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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years

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The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 9

Words: 2,382

Madelyn teetered on the edge of another dream, her mind restless as she tried to subconsciously stop it. Darkness was stirring, and Dean was there, although he felt so far away.

Helplessness was giving away to panic, but just as it threatened to overwhelm her, to wake her again, something soothed her mind.

She still remembered this when she stirred next, but she quickly pushed it to the back of her mind as Crowley's familiar scent washed over her, and she curled up even tighter into his chest than she already was.

Crowley chuckled softly, his breath tickling her hair. Good morning love.”

Madelyn groaned. "Don't say that. Morning means getting up.”

"It doesn't have to mean right now," He said. "Although I'm sure our little girl would love to see us."

She sighed softly. "How long have I been asleep?”

"You needed it Madelyn."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"Feathers has it in hand."

"Crowley..."

"Just rest for a little while," Crowley said gently, placing kisses into her hair. "Take a moment to breathe."

Madelyn lets out a deep breath before nuzzling under his jaw. "What would I do without you?"

Crowley smirked and brushed his nose against hers. “Haven't the foggiest."

Madelyn brushed her fingers over his cheek as his lips claimed hers. A pleased hum left her at the slow, gentle kiss, and she practically melted into his embrace as he pulled her flush against him.

For a long moment, the two of them laid like that, in no hurry to do any more than just kiss and hold each other. It was a moment of peace they both wished they could have more often.

“I don't know who needed that more," Madelyn said softly when they finally pulled apart. "Me or you."

Crowley chuckled quietly, his fingers brushing lightly under her shirt, up and down her back. "For once, I think I'll admit that it was me. I can’t imagine why."

Madelyn smiled and kissed him again, savouring the moment.

A small, low growl rumbled through his chest as she nipped lightly at his lips. “Don’t tempt me too much love. It has been far too long since I made love to you, and we are very much alone in here.”

She smirked against his lips. “While the idea is very tempting, the last thing we need right now is for my heat to come early.”

His hand wandered further up her spine, making a small shiver go through her. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Madelyn chuckled softly, her fingers trailing across his cheeks and down his neck. “No, it wouldn’t, but I really doubt Bobby would appreciate it, not to mention the current tension with Sam and Dean. There’s still…a lot to talk about Crowley.”

“We will, in time.” Crowley kissed her softly. “I think it’s going to be far more important to get our little pumpkin safe first. I suppose we should just be glad that Bobby has some warding in place, otherwise I think I would’ve taken you both away very quickly. Talking over with them, we all agree that the bunker is going to be the best current option.”

Her nose screwed up slightly. “Yeah, I thought that that might be the case. I don’t like it, I don’t want her exposed to all that, but it’s our best option.” Crowley watches as she thinks for a moment. “If Cas is happy to keep looking after Casey for a while, you and I can go and set up the warding properly?”

Crowley chuckles softly. “You never stop, do you? I told you when you woke up you needed to rest Madelyn. I’m not about to let you out and about doing things when I know you need it.”

“There is plenty of time for resting later,” Madelyn said, and tried unsuccessfully to free herself from Crowley’s hold. “For now, we have things to do to-Crowley, please let me up.”

“No.”

She shoots him a look. “Crowley, we aren’t going to get very far if you keep me in bed all day.”

Crowley grins. “I know, that’s the idea. You’re going to lie here with me until I say otherwise.”

Madelyn huffed. “Really? Is that how we’re going to play this?”

His grin widens and he kissed the tip of her nose. “That’s exactly how we are going to play this love, now-”

He’s cut off as she kisses him, deeply, distracting him completely from whatever he was about to say. Using the kiss though, Madelyn pushed him over onto his back, straddling his waist, before pulling away, smirking as she looked down at him.

“I thought you didn’t want to be tempted?”

Crowley snorted, his hands resting on her thighs. “I’m a demon darling, temptation is what I do, and you know as well I do that I certainly never complain when you are on top of me.”

Madelyn’s smirk widened though, her hands resting either side of his head. “That I do know, but I also know that it gives me certain leverage to do as I please.”

His smile faltered for a moment before he looked at her, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t you dare. If that got out-”

“Then we’re going to get up,” She said simply. “And get moving. Right?”

Crowley was clearly conflicted and he gave her his best unimpressed look. “This is hardly fair Madelyn.”

She kissed the tip of his nose. “Well, I learnt that from the best, didn’t I? Do we have a deal Crowley? Or should I reveal your secret to my brothers?”

He thought quickly over it, but knew that he didn’t have much of a chance, so he sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “Only if you-”

Madelyn kissed him before he could finish, and it brought back the smile to his lips until she pulled away, grinning at him as she got off and stretched.

“I’m glad you’re moving a lot better,” Crowley said as he followed after her, grabbing his tie from where it had been thrown over a chair with his jacket. “That certainly makes me feel better.”

“Makes me feel better too,” Madelyn grabbed his jacket just as he reached for it, slipping it on herself as she shoots him a grin, heading for the door. “As does this. Hope you don’t want it today love.”

Crowley chuckled after her, shaking his head. They both knew that that sight wasn’t going to go down well.

Dean gritted his teeth as soon as he saw Madelyn in Crowley’s jacket, but he bit his tongue from saying anything that he’d probably regret. “Morning.”

“Morning,” Madelyn said cheerfully, ignoring his bad mood. “How’s everything going?”

“Peachy,” He growled, shooting Crowley a look as he stepped in, still fixing his tie. “Did you have to intentionally avoid the rest of the discussion? The way you two have been talking, there’s still a lot more to go.”

“Madelyn needed to rest,” Crowley said with a shrug. “And I needed to be there for that. I assure you our tale is not as important as you think it is.”

Dean growled, but let it drop as Casey ran into the room, being chased by a slightly flushed looking Sam.

“Mummy!” Casey ran almost straight to her, beaming as Madelyn picked her up and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“Much better thank you,” Madelyn said, and glanced at Sam, who was slightly out of breath. “Have you been giving Uncle Sam the run around?”

Casey giggled. “I’m the fastest still!”

“Well, you better keep running then, because he’s going to keep coming to get you!” Madelyn put Casey down, but instead of running straight away, Casey held up a hand to Sam.

“Wait!” She ran over to Crowley, who chuckled and picked her up, Casey giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Morning Daddy.”

“Morning pumpkin, you hurry along and keep playing, okay?”

Casey grinned and squirmed free from his grasp, taking off at full speed, Sam barely having a moment to shoot them both a look before he was after her again, Castiel soon following in behind them, smiling.

“I warned Sam, she can do that for hours.” Castiel shook his head. “It takes a lot to distract her from it too.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” Madelyn chuckled, heading to the kitchen. “Where’s Bobby?”

“Getting some food,” Dean said. “Seeing as we’ve now got to take care of-”

“You may not want to finish that sentence Squirrel,” Crowley said lightly. “No matter how much you might want to. I’m sure, given the circumstances that you can at least try to act civilly.”

Dean glared at Crowley. “Civilly? Since when you give a damned about civility with us?”

“I’m always civil,” Crowley said, even as Madelyn rolled her eyes, out of Dean’s sight. “No matter how much you and your brother think otherwise. We don’t like this situation any more than you do, so there really is no need to voice your distaste.”

“We’re not cut out for babysitting,” Dean growled, shifting uncomfortably in his chair under Crowley’s gaze. “Especially with everything that’s been going on. We can’t just drop everything if she needs something.”

“You act as if Madelyn and I are just going to leave you with Casey,” Crowley said, growing more unimpressed by the moment. “Not only would I rather do anything else, but you’re putting far too much importance on yourself in this situation.”

Dean glared at him, but was interrupted as Madelyn called for Crowley from the kitchen, Crowley ignoring Dean and going to her.

Madelyn gave him a half smile, shaking her head as he entered. “That’s my job Crowley.”

He smirked and joined her at the stove, where she was cooking up some breakfast. “He asks for it.”

“That I know,” Madelyn said, slapping his hand away as he went to try it. “But we don’t to go into this at each other’s throats. Casey doesn’t deserve that.”

An excited squeal was followed by giggles made them both look at the doorway, Castiel having scooped Casey up, stopping her running from Sam, who was huffing even heavier behind her, actually leaning down on his knees. Castiel tickled her sides, making her laugh louder, unsuccessfully trying to break out of his grip.

“S-stop!” She laughed loudly. “U-uncle Cas!”

Castiel chuckled and eased his tickling, letting her catch her breath. “I told you I’d get you if you didn’t stop.”

Casey giggled some more and kept squirming in his arms. “No fair Uncle Cas! You cheated! You used your powers!”

“I would never do such a thing,” Castiel laughed and put her down. “And if I’m not mistaken young lady, you were using your own powers to make sure you kept ahead of Uncle Sam.”

She smiled innocently at him, making Crowley and Madelyn chuckle, earning her attention. “What’s for breakfast Mummy?”

“Casey, you’ve already had breakfast.” Castiel said, ignoring Sam’s quiet grumbling behind him as he practically collapsed down onto the lounge, earning an eye roll from Dean.

“Everyone knows you can have second breakfast.” She said, climbing onto a chair and trying to see what Madelyn was cooking. “Especially if it’s Mummy’s food.”

Madelyn chuckled, even more so when Dean popped his head around the corner. “Second breakfast?”

“She’s a girl of your heart Dean,” Madelyn said, adding a pinch of salt to the dish, before hitting Crowley’s hand away again, making Casey giggle. “And don’t look at me, he’s been reading to her before bed time. I’m still fairly certain it’s the main thing she’s picked up.”

Crowley chuckled. “We haven’t finished the book yet, give her time.”

Madelyn smiled and shook her head, taking down some bowls from the cupboard. “Well, come on then, every one that’s having some come grab it before it gets cold.”

After everything that had happened, it was a surprisingly calm and peaceful moment between all of them, sitting down to breakfast together, and despite a comment from Dean about Crowley eating, it was the only time there was some sort of dig. Even Bobby returning didn’t upset it much, apart from a small grumble about not waiting for him before they ate, it still kept them all together as some strange little family.

For the first time in a long time, Madelyn actually wondered whether it would’ve worked between them all had she not done what she did. It was a quiet thought, one she quickly pushed away, especially when she caught Crowley’s eye. There was little point in dwelling on it now.

Bar some setbacks along the way, she was happy, and she would never ask for any more or less than that.

“You should head to the bunker soon,” Castiel said after a moment of silence had fallen. “That rumour is growing more insistent every time you moved, and that was only for a couple of hours outside of warding.”

Madelyn nodded, leaning back on her chair. “Yeah, are you all alright to watch Casey for a bit?”

“You know we are,” Castiel answered for the others, Dean the only one looking unimpressed. “You two just do what you need to do.”

Crowley smirked, but remained silent as Madelyn kicked him under the table. “It shouldn’t take too long, then Crowley can come back and get her.”

“It’s because it’s quicker Squirrel,” Crowley said before Dean can voice his question. “Plus, I really doubt you and Moose would like to put up with her in the backseat of that wonderful car of yours.”

Casey stared at Crowley for a long moment before looking at Sam and Dean with wide eyes, as if something had just clicked. “Uncle Squirrel and Uncle Moose?”

Madelyn laughed as both brothers suddenly looked less than impressed. “Oh, now you’ve done it Crowley. Sorry boys, looks like you’re going to be stuck with that now.”

Crowley chuckled, getting to his feet, tugging Madelyn with him. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Castiel only gets Uncle Feathers every now and then. You be good Casey, we’ll be back shortly. We can set up your new room together, okay?”

“Okay,” Casey smiled and waved after them, watching them disappear, before turning to Bobby. “Uncle Bobby, do you have a nickname?”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #Alpha x Omega #a/b/o

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deans-baby-momma · 4 years

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Rebel Without A Cause-Epilogue #2 (The End)

A/N: This is it guys. The final installment of Rebel Without A Cause. Thanks everyone for reading, reblogging and commenting. And if you haven’t already check out The Padackles Link and Falling To Temptation. Those are the only two I have ongoing at the moment, although I am slowly working on the sequel/prequel to Past Haunts called Wounded Hearts. It’ll be out later this year, probably toward the end of summer.

While eating dinner a few days later, Dean brings up the subject. "Mags, can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Maggie laughs causing Dean to roll his eyes. "Of course you can, babe."

"You ever, ahem….think about us having a baby?"

Maggie smiles as she looks at her husband. "Only every single day."

Dean smiles widely at her, the love he has for her obvious. "Quit taking your birth control. Let's make a kid."

Maggie smiles and nods in response. 'This is happening!' she thinks to herself. 'Dean wants to have a baby with me.' Her insides quiver with excitement and anticipation at the thought.

A few days later, right before a concert, Dean corners Maggie in their bathroom. "Tonight, after the show. I'm gonna pump you full. Make you all round with my kid," he whispers in her ear and then nibbles on her earlobe.

"Dean it's only been three days. I'm not going to get pregnant three days after I quit taking my pill."

Dean growls as he lays a trail of kisses down her neck and across her shoulder. "Then I'll just fuck you until you are. Every night if I have to. And in the mornings too."

Maggie whimpers and feels her knees go weak at the prospect. Her and Dean's sex life hadn't simmered at all since the wedding. They still had sex multiple times a week, after the shows, sometimes before too. Dean hadn't once let on that he was bored or needed more to be satisfied. But knowing now that they were trying for a baby made Maggie's libido intensify. She can’t wait until after tonight’s gig.

From the side of the stage, Maggie stands with Rayne and watches as the Winchester Sex Bombs take the stage and listen as the crowd goes wild. Maggie knows it will only be a matter of time until her husband’s band is touring the country and even possibly out of the country.

“We’re trying for a baby,” she tells Rayne, casually. She looks over at her best friend to gauge her reaction. Rayne turns to Maggie with her eyes wide and her mouth dropped open. “WHAT?!”

“Dean and I are trying for a baby,” Maggie repeats. “I stopped taking my birth control three days ago.”

Rayne pulls Maggie down to her and hugs her tightly before letting go and jumping up and down excitedly. “Best news ever! I’m gonna be an aunt.”

If anyone had told Maggie that Dean Winchester had a breeding kink and that it would be so hot, she would’ve suggested having a kid a long time ago. Dean grunts in her ear as he pushes his hard cock into her welcoming cunt with force. “Damn baby, I can’t wait to see you full of my baby. Knowing I fucked a kid into you. Goddamn, I love you.”

Maggie has already had four orgasms, one on his fingers, two on his tongue and one just from the filthy diatribe coming from his lips. She is closing in on a fifth one and he is still pounding into her with no end in sight.

“Dean!” she screams as that coil deep inside her breaks and her vision goes white. “Oh my god, Dean. I can’t take anymore,” she whines but Dean disregards her statement and lifts her leg to drape over his shoulder.

“Yes, you can. That tight pussy is going to take this whole cock and every single drop of cum I give it. You’re going to be so fucking full, you’ll be dripping for days.”

Maggie’s eyes roll back and Dean begins a punishing pace as his thrusts get harder. “Fuck, Mags. Your pussy is so good. Squeezing me tight. Come on baby, play with your clit for me.” Maggie reaches between them surprised at how soaked she is. Dean chuckles and says, “I love it when you squirt all over my dick.”

Rubbing small circles over her sensitive nub, Maggie can feel another orgasm making itself known and she marvels at the phenomenon. She has never had this many, ever. She wonders if she could combust with desire. “Oh god, Dean. You feel so good. Fuck me full, babe. Put a baby in me.”

Dean somehow finds the stamina to begin thrusting into her even deeper, harder, and faster. The headboard of the bed begins colliding with the wall with each plunge. Suddenly Dean stills, buried deep inside his wife and she can feel his release throbbing out and coating her walls and cervix. The feeling causes her to have a small orgasm that makes her head spin.

“Well if that didn’t do it, I don’t know what will,” Dean chuckles as he rolls off her and pulls her to his side. “I love you, Mags.”

“I love you, Dean.”

Five weeks later, Dean and Maggie learn that one of their many lovemaking sessions was a success when the plus sign shows up on the test stick. It just so happens to be the same day that Dean gets the call that the Winchester Sex Bombs are wanted on a 25-city, 10 state country-wide tour, as the headliners.

“Dean Henry Winchester, I swear to fucking God. I refuse to let you turn this down,” Maggie states when Dean voices that he is thinking about throwing the opportunity away. “I am not going to be the reason you don’t get to live out your lifelong dream. Your kid and I will be just fine. Go rock the country and come back to us. We’re proud of you, Daddy,” she says with a smile.

Dean returns the smile in earnest. Hearing Maggie call him Daddy makes him feel proud. He is going to be a father. But he also doesn’t want to miss a single moment of her pregnancy and being out on the road will make him do just that.

“Baby, why don’t you come with us? I mean for the first few months anyway,” Dean suggests. “We can be together and I can help you through whatever you need. Please? I don’t want to miss anything.”

“You’ll be regretting that when I’m bent over the toilet, puking up the dinner we just ate,” Maggie says. Dean denies it with a shake of his head and he pulls her to him and places his large palm over her non-existent bump.

It is on the road that Maggie hits many firsts. The first time she denied Dean sex because her boobs are sore; her first mood swing over some inconsequential little thing; her first bout with morning sickness that lasted all day and into the night, making her miss the concert. The heartburn alone was horrendous but then the aversion to her favorite foods caused the first argument of their married life.

“You just ate this last week,” Dean says as Maggie covers her nose and mouth and backs away from the plate of lasagna. “It’s your favorite.”

“I know,” Maggie says nasally. “But it smells weird.”

“It smells weird she says,” Dean mocks as he takes a bite of his food.

“What did you just say?” Maggie looks at him admonishingly.

“What? Everything smells weird to you now, Maggie. First it was the chicken, then it was the cake. Now it’s the lasagna. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m pregnant, you asshole!” Maggie screams as she retreats to the bedroom of the suite, slamming and locking the door. Dean looks after her and realizes where he fucked up.

Both Maggie and Dean are relieved when the second trimester arrives. Maggie’s sexual appetite is back with a vengeance, she no longer feels sick all the time and her favorite foods are her favorite again. Her only complaint, and Dean’s pleasure, is the weight gain. Maggie hates seeing the numbers on the scale going up every time she goes to the doctor. She had spent so long working to get the extra pounds off that it saddened her to see higher numbers. Dean, though, is pleased with the way Maggie’s body is filling out and is not ashamed to tell her.

“Look at how that ass pops!” Dean says one night as Maggie is getting out of the shower. “And Mags, those boobs! Makes a man want to bury himself between them. He sure would die happy.” Maggie laughs and rolls her eyes at her husband’s words and hurries to wrap the towel around herself. Dean might like looking at her growing body but Maggie avoids it like the plague.

Maggie has also become a permanent figure at the side of the stage once again, and the baby seems to really enjoy listening to its father rock the house. “Man, Rayne. The little one is really at it tonight!” Maggie tells her best friend as she places a palm against her bump. Rayne slaps her hand away and replaces it with her own. “Hey, buddy. You like listening to daddy and Uncle Sam play?” Rayne bends down to talk to Maggie’s belly.

The third trimester, though, sets everyone back a step when Maggie gets diagnosed with preeclampsia. Her doctors order her to stay home and rest. So while the rest of the band go on tour, Maggie and Rayne settle into the Winchester house in Lebanon, Kansas. Rayne insists on staying with Maggie to alleviate Dean’s worry and concern. Everything is going good until one morning Maggie gets up and as soon as she stands her water breaks, gushing over the floor and soaking her nightgown. “Rayne! Call Dean...it’s time.”

The cab ride from the airport to the hospital seems to take forever as Dean anxiously sits in the backseat, next to his brother. When Rayne had called this morning to tell him Maggie was in labor, Dean jumped out of bed and hurriedly got dressed as he called their manager, Crowley and the rest of the band to tell them the good news. Thankfully, Crowley was in a giving mood and told him that he would postpone all shows until further notice while Dean flew home to welcome his kid. That was three hours ago and Dean is nervously afraid he has missed the birth.

“Dude, calm down,” Sam says as Dean begins bouncing his knee. “You aren’t going to miss it. If I know Rayne, she will be demanding Maggie keep her legs closed so that the baby doesn’t come out until you’re there.” Dean threw a glare at his younger brother but he knew Sam was right. Rayne would do whatever it took so that Dean wouldn’t miss out on the birth of his first child. He was going to have to have a chat with his brother after all this was over. Sam needed to marry that girl.

The taxi pulls up to the hospital entrance and Dean rushes out of the vehicle, leaving Sam to take care of the fare. He practically runs up to the receptionist’s desk. “Margaret Winchester. She’s having my baby. Where is she?”

By the time Sam joins him, Dean has the room number and a badge to allow him entry into the labor and delivery floor. They both get on the elevator to take them to their woman. With each floor the car passes, Dean’s nerves become more frazzled. ‘This is it!’ he thinks to himself. ‘I’m about to become a dad.” The thought brings a smile to his face. He can’t wait to see the little one.

After he relieves Rayne of her duties, Dean steps up to Maggie who is laying in the bed, her hair matted to her sweaty forehead. “Hey, baby. I’m here. I’m here,” he coos.

“About damn time. Get this kid out of me,” Maggie growls and grabs his hand, squeezing it as another contraction hits.

Hours later, Dean goes out to get Sam and Rayne and bring them to Maggie’s private room to meet the newest Winchester. When Sam and Rayne walk in, Maggie turns her head and smiles.

“Uncle Sam, Aunt Rayne. Meet Everly Rayne Winchester.”

@pink1031 @spnbaby-67 @winecatsandpizza @joseyrw @kricketc29 @tftumblin @markofdean79 @sandlee44 @michellethetvaddict @lyarr24 @travelingriversideblues-x

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luckyspike · 5 years

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The Past Informs the Future - a Good Omens fanfic

in which anathema has something to tell crowley, but she feels it’s very important to figure out why he hated the 14th century, first

mild angst with ample fluff

anathema and crowley are best friends forever i will fight you over this.

“What happened during the 14th century?” Crowley, who is lounging upside-down over the couch, joint smoking lazily between his fingers, blinks once or twice. Anathema puts her head to the side. “You always talk about hating it, but you never say why.”

“It was terrible,” he answers automatically. “You don’t want to know.”

“You discorporated, right?” She knows that much, had gleaned the information from cast-away remarks here and there throughout the years. “Three times?”

“Yeah.” He rolls over, languid, and looks levelly at her. “Book-girl, believe me, you don’t want to know.”

“What if I do?” she challenges. “I asked, didn’t I?” He is glaring, but she meets him eye-to-eye, and rests her chin on her hand. “Why would I ask if I didn’t want to know?”

“Why do you want to know?”

That question slows her roll for a second: why does she want to know? Certainly, she considers Crowley her friend, but he is an interesting character with his foibles and his inconsistencies and his iron-clad but completely incomprehensible values. He has his secrets, thousands of them, and she is more than happy to let him keep most of them. But something about the 14th century pulls at her, and she wants to know. Needs to know, because the future is looming, and it’s the only thing about Crowley that gives her pause when trying to incorporate him into it.

It’s become more pressing recently, too, she thinks. She has a good idea why. She is changing, and he is a demon, and she needs to know.

“Because you’re my friend and it bothers you,” she says finally, mostly honestly. “You talk about how awful it was, like you want us to ask, and then when someone does you balk at it and change the subject. Does Aziraphale know?”

“You - yes, he knows.” He looks puzzled. “Book-girl, I’m being very serious. It’s … weirdly kind of you to want to know I suppose, but you do not want to know.”

“Crowley.” She leans back into the chair, and draws her knees up to her chest. “I have something I have to tell you. I want to tell you, anyway. But I need to know … you have to tell me why you hate the 14th century.”

That gets his attention. Slowly, graceful, snake-like, he slides off of the couch, dumps the joint into the ash tray, and stalks across the living room toward her. He is examining her, like a doctor sizing up a patient, or like a snake sizing up a mouse; she can’t quite decide. “You alright, Book-girl?”

“I will be.” Her belly is roiling, and suddenly, pinned under those snake eyes, she regrets this. She still wants it, but she also wants to avoid it. She could avoid it, really, but then she wouldn’t be able to … She let that train of thought trundle off, and jumped onto the next one. “You don’t have to tell me specifics. I just need to know why. Basically. Beyond the discorporations.”

She never saw him sober up, but there isn’t a hint of anything but diamond-sharp clarity in him now. “Not enough for you? Looking for some juicy gossip?”

“For what?” She snorts. “My advice column? A blog? No. I just … Just tell me why you hated it so much.”

“It was hell.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well yeah, obviously, if you hate it that much -”

“No, literal Hell. With a capital ‘H’.” He swallows. “S’where I go when I discorporate.”

“Right.”

He stares at her for a minute, when it becomes clear that that answer had not satisfied her. His jaw works for a minute. And then, quietly, he says, “I have only ever told Aziraphale about this.”

“I promise it doesn’t leave this room. I will tell you why, but you have to tell me, you have to be honest, Crowley. Please.”

He sighs, and puts his head in his hands, suddenly cross-legged on the carpet in front of her seat. “You know what they do, when you discorporate too many times in a certain time frame? They punish you.”

She nods. She had rather thought it would be something like that. “I see.”

“The first time wasn’t anything - fill out form BD663 in triplicate, here’s your new body, don’t do it again. The second time in a century they make you wait, maybe ah ... “ He makes a vague sort of motion with a hand. “Maybe a light flaying. You know. ‘Be more careful next time’.” He swallows. “Didn’t think I was going to get to come back up here, after the third time.”

She folds her hands. “But you did.”

“Oh, yeah.” He sounds a little strangled. “For a price. By then they started to think I wasn’t doing my job right, although I was, at least at the time. So for a while they had me down in … it doesn’t matter, you really don’t need to know, but then some cult up top wanted to summon up a demon with a real wallop. And I was available.” He sighs. “Better the Serpent of Eden than a Duke of Hell - wasn’t like they really needed me down there for anything anyway, and humans are always impressed by the whole original sin thing.”

“Mhm.” She thinks about reaching out to him, but this is important, and she doesn’t want to stop him. She wrings her hands together instead.

“You know the worst part?” He looks up to her, wide-eyed and unabashedly remorseful. “I didn’t care, was the worst thing. Because I was back up here, I wasn’t in Hell, and if they wanted to bind me to do … dark bidding or whatever the fuck it was, that was better. So I did it.” He holds up a hand, fingers splayed. “Five years. Five years in servitude to some stupid cult in back-country Italy. It wasn’t hard work, mostly meant looking scary and killing someone occasionally.” He closes his eyes, pressed the heel of his hand against the bridge of his nose. ��Then they wanted me to kill a kid.” She inhales sharply, and he snorts. “S’what I said.

“And, you know, five years isn’t that long, not for me. Is for humans, though. And they’d slipped on keeping some of the bindings together. I probably could have slithered out of there a year or two earlier, but it would’ve been work. Wasn’t fun as it was.” Sharply, he hauls the right side of his t-shirt up, and points to a broad web of scars slashed across his hip and ribs. “Got that for my trouble. But I did not kill that kid.” He doesn’t look at her when he says, “Was about the only one there I didn’t.”

She releases the breath she’d been holding, and leans forward. “Crowley -”

“You wanted to know,” he snaps then, and she sits up. “So let me finish. Because after I got out of there, who do I run into but Aziraphale, and after the run I’d had it was a good thing he was the angel I met up with because any other one would’ve … Anyway, doesn’t bear thinking about.” He smiles, a little bitterly and a little fondly. It looks strained. “He helped me burn all the books on summoning we could find. Scoured all over Europe. I’m sure we missed a few, but no one’s dared try anything serious since then.” He forces a little laugh. “And it was the last time I discorporated, you can bet on that.”

Anathema nods, and then pauses. “But … there are summoning books still. I’ve seen them.”

“Nothing that can bind you,” he says quickly. “Summoning is one thing, binding is another. If you see anything that mentions binding, I’d be obliged if you got rid of it.” He sighs. “Nah, summoning is different. Last time I got summoned I ended up helping three college students in Massachusetts with a group presentation. And they didn’t even put me on the Powerpoint.”

Anathema takes a moment to wonder how that would have gone over. ‘Presentation thanks go also to the Demon Crowley, who was surprisingly helpful for an infernal being of temptation and sin.’ Probably, she thinks, not well.

“Anyway,” he says, with a sort of gruff finality, “that’s your answer. Now why the fuck did you need to know so bad?” He’s half-glaring at her, and she can’t tell if he’s angry or relieved. She wonders how many other humans he’s told about this, decides the answer is very likely a definite ‘0’, and she shrugs.

“I’m pregnant.”

“What?” He stammers for a little while, eyes flicking from her face to her belly and back-and-forth. “How is that relevant?”

“Well.” She sits back, and laces her fingers together, resting them on her crossed knee. She looks to the ceiling for a minute, thoughtful, and tries to think of a way to explain this that doesn’t make her sound absolutely unhinged. “Crowley, we’re friends, right?”

“I should hope so.” He sneers. “Hate to think you just twisted the worst 100 years of my life out of me if -”

She waves a hand. “It was rhetorical, but fact established. So that being the case I … well, I’ve been thinking a lot about what’s going to happen after I have a kid. About who I wanted to have around.”

“Oh.” He looks away. “Makes … Right. I get it. Don’t exactly have the greatest record with babies.”

“Mm, not recently, but I’m considering that extenuating circumstances. Plus,” she adds, “according to Aziraphale, you were a really good nanny when you weren’t trying to get the kid to be evil.”

“Does he know about this?”

“Not yet. I figured you could tell him. But he’s mentioned it in passing.” She takes a breath. “Anyway, I know that you don’t hurt kids. I know that. But, I dunno, when I found out about … all this … I wanted to make sure it wasn’t because something happened and it made you that way.” Her mouth twists. “It’s weird, as soon as I found out I started thinking about things I never thought about before. Wondering about stuff, planning for things, that kind of stuff. I still don’t want the book,” she adds, because she sees the way he’s looking at her, and she knows what he’s thinking. “But … Yeah. I had to make sure.”

“Hm.” He watches her for a long, long moment, and then nods. “So what’s this mean, now?”

“You wanna be its uncle?” She raises a finger. “You have to promise not to try to make it evil.”

“No problem.” He looks thoughtful. “I think godfathers is more typical -”

“No, that’s outdated and kind of cliche, at this point.” She waves a hand. “Besides, my brother lives in San Diego, and Newt doesn’t have siblings, so the poor kid’s gonna need some aunts and uncles anyway.”

“Fair.”

She softens, and leans forward. “Crowley, I’m sorry to push, but I had to … I just really needed to know that there wasn’t anything, you know -”

“Extra evil?” He sighs. “I get it. There was, but not in a way that’s going to happen again, alright?”

“Very much so.”

He leans forward and pokes her in the stomach. “Who else knows?”

“Newt.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Hm. Way to make a demon feel special. Argh,” he says then, because she has taken advantage of her proximity to grab him and hug him. “You’re only getting away with this because you’re with child,” he grumbles, and she gives him an extra squeeze. And then suddenly, he is trying to pull away, wide-eyed and panicky. “Wait, how pregnant. When’d you find out?”

“About seven, eight weeks. I took a test about a week ago.” He sags with relief, and she laughs. “Why? What was that about?”

“You didn’t see any broad-shouldered feathery assholes with purple eyes then?” She shakes her head. “No one said, ‘be not afraid?’”

“No,” she laughs, “but it might have helped when I took the first test. Not that I wasn’t sort of trying - we weren’t trying, that is - but when you see the two little lines, you know, it’s kind of … startling. Sobering. All of it.”

“So no Gabriel.”

“Ah.” She chuckles. “Yeah, no Archangels. Just a little stick with some lines on it.”

“Oh. Good.” Miraculously, he suddenly is holding a bottle of wine. The joint is still in the ash tray, no longer smouldering, and she makes a little noise of protest. He waves a hand and it vanishes into the ether or, probably more accurately, into an ash tray in a cottage in the South Downs. “Secondhand smoke,” he says, by way of explanation, uncorking the bottle and taking a mouthful.

“How considerate.”

He grunts, and holds up the bottle. “Not at all. Demon, remember? This is a Caymus cabernet, very delicious, and you can’t have a single drop. You are very jealous.”

“Oh, extremely. Very evil of you.” She budges over, obligingly, and he sprawls into the space on the two-seater next to her. “Want to watch a movie?” She waggles the remote. “I rented The Tide of Blood.”

“Is that anything like Blood Tide?”

“I dunno. Never saw it.”

He takes another swig of wine, and raises an eyebrow. “It’s awful. I’ll get a copy some time.”

“Deal.” She gestures to the TV. “This one’s about a prehistoric sea monster that stalks and eats promiscuous teenagers.”

“Classic. I’m in.” He settles back, and her too. The first teen - a football-playing bully - has been eaten before either of them says anything. “Uncle, hm?”

By this time, she is slouched against his shoulder, the better to reach the shared bowl of pretzels that somehow appeared ten minutes ago. She hadn’t asked. “I figured. Unless you want something different.” She doesn’t look at him as she elaborates, “I mean, chronologically, I could certainly justify grandpa -”

“Oy.” The pretzels are snatched away, just momentarily, although he is laughing. “You have your own parents, use them for that.”

“Right. So uncle.”

“If that’s the alternative, I’ll take it,” he grumbles, and she finds herself with a bowl of pretzels in her hands. “Grandpa, Book-girl, honestly.“ The wine bottle glugs as he takes another drink, and Anathema crunches another handful of pretzels. On screen, another teen fruitlessly tries to fend off the monster with a kayak paddle. “You’re lucky I like you.”

“Hm. Yeah. Yeah, I think I must be.”

#good omens #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley #anathema device #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much

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ladyoutlier · 5 years

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For a writing request, maybe something about when Aziraphale+Crowley first met on the wall in eden? Like their first impressions of each other

Read on AO3

Aziraphale and Crowley once again found themselves feeding the ducks from a bench in St. James’s Park. One particular mallard was being extremely greedy for breadcrumbs and would scare every other duck away when they got close. A vicious little creature. Crowley was loving it.

Temptation at its finest, he thought. Stupid thing wants to hog all the food. It’s going to find itself in cardiac arrest with that behavior.

“Crowley.” The angel retook his attention. “Do you remember when we first met?”

“Course I do. Eden some 6000 years ago. Why you ask?”

“I’ve been reminiscing quite a bit about our time on Earth, and through that, I’ve found myself working back to that moment.”

“Would make sense. It being the beginning and all.”

“Yes. Well, I’ve been thinking about how things have changed since then.”

“Oh, yeah. Whole lot has happened. Civilization, government, cars. Could write an endless list.”

“What were your first impressions of me, Crowley?”

The demon ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking. He pelted the mallard with another balled up piece of bread. “I thought: Well there’s an angel that looks like a lot of fun to mess with.”

It was a half-truth answer. Crowley very much had approached Aziraphale with the intent to tease, but there was also a sense of curiosity or perhaps awe. The demon hadn’t seen an angel since he himself was one. And this one seemed… friendly enough. At the very least, he looked as though smiting wouldn’t be his first reaction. Crowley really wasn’t interested in a fight. Had been enough of that lately.

Of course, his second impression of Aziraphale—after the angel had told him that he had given away his flaming sword—was a lot more meaningful. But Aziraphale hadn’t asked about that, and Crowley wasn’t going to say anything about it without being provoked.

“I wish I could say that I had the same relaxed impression of you.” The angel attempted to toss some crumbs to the other bullied ducks, but the same aggressive mallard ferociously waddled to them first. “I was wary. At that point, I hadn’t encountered a demon before. There had been stories Upstairs, and I do remember thinking that I wished I had my sword back.”

“Lucky it was me then. Plenty of other demons that a wary impression would be more than fitting for.”

“Yes, lucky indeed.”

They were silent for a few moments, taking in the environment. A jogger ran past them, and all of the ducks, minus the mallard, quickly cleared the path and jumped into the lake in front of them. It really was a gorgeous day. The weather was warm enough and cotton ball clouds lazily drifted in the sky.

“Did the fact that we were hereditary enemies ever make you wary of me, Crowley?”

“Maybe in those brief moments before I approached you. But otherwise, nah, can’t say I ever felt that way.”

“I guess that makes sense. My status as an angel would’ve caused you to forgo the fear of a potential backstabbing.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, dramatically rolling his neck as well just so Aziraphale would know what he was doing. “I didn’t say that. I’d say it’s your less angelic qualities that made you seem less threatening.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that one of the first things you told me was that you willy nilly gave away the Almighty’s gift to you.”

“You told me that was the right thing to do!” “Yeah. I mean it was. Still wasn’t angelic. Angelic angels have their trousers hiked up too high to do something like that. More of a my way not the right way type.”

“I did feel a bit guilty about it. Like it was something I wasn’t supposed to do.” Aziraphale tossed his last piece of bread and swept his clothes of crumbs.

“Probably the best thing you could’ve done given the scenario.”

“Yes, they most definitely needed the sword. They might not have survived without it.”

“Oh yeah, was definitely good for Adam and Eve too.”

Aziraphale looked to him. “I thought that’s what you were referring to. What did you mean?” “Nothing, angel. Exactly that.” Crowley pulled himself into a more upright position on the bench.

“Really now?”

“Just meant that I might not have felt as inclined to hang about you if you hadn’t done that.”

Aziraphale smiled rather slyly. “So what you’re saying is that you’ve had a soft spot for niceties since the very beginning.”

“Don’t make me strangle this duck right now to prove otherwise. I will do it.” Crowley shooed the mallard away as if that somehow strengthened his remark. The beast snapped at him before joining his victims in the lake. “My exception for things like that stretches to you and you alone.”

That last remark was more damning than him just agreeing to Aziraphale’s comment ever would have been. It’s not that the angel didn’t know. It was just that the words had never been said. Such a blunt response that Crowley valued Aziraphale so highly. Sure, actions speak louder than words and all that, and Crowley had shown him that he cared many a times, but when the words had never been spoken, they mean an awful lot as well.

“That’s... quite a sincere thing to say. I wasn’t expecting you to just blurt that out. That you make a special case for me. I really appreciate hearing that from you.”

With Aziraphale’s reply, Crowley seemed to just now realize what he had said. “Yeah, well don’t read into it that much. I mean, of course I, uh, do things for you. We are friends after all, but it’s not like I’m planning my life around it or anything like that. Just let things happen naturally. Nothing all that special.”

Really, all Crowley accomplished with this was him digging the hole he found himself in quite a bit deeper. Crowley very much wanted that mallard to come back to offer a distraction. Maybe he would actually strangle it if it got Aziraphale to forget everything he had said in the past minute. He refused to meet Aziraphale’s eyes when he smiled at him.

“Well, I’m very glad to have met you, Crowley. I can’t imagine having gone through the centuries without knowing you. Strangely, I can’t say I’d be at all the same as I am now if I hadn’t met you. I can’t help but think this was how it was all meant to occur.”

“Ineffable, is it?” Crowley asked, regaining some of his composure as a smile formed on his face as well.

“Indeed. This day and all the others we have and will have spent together until the end of time. Completely ineffable.”

The mallard returned from the lake and began pecking at the stray remaining flakes of bread. Another duck from a different flock sprinted out from beneath the bench and snagged one of the mallard’s snacks before it could consume it. The mallard chased after the duck down the pathway, crying and quacking the whole way.

“Heh,” Crowley replied. “Until the end of time. That doesn’t sound that bad.”

#Good Omens #Good Omens fic #Ineffable Husbands #my writing #asks #Anonymous

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