Hello!! I hope you don’t mind me asking but could you do a fluffy Crowley x Demon!reader x Aziraphale fic (or headcanons)??
Maybe something like what it’s like all being in a relationship together?
(Also if it’s not too much to ask can the reader use a cane to walk around? Maybe because of something relating to when they fell and became a demon? If not that’s okay!!!)
First of all, I love you and I could kiss you in the mouth right now. I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR AGES THAT CROWLEY WOULD HAVE CHRONIC PAIN BC OF THE FUCKING FALL. I refuse to believe for one moment that you can fall all the way from Heaven, land on the ground and be all “hey guys i’m fine!”
Aziraphale x Demon!Reader x Crowley
Please like and reblog<3
Warnings: chronic pain, but nothing else, this is just good old fluff
• You were an archangel along with Crowley, with the same obligations in making the cosmos✨ so you both met Aziraphale at the same time
• When Azi told you both that the project was destined to close in a few thousand years, you were the one that proposed to fill a complain to God (and crowley seconded you)
• Cue a war and a Fall later, Crowley and you are in Hell, but in different departments so you don’t see each other much
• In fact, you didn’t see Azi and Crowley for the first time since the Fall until the crucifixion of Jesus
• You stood beside them in silent reverence to this poor soul lost for all of humanity
• “What sort of mother would wish this fate upon her own kin?” Crowley and Azi turned to you with confused expressions (although Crowley gained a lot of respect for that comment hehe)
• After some idle conversation, and Crowley convincing Aziraphale not to just smite you right there and then, you three decide to traverse the world
• Centuries pass, and Crowley and you stay around humans (you love their way of living, and he likes children so everyone wins)
• You like to read everything you can get your hands on, to Crowley’s chagrin
• “Now I have two bookworms. What have I done to deserve this?”
• It’s circa the year 1000, in the new continent that these curious people called Vikings have discovered, when Crowley and you decide to experiment a human thing that you had wanted to try for a long time
• Your first kiss is messy, and there are more teeth than anything else; besides Crowley insists it feels slimey
• However, she can’t help but to accept he got a bit aroused by it
• Practice makes better, as they say, and so you do
• Although you spend the most time with Crowley, your relationship with Aziraphale also evolves throughout the years
• The “we have a mutual but I still don’t like you” to “maybe I do care about you” pipeline, if you want
• You take him to all kind of food places and bookstores, and he warms up to you a lot
• Introducing him to classical music was your proudest moment, and also the pettiest as Crowley had crossed you a bit beforehand
• The first time you kiss Aziraphale (or rather, he does), is one time you both were a bit tipsy during a masquerade ball in Paris in the 18th century
• He is a bit unexperienced but he gets the hang out of it really quick
• The three of you “confess” to each other in 1941, after the magic show fiasco
• Crowley looks nonchalant but you can see behind his eyes, he was worried sick he would be separated from both of you
• You make sure to give him extra cuddles that night
• Fast forward to 2008 and you work in Warlock’s house along with Nanny Ashtoreth and Brother Francis, you being Warlock’s governess (like this is the fucking 1800s or smth lmao)
• It is at this time that the two of them notice you limping a bit every day after all chores have been done
• You insist that it is nothing and that you are perfectly capable of walking
• However, Ashtoreth happens to see you during one of your bad flares
• She immediately helps you to sit down on the bed, and looks at you expecting an explanation
• Her no-nonsense glare deters you from making up an excuse so you tell her the whole truth
• When you had fallen, you hadn’t landed correctly and had broken your legs on impact
• Miracles hadn’t done the full job and so you had been forced to endure the pain of the bones repairing themselves not quite right
• You had learned to mask the pain after centuries of practice but some days were just worse than others
• The next day, Ashtoreth gifts you a cane adorned with a snake head with little wings
• You proudly use it every day forward
• After the Second Coming, the three of you go to live in South Downs, finally able to be yourselves together
• There is still so much stuff to learn about everything, but you’re immortal and you are not alone, so why the hurry?
• As the sun sets on the horizon, you lean your head on Aziraphale’s shoulder as he reads one of Jane Austen’s books, and Crowley’s head is on your lap, already snoring softly
• You will be okay
I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if this is not what you asked for exactly as it is my first time writing for these two and I haven’t written either in two years so I feel I’m very rusty. I forgot ab the chronic pain until almost at the end, and I talk more about the history of you relationship than the actual relationship in itself lmao
Still, I hope you like it!
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AHH ITS SO SWEET 😭
🎁 I have a mighty need for Crowley, Azi and Nightingale exchanging gifts! Mmaybe historical setting, or modern with the twins? Aaaah love your writing
notes: thank you gorgeous! Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece 💕
You weren’t really a big Christmas person.
Many winter festivals have passed you by from many different parts of the world and religions, none of them really sticking in your mind or heart. But then you found your boys again, and… well.
Crowley likes to pretend he hates Christmas. He wishes he was the Scrooge archetype. But you see the way he smiles when kids run past in a snowball fight, the joy when the street decorations get lit up. He’s no miser and he’s terrible at hiding it.
And Aziraphale? Oh god, Aziraphale loves Christmas.
The bookshop is always decked out in ornaments. He loves a good piece of Christmas tat, so there are plenty of little decorative reindeer and snowmen adorning the place with twee glass ornaments playing tinny carols. It’s like the North Pole vomited directly onto one little corner of Soho.
So yes. You became a Christmas person when you met them. What choice did you have?
And that first year, so many hundreds back, you bought them both pocket watches to commemorate the season.
This was back before pocket watches had been refined, of course. They were bulky things with only an hour hand. But their eyes lit up when you gifted the little pieces.
Their hearts didn’t beat. Yours did. The tick of them was to remind them of you, to keep your heart next to their breasts when they walked around day to day; together even when apart.
As time went on and watches became more advanced you updated them with new ones, of course - but they still have those very first timepieces somewhere safe today.
In the bookshop’s bureau’s special draw. In the glove box of the Bentley in a little box.
Always ticking, always a remind of your love.
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ME WITH THIS RN 😮💨😮💨
Imagine: you’re a light witch working to summon a benevolent entity. in these sorts of situations Crowley is usually the one unfortunately snatched through time and space by occultists seeking power or whatever, but this time Aziraphale is the one caught in your summoning circle. And you find yourself so very enamored with the angel that you decide to extend an open offering in exchange for a favor, meaning he can request anything of you in return. It’s one of the worst decisions a human witch can make, fully binding themselves to any whim of an eldritch being. You fully expect him to request something traditionally grim like your firstborn or your soul, but instead he asks…well, he asks for permission to pleasure you.
Hmmmmmmm interesting thoughts smoky also in addendum: what if you need the help of a divine being for a sex magick ritual and the angel you accidentally summoned once is incredibly glad to help you out with this one too. You’re fucking on the floor like animals in heat as he practically bends you in half in the summoning circle, pounding down into you so hard that you feel like he’s going to make a dent in the damned floor. But all the while he’s kissing you wherever he can reach, and if his mouth is free he’s whispering how lovely you are and how gorgeous you feel. His spend is dripping out of your puffy, fucked-out hole and the two of you are drenched in a sinful mix of your cum and his; all it does is turn him on more and make it easier for him to fuck into you. Only when you’re so full that you can feel him leaking out of you do you beg him to stop but he says with quite a devilish smirk that he’s sure you can give him one more…
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