, again, goes willingly.

[dynamic-power]

@justmori suggested a few prompts to me, and this one stuck out: Az and Crowley don't seem to drink wine together and talk about everything under the sun anymore. What happened?

And while I had completely intended to sit down and write an angsty little blurb, I ended up with this exploration of Az instead. Just a little look into the change in his relationship with Crowley between series 1 and 2.

My asks are always open, so drop in with prompts or opinions or just to say hi.

Words: 922

-----

After the end of the world was stopped, something changed. Aziraphale wasn’t exactly sure what it was, only that it had happened sometime between standing as a united front with a demon and the son of Satan and sitting in the Ritz for drinks with that same demon. Sans son of Satan, of course. 

Before Armageddon, Aziraphale would expect to run in to Crowley every few decades or so. They would see each other, sometimes on purpose, and partake in shenanigans that neither were likely to report to their own domains. Often times, these meetings would end with a bottle or two of wine and discussions, ranging from philisophical and introspective to downright absurd.

Aziraphale never minded, of course. He rather enjoyed the time with the demon, though he never liked to think too much about that fact. Instead, he told himself it was because he and Crowley were of a kind; two timeless beings, alone and surrounded by humans, who were there and gone in a mere handful of decades. No one understood their unique situation better than each other. 

But it always came about with alcohol. Inebriation, even for an angel and a demon, came with soothed nerves and loosened tongues. A bottle in and Aziraphale would complain about Heaven and Crowley would gripe about other demons. Two or three and they would talk about their shared appretiation for humans, their feelings surrounding their given tasks, and even their pasts. 

Aziraphale felt vulnerable when he was in such a state, but around Crowley, it was accompanied by a sense of camraderie and safety. Despite his companion being a demon, Aziraphale felt comfortable around him in a way he’d never felt around another being in the entirety of his existence. 

By the time the 20th century came around, he was able to admit that he looked forward to running into the demon. He always knew what the best bottles in his wine cellar were, always knew of the most exclusive up-and-coming restaurant, always prepared for the day that the demon would once again stumble into his life. And Crowley did. Increasingly often, and sometimes literally. 

And then they had stopped the end of the world that Aziraphale loved so dearly, and suddenly Crowley wasn’t coming around every few decades, she was stopping in to the bookshop every few weeks. 

He began coming round just to chat. Slowly, the chair beside Aziraphale’s became Crowley’s. An empty space on one of the shelves near the door remained empty for when Crowley came around and took off those blasted sunglasses. Azraphale got used to his phone ringing, not because of customers, but because Crowley was bored.

Alcohol became less of a tool for conversation and more of an indulgence as they got to know each other. Aziraphale found that they no longer needed that excuse of inebriation to talk, to be comfortable around one another. 

It was on a sunny afternoon in May when Aziraphale realized just how deep his feelings about the demon ran. 

He was sitting at his desk, sifting through a new first edition he’d managed to track down, when he looked up and to his left, where the two armchairs sat looking out the window. They were both empty; he prefered to do work from his desk, and Crowley hadn’t been around in a few days. 

He missed him. 

The reality of it hit Aziraphale hard enough that he sat back in his chair, momentarily forgetting about the book. He’d never properly missed anything a day in his life. The closest he’d ever come was Heaven. Sure, he thought it would be nice to be back in Heaven, but his bookshop was his home. His bookshop, where Crowley sometimes came by and put their glasses on that shelf and sat in the most bizarre position in that chair by the window and talked with him about everything and nothing and-

He missed him. Craved his presence more than he craved a good meal, yearned for his company in a way he hadn’t thought angels even could. 

He’d gotten so used to the companionship, he realized, that it was noticable when there wasn’t another voice in the bookshop, snarking at him or harassing curious humans into leaving. 

He wanted to be upset with himself; wanted to remind himself that it wasn’t safe to be this close to a demon, that these feelings were unnecessary or maybe even dangerous. 

But he knew he couldn’t. 

The front door flew open and Crowley stormed in, all flailing limbs and noisy energy. There was no hesitation or uncertainty in her movements as she plucked her glasses off and turned bright, shining, yellow eyes on Aziraphale. 

Aziraphale couldn’t contain his smile, but he did shove down every emotion besides the contentment he felt at having this demonic presence again. Anything else could be examined later. Or maybe never. He had a duty to Heaven, after all. 

“Hello, Angel,” Crowley drawled, flinging himself into his chair so that he was sitting on it sideways. They peered at Aziraphale from over their knees, waving a hand at the book on his desktop. “Whatcha’ got there?”

A first edition book he’d been trying to find for a century. “Nothing of importance, Crowley.” He turned in his chair, ignoring the book entirely and devoting all his attention to the demon and the sense of warm familiarity that settled over his shoulders. “Drink?”

“Nah. You know, I saw something the other day that made me think of you.”

“Did you now?”