#leave it to Crowley and Aziraphale to mess them up

[i-only-ever-asked-questions]

Hand holding aside, I have been thinking about the body swapping vs. the appearance swapping (body changing? big-miracle-energy shapeshifting?) and there is something sad about losing that interpretation I think.

Yes, now it makes more sense how Aziraphale would feel comfortable enough mischievously changing the collar from red to tartan since it would be creating something himself as opposed to making alterations to something borrowed. But still, I think we are losing something that started building in Episode 5. Crowley and Aziraphale are known for taking undeniable truths of the universe and turning them on their heads, for saying "why not?". Demons don't sleep? Angels don't eat? ok, fine, you can do this to blend with humans. How about Angels don't dance, it's a distinguishing characteristic of an angel right? Or, angels don't tempt? Demons don't bless? All these are things that everybody knows don't happen, that's not how the universe works.... except it does, because Crowley and Aziraphale have made it work. So, episode 5. Aziraphale gets discorporated and wants to get back to Earth but he doesn't have a body. Undeniable truth: you can't go to Earth without a body Except Aziraphale goes "why not?" (gotta love Michael's expressions)

Oh! but demons can possess humans! Sorry pal, another undeniable truth: Demons can, but angels can't And here comes Aziraphale again "why not?"

At the bar, the next idea comes up, an angel inhabiting the body of a demon! And this one, this one is so strange, so out there that Aziraphale rejects it right away "pity I can't inhabit yours" and Crowley gets completely weirded out, "I am not going to go there"

But the idea was there. If they had switched bodies, it would have meant that they took this, this "fact" that angel (essence? true form? true self?) and demon flesh can't mix and possibly the same with demon essence and angel body and turned it on its head! We see the first reaction at the idea is rejection, of being too weird. But so was the idea of the arrangement when it was first brought up. I really liked the progression of going from this to their "why not?" and then going and defying that universal truth again doing the body swap (body borrowing? corporation swap?) and I am sad to see it go. On the bright side now we have a situation where this is entirely within the realms of possibility, and a whole new world of shenanigans has opened up! And anyway, they like holding hands

[las-lus]

Aziraphale lied Theory

First of all, this theory is not mine, its from @/doubleskk on Twitter and can be found HERE. Go show them some love! It's in Portuguese, so I'll do my best to translate it - blue texts are my personal additions!

This season, we have something very clear in Aziraphale's development arc: is his relationship with LIE. He lied to protect Job's children, and he lied he had performed a miracle to make Nina and Maggie fall in love. That's not counting other little lies, sprinkled throughout the season here and there.

We keep seeing Crowley say "I'm a demon, I lie", but in the big finale, we have Crowley saying the truth - the big truth, the one he has been avoiding for 6 thousand years.

All of this was to set the stage for the biggest lie of all: the lie he had to tell Crowley to fend him off and protect him.

When Metatron goes to buy the coffee, he asks Nina if people ask for death, as the name of her shop is "Give me a coffee, or give me death". What if that name is an allegory for the actual conversation between Metatron and Aziraphale?

Aziraphale may have been threatened. Either Azira goes back to heaven (coffee), or he and Crowley would have their existence erased from the Book of Life (death). So, to protect Crowley, Aziraphale had to invent a lie to make sure he got away. The Book of Life was namedropped a couple of times in the show, a Chekhov's gun that never went off - Neil is too good of a writer for that.

And Aziraphale knew that Crowley would be pissed if he agreed to go back to Heaven after everything that happened, and he knew that Crowley would never accept being an angel again. "But rescuing me makes him so happy" - Aziraphale had to make sure Crowley wouldn't realize he needed saving.

That's why he knew exactly what to say to mess with Crowley.

At 41:14 of episode 6, when Azira starts telling the (alleged) lie to Crowley, he becomes all flustered, moving his hands from side to side and stammering, SAME PATTERN as when he lies to the angels about having done the Nina and Maggie fall in love, in episode 2.

[This part really works better with 2 videos side by side, which you cannot do on tumblr, so if you want you can check them out here]

The sequence of him talking to Metatron at the table is nothing more than an enactment of his lie. The conversation didn't go like that, Aziraphale made everything up.

And when Crowley declares himself, Aziraphale starts shaking his head in despair: not now, don't tell me that now.

He also looks out the window as soon as the confession starts, as if he knows Metraton was watching him outside.

Then there's the kiss, Aziraphale falters for a moment, but he has to keep up with the lie and he knows he has to hurt Crowley on purpose. And after Crowley leaves, Aziraphale is MUST recover in seconds, because Metatron is coming back. Also notice that when Metatron comes back, he doesn't ask if Crowley agreed to go back to heaven or not. He just sends a "How did he take it?"

That is, there was never any choice, and for Metatron Aziraphale was only going to break the news that he was leaving. And Aziraphale had to invent a lie to the inmates to make sure Crowley stayed away from him.

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[actual-changeling]

"It would have been you."

It's raining.

Of course, it's raining.

A soft, constant drizzle leaving his hair a damp, curly mess that falls into his face and clings to his skin. Even though the cold is slowly seeping into his clothes, Crowley stops and turns around. Condensation is collecting on the inside of his shades where his breath drifts up, warm and too fast, and even if it hadn't been late at night, if the street hadn't been empty, he would have still taken them off.

Aziraphale is licking rain drops from his lips and blinking with dark, heavy lashes.

"What?"

His voice is rough, almost drowned out by the noise of rain hitting the pavement, collecting in small puddles around his feet.

"If it had been a choice, a real one, it would have been you."

The world did not end, questions were answered, apologies spoken, but their last conversation before everything went to shit is still a sharp splinter lodged in his chest, cutting him open more and more with every heartbeat. All of the fears he had left unsaid, the viscous doubt pooling in his lungs and weighing down his breaths—the truth might tip the scales and finally destroy him, and yet he cannot bring himself to stop Aziraphale from talking.

"It has always been you, Crowley. You must know that."

"I don't."

Bitterness laces his voice despite his best intentions, a drop of oil tainting an entire river, six thousand years of history, and it hurts because it's the truth, because they both wish it wasn't.

He doesn't know, couldn't know, because Aziraphale always needed him to stop them, to step back when they got too close. Every single time he had tried to push, gone too bloody fast, the angel had recoiled, scared for him, scared for the both of them. Crowley knows, and at the same time, he doesn't, because he still has hope and there is nothing more dangerous than allowing it to bloom; it's small, withered, brittle, on the verge of death and has been for centuries.

(It's still there, though. It keeps fighting, keeps trying. Keeps hoping.)

They're drenched to the bone, wet and pathetic, and there is nothing romantic about any of it when Aziraphale retraces his steps and closes the distance between them; there is, however, love.

There has always been love, whether they could admit it or not.

"I'm sorry. For- for everything, for making you think that I don't care about you."

"Angel, don't lie-"

"I'm not lying."

Crowley stares, frozen to the spot when Aziraphale presses cold, wet palms to his cheeks, his breath a ghost of warmth on his skin. This is too much, too close to 'our side', and if he didn't know better (does he know better? does he really?) he would think that he is about to—

"I'm not lying," he whispers, broken, truthful, "I love you. I won't leave you."

The rain stings in his eyes, masking the tears—hot and wistful—meeting Aziraphale's skin where it is touching his.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, angel."

His voice cracks and so does his heart, and he can feel the walls they have built together crumbling to dust under their feet. It's not real, it can't be real, and yet the truth is shimmering in storm-blue eyes he has been carrying with him since the moment he first put stars into the sky.

"It's you, always has been, always will be. If you let me."

Crowley kisses him as he falls apart, barely healed fractures reopening as his essence spills over and out, drowning him in please, please be real, please let us have this, please, God.

Just this once.

Aziraphale holds his face so incredibly gently, as if it's something worth keeping, something to protect, something he is afraid to lose. When the ground doesn't open up and swallow them whole, when the sky doesn't reach for them with greedy hands, he allows himself to seize Aziraphale's face in turn, cupping his jaw and kissing the rain drops off his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, tasting his tears when they begin to fall.

"It's always been you. God, of course I will let you."

Sapphire blue eyes blink up at him, a smile pressed against his lips, a smile he can feel, a smile that is for him, them.

"Perhaps you could let me somewhere less, ah, sopping wet?"

"I was right, though. It's the rain that did it."

Aziraphale laughs, bright and happy, and infectious enough to make Crowley laugh too, and grabs his hand to pull him back towards the bookshop - back home.

[nicolegmattos]

i love your tv show aziracrow/book aziracrow series so much!! i wonder what would happen if post s2 crowley met book crowley lmfao

Yeah, I wonder what would happen… 🤔 (oh, wait. I can write it lol)

Book Crowley: *entering the flat* Hm, that’s weird. I’m pretty sure this plant wasn’t here before.

Book Crowley: *sees TV Crowley lying on the floor* What the hell is this?

TV Crowley: *not looking at him* Me. Being miserable.

Book Crowley: May I ask… why?

TV Crowley: My Angel left me.

Book Crowley: He did WHAT?!

After quite extraordinary amounts of alcohol…

Book Aziraphale: Crowley, are you…? *seeing all the mess* What happened here?

Book Crowley: You did.

Book Aziraphale: Me?! I didn’t do this.

TV Crowley: You left me.

Book Aziraphale: How…? Good Lord, why are there two of you?

TV Crowley: Why is there just one of you?

Book Aziraphale: How am I supposed to know?!

Book Crowley: You’re bad, Angel.

Book Aziraphale: And you’re drunk, my dear.

Book Crowley: Why did you leave us?

Book Aziraphale: Us? I didn’t leave you. And I certainly did not leave him.

TV Crowley: *tearing up* We could’ve been us.

Book Crowley: Look what you did.

Book Aziraphale: That’s it. I’m done. I’ll come back once you’re both sober.

Book Crowley: Yeah, leave. YOU’RE GOOD AT IT!

Book Aziraphale: I DID NOT LEAVE YOU, FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!

TV Crowley: I miss him. I miss him so much.

Book Crowley: I know, I know. We’ll be alright. We don’t need them.

TV Crowley: You know that’s not true.

Book Crowley: Yeah. You’re right.

[ghoulie-67-baby]

Softly now - Good Omens

Summary: Your anxiety has been raging all day, one accident at home makes you snap.

Warnings: Anxiety, depression, panic attack, anxiety attack, angst, crying, blood/wound.

Pairing: Ineffable husbands x Human!reader.

Word count: 1,674.

To say today had been challenging was an understatement. Nothing particularly bad had happened. The mix of work and anxiety had me in a spiral, wanting to go home and curl up away from the world. After finishing my shift, I trudged home in the pouring rain, the sound of droplets on my hood keeping me grounded. I knew Crowley wouldn't have had any issue picking me up but it felt like a burden and my head was telling me he'd be annoyed if I asked. So I settled for the walk in the dingy weather.

Dodging puddles, I yanked my coat collar around my throat, shivering as raindrops trickled down my face, leaving tear-like streaks on my cheeks. Luckily the bag containing my laptop and books had been miracled by Aziraphale to stay waterproof and protected by any weather. Despite the calm look on my face, the bustle and noise of the streets had my eyes darting around. My heart thundered in my chest as the bookshop came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I sped up, gasping as people barged into me in their rush.

With clenched, freezing hands, I shoved open the heavy wooden door and huffed out a sigh, slamming it behind me and locking out the world. My forehead reacted against the hardwood as I flipped the sign to 'closed'. I knew nobody would be in the shop, especially if Aziraphale had anything to do with it.

After a few minutes of unmoving silence, I wandered to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. A good cup of tea made everything better. There was no sign of the angel or demon as I walked through our home so I settled for one cup. Moving around the familiar space, my mind zoned out and I was set on autopilot.

I jumped out of my head as the sound of shattering filled the room. Shards of delicate, precious china scattered over the floor the beautiful flower pattern ruined. Anger and irritation flooded through me as I glared at the mess. Tears gathered in my eyes as I rushed to clean it, guilt crawling up my spine.

With trembling hands, I gathered some of the shards together to throw them away whilst trying to ignore the feeling rising man my throat.

"Love, let me take that from you." I froze as the Angel's voice floated through the silence. I hadn't even noticed him arrive home. With a quick shake of my head, I walked to the bin to throw them away but flinched as a large shard sliced my palm.

"Oh Y/N, you've cut your hand now." He tutted, reprimanding my stubbornness but I couldn't look at him. Instead, I trudged to the sink, rinsing the gash with a hiss and wrapping it in a towel. A warm hand rested against my icy shoulder as I watched the blood run down the drain.

"Darling, you need to let us help you." Crowley followed not far behind the angel with a disapproving look on his slender face. I watched silently as he unwrapped the bloody towel and grabbed the first aid kit to clean it properly. By this point, Aziraphale had cleaned up the remainder of the cup and droplets of blood from the tiles.

"You should really be more careful Love," The angel stood making hot chocolate, concern painting his face. I nodded silently, biting back a sob as tears filled my eyes. My chest began to heave as the demon bandaged my palm.

Only when a tear splashed on his hand did he realise the streaks on my face and the heads of my breaths as my good hand clutched the countertop, knuckles turning white. I stared straight ahead at his jacket, frustrated with myself. I squeezed my eyes shut, begging the tears to stop but it only worsened as waves of anxiety and guilt crashed over me.

Crowley caught me by my elbows to steady me as the first sobs escaped, swaying as my senses erupted with overstimulation. With ringing ears, I tried to listen as he spoke but words seemed to bleed into each other.

The only clear sound was my wails and whimpers as I tried to breathe, the room closing on me. Embarrassment filled me as I clawed at Crowley's chest, pulling him as close as physically possible so I didn't feel like I was sinking. Slender fingers passed me to chubbier ones as the blur of beige of Aziraphale's jacket came into view.

"Softly now, Love," he whispered into my ear. My breath caught in my throat as I cried into his chest which I had all but fallen into. The hum of his voice vibrated through my body as his fingers traced patterns on my back, the other hand smoothing down my hair. I couldn't help but feel bad for cuddling him when he was warm and soft and I was cold and soaked but he didn't seem to mind.

Warmth flowed over me and I looked down to find myself in Crowley's black sweater and Aziraphale tartan pyjama pants. I hummed thanks to the angel as my sobs died down into silent tears and hiccups. I clenched my fingers into his waistcoat, knees trembling and head pounding with such ferocity that I felt nauseous.

"Now, Love, whatever managed to get you in this state?" His voice was gentle, ringing softly in my ear, the definition of angelic.

"Rough day is all." My voice was exhausted and small as I muttered against his chest.

"Did something happen, Darling?" I shook my head, taking note of the pissed-off tone in his voice. "You know I'll be the first to punish them if you need me to."

"Nothing happened, 'just been a bad day." I drew patterns on his chest. "All day I've had this niggling feeling in my chest and small things have built up and then when the cup smashed it was just the last straw." I trailed off, new tears dripping off my cheeks. "Didn't mean to break it Azira, just lost focus and-" His soft hushing cut me off as his fingers scratched gently at my scalp.

"You don't need to apologise, Love, as long as your okay." The relief that overtook my system was ridiculously strong and deep down I knew he wasn't really fussed about the cup but I needed to hear it. "It's just a cup. It is replaceable whereas you are not." I dismissed the flush on my cheeks as I pulled away from his chest, looking up at him. Sparkling blue eyes stared down at me with a soft smile as I rubbed my thumb over his cheek.

"Why don't we go and get comfortable whilst our angel finishes that drink, Darling?" I nodded, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale's cheek before taking Crowley's hand and following him to the bedroom.

Flinging his sunglasses on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed. Serpent eyes looked up at me expectantly and though I tried to stop it, my bottom lip trembled. His arms stretched open for me and I fell into them with a cry of anguish.

His slender arms wrapped my legs around him so we were chest to chest, hands holding me tightly around him as I cried into his neck. My cry in the kitchen had been one Of pain, panic, anger and frustration at myself and the world. But this one was relief, pent-up emotion and overwhelming gratitude to my two celestials. I let myself into him, neither of us paying mind to my echoing wails or the tears that soaked his collar. Not even the way my cries shook both of our bodies.

Somehow, none of these things annoyed the demon who merely dismissed it for comforting me. Once I settled down, I lay boneless against him, head on his shoulder and body slouching whilst I caught my breath. I shifted my head to look up at him with puffy, tired eyes. My shaking hand rubbed his cheek, thumb grazing his cheekbone as he smiled down at me, letting his eyes flutter shut.

The shuffle of slippers at the door brought us back to reality but I didn't want to shift. Three steaming cups were placed on the nightstand before the bed dipped beside us.

"Feeling any better Darling?" The softness in the demon's voice caught me off guard for a second. I hummed out a yes, not having the energy for a better response, blinking tiredly as the world finally slowed down.

"Let's hop into bed whilst Crowley gets changed, Love." I nodded, crawling off his lap and flopping dramatically in the middle of the bed, beside a pyjama-clad angel. The fresh hot chocolate was placed in my hands once I sat up. I smiled as the heat seeped into my skin, sighing in delight as the sweet liquid ran down my throat. The two chuckled and Crowley climbed in beside me, gulping down his drink, mostly to appease Azira. The heat didn't bother him, it had no effect against hellfire.

A comfortable silence filled the room as we finished our drinks, basking in each other's company for a few moments. Rather quickly my eyes began to feel heavier. The cup was slipped from my grasp as I wiggled down under the covers, Crowley pressed reassuringly against my back.

"Hey Azira," I whispered, tapping his shoulder hesitantly. "Will you read to me?" The uncertainty dissipated immediately when he broke out in a smile and miracled a book with the flourish of his hand.

"It would be my pleasure, Love, do cuddle down and relax." The three of us got comfortable and I held Crowley's hand that draped over my waist as Aziraphale's voice floated to my ears, and the story began.

All three of us knew I wouldn't last long but he still happily read, knowing it would calm me and I might rest properly. And rightfully so, writhing minutes I had drifted off beside my two favourite beings.

[giantmushyfriend]

Welcome back to the Ineffable lyric discussion (can I hear a wahoo)

In honor of the announcement of season 3 of our beloved Good Omens, I find it completely necessary for us to discuss one of the many songs on Aziraphale and Crowley's angelic playlist that made me scream my bloody head off. One of those songs is the one and only The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel. While I UNDERSTAND this song may have just been chosen to spell out SEASON THREE, I think it goes much deeper than that because of all of the parallels it draws to Aziraphale and Crowley. And ultimately, what I think is going to happen in terms of their relationship when they finally sort their shit out. So beware if you haven't watched season 2 of Good Omens because we're about to do a fucking DEEP DIVE into this.

First, the title of the Book of Love feels almost like a call to this looming threat to the Book of Life that was consistently used in series 2. The entire season, Crowley and Aziraphale have to work oh so carefully because with the Book of Life being confirmed, they know that either of them could get the other erased, and whether they want to admit it or not, losing the other is their biggest fear. We've seen this when Crowley believed Aziraphale to be dead in Series 1 when he couldn't feel Aziraphale's presence anymore since he got incorporated. When Aziraphale isn't there, Crowley is a mess. Likewise, we saw how both reacted during the ineffable divorce scene in series 2. Crowley is full-on begging Aziraphale to stay, and Aziraphale has finally admitted that he needs Crowley and full-on mouths for Crowley not to leave him. The Book of Life inherently, from how Neil set it up, feels threatening. The Book of Love, on the other hand, raises an entirely other reaction. Throughout the series, as corny as it sounds, love has been what grounds our protagonists. It is the love of Tadfeild and his friends that keeps Adam from kickstarting the end of the world; it's what keeps him from rejecting his father, the literal devil. It is the love of the earth, of humanity and all its strange creations, and for each other that keeps Aziraphale and Crowley attempting to prevent the end of the world when it could be so much easier to just accept the fate of it all. Love is the key theme that grounds our protagonists, that makes them tick. Love is safe; love is, at times, painful but overall kind. So when we see this title on their playlist, listed amongst heartwrenching tales of grieving a relationship, you could have had, and of loss, it brings a sense of salvation and safety. The Book of Love, unlike the Book of Life, is not a threat- it's a sanctuary for Aziraphale and Crowley.

Now, diving into the lyrics.

"The book of love is long and boring

No one can lift the damn thing

It's full of charts and facts, and figures, and instructions for dancing

But I

I love it when you read to me.

And you

You can read me anything"

The first couple of verses inherently feel like Aziraphale and Crowley's original view on this notion of love. As two supernatural entities who aren't bound by human emotion or logic, love may seem superficial and downright silly at times. The courting procedures that different societies have taken on throughout the centuries and the songs and dances that come along with it may all seem like a big waste. The book of love is a manifestation of love itself, and originally, it seems unappetizing to our protagonists. That is until they refind each other, and love goes from this thing that humans feel and jump through hoops for to this tidal wave of emotions. Love felt silly and unrealistic before, but with each other, they are willing and excited to explore it, even if it comes with things that feel inherently silly.

Also, these verses draw some cute parallels to headcanons and features of cannons. If you've been involved in the Good Omens fandom long enough, you've probably stumbled across the idea that Crowley asks Aziraphale to read to him for a multitude of different reasons. Some people say it's because his eyes aren't meant to read, one of the many punishments that came with him being cast down from grace, or maybe it's just because he finds Aziraphale's voice comforting. Additionally, the line about instructions for dancing is just so heartwarming when we look at the ball scene from this past season and Aziraphale's daydreams of a romance worthy of a Jane Austin novel.

"The book of love is long and boring

And written very long ago

It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes

Adn things we're all too young to know

but I

I love it when you give me things

and you

You ought to give me wedding rings"

I'm sure we've all heard this idea that you'll understand love when you get older, but even when you get older, it never seems to make sense. This idea that love is too old for any of us to truly understand, and that humbles us but in the best way possible. There is no point in trying to figure out what exactly love is because you could spend thousands of years feeling it and watching it happen all around you and still not know exactly what it is besides this all-encompassing feeling. And that is exactly the perspective of Aziraphale and Crowley. They have seen countless examples of love, true, unwavering love, and they have felt it for each other. And yet they themselves cannot begin to fathom what love, true unconditional love, is exactly. These two supernatural, ethereal/occult beings are humbled by the very concept of love like humans are- and that love is drawn from each other.

And then there is this notion of giving, which pairs so well with Crowley's primary love language, acts of service and gift giving. If the first chorus was Crowley talking about how he loves it when Aziraphale reads to him and takes care of him, then this is Aziraphale talking about how Crowley displays his love. And this final notion of asking for that final commitment, one of the key ways humans express their love for each other, is just amazing. Because in a way, Aziraphale moving to make this commitment, to fully be on their side in this way, is the resolution we have been wanting since the beginning. For Aziraphale to finally feel safe enough to let go and finally let himself settle to where he finally belongs, on his side with Crowley.

[thatlonelycactus]

We talk so so much about debased Crowley and how he’s just going to be a drunken mess post-divorce but why can’t Aziraphale be a mess as well?

Sure Aziraphale has something else for him in heaven BUT how much do you really think a) he’s actually going to be able to do and b) what the Metatron will actually LET him do. Yes, he doesn’t express himself in the same ways Crowley does but no matter how you can express yourself you can still be an absolute fucking mess can’t you?

I wanna see Aziraphale smuggling tubs of ice creams into heaven and eating them as he watches James Bond movies.

I wanna see Aziraphale blaring Queen so loud that all of the angels can sing anyone Queen song perfectly by heart.

I wanna see him scrolling through all of his old texts with Crowley. His finger suspended above the send button.

I wanna see cups of long-emptied cocoa strewn around an office which is a constant mess as he rewatches Sex and the City (or something) for the nth time balling his eyes out.

Please, please don’t leave all the break up angst to Crowley for both of their sakes. Let Aziraphale be hurt. Aziraphale was just as shattered as Crowley.

[shinybearnerd]

"Healing Wings"

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2! SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU DID SEE IT YET, DO NOT INTERACT!

Hi!

So, I'm a mess since I finished the new season.

I tried to cope by writing something (since I'll be pretty busy for all of August). And this is the result.

Justice for my boy! He deserved his happy ending.

I wanted to thank everyone that send me requests. As I said before, I'm a bit busy but once I'll have some time, I'll write. Promise.

Enjoy!

Pair: Crowley x reader

(Hints of: Aziraphale x reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale x reader x Crowley)

Words: 2,8k

Genre: Smut +18, fluff and angst

Story: when Aziraphale goes away to become the archangel in heaven, Y/n and Crowley find themselves alone. They both with a feeling of abandonment. As they lean on each other for support, their relationship blossoms deeper.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there're any mistakes.

The ride to your house is quiet.

You don't remember much about what happened earlier. You only recall screaming at Aziraphale for deciding to go away and leaving you and Crowley alone. His eyes were covered in tears.

     << Y/n, I can- >>

     << Do not fucking bother! Go on. Go play with your little mates. Is what you wanted after all, right? >> You cut him off, returning to Crowley.

The demon looks at the scene inside the car. He doesn't hear what you are saying but can imagine by the looks of you and the angel. He even doesn't say anything about it once you step inside the car. He only starts the engine and begins to drive.

Once you arrive, you convince Crowley to come inside without effort. Once you lock the door behind you, you see him. Sitting on the sofa. He stares blankly in front of him. Or at least you think so. He didn't take off his glasses or have any intention to.

You walk towards him without saying a word. When you take your first step, it seems like he only notices your presence at that moment.

You walk to him. Crowley's gaze fixed on you, making you feel exposed.

You're now in front of him. You try to say something, but he makes the first move by hugging your legs and placing his head on your stomach. He's tired. You both are.

You remain like this for a few minutes. You caress his red hair and try not to cry, as he enjoys your touch.

He then looks up at you.

You're starting to feel a particular jolt invading your body. Something that grows deeper when the demon stands up and obscures you with his height.

He takes your chin, his thumb exploring your lips. He then kisses you. It's a needy one. A desperate one.

You start to undress one another, but when you try to take his glasses, he freezes.

     << I... I prefer to leave them on. >>

Once Nina and Maggie get out, you pop out from your hiding spot.

Crowley hears your movement but doesn't say a word. Too scared about your reaction to actually do something. 

He listens. Listen to the way your clothes sound when they rub against each other. Listen to your increased heartbeat and your hitching breath, wishing he could feel it against his skin while-

     << Is it true? >> You finally take some courage.

Crowley physically can't turn to look at you, like something is blocking him. But he manages to stand up and put on his glasses. And suddenly, he feels like he can at least try.

When he turns around, your heart sinks a little.

     << No, please... >>

     <&lt; What? >>

You try to reach, but he takes a step behind, trying to have some space between you two.

     << You know that you don't need those >> you point at the black lenses << when you are with me. We've already been through this. Remember? >>

     << I would like to keep them on. If you don't mind. >>

You sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to listen. So you ask again, trying to look into his eyes. << Is it true? >>

The demon doesn't respond.

     << It's pretty easy, Crowley. It's a "yes" or "no" answer... >>

Your voice seemed calm and amused by all of this, trying to ease the mood. But every fibre of your body tried to remain calm and not rush things.

Something was still blocking him. His pride, maybe. Or even the fear of you rejecting him. He doesn't know which.

     << I'm sorry... I-I can't. >>

He tries to exit the bookshop, but you stop him.

     << Where are you going? Hold on! Why can't you say it? What's wrong? >>

     << Because-... Fuck! >>

He walks in the room, stomping his feet like a wild horse that's been caught and imprisoned. He's trying to focus on something that isn't you and elaborate a clever way out. He's a demon, after all. He's the master of lying.

He can do this.                                                                                                    But once he turns to look at you, he suddenly can't lie to you anymore.

     << Because it's true, Y/n! There. I said it! >>

Your heart is bursting, but you let him talk first. You feel like he needs to.

     << You don't understand how you made me feel in all these years we knew each other! I only thought that Aziraphale would be the lo... >> he sighs, trying to calm himself by rubbing his eyes. << But then you came along. So full of life and wonder, and it j-just... happened!- >>

In the beginning, he's doubtful. The poor devil thought that was an act of pity towards him, but once he comprehend that you're not going to leave soon, he deepens it. A rush of emotions adds to the kiss. Passion, desperation and relief. All put in Crowley's kiss, who is touching and hugging you like you'll disappear.

You don't even spend time saying something. You've already waited enough.

With big steps, you end your distance. You take the demon's sunglasses with one hand while the other takes the head, smashing your lips together.

You start to caress each other. Your hair, your back, your arms... All you two can reach has been touched and loved.

     << Please tell me this is not a dream and that I'm not gonna wake up in the Bentley with a boner... >> he whispered on your lips between a kiss and another.

You smirk against his mouth while pressing yourself towards him.

     << I don't know about the dream, but I hope this isn't something you have in your pocket. >> You replied, touching his clothed erection.

The demon growls, squishing the flesh of your hips under his fingers.

     << You're playing with fire, doll. >>

His pushes are erratic and hopeless. Like he can release all that pain he's feeling.

But suddenly his pushes stop. You feel his hold tightening as he's afraid to lose you too. Little and muffled sobs start to fill the air as the demon tries to hold you as close as possible.

     << Crowley? >>

You caress his head, trying to escape his grip to look at him.

     << I'm sorry... >> he muffles in tears.

His head is against your chest. Tears are starting to wet your skin.

     << Hey... No, no, no. Hey, look at me. Please, look at me, Crowley... >>

You take off his glasses. Once you look at his eyes, your stomach tightens. His eyes are full of sorrow, ache and distress. And it all makes you feel awful. It's like you can't do anything to make him feel better...

You manage to take his face in your hand. You voluntarily start to caress his cheeks with your thumbs while you look into each other's eyes. And what you see breaks your heart.

Crowley's lips are a little parted, quick breaths leaving and entering his mouth. His cheeks are starting to get wet too. The eyebrows narrowed in an expression of pain. 

The demon makes a face, like he has something to say about that, but you don't give him the chance.

     << I-I'm sorry. I should not... >>

He tries to avoid eye contact. 

     << No, hey... Hey. It's okay, darling. It's not your fault. >>

     << But it is! >> He finally looks at you. << If I wasn't the way I am, maybe Aziraphale- >>

     << Do not dare finish what you are about to say! >> You snap.

Your voice is trembling with anger and pain. How could he think that?

<< I don't know what that idiot was thinking. But he shouldn't have said that! And mostly, you mustn't even consider that! How could you even think that there's something wrong with you? That you're the messed up one?

<< Every time I look at you, I fall in love with you even more. I love everything about you! How you say that you're evil and not nice after saying or doing the sweetest and most beautiful things that even an angel can't do! You are infinitely better than a legion of angels. Aziraphale included. >>

     << Aziraphale does not define you, my love. I know that it fucking hurts. Him choosing heaven over us hurt me, and I can't imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now... But he had no right to tell you to change for him. Love is not like that. Love is not changing the other person. Love is feeling like you own the fucking world! Like you've been struck by lightning every time you see them... Love is supposed to make you feel like this. >>

You take his hand and place it against your chest. Your heartbeat is accelerated. The demon can feel it under his hand and thinks it's the most beautiful music he's ever listened to in centuries. 

Your eyes lock one last time. Every limb of your body is linked to the other, trying both be close.

You discover that you're crying once Crowley slowly slides his hand from your chest, then to your neck and to one of your cheeks, wiping the tears from your skin. He then cups your head with both hands, leaning closer to kiss the new tears forming. Your eyes are closed. You try to enjoy this moment that you indulge with the other. You put your hands on Crowley's wrists, rubbing them with your thumbs. Suddenly you feel something odd.

     << You have a heartbeat... >>

You open your eyes only to see that Crowley is already looking at you.

Under your fingers, you can feel his fast heartbeat.

     << I didn't know you had one. >>

     << In your defence, I didn't tell you... >> replied, starting to wander his hand along your hips. He felts like the luckiest entity in the entire universe.

     << Is it supposed to be this rapid? >>

You see him smile a little, then look at your eyes.

     << Didn't you say that love was supposed to feel like that? >>

Crowley leans closer, one hand on your hair. Once your lips meet, you feel fireworks spreading all over you. The demon's lips are so soft against yours. Kissing you with gentleness as if you were made out of porcelain.

You blush and smile.

He does the same. The first real smile after Aziraphale's departure, even if it's little.

His trusts are slow but deep.

Then, he slips the other hand around your hips, bringing you close as he thrusts deep inside you. A moan dies in your mouth.

Crowley smirks a little before he resumes kissing you. His hands are both on your hips as he's helping you move.

Your eyes are locked as your messy breaths get mixed. Sometimes you kiss, but you prefer to look at each other. You can't explain why. You just feel a deeper connection between you. Like you are making love with your souls too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

You continue moving without saying a word. Smiling, touching, squeezing and scratching (on your part) one another.

And when you come, it's like you feel complete and truly loved.

Your foreheads touch as you start panting and giggling. 

Moments before, after you got dressed, you asked your favourite demon if he could pick a movie while you were calling your favourite takeaway restaurant.

     << What are you doing? >>

Crowley quickly turns towards you. A pillow is still in his hands.

Once the call ended, you saw his figure walk the hallway one last time before disappearing. You came to understand that he went outside, in the garden. You decide to sneak out and follow him.

As you were talking with one of the staff, in the corner of your eye, you could see Crowley walking the hallway front and back multiple times. Different things in his hands every time he passed in front of you.

You were so curious and amused that you almost forgot you were ordering food.

Under the moon's soft light, you can see that the grass is covered with blankets and pillows. Over them, there's a bottle of wine and two glasses; while the outside was filled with battery candles.

You can't move or form a single sentence. Your mouth, on the other hand, is curved in the most beautiful smile the demon has ever seen.

Crowley's now looking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

     << Surprise!>> He throws the pillow on the blankets with the others. << Do you like it? >>

     << I-I... don't know what to say.>>

He walked closer, putting his hands on your hips. << I thought we'd have a post-love-making/little night picnic date under the stars. I figured it'd be nice to talk about the constellations and all that celestial stuff you enjoy while we get drunk. >> he smugly smirks as he hears your chuckle.

-.-.-.-.-.-

With a snap, the two glasses get filled. Crowley passes you one. << What do you say? >>

     << I'm all yours.>>

He smiles at you and kisses you passionately.

     << You know... I've always wanted to ask something. >>

You two have just finished eating and are now on the blankets, cuddling and trying to get drunk.

     Crowley has spent all dinner talking about the stars. He also told you about his time as a nebula creator. You could see a sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. Some sadness behind it, too. Even if he tried to hide it.

Crowley was amused by all of this.

     << Shoot. >>

     << What's it like having someone making up stories about your work? You know, the constellations and so on... >>

     << Oh. Well... I don't mind. It's like reading- What is that you read... Ehm... -Yes! Fanfiction. It's like reading a fanfiction. I don't mind. >>

     You chuckle, a little flustered. << I don't read fanfiction! >>

     He brings the glass to his lips. << Oh yes, you do! Every time I see you with your phone and reading something, you always giggle and kick your feet- >>

     << How dare you! I do not! >>

     << Oh, yes, you do! >>

You laugh. Your face turn all red by now. << You liar! >>

You both chuckle and lean against the other. The demon's free hand is now running up and down your arm. His head is on yours as he leaves a kiss.

     << Thank you. >> you said, breaking the silence. << I loved all of this. >>

Crowley smiles, proud of himself. << Glad you like it. >>

He put his glass near yours and made them touch. A little high-pitched "tin" followed after. << To the perfect night. >>

     << But I have to admit... >> You continue, teasingly raising an eyebrow. << you seemed flustered when I found you setting all up.>>

     &lt;< Flustered? Me? Nonsense!>>

You chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. Your affectionate gaze never leaves his.

He couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the wine. 

     << Jokes aside, you know how to make a moment last forever.>>

Crowley looks at the wine in his glass. A soft and smug smile on his face.

     << Well, I must admit, this wasn't originally on my plan... >> he confesses.

     << What do you mean? >>

Crowley shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

     << I mean... I had planned to take you and... Azirapahle out on a proper date tonight. >> He admitted, his voice soft and hesitant. << I wanted it to be perfect, you know? Wine, dine, and all that... >>

A suffering smile is on his face as he gunks down his wine.

     << I wanted tonight to be special...>> he softly admitted, looking at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle. << You know... after a week of... well, hell. >> He pours the rubin liquor. << For you. For me... for him. For us. >> 

     You take his hand and kiss it. << Well, I must say, this night picnic under the stars was a perfect first day. >>

     He looks at you, uncertain. << Really? >>

     You kiss him and nod, smiling. << Today was hard... >>

     << Yep. >> he takes another sip of wine and clicks his tongue.

     << But this has been the best date I have ever been to! >>

He smiles, looks again into your eyes and says only two words: << Thank you. >>

You know that he's not talking about the date.

You kiss him again and look at him, stroking his tattoed cheek.

     << Don't even mention it. >>

[avocado-writing]

i hope u know im chewing on ur good omens work like a cat does with those matatabi sticks ,,,, ANYWAY do u mind writing an aziraphale x reader [gn] x crowley w a recurring fruit means love metaphor ? like sharing a lil clementine or getting ur hands all gross n sticky from cutting smthn open [cough cough a peach . i had 2 stick my fingers in one 2 separate it n get the pit out n it was ,,, mildly uncomfortable] n the other person sucks the juice off their fingers ,,,,,,,,, just very intimate n cute things like that :] thanx !!

so I’m sorry this is less love as fruit and more uhhh lust as fruit please forgive me

Crowley x reader x Aziraphale (good omens)

From his place sorting books he never intends to sell into one of his many already-cramped shelves, Aziraphale watches you in the break room. 

You’re waiting for the kettle to boil, eating an apple while you grab a mug and teabag. Even from here Aziraphale can hear the pop-hiss as you take a bite from the crisp skin. Your teeth sink into the flesh and juice rolls down your chin onto the counter. You wipe it away absent-mindedly with the back of your hand.  

You might be the one eating, but it’s Aziraphale who swallows. 

You lick your lips, thumbing the sweet stickiness from your face and sucking it clean. Aziraphale wonders what it tastes like.

He wonders if he could do it for you. 

🍎 

“Crowley, you want a bit of tangerine?”

Crowley looks up from where he’s been idly scrolling through his phone - tiktok! Credit where it’s due, hell did a great job on that one - right into your smiling face. He’s not much of an eater (that’s more Aziraphale’s speed) but your eagerness enraptures him. 

“Oh, go on then.”

It’s so human, to share a little bit of your food with someone. It shows you care about them; want them nourished. Crowley’s gaze falls to where your fingers begin to work the orange skin. 

There’s something entrancing about the way you work it. Something almost illicit. The juice dripping from you as your thumb accidentally slides its way through a segment. You curse quietly and work on the other half, your fingertips gliding across the folds of fruit. 

There’s something that trips from being suggestive into lewd. 

He’s glad when you finally manage to pass him a piece, because his mouth has gone utterly dry. 

🍊 

They find you in the shared kitchen, sucking the flesh from a mango. Your eyes dart up from the sticky mess you’ve made on your hands and face. 

“Sorry,” you mutter through your bite, “I promise I’ll clean up in a moment, just—”

You don’t get to finish because they descend upon you. 

Aziraphale licks it from your lips, moaning in the back of his throat at the combined taste of your sweetness. Crowley grabs your hand and takes your whole thumb into his mouth, tongue dancing around the soft pad. 

Their mouths don’t leave you for the next couple of hours. 

[hikarry]

I imagine Crowley, in his long existence, has never ever even attempted to cook or bake something. After all, eating has always been an excuse to take Aziraphale out and hang out. And it's not even like he eats a lot. He clearly prefers drinking.

And yet, when they move to the South Downs, it's a bit different, innit? The South Downs is no London where in every corner there's a restaurant or a bakery and there's always a new spot to discover. If they want to eat out they have to drive for a while and it's not like they have a lot of options. All in all, it's just not very efficient. But Aziraphale likes food. And Crowley loves to watch him eat.

I have no doubt Crowley becomes the cook of the household, all for the love of the angel. And he also ends up liking it cause he likes to follow recipes and keeps his mind busy. Aziraphale's smile is just a bonus, really.

Alas, it takes a while for him to get good at it and the first time he tries can be described as one of the most frustrating ventures of his life.

At first he decides to wing it. Something simple, out of the stuff they have in the refrigerator and the pantry. How hard can it be? Humans have been doing it since de beginning of time! It turns out it can, indeed, be quite difficult. He burns everything, makes a mess of the kitchen. Somehow there's flour in the counter tops and he hasn't even touched the flour! Or was it sugar? Regardless, he didn't use sugar either!

He ends up caving in and pulling his phone, searching for EASY and BEGINNER FRIENDLY recipes. The angel doesn't need to know about it.

Welp, even following the recipe he ends up with his sleeves soaked with water, an egg on the floor, somehow the flour is back even tho he miracled it away 10 minutes ago and a burned hand, that he heals not before screaming bloody murder. Luckily Aziraphale wasn't at home.

Eventually, in between all his failed attempts, he starts running out of supplies and starts miracling them as he needs them.

After 3 hours, and 10 minutes before Aziraphale is due to arrive home, he is finally successful and extremely exhausted because of all the miracles.

When Aziraphale arrives, Crowley presents him with a somewhat fancy grilled cheese sandwich (yes. He started with proper meals and ended up in sandwiches).

"Oh dear, you made this?"

"Yup."

"I didn't know you could cook!"

"It's a sandwich, angel. Can't really be considered cooking."

They walk to the living room, when Crowley remembers you can see the kitchen from said living room, and it still looks like a war zone.

"It looks scrumptious, nonetheless!"

"Yeah, thanks." He snaps his fingers behind his back to tidy up the kitchen and close the window he had opened because of the smoke and the smell of burned food before they actually arrive in the living room. "Do you want some tea with that?"

"That would be lovely."

Okay, tea he could do in front of Aziraphale. Tea is easy. Just some warm water and leaves. He has done it a million times before for the angel. He can't fuck it up, right? After the most humiliating 3 hours of his life, he isn't so sure.

[aziraphales-library]

hello! i was wondering if you had any good touch starved crowley fics? thanks!!

Hi! We have a #touch starved tag, so check that out! Here are some touch-starved crowley fics to add to the collection...

Contact by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

A run-in with blessed herbs leaves Crowley with contact burns and blisters. But although the burns hurt, he discovers something while Aziraphale helps him bathe. He really, really likes being touched.

all the things I longed to do by ShrikeAPose (T)

Crowley gives in to trying Aziraphale's baking and reminisces on all the indulgences he's denied himself over the years. -- Six thousand odd years on Earth, and he’d denied himself uncountable things, uncountable times. He’d let Aziraphale partake, let it become not just a habit but a hallmark of their interactions over the years: the angel indulged, Crowley braced himself for an apocalypse that almost came twice, and a pit in his chest grew heavier and deeper and a little more unbearable with every denial, no matter how hard he tried to numb himself to the feeling. And not just food. He’d denied himself comforts and objects and stability…he’d denied himself love. Aziraphale. Dearest, most precious Aziraphale. Now…oh, he wanted.

Ready Now by KNACC (T)

"Aziraphale has told Crowley he loves him, many times by now and showed him that he loves him many more times as well. But there are still years and years of rules and habits learned through their long association that are complete rubbish now, harmful even. It's going to take awhile to sort them all out." aka Crowley and Aziraphale are both messes but they love each other so they're going to work it out.

I Bet on Losing Dogs by TawnyEvergreen (T)

Crowley had found the dog at a shelter. How he’d ended up at a shelter in the first place was a different story altogether, and not one he was inclined to share with Aziraphale. It involved a great deal of lonely bar-hopping, a touch of clandestine advice from a bartender who happened to train service animals as a day job... (I work in a kennel and met a sweet dog named Bentley. I have not recovered since, so I gave Crowley an emotional support dog)

Felled by a Soft Touch by IneffableDoll (T)

Aziraphale worked up the courage to ask Crowley out to dinner in Rome, and they’ve been together ever since. It’s a shame Crowley didn’t realize that tidbit. OR Five times, Crowley didn’t realize they were together with Aziraphale, and one time, they finally see the obvious. OR Crowley being touch-starved and Felled by soft angel touches.

Points of Contact by cyankelpie (G)

Five times Crowley and Aziraphale found an excuse for physical contact, and one time they didn’t have to.

- Mod D

[actual-changeling]

I think we all should appreciate the fact that it was Crowley who walked away first and not Aziraphale.

Can you imagine? Aziraphale turns around, ready to go, ready to leave, and Crowley knows that this is it—if he steps through that doorway he is GONE.

"Aziraphale," softly, at first, almost inaudible, but he knows he heard it, sees the twitch in his fingers.

"Aziraphale," louder now, and Crowley balls his hands into fists and takes a few steps towards him, almost shaking with bitter, twisted relief when he stops. He does not turn to face him, simply stands on top of the circle rug with tremors running through his shoulders, down his back.

"Aziraphale."

It's a warning, a plea, a 'don't you dare run away from me'. It's 'don't leave me, please'.

"What do you want me to do?" Aziraphale whispers, his voice wet with uncried tears, and he hates all of this, hates the Metatron for showing up, hates Gabriel for getting what THEY should have had, hates Nina and Maggie, hates humanity, hates every single being in heaven and hell.

Six thousand years and this is their reward? This is what they get?

"Say no," he gives back, biting his tongue until he tastes blood, and inches closer. "Tell him you've changed your mind. Stay.

"I can't. I need to try to-"

"They don't care about you, they never fucking have," and oh, he is yelling now, and it is the fury dripping from his words that finally makes Aziraphale face him. "I care about you, I have been right here for six thousand bloody years, angel. By your side, waiting for you to be ready."

"Come with me!" Anger glints in his eyes, steel-blue and burning, almost drowning out the heartbroken desperation.

"If you really think there is anything in this universe that would get me to return to heaven then—then you don't know me. You never have."

Electricity sparks on his skin, red, powerful, urging him to find release, and Crowley feels tears stinging in his eyes, blinking until they roll down his cheeks. It doesn't matter now, does it? He takes a deep breath, tries to channel the good memories, the hope, the last few years of not-really-pretending.

"Then there's nothing more to say," Aziraphale spits, and the worst part is that they both knew it was going to end this way sooner or later.

The distance between them disappears as he catches up with him, leaning in, pressing in, until they are breathing the same air, crying the same tears.

"Aziraphale, if you leave this bookshop I-," his voice breaks, unwilling to give shape to the thought begging to be spoken, "I will not be here when you come back. If you come back. I'm done waiting."

Time freezes, and his eyes widen while his body shakes with the bitter mess of emotions churning in his gut.

"You don't mean that." He doesn't. Someone knows, he does not mean a single word of it, but right now he needs to mean it, needs to believe it, or he will jump head-first into the nearest church and drown himself in holy water.

"Try me," Crowley whispers, and suddenly hands are grabbing his shirt, pulling him in, making the world disappear. Familiar lips silence him, and he kisses back because he needs this to matter or he will regret it for the rest of his sorry existence. Don't leave, he prays into the kiss, wrapping his arms around him, don'tleavedon'tleavedon'tleave.

Don't leave me here alone.

[buryustogether]

the end of forever (god’s day)

aziraphale x reader x crowley

summary: the end of forever comes on god’s day.

word count: 2.6k

warnings/tags: angst, mentions of blood

author’s note: dedicated to @avocado-writing , with whom i did a fic trade and this was my piece!! this fic is part of their good omens original timeline, and i highly recommend reading it!!! <333

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening.

Granted, it was not the Saturday evening that dominates the beginning to every weekend, fitted with gentle rainfall pattering against the windows, and a book propped in your lap, and the comfortable ambiance of your lovers on either side as you let yourself be lulled into peace. Instead it was a dark, thrashing kind of Saturday, filled with panicked whispers over dances, and demons busting down the bookshop windows in hails of twinkling glass. It was blinding, seared into the forefront of your mind with traces of a halo detached from its angel and a pair of souls running away, bound for opposite sides of the universe and forever vanished into one corner together.

And, of course, it was snapped up in the jaws of the Metatron. He had taken Aziraphale for a stroll around the block once or twice, leaving you and Crowley to stare down the mess of what had become the bookshop and wonder if perhaps this had all been a dream.

“Fancy breakfast at the Ritz, love?” Crowley had said as the pair of you began to pluck cracked books from the floor and stack them to be restored and reshelved. With a wave of his slender fingers, he had sent the shards of glass cascading through the air like a silent breeze back to where they belonged in the window frames. “Reckon we deserve it, after a night like that.”

“Sure you’ll be able to handle the drive?” you had said and handed him the empty fire extinguisher, which had fallen down the winding iron staircase. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, Crowley. Spending all that time in Heaven? Must have been awfully straining on you.”

Though he would never admit it, Crowley rather enjoyed it when you fussed over him. He relished in the worry threading your voice together, craved the inevitable babying that accompanied your measures of protection. His chest had puffed slightly, and if you could have seen them, you were sure his wings had ruffled a bit.

“I’ll be alright,” he’d assured, then dropped into the chair he had long ago claimed as his beside Aziraphale’s desk. “Wouldn’t say no to a nap when we come back, though. Could sleep for a few decades, I think. Skip all the garish drama that’s sure to follow something like this. Care to join, nightingale?”

You had smiled at him, eyes full of exhaustion and yet at the same time, the restlessness that came with the knowledge part of your trio was still missing from the picture. “Afraid I can only keep you company a few hours,” you mused. “Immortal as I am, I don’t think I can lie still long enough until you decide to wake up.” Despite your teasing, you reached out your hand to caress his jaw, and he leaned into your warm touch. He knew it like he knew his own breath in his throat at this point, but he still nuzzled into your palm like an animal seeking warmth. Funny enough creature as he was, he was still, deep down, a demon searching your soul for any glimpse of love you might spare him. “I’m glad you’re okay, Crowley,” you said, letting your voice lower in volume so he understood you had dropped your jokes and cracks. “I don’t think I could bear losing you. Either of you.”

He had leaned up to kiss you then, lips and tongue seeking yours like, in spite of your words, one side or the other might tear you away from him. He tasted like cinnamon - an odd enough musk for him, but he had just returned from Heaven, after all. You were sure he hated it. But you had drank it in like it was the last thing you’d taste before you fell.

You found yourself some time later amongst the back shelves of the shop, knees and the heels of your hands aching as you painstakingly wiped away and polished the spots on the floor upon which unholy blood had been spilt and spattered. Aziraphale would not care to have those on his tile, thank you. A voice in the back of your head told you that one of your boys could simply miracle the mess away, but this seemed a bit more intimate - cleaning up the mess for your lover. This was your shop, too, in a way. And you wanted to rid it of any trace of what had happened here last night.

You only realized it was Sunday morning - God’s day - when you heard the bell above the front door jingle with its familiar chime, and the low rumble of your lover’s voices filled the empty space between the air. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, not over the sound of your brush against the floor and the dull ache in your lower back. After a long few minutes, you sat back and inspected your work.

Like the demon invasion of Fell and Co. had never even happened.

You were just about to call out to your boys when you heard a sharp hiss to Crowley’s voice that caused your heart to skip a beat. You twisted your head around to face the front of the store. Crowley only ever hissed when he let his disguise slip and his tongue split. And he only ever let his tongue split when he was so distraught not even a raging thunderstorm could comfort him.

Wiping your hands on your legs, you cautiously made your way through the organized maze of shelves toward the front entrance of the bookshop. There stood your lovers, the angel and the demon, staring one another down like they had never met, like their love had vaporized, like they had never met in that garden at the beginning.

“What’s happened?” you said and made your presence known as you stepped down into the threshold. “What’s wrong?”

Aziraphale turned to face you, obviously making an effort to brighten his features, but it was Crowley who faced away. Dropped his weight onto his arm against the desk. Reached up to tug off his shades, toss them aside hard enough that the lens cracked in its frame. The air crackled with a kind of tension that reared its head so rarely it was almost foreign to you. Or, perhaps, was that divine energy rippling the air, stirred and upset by the creatures standing before you?

“Darling,” said Aziraphale, then reached out to take your hands and placed kisses upon your knuckles. His lips were plump and soft, and when they made contact with the skin of your hand, a tiny sense of ease washed over your veins. “You needn’t worry about this. Just a… little dispute.”

“Oh, don’t lie to her like a child,” seethed Crowley from across the room, and whatever ease had settled your nerves disappeared in the blink of an eye. You felt your blood turn to ice beneath your skin when you heard a wobble, a shake, in his voice. Was your demon… holding back tears? He bared his teeth, which he’d allowed to sharpen like blades, and jutted out an accusatory finger toward his husband. “Tell them, or I bloody will,” he snapped, then lifted a deadly brow. “And you won’t like the way I phrase things, angel.”

Alarm blared like a siren in your head, flashed like lights that burned your eyes even through your lids. You knew at once this surely had something to do with last night, with the Metatron, and you were unable to stop yourself from snapping around to stare at Aziraphale expectantly. Where you searched for comfort and reassurance, you found only irritation and exasperation.

“Aziraphale,” you said, gripping his hands tighter as you gently shook your head with confusion. You only barely managed to keep your voice from shaking; something was very, very wrong. This was not like the time two hundred years ago when they had stopped talking to one another for a decade. This was far more serious, far more dangerous. “Aziraphale, what’s happening?”

Your angel stared into your eyes - or, perhaps, he was staring at his own reflection in your irises - and he let out a breath you had not heard him take in. “The Metatron,” he began slowly, softly, like you were a spooked animal who would run if he talked too loud, “has given me a generous, generous offer.”

From across the room, Crowley scoffed over his shoulder and gave another hiss from between his teeth.

“Based on a few of the…” Aziraphale seemed to struggle with the words. “Good deeds that have been performed the last six thousand years, Heaven has agreed to allow me back into its order - as the Supreme Archangel, now that Gab… Jim has vacated his position.” Despite the slow, sinking feeling growing like a black hole in your gut as he went on, the beginnings of an excited smile played upon the corners of his lips. “And they’ve even offered to redeem Crowley - as an angel again!”

The bookshop was a deadly kind of quiet, the kind that filled empty spaces with fear, and dread, and horror until there was nothing left but a rotting mess. Your mouth hung agape as you tried to process your angel’s words, tried to swallow down what he’s just said. Heaven wanted him back - would take Crowley back. That would be it. Their time on Earth would come to a close, a thunderous applause, a devastating end.

Yet there was a single question that hung tight in the air, one that waited like a dagger above each of your heads, waiting to see who would speak of it first.

Could you handle the sting when it planted itself in your back? “Aziraphale,” you heard yourself whisper as your brows knitted together and tears puddled in the corners of your eyes, “what about me?”

Though you could not see it, Crowley shut his eyes and pursed his lips, still attempting to stop the tears from falling down the gaunt planes of his cheeks. He knew the answer already, knew his angel far too well to pretend it could be anything different. He wanted to protect you from it, clasp his hands over your ears and snarl and snap at the world until he’d frightened everything that could hurt you far, far away. But you had to hear this.

Aziraphale swallows thick, holding your hands a bit tighter, like you might bolt from his grasp any moment. Even when you shift, he grips you in an iron grasp. “Well,” he drawls slowly, hesitation creeping into the corners of his voice, “of course, Heaven can’t grant holy status to… ah… humans. Immortal or not, I’m afraid, my love. But do you know angels hold the ability to possess human souls within themselves? Keep them safe and sound - isn’t that lovely? Why, I’m not the first angel in history to find a human they can’t let go of.” His hold tightens again, turning your skin pale where he grips you. “I - we could bring you with us. Your soul, darling.”

Every ounce of curiosity, of worry and fear, has morphed into a single sickening, dripping, venomous sensation that floods your systems, encases your body like a cocoon swallowing you whole; horror.

“You want to take my soul to Heaven,” you said quietly, so terribly softly that it was barely above a whisper. “Like a pet.” With this, you yanked your hands from Aziraphale’s and forced yourself to take three steps back. It stung like knives between your ribs to do so, to bear the expression painting itself across your husband’s face, but there was no other choice. “Aziraphale, you would trade us - trade this - to go back to them? After what they’ve done to you?” You took another step back, and you felt yourself bump into the chest of your demon. “After what they did to Crowley?”

You had always heard betrayal hurt worse from a lover than anyone else. Was this what betrayal felt like? Like stones in your pocket with a river pulling you under? Like venom slowly sucking your life from your very veins.

“No, of course not,” your angel tried, raising his hands. He opened his mouth to go on, then threw up a palm and sniffed out an exasperated huff. “If you both would just try and understand…”

“Oh, we understand plenty.” There came no term of endearment at the end of Crowley’s statement, no playful lilt or head nod. Only the cold, piercing gaze of those yellow eyes, and the slow wrapping of his hands around your arms, pulling you closer against him.

The movement caught Aziraphale’s eye, and hellfire flashed within them. “Oh, I should have known it would go this way,” he chided, pacing forward. “Here I thought you could, for once, Crowley, suppress your demonic ways of swaying her to your side. For once! Are you satisfied, you old serpent? Are you content with what’s happening?”

“How dare you!” The shout came from deep within your chest, an explosive rage nothing short of a scream that leaves the angel frozen where he stands. Those ocean eyes flicker to yours as you at last allow yourself to cry, to feel the sobs wrack your body like earthquakes and feel the tears gathering at the point of your chin. “How dare you let them come between us, Aziraphale! Between us!” You choked a bit and your angel visibly fought a battle within himself, wanting to pull away and surge forward all at once. “After everything… after everything we’ve been through, everything we’ve built, and you want to leave it to play God.”

“Of course I’m not leaving us,” your angel murmured, the crows feet against his eyes making themselves known as he knits his brows. Tears brim the edges of his vision. “I - I would be taking us with me. To somewhere safe… for all of us.”

“No,” you exhaled shakily, feeling Crowley’s fingers tighten around your upper arms. You shook your head at Aziraphale, your ears ringing and heart shattered. “Not safe for us. Better for you.” You peered into his eyes, into those watery blue eyes you could have drowned in, and saw your reflection staring back as he searched for something he could not find. “You miss Heaven, Aziraphale. You always have - and we know that. We all do.” There came a terrible, horrible, dreadful pause. “But we can’t go with you. We won’t.”

Your angel seemed at a loss for words. He simply stood there, staring you and his husband down. He gaped. Tried to form words. Took a step back.

Above you, his fingers now digging so tightly, so fiercely, so protectively, into your skin that his nails left marks, Crowley sneered and hissed in a voice filled with the desolation of a fallen angel, “You idiot.” You turned your face and tucked it into his shirt. “We could have been… us.”

Aziraphale said nothing for a very, very long time. Then he murmured, “I forgive you both.”

The bell over the door jingled, and he was gone, without leaving so much as a feather behind.

You sobbed loudly, awfully, horribly into Crowley’s chest, and you felt his own unholy, burning tears fall against your hairline as he stroked your tresses and kept you standing.

The end of forever started on a Saturday evening, and ended on a Sunday morning.

It was God’s day, after all.

[badaziraphaletakes]

I have no funny meme or gif for this one.

The "Aziraphale needs to see the circumstances around Crowley's fall in order to see what heaven really is and that's going to be what causes him to break away" take really, really bothers me. For a multiple reasons.

The first is because Aziraphale is already miserable and TERRIFIED of heaven. I am sick and tired of the expectation that he deserves to have some kind of (further) shattering emotional crisis about them. They've made him miserable for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years. They've kept him separate from the love of his live. He deserves for them to leave him alone. Not to be further traumatized by finding out more upsetting things. The reason he hasn't "broken away" from them isn't because he "needs to figure out that they're evil" or something like that. It's because they are too powerful and he knows how terrifying and awful they are and that they will do very, very awful things to him if he tries to rebel. The problem isn't Aziraphale's mindset. It's them. It's them. It's them. Period.

Our angel has been through f*cking ENOUGH. He does not deserve to suffer more. He does not need to be tormented more in order to somehow magically be transformed a good person. (Enough, please, with the takes that trauma builds character. That's bullsh*t.)

Please, PLEASE don't forget that all the things he says about heaven being good are said WHERE HEAVEN CAN HEAR HIM. They are effectively omnipresent.

Aziraphale doesn't need to "break away" - Heaven needs to leave him alone. Period. They're the wrongdoers in this situation, not him.

The second reason I hate, hate, hate this take is because we don't know whether Crowley wants Aziraphale to know about his fall. YOU DON'T ALWAYS WANT THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR TRAUMAS. And that does NOT indicate a lack of trust or a flaw in the relationship. It is FINE not to ever want to tell people you love about certain sh*tty things that happen to you. This is very normal and okay.

I can think of multiple separate instances of this in my own family.

My dad never told me or my mom about the things he experienced during war. Not in detail. What would be the point? It wouldn't make him feel better, and we wouldn't really understand, because we haven't experienced that. It would just upset everyone.

I never told my family I was sexually assaulted. Most survivors don't tell many people about the experience, including people close to them. Why the hell would I????? It would just make them miserable and it wouldn't make me feel better. Sharing things like that doesn't always help. I only talk about it with people who've been through the same thing.

If Crowley hasn't talked to Aziraphale about his fall and doesn't want him to know how bad it was, I say good for them both. Leave it there. I would feel very violated if Aziraphale found out inadvertently (or worse, went snooping - although I don't think he would do that, but I digress) about something Crowley didn't want him to know about, and the show presented it as something that "needed to happen". That's messed-up. We shouldn't go prying into people's traumas like that. (Besides, Aziraphale is already very aware of how lonely and depressed Crowley is. He knows Crowley didn't want to fall. He knows he's upset about it.) If Crowley is keeping it from Aziraphale, that is his prerogative. It is a completely valid choice that needs to be respected. It doesn't necessarily mean he made that choice out of some misguided notion of "protecting" Aziraphale. It could very well just mean he doesn't see the point in telling him something that would probably just make them both miserable.

I am not here for the trauma of Crowley's fall being weaponized as some kind of teaching tool to make Aziraphale "learn his lesson". (Especially if Crowley's not the one to tell him.) That's sick. It's cruel for them both. It would in all likelihood not be good for their relationship.

Ehh I feel like there's more I could say on this but I'm getting too emotional to be coherent so I'm just going to leave it there.

Thanks for reading, friends.

[ineffablelunatics]

The Elevator Parallels of Good Omens

The coloring of each scene matched their respective characters. Crowley and Muriel on the green side and the Metatron with Aziraphale on the silver side.

Crowley’s Perspective: He is on the right side of the elevator. He is looking at Muriel who is on the left. They are also in a shadow and Crowley is in the light. Crowley is wearing black. He is being “arrested.” He is going willingly to Heaven. He is going to look for information and presumably bring angels as back up. He has manipulated Muriel into taking him to Heaven so that he can save Aziraphale and the bookshop. This also happens in the evening and the middle of the night. Time seems to move differently on Earth versus Heaven. It’s early morning by the time that Crowley comes back to Earth even though it looks like night when he leaves. This also could be due to the demons messing with the atmosphere.

The Metatron’s Perspective: He is on the left side of the elevator, partially in shadow. He is looking at Aziraphale who is only partially covered in shadow and on his right. He is wearing all black. He is the one bringing Aziraphale to Heaven. It is early morning.

The Metatron and Crowley’s similarities: Besides the where they are standing and their clothing, both of them are high-ranking individuals(at least one of them, Crowley seems like he might be high ranking but that hasn’t been confirmed in the show. He might just know stuff because he’s nosey.:-) who are entering Heaven with a “naive” angel. They both have more knowledge than the angels in front of them. Crowley manipulates Muriel to get into Heaven. The Metatron seems to be manipulating Aziraphale as well, but here’s where they start to differ.

Muriel does not really understand what is happening. They are shown to be easily manipulated by a higher power, but they also think that they could be doing the right thing. They like Aziraphale and they don’t understand exactly how he is a “traitor.” Most of this shows how they are learning and changing from being on Earth with humanity and specifically Crowley and Aziraphale. They’re so excited when someone “acknowledges” that they’re doing a good job. A big part of this is because they have been by themself for centuries or longer. They didn’t have a lot of chances for social interaction so they’re not great at it.

The Metatron manipulates Aziraphale into taking the offer that he presents. This assumes that Aziraphale does not understand the choices at hand, but he does. He has been on Earth around humans who are known for being manipulative for 6000 years. His job has been to steer those particular humans into being better for a very long time. Aziraphale's best friend is the demon who is literally known for teaching humanity how to manipulate. I think that he would know when he is being manipulated and very obviously threatened. Especially after the 1940s incident.

I theorize that the shadows are showing how much they know about the situation they are in/going into. Crowley is covered in light, because he knows that he is walking into a very dangerous place to obtain information that itself is dangerous. It also shows that he is really curious. He wants to bring wriggling things into the light with him. Muriel is in pure shadow, because they do not know what is going on, and they’re scared which makes it harder to be curious. The Metatron is in partial light. He knows everything about Heaven and his plan, but he is underestimating Aziraphale specifically in this moment. He is curious what Aziraphale will do, but he’s being cautious. Aziraphale is in both shadow and light with leaves making it “holes” like holes in his knowledge. He does not have all of the Metatron’s knowledge of the situation nor do we. However, Aziraphale does know what it is like working for Heaven and how the angels can be. He had just learned about the Book of Life(and the owner) then the Metatron takes him away and gives him a thinly veiled threat. Aziraphale chooses to go believing that he can change things as Supreme Archangel(trying to convince Crowley because he thinks it would be safer if they’re together and he loves him). After, he learns about the Second Coming. Now, he’s got to stop another Armaggedon and maybe a revolution would help