#Aziraphale x Crowley x reader

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Angel's Blood

Aziraphale x GN!Vampire!Reader + a hint of Crowley

18+ ONLY / Requests are OPEN

Read part two- Demon's Blood

Summary: It's entirely an accident when you discover Angel's blood is an aphrodisiac.

CW: vampire!reader, blood, i guess blood kink if you squint, choking, thigh riding

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Being a Vampire had its draws, that was for absolutely sure. Strength, heightened senses (although this could be a hit and miss, depending on which sense you were talking about), speed, and your personal favourite- elongated life. Being able to watch the world grow and thrive around you, it was something truly special. 

It was also a curse too, but that was less fun to think about, so you generally tended to avoid thoughts about it as much as you could. Now, you weren’t necessarily a ‘vegetarian’ Vampire, per se. But you did your best to only bleed people dry who ‘deserved’ it. Real bottom of the barrell stuff. It was… not particularly tasty.

And what with the lockdowns, and the lack of evil and wrongdoing in the air, you’d found it becoming exceptionally difficult to find yourself more meals. The 1940s had basically been an all-you-can-eat buffet. Oh, sure, that wasn’t a good thing, but you’d not been sated quite the same way ever since. Never enough walking popsicles about these days. 

Oh, now there was an idea. Frozen blood pops. You thought you might give those a try when you got your next few blood bags. But those were still a while away, and you were hungry now. 

Usually it was not a huge deal to wait a while between meals, but given how uptight and wound Humanity was getting, and how much harder it was getting to, well, get away with things, you were spacing things out more than you should have been already, and as you pushed your way through the Bookshop doors, you knew Aziraphale knew what was going on immediately. 

You’d met the Angel and Demon pair several centuries ago during a particularly popular theatre act, and you had hit it off immediately. They’d both known exactly what you were, and did not beat around the bush about it. The fact that they’d not feared you in the slightest helped with that too. You didn’t have to keep your guard up around them, and once you’d told Aziraphale about who, what, when and where you fed on- he was much more inclined to become friendly with you. 

“Az- Zira-” you panted, the bell on the door clanging wildly and loudly as you practically fell through the door frame. “Do I- have any- blood here?” Each couple of words took effort to say, and were punctuated with a heaving breath in. You usually kept a small stash at your usual haunts just in case, but you had a sneaking suspicion based on the look on Aziraphale’s face, that no, you did not have any spare snacks sitting around. 

“Oh, dear- erm, no, I don’t believe so, darling-” the Angel said concernedly. You braced yourself against the door and smacked your dry lips.

Well fuck. 

“Shit,” was all you replied, arm wobbling before your body gave out on you. Before you hit the ground you felt arms around you, pulling you up and against Aziraphale’s body. You could smell his soap on his skin, a mix of white sage and oregano and you clung to him desperately so you wouldn’t fall. 

Aziraphale led you over to his arm chair, settling himself down with you in his lap. He brushed the hair out of your forehead and you shivered, your nerves becoming more panicked by the minute.

“You know you shouldn’t leave it this long between… meals,” he practically tutted as if unsure what the correct word to use was, and you let out a shaky chuckle, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. You weren’t sure if it was the desperate hunger or what, but Aziraphale smelt so fucking good.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied, nosing at his skin softly. Your arm pulled closer around his torso. “It’s getting- harder. Not so much- supply,” you sighed, the panting easing now you weren’t exerting so much energy with movement. 

It wasn’t as if you’d die if you didn’t feed. It was just that without the blood, there’d be no flow in your system, and with no blood flow your body would just… stop working. Dry up and go stiff like an old doll. You’d be stuck in a coma until more blood was transfused into you. 

How did you know this? Well, let’s just say you did not particularly want to repeat the end of the 14th century. You shuddered at the memory and Aziraphale rubbed your shoulder, cooing at you softly in an effort to comfort you.

“Can I do anything for you?” Aziraphale asked softly, kissing the top of your forehead. You nosed at his neck another moment in throught before it came to you. Aziraphale had a body. One that pumped blood.

“I- I have an idea,” you said quietly, pulling away from his throat to look up at him. Aziraphale’s gaze was soft as he nodded, asking what he could do to help you. That was Aziraphale for you, always ready to give for the next person in need.

“I need to feed,” you say slowly and evenly, measuring the Angel’s reactions. “And I’m too weak to find someone who… I can feed off.” You wait to see if he gets what you’re hinting at, and when his eyes widen in shock, you can’t help but be amused at the comical expression. 

“Oh- oh, my,” he splutters as his brain processes the request. And it is a request. You’d never take advantage or take anything from him without his permission. It wasn’t who you were. Not at all. “Oh, well, I suppose,” he adds, clearing his throat. You didn’t even know if it was safe to drink Angel blood. But you supposed you were about to find out.

“Not too much,” he adds, readjusting to make it easier for you to gain access to his neck. “Takes a while to replenish, you see.” You can hear the blood pumping just a little faster- smell the spike of sage that permeates the air over his skin. You shudder out a breath, looking at him one more time. One more chance to back out of this. 

When he tilts his head just a little further in submission, you stop hesitating, fangs appearing in a flash of a second only to disappear again- sinking into Aziraphale’s flesh. The feel of his skin under your lips is to die for. The Angel gasps, the hint of a yelp lost in the haze of blood finally, finally hitting your tongue. 

You let out a groan of pure satisfaction, sucking a little harder. That sweet liquid tasting of peonies, iron and ink. Everyone tasted a little different. God, did he taste good though. You let out a possessive growl and twisted in Aziraphale’s arms so you were sitting on his lap, straddling one thigh and pulling him by the hair to gain as much access as possible. 

“God, fuck, Zira-” you panted, pulling away to lick your lips clean. Your eyes were blown wide watching a drop of blood swell and trail down towards his collar. You surged forward to lick it clean and let out a whimper. “Fuck, fuck- you taste good.” 

The Angel let out a breathy chuckle, and you managed to tear your gaze away from his willing throat to look into his face. His own eyes were darker than usual, and a pink tint was colouring his cheeks. You leaned in to sniff under the bone of his jaw and grinned a sharks grin. Oh, he was enjoying this.

“Do you like it too, Zira? Like it when I feed on you? Shit, I can feel your blood inside me- Angels Blood. Fuck.” You’d barely realised that you’d started grinding softly on his clothed thigh, jolts of pleasure travelling up your nerves like electric shocks. Nothing had ever tasted or felt this good- not in your couple thousand years of life. 

But why, why was it so good? Was it because his blood was undiluted? Pure blood straight from the Heavens- literally? That had to be it. God, it was almost… euphoric. Fuck it, it was euphoric.

When Aziraphale moved to wrap his warm hands around your hips and have you grind down harder and faster, you moaned, head tilted back in pleasure. The Angel tilted his head to the side and let out a quiet plea. “Take more, p-please,” he whispered. 

And who were you to deny him his hearts desires? 

Your fangs sank back into his skin, and his hips jerked up slightly in your direction. You moaned, sending little vibrations through his neck and shoulder and one hand reached down to palm at him through his slacks. 

“O-oh,” he gasped out, fingers tightening on your hips as you began to move in tighter circles, grinding yourself down on him and panting with the pleasure shooting up your spine. Your muscles were already beginning to ache but you persevered, the pleasure far outweighing the burn. 

Aziraphale whimpered quietly, biting his lip and adjusting his knee to have you seated more comfortably. The movement of his thigh pulled a deep groan from you, and your fingers pressed into his bulge with a little more devilish intent. 

Fuck, you were not going to last long and you knew it, it was almost like you’d been strung on a high wire and the ampage turned up to eleven. Fuck, the only thing that could make this better was if-

“Fucking Hell,” you hear behind you. The shock and the adrenaline that came with being caught sent your hips forward harshly, a noise of pleasure escaping whether you wanted it to or not. The pair of you hadn’t even locked the door. “Angel, I didn’t take you for this kind of behaviour. Seems more like my kind of thing.” 

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers clench tighter on your hips, dragging you forward and back over his thigh. You can barely focus on the conversation over the pleasure.

“It’s- ah- not what it looks like, Crowley-” Aziraphale manages to say. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what this looks like, and you’re not sure how Aziraphale intends to explain this to his Demon friend. Lover. The three of you were a lot of things to each other. It was bound to happen when you spend so many human lifetimes around each other.

“Isn’t it?” Crowley asks, taking a seat down on the chair facing opposite to Zira. You suck a little harder, more of your Angel’s blood laving over your tongue. Your hand massages against him and one of his arms comes up so his hand can caress your spine. 

“Because, and, right- correct me if I’m wrong- but it looks as though you’re letting our dear old friend here fuck your thigh and drink you practically dry,” his gaze must catch on the way you’re rubbing your hand over Aziraphale’s very prominent and thick erection. “Mm, well, and there’s that. Not overly Holy, I would have thought. But don’t stop on my account.” 

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers lift from your spine and suddenly Crowley isn’t on the chair anymore. He’s pressed up against your back and reaching to pull softly on your hair. You pant as your mouth is pulled away from Aziraphale’s neck, and the Angel in question whines in protest. 

Crowley pulls you into a kiss, licking the blood from your lips and giving you a truly devilish grin. He lets go only to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze. 

“Naw, what’s wrong, Pet? Hmm? You want to cum?” The Demon squeezes tight enough to cut off your air and you hump against Aziraphale’s thigh desperately. Crowley has the audacity to laugh, standing above you and holding you steady. 

“Go on, then,” he snarls, pressing tighter still. You whine and rock your hips harder, your hand grinding against Aziraphale at the same time, who is turning his head to press kisses to Crowley’s wrist reverently. “Come for us, Pet. Hungry thing.” 

You cry out as Aziraphale bumps his leg up against you, the final touch to make you fall over that edge. You cum hard, jerking in Crowley’s grip as he loosens his fingers just enough to allow you to breathe in again. He laughs, giving you a light pat on the cheek. Hard enough to feel but not to hurt. 

As soon as he releases your throat, you’re burying yourself in Aziraphale’s neck, seeking warmth and comfort, hips rolling over his thigh to ride out your pleasure. Your hand has reached into his slacks by now, tugging at him erratically and quickly. The Angels head tilts back in pleasure, where you’re sure Crowley is giving him a downright filthy look. 

As soon as your lips press a featherlight kiss to the marks you’ve left on him, he cums. Ribbons of white coating your fingers inside his slacks. You let out a moan of a laugh, tired and sated, as he pants underneath you. 

He’s got his eyes clenched shut with the pleasure, but as soon as he starts to come down, Crowley leans over to kiss him hungrily. The Angel reciprocates, reaching up to cup his jaw. 

You’re still snuggled up on Zira’s lap, the post-nut haze settling thickly and heavily into your skin. You let out a yawn, and lick your lips clean, the last of the Angel’s blood entering your system. 

“So,” you say tiredly as Crowley leans against the other arm of the chair next to the pair of you. “I’ve learned some things today.” Your fingers dance over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Who would have thought Angel’s blood would be such a powerful aphrodesiac, huh?” 

Crowley hums in thought before giving you a wicked grin, a hint of a flash of yellow behind his sunglasses.

“Makes you wonder what Demon’s blood can do, eh?” 

Hmm, makes you wonder indeed…

#fanfiction #good omens #gomens #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #one shot #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley x reader #smut #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #michael sheen #lemon #vampire!reader #vampire reader #gender neutral reader #david tennant

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Heaven is Here

SYNOPSIS: Through many fleeting moments throughout history with a strange woman, Aziraphale and Crowley learn they accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth, stuck to reincarnate forever.

TAGS: Aziraphale x Crowley x Reader, fluff, slight angst, soulmate au (on accident), history, historical settings, no beta we die like men

WORD COUNT : 12,253

A/N: This fic is kind of accidental. I’ve always been more about Aziraphale/Crowley in this fandom than any reader insert, but one day I happened upon a Tumblr fanfic and had an idea. This probably won’t be a regular thing - except I am planning a sequel to this exact fic - but I thought why not. Im still more Aziraphale/Crowley.

55BC—————

"And you love this?" Crowley asked, holding the seafood up to the light as though it would reveal to Aziraphale all the disgusting little details.

"It's delightful!" Aziraphale insisted, showing Crowley how to eat the oyster. "Try it, dearest. You might just enjoy it."

Crowley pursed his lips, not wanting to put whatever the hell this was in his mouth. But Aziraphale was looking at him with those eyes. He didn't know how describe them, and he didn't want to analyze how they made his heart hurt inside his vessel's chest. So he closed his eyes and ate the damned thing.

He put a hand over his mouth to stop the gagging. This Angel's taste was not quite normal if this is what he considered fine dining. He tried to smile politely, to not let him know that it was utter horseshit.

"You don't like it," Aziraphale said with a rather disappointed voice.

"N-No, I don't," Crowley said, and he didn't know why but he was sad to disappoint the angel. He was just trying to be kind after all, it wasn't as though he had properly sinned. But why would a demon feel bad for an angel? That went against his lot's whole thing.

However, Crowley found a wicked part of him that liked pissing off his lot. He'd never put it in as many words however.

"Pity, they are quite delectable."

"Sure, angel," Crowley said, sipping a large mouthful of wine. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, eating and drinking as they'd like. Then Crowley looked up to Aziraphale's soft "ahem." He was pointing behind Crowley, and when he turned he saw what caused it.

A young woman was sat in the corner, a large glass of wine in her hands, and she was weeping to herself. It wasn't loud or particularly noticeable, if it wasn't for the tear tracks down her cheeks, glittering as they caught the light. She was looking at her lap and sipping the wine, balking at the taste yet coming back for more.

"She looks happy," Crowley said.

"She looks sad! You demons need to learn the proper emotions."

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a moment, wondering if he was joking. Upon realizing that Aziraphale was, in fact, not joking Crowley said, "that was sarcasm, Angel."

"What was sarcasm?"

"My comment, 'she looks happy.' Of course she doesn't look happy that's why I said it."

Aziraphale furrowed his brows, "but your words meant the opposite of what you said."

"Exactly," Crowley said. And with a flourish he added, "it's called sarcasm."

"But why say something you don't mean? Isn't that lying?" Aziraphale asked, in all sincerity.

Crowley thought it over, "s'pose it could be seen that way. Most people view it as ironic."

"Oh, yes, of course." Aziraphale took an anxious sip of wine, looking back towards the girl.

"Angel..."

"Yes?" He was avoiding eye contact

"You don't know what ironic means, do you?"

Aziraphale pouted, "no I don't and I quite detest that you do."

"Ironic literally means saying the opposite of what you mean for some sort of point. Mine being that she looks downright miserable."

"Even though you said she looks happy." Aziraphale said slowly as he tracked that line of logic through his head.

"Right, even though I said she looks happy."

"And that's ironic?"

"Don't ya think?" Crowley said with a wide smile, his teeth appearing almost like he had pointed fangs.

"Why yes I do think-"

"Angel, that was irony."

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked rapidly a few times then sipped his wine, embarrassed he didn't know something that Crowley did know. He thought he was the knowledgeable of the two. "Well, sarcasm or not, we should help her."

"We?"

"Why - yes, we're both here and we see -"

"I don't help people," Crowley said quickly, his voice deep and harsh. "I'm a demon, I do the opposite of help."

"Well, yes but-"

"There are no buts with this. My lot were created to ruin your lots pickings. I pillage and plunder, that's my job." Crowley said this firmly as though it would make his point clearer. The more intense he was, the more his words seemed to slur together a bit.

Aziraphale paused for a moment, and Crowley wondered if he was about argue his point once more. "Isn't the phrase rape, pillage and plunder?"

"I don't do that. I'm not a monster," Crowley balked. He finished his wine and set the glass down. Throwing some money on the table he said, "sorry Angel. Got a priest to tempt. Catch you later."

"Oh, goodbye." Aziraphale said as Crowley ambled off through the restaurants doors. But despite himself, Aziraphale found himself smiling. Crowley wasn't truly all bad, even if he thought himself it. His gaze at the doors quickly moved over to the pretty girl weeping. She was still crying and her glass was a lot emptied.

Aziraphale got up, straightened his toga, and walked over to the girl. "Oh, um, hello. I'm -" oh shoot, he hadn't thought of this part yet. He had to quickly think of a name. Instantly his eyes shot up to the art above her, a fleece. Aha! "Jason. My name is Jason. Pardon the intrusion, but I couldn't help but notice you're upset."

She sniffled, setting the glass down on the table. Aziraphale was struck by her face, now that he could see it not turned down and hidden. She was pretty. She eyed him warily, "Yeah, what's it to you?"

Aziraphale sat down on the chair opposite her, "I wondered if I might be able to help."

She laughed bitterly, "only if you can stop the Emperor." Aziraphale's eyebrows raised at that and she rushed to cover for herself, "oh no, I didn't mean that. All Hail the Caesar and what not. He's doing a mighty fine job."

"It's certainly not a 'mighty fine job' if he's got you crying as such."

"No, I s'pose not."

"What can I do for you?"

"Nothing," she said honestly, wiping the tears away quickly. "Honestly, Jason, I appreciate the thought but what's done is done. You can't change the past."

Aziraphale made a face in slight disagreement, though he knew he couldn't explain that to a human female. "Then perhaps telling someone will make you feel better. I harbor no connection with the Emperor, your opinions are quite safe with me."

She stared up at him after he said this, looking him truly in the eyes as though they told her all she needed to know. Then she did speak. "It's this invasion on Britain. My father and brother were both sent off and I worry. I've heard horrible things about the natives, truly barbaric things like removing of one's head. I don't want them to be hurt. Especially my brother, he's so sweet. He could get hurt by the army rather the natives."

"Hurt by his own army?"

"He doesn't stand up for himself. And that lot can be harsh. I s'pose I shouldn't blame them, I'd be harsh too if I had to kill people in battle. But I worry they will pick on him, push him 'round to try and get him to fight, and he won't."

"Ah, I see," Aziraphale said, rolling his tongue in his mouth as he thought it over. "Well, I can assure you one thing. The natives are not unnecessarily cruel. They do fight, but only when they need to. You couldn't expect anything less, dear."

She nodded, biting her lip. "No, you're correct. I'd defend my country against invaders as well."

"But they won't torture. Your brother will be quite alright, I'm sure of it."

After a minute of silence she looked up again at Aziraphale, "Thank you, Jason. Strangely enough, that makes me feel better. Knowing it wouldn't be torture."

"No, it wouldn't be."

"I really should be going, my daughter will be expecting me."

"Right, of course. Blessings on you, my dear." And though he'd already said the blessing, he felt compelled to say it again. To strengthen it for this poor soul. "Blessings on you forever."

Aziraphale helped her out of her seat. Just then, for an imperceivable second, Aziraphale thought he saw a golden shine cross her eyes. He didn't think much of it, figured it was the miracle. He'd never seen that happen, but he wasn't often looking in their eyes.

She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and thanked him again before walking out. Aziraphale smiled contentedly, though he felt a pull in his heart he hadn't felt before. Urging him to follow her, but he figured it was some sort of indigestion.

Crowley was sprawled on a bench not far from the restaurant, glancing up at a night time sky he couldn't see. He wanted to see it, but he gave up on that dream 2,000 years ago. The Fall took many things, and his eyesight was one of them. He could still see in general, he knew what people's faces looked like and where he was going. But specifics were lost on him, and the night looked like eternal darkness rather than the sparkling stars and planets he'd been told about.

"I helped create some of those," he mumbled to himself.

Then he closed his eyes, needing to not look at what he couldn't see. It still hurt, as though the wound wasn't thousands of years old. But it never properly healed in the first place.

He felt a weight against his foot and heard a thud within a matter of seconds, and he blinked in surprise. At his feet, a young woman was crumpled to the ground. His foot was sticking out in the pathway. Whoops.

He thought about rising to help her, then thought better of it. Beelzebub didn't need another reason to hate him. So he sat still and watched the woman get onto her hands and knees, glaring at him.

"Not going to help are you?"

"No, I think I'm keen to just watch," Crowley responded. She rolled her eyes, getting onto her feet and dusting off her toga. He examined her quickly, not knowing what to make of her. Then, she said something entirely unexpected.

"Keep your foot out of the way, asshole."

It wasn't a particularly inspired remark, nothing witty or threatening. But it was the fact that a random woman said that to him, a demon, without prompting. And with that remark, she walked away.

"Damnation on you eternally," Crowley murmured, waving his hand in a flourish towards the woman. He doesn't know why he said it, he's never really said it like that before and he certainly didn't why he even added the 'eternally' bit. But whatever the reason, he said it.

Though he knew she was too far away to hear him, she turned and looked back. And found a brief moment, maybe it was the trick of the light, he saw a golden shine pass over her eyes. She smirked shyly, then turned and walked away. And with each step, Crowley felt his heart pulse in a way he hadn't felt before.

1377—————

There was complete silence in the cathedral as a young boy, only aged 10 and dressed in trousers, walked through the crowd towards the priest. They seemed to hold their breaths as he lay on the floor before God, surrendering himself to Her mercy. Aziraphale watched the coronation. He had mixed feelings about the child, Richard. He wasn't a particular fan of the whole 'king' concept, but he thought the honoring to God bit was a nice touch. He wore simple enough clothes to note stand out, yet nice to enough to be recognized as a noble. His layers were in varying degrees of beige as he hid in the very middle of the crowd.

After the 10 minutes on the floor, Richard rose and made his way to the priest where he was being dressed in oil.

"Bit like a salad, eh?" A sultry, baritone voice said from beside Aziraphale, making him shudder. When he looked, it was Crowley. Dressed in similarly simple noble clothes, of course in tones of black and red, he watched the young king as different body parts were coated in oil for different purposes.

"Crowley? How did you get in here? It's a church?" Aziraphale said in a hushed whisper, earning glares from the people beside him. "Sorry Lord Wellington."

"Churches are built by humans."

"And what does that have to do with anything? You're still a demon in a place of worship for God," he said the word 'demon' especially softly for fear someone would turn in a panic at the word 'demon' being said in a cathedral.

"Yeah but it wasn't made by God. It was made for Her, by humans. Totally human structure."

"It is not."

Crowley shrugged his shoulders, "you got a better reason I can come and go in these?"

Aziraphale pursed his lips, "I suppose not."

A loud smack echoed through the church and Crowley frowned, "you made me miss the slap, Angel."

"That is your concern?"

Crowley shook his head in frustration, "He's a bloody king now, last time he coulda gotten hit and it's by a priest. S'course I wanted to see it."

"He's a child."

"Not anymore. He's got too much to think about now to be a child."

"No," Aziraphale wondered. "I suppose he's not longer a child at all. You know, dearest, you really do have the grandest thoughts when you think about it."

"Shut up," Crowley replied, his cheeks turning rosy at the compliment.

Within seconds of him saying it, the priest placed the crown on top of boy's head and declared loudly, "Long Live King Richard II!"

The crowd burst into applause as the young king was carried through the cathedral. They whooped and hollered, crying "all hail" and "god save the king" as he passed them by. The boy looked cheerful, pink cheeks and bright curls waving underneath a crown that looked awful heavy for a boy his age. But no, Aziraphale thought, perhaps this was the end of his childhood after all.

"Are you attending the feast afterwards? I hear they will serve beef, and I haven't have beef in decades!"

"Ahh, well I don't know, Angel."

Aziraphale smiled, leaning in as though he was sharing a conspiratorial secret, "I hear there are miraculously two spots for a Lord Fell and Mr Fell, if you are so inclined."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up, eyes hidden beneath his favorite pair of sunglasses, "oh you devil!"

Aziraphale's smile dropped, "don't you say that."

There was a pause as Aziraphale processed the hurtful words, and Crowley processed that he actually cared to make it right to him. Then all at once, they both started speaking on the issue, words overlapping in a frightful mess.

Crowley sighed, "Right I'm sorry -"

"- that really hurts -"

"- I know, I know -"

"- I mean, I am most certainly not fallen -"

"-we had this conversation in 1066 -"

" - I did not appreciate that."

" -I know, Angel. I'm sorry."

After that final note, Aziraphale nodded. "Alright, well. Thank you."

They started to walk together towards the banquet hall not far from there, waiting to indulge in fine wines and beef. There was a large parade towards it, all the nobles and even those fortunate peasants engaged in laughing and singing. Jesters performed stupid dances in their funny hats, knights marched in perfect unison, and songs came pouring from every lute and voice in the area. It was a perfect celebration of a new king, all on their way to fall victim to gluttony, drunkenness, lust, greed and infinitely more temptations.

All things that should fill Crowley's heart with a miserable sort of glee. And yet... he felt off. Crowley couldn't explain the feeling in his chest, almost like a nagging telling him things weren't right. But all this temptation, he thought. This ought to be perfect! But it wasn't, and he had a feeling before he even glanced at his Angel that it was because of him.

Sure enough, he was right. Though Aziraphale hadn't said anything, being kind enough to accept Crowley's words at face value and dropping it, but Crowley knew him well enough to know something was wrong. He hadn't made it up to him.

"Angel, a word -" Crowley said, grabbing Aziraphale's elbow and leading him away from the crowd. As he did so, he missed the way Aziraphale's mouth dropped open, blue eyes fixated on the contact. They'd rarely touched before.

"Yes, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked politely but his tone was full of too much passive aggression to really be polite. He stood stock still, arms poised in front of him and looked expectedly at Crowley.

"I- I, I need to..." Satan this was hard. The words felt like glue in Crowley's mouth but he did his best to force them out. "I need to, to s'make it up to you."

"Pardon?"

Oh damn Aziraphale, making Crowley actually communicate. "What I said, I was wrong. You were right. It wasn't right of me and I need to make it because my apology isn't enough."

"I never said that."

"Ah, yeah, you never said it. But you's do this thing with your face when you's upset. And my words aren't getting there. Just tell me what I can do to make it up to you."

They waited a moment, staring at one another. Suddenly, a large crash came from parade and the two looked over in surprise. The musicians were playing a long, one very eager man slamming the cymbals that caused such a loud sound. Behind them another jester bobbled along a delicate little dance, flourishing his arms on either side before turning and doing a bow.

Crowley saw Aziraphale's eyebrows raise, the corner of his cute little mouth twitch up and a finger pointed towards the little dance. He ran to stop it, saying, "no, no, no, I'm not doing that."

"Come now-"

"A dance? You want an 'I was wrong, You were right dance'? You can't be serious, Angel."

"I am serious, you wily serpent. Now do the little dance or I'll never forgive you," Aziraphale said in mock frustration, puffing out his chest.

Crowley saw before him a choice, between what his lot were bound to and Aziraphale. And without a second thought, he chose Aziraphale. He would choose Aziraphale every time, he just didn't know it yet. And so, despite all the humiliation he knew this would cause him if the bosses down under ever found out, Crowley did the little dance.

Aziraphale watched, eyebrows raised in shock. He hadn't thought Crowley would do it. Certainly not for him. But as Crowley bowed, enunciating his t's with a flourish, he couldn't help but smile.

"Very nice."

"Are we good, now?"

Aziraphale beamed, "quite right, dearest. We are quite right."

Crowley let out a breath, adjusting his glasses as though they would hide that dance from history's books. "Well then, let's get a move on."

The pair followed the parade into the banquet hall, and continued with the affair. Aziraphale literally wiggled in his seat when the food was placed before him, so excited he couldn't sit still. Crowley drank the wine, actually quite good for English wine.

Then the dancing started. King Richard - now Richard II - climbed on top of the table and proclaimed everyone to dance. And so, the nobles in their fancy gowns, drunk and laughing to no end, jumped from their seats to join in the dance. Aziraphale sat still for a moment, not knowing what he should do. Angels don't dance, not really. But this Angel longed to dance.

Crowley saw the way his fingers tapped along the table to the beat. He groaned, getting up from his seat.

"S'alright Angel, up up."

"Pardon -"

"You heard what I said. Come on Angel, let's dance."

Aziraphale giggled and got up, following Crowley into the chaos of swirling dresses and flirtatious looks between anyone and everyone. Almost immediately they were separated, swung by different partners.

Crowley danced with an older woman who squeezed his buttocks when she thought he wasn't looking. He wasn't fond of dancing, not the way Aziraphale was, but he enjoyed the freedom of it all. There were no rules, not really. Yes some people liked the structured ones where you pose and turn on every 3rd beat or what not. But in dancing there was an air of just living - being truly alive. That's what it was all about, it's all anyone yearned to feel.

In the next turn to switch partners, time seemed to slow for Crowley. He saw her, flitting between the people to slide her arm into Crowley's and continue the dance. She was pretty in an unconventional way. A way society might not call beautiful, but made Crowley stop and stare. He was pulled towards her, as though he couldn't control it. She was the center of his focus and he wanted nothing more than to meet her. Then, she turned that pretty gaze on him. Her lips quirked into a smile, hands warm and soft as they held his tightly. Her skin was flushed from the dance, and her dress swung around her in bright, dashing colors. The last dance had ended and all the people were gasping for air yet still ready to dive into the next.

"Hello," she said softly, though somehow he heard her voice over the crowd.

"Hello," Crowley answered back, not sure what to do. He'd never been in this position before.

"A dance?" She asked, taking a deep bow before holding her hand out. Palm up. She wore one, golden signet ring.

"I'd love to," Crowley answered honestly, taking her hand and pulling her into him.

She giggled happily, throwing an arm around his neck as he led the pair towards the center of the dance floor. He started to laugh along with her. Their dancing wasn't particularly good, both of them knew that, but they were having fun. She would twirl away only to twirl back into him awkwardly, laughing so hard she snorted which only caused a barking laughter from Crowley. They continued forward, holding each other close until the final pull drew them chest to chest. She was shorter than he, and she glanced up through dark lashes.

"Hi," she murmured, her breath hitting Crowley's face. She smelled of wine and temptation. He looked into her eyes and there it was - that one moment in history he thought was a fluke.

It had been 1,432 years, not like he was counting, but he didn't forget the way the golden band seemed to fleet over her eyes back in 55BC. And now, he saw that same golden shine slide over the same pair of eyes. It was just a second and yet it made Crowley's mouth drop. She saw it too, but for different reasons. He watched as she looked at his lips, he could tell what she was thinking.

She went to lean in, breasts pressed against his chest and breath hot, but was ripped away by the next dance. She giggled wildly as she was pulled into a circle, but found herself glancing over her shoulder to stare at the handsome stranger she almost kissed.

As Crowley stood in the middle of the floor, mystified, Aziraphale went over to his table to get a drink. All this dancing was positively amazing, but it certainly drained one of their energy.

As he brought the cup to his lips, a body crashed into his, sending the crimson liquid all over his clothes.

"Oh, bugger," he said, setting the cup down to assess the damage.

"I am so sorry, sir!" A girl said, breathless as she ran over. "That was entirely my fault. Please, let me help you clean it. I'm sure there's a tub not far."

Aziraphale smiled politely and went to decline the kind offer, but when he looked into her eyes he found himself agreeing to go with her. She lit up with excitement, grabbing his hand and pulling him away. There was something about her, something he couldn't explain. But he was in awe of her movements and eager to learn more about her.

She turned into an empty hall near a bathroom. She had him wait here while she collected a basin of water and grease.

"I can't promise it will fully work," she said as she set it down, "but I'll do my best. I really am so sorry, sir. I would have never ruined your clothes intentionally."

"It's quite alright. They weren't my favorite anyway," he said as he removed the outer layer. His multiple layers undergarments were fine, and could suffer slight staining. It was the outer garment that changed the most.

She shook her head as she dunked it in the basin, "you can't mean that, sir."

"I find that I quite do," he said, watching her with a quite awe.

"What's your name, sir? I feel I've seen you before," she said, suddenly watching him with the same astute attention. She kept narrowing her eyes as though she'd remember.

Maybe it was the stain, the wine, the party, the demon nearby, or maybe it was just this woman that did it to him but without realizing, he answered honestly, "Aziraphale."

Her eyes lit up, "like the Angel?"

"Precisely, my dear."

"That's a beautiful name. Aziraphale, Aziraphale... can you believe it?" She mumbled the last bit to herself, rubbing liberal amounts of grease into the fabric.

"Do you have a connection to the name? Or the Angel, perhaps?" Aziraphale asked curiously, wanting to hear more about her.

"I do, strangely enough. It's a silly connection..." she said, absentmindedly turning the signet ring over and over on her hand.

"I rather find that when it comes to angels and demons, nothing is silly." Aziraphale chose to neglect some of the more strange decisions the staff had made.

"I, well, oh goodness it sounds all made up. Well, I was in the shops the other day. My friend makes jewelry and he's very good. I came by and he said a man dropped off this gold signet ring with the name Aziraphale burned into it. Said he didn't know what to do with it, not many people knows the Angel, and he gave it to me." She took the ring off her finger, staring at it with an admiration before holding it out to him. "It's your name. You should have it."

"Oh I couldn't possibly take from you, dear."

She shook her head, "no it's not taking. It's a gift. It's fate, that I should have a ring for an Aziraphale just before meeting one of my very own."

"Oh dear, I couldn't -"

She interrupted him by pressing a soft kiss to the ring, taking his hand and sliding it onto his pinky finger. When she looked up, still holding his hand, Aziraphale's jaw dropped. That golden shine. Where had he seen that before? It was brief, flashing over a pair of kind eyes, but it was there all the same.

"Please accept this, Aziraphale."

"I - I will. Thank you, my dear."

Neither Crowley nor Aziraphale saw her after that night. They didn't know her name, her status, or even really remember her outfit. If Cinderella was around, she would have been the prime candidate for it. Neither told each other about their experience with a strange woman until 150 years later as they talked about Henry VIII's decision to have Anne Boleyn beheaded. Nasty business that was.

1601—————

"He's really quite good," Aziraphale said, watching fondly as the actor of Hamlet lamented about life and death. It really was moving the way he toyed between truly living a life, or if death was not truly what life was about.

Aziraphale found himself doing that 'excited sigh' that Crowley described. He found it an odd way of saying his behaviors, but Crowley insisted that when Aziraphale was excited it wasn't a 'satisfied sigh' but an 'excited sigh.' To be fair, he'd said this after 2 whole bottles of wine and a shot of pure vodka, so Aziraphale couldn't grant its true authenticity. A drunk demon would truly say anything just to illicit a reaction.

The speech made him wonder what it was like to be a human, with no certainty about what happens with their souls. They don't have a guarantee about life, or death, and yet are expected to do as they are told with no questions. Crowley knew what it was like to ask questions, and it lead to scars even Aziraphale didn't know about.

"Ngk, s'pose so." Crowley grumbled, watching as the man stamped his foot on the stage. "Bit dramatic, no?"

"It'd a tragedy!" Aziraphale countered, furrowing his brows in surprise.

"Eh, I still prefer the funny ones."

Aziraphale shook his head, turning to watch the man on the stage. A flash of purple fabric caught his eye, and his gaze traveled to see a young woman peaking out from behind the railing. She was trying to stay hidden, but Aziraphale could see that she just couldn't resist the temptation to watch the rehearsal. Her eyes were bright and wide, soaking in the sight. Her clothes were dirty and well worn, a few sizes too big and the hem covered in a layer of mud. But despite it all, she looked entirely unique.

She was pretty, and Aziraphale didn't often feel as though many humans were pretty. He appreciated the art of humanity, and believed each human was their own work of art. But he didn't feel a pull to any of them, but her... she had an attraction to her. He could see her lean too far over the edge, as though the stage were dragging her in. It wasn't just a love and an admiration, it was an addiction. Aziraphale could see what was going to happen moments before it did, but it was too late. The girl tumbled over the edge and fell onto the floor of the Globe, catching the attention of everybody in the rehearsal space.

Her cheeks immediately blotted pink, covering her face in a rosy hue as the stage manager came to her with a snarl, "oi, who're you?"

"I-I-"

"You's not supposed to be 'ere," he said, grabbing her roughly by the arm and dragging her to her feet. She stumbled along as he pulled her to the entrance. "Out with you."

"Mary? Whatcha doin here?" Crowley called out, sauntering over to the man and the girl. The man stopped, looking at Crowley with a skeptical gaze. The girl's eyes widened, bright and eager, as she realized what Crowley was doing and she nodded vigorously.

"Yes, sir, I came to fetch you! Mistress Paulson requested you." She said quickly, trying to stand on her own despite the stage manager's tight grasp.

The man cocked an eyebrow, "oh yeah? You know's him?"

"Know me? Know me?" Crowley sauntered over with a cackle, "me's and Mary goes way back."

She nodded, ripping her arm from the man's grasp then standing politely. "Oh yes, Mr..."

"Oh don't bother with all the Mr Crowley Miss whatever business, just call me Anthony like any other bloke."

"Anthony has helped my sister much. He's an excellent doctor," she said, standing firm. Aziraphale watched her in awe, he was impressed. She picked up that Crowley was saving her quickly, easing into the lie with an expert comfort. She seemed familiar, as though they'd met her before. And most importantly, she was intelligent.

"Doctor? You didn't mention that about your friend," the man said to Aziraphale, his enunciation so poor he practically spat the words at Aziraphale's feet.

Aziraphale flashed a charming smile, "I hadn't realized that those particular skills would, uh, come up in a theatre of this, err,... caliber."

"I haven't the pleasure of meeting you, sir." The girl piped up, her smile was warm and gentle. But he could see in her eyes a tension, wanting to convince this man to not throw her out or worse - press charges. "My's names Mary Edwins. Friend of Mr Crowley."

Mary Edwins, clearly a fake name. Just basic enough to be believable, but enough slight hesitation that Aziraphale knew she was lying. She gave a little curtesy, spreading the oversized purple skirt over the floor. It really was too large, but she still looked charming. Aziraphale felt as though he'd seen that curtesy before. There it was, fast you could have blamed the lighting, Aziraphale knew better. There that same golden shine came over her eyes, if just for a moment. His mouth fell open in a little 'o,' unable to speak for a while 10 seconds before stuttering out, "oh, h-hello Miss Edwins, I'm Mr Fell."

The stage manager thought on it for a moment, before deciding that he wasn't paid enough to care. It was hours away from opening night, after all, and the little boy playing Ophelia needed alterations in his costume.

"Alright then," he said, walking back towards the director, a Mr William Shakespeare.

The girl was still a few feet away as Crowley walked dramatically back towards Aziraphale. The Angel tried to ignore it. He hadn't mentioned that part of it with Crowley, and he didn't know how to continue. Crowley mistook Aziraphale's expression as one of angelic smugness and rose a finger, "shut it, Angel."

"That was a good thing you did," he said with a little smile. He pushed it to the back of his mind, something to worry about when it was late and the city was asleep.

"Twasn't good, no. I was, real, I - I - I was bad. I let a criminal get away."

Aziraphale patted Crowley's shoulder, "no, dearest. You let a woman enjoy her passion. Look at her, you've saved her."

The pair glanced over at her as she tried, and failed, to subtly watch the actors get ready for their next scene. Her hand was on her heart, as though if she didn't put it there her heart would pop right out.

"Ehhh, that's not saving. Not really."

"Oh, it's not? Then what would you say is a human's purpose?" Aziraphale asked with a soft voice.

"I thought that's your job, Angel. Praising God and what not."

Aziraphale pursed his lips, looking away from Crowley. "You know as well as I that love of God is not all humans were made for. I am of the firm opinion they are here for their passions. They survive by it. They might be able to live with food and water alone, but no soul could truly exist without their drive. And this woman, her passion is theatre."

"Rather blasphemous words from an Angel."

"Rather kind actions from a demon."

Aziraphale smiled, looking towards the stage. Crowley tried to hide the blush on his ears and cheeks. It was always his ears that turned bright red from, from, well he didn't quite know from what. But he felt the heat and looked away. He looked at the girl, who perked your once she realized he saw her. She went over shyly.

Despite her apprehension, she raised her voice enough to say, "thank you for your help, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

"Mmm," was Crowley reply, gazing around the globe with a distinguished air about him. As if he was the most important person in the room. He tried to ignore her presence. She had a pull to her and he couldn't explain it, didn't want to address it. He already had the issue of a certain Angel who wouldn't leave his mind.

"Who are we to stop the love of the arts?" Aziraphale said, rather eccentrically. "Though you could have waited a few hours to see the whole show."

"I can't afford it," she said quietly, staring at her feet. Aziraphale noted her sweet little boots, their pointed ends digging into the dirt out of anxiety. "My mistress only gave me the morning. I need to be back in an hour."

Crowley and Aziraphale shot a glance with one another, not quite knowing how to respond. They stood in silence, the girl's eyes wide as she drank in Ophelia's mad lullabies.

"What's your name?"

"Mary Edwins."

Crowley smiled, "nice try, love. Your real name."

She cocked an eyebrow, glancing up at first at Crowley, then at Aziraphale, before looking back at her reflection in his sunglasses. "Why do you want to know?"

"We did help you, dear. We'd just love to know you, but if you cannot tell us, we won't rush you."

"Are you two a couple?" She asked quickly, pointing at the two and waving her hands in some strange, gesture of coupling. Her choice of question was so drastic, they didn't bother to notice the intentional diversion in topics.

Aziraphale looked up, mouth dropping in a little 'o' and he looked at Crowley. Crowley lifted a brow. Aziraphale answered, "We've known each other for a long time."

"That doesn't answer my question, Mr Fell."

"Aren't you a sly one, Miss Edwins." Crowley sneered, his top lip recoiling.

She just smiled, shrugging her shoulders with a little giggle. "Suppose so, Mr Crowley."

The golden shine. Crowley sucked in a harsh breath as she turned to look back at the stage. He could practically hear all his thoughts as they raced through his head, and he was unable to settle on just one. Those eyes. He hadn't seen them in years and yet this was the third woman who just happened to flirt with him, and had a gold shine go across her eyes. He reckoned she didn't know it happened, she probably didn't know what those little eyes could do to an immortal creature. Crowley swallowed, praying she never had to.

Then, the show continued and 'Mary's' eyes seemed transfixed. Aziraphale loved the theatre, Crowley enjoyed it, but 'Mary' adored it.

Crowley watched her eagerly, partly out of curiosity and partly because he liked feeling her passion in his soul as though it was her own. He found himself attracted to it, a drag of one's purpose. The passion filled her up, and she seemed to want to lean into it. She gasped as Hamlet killed his mother, she listened with eager ears as he instructed the actors on how they were to act, she cried as it seemed that everyone fell to the floor in a miserable death. Then, it was over. Actors stumbled to their feet, laughing as though they weren't stabbed with poisoned rapiers. The story was over, but 'Mary' seemed to be in a daze. Crowley watched with shrewd, yet eager eyes as she came out of it.

Then she straightened her back, smiling tightly to both of them. "Mr Fell, Mr Crowley, thank you for letting me stay. It has been such a gift. I'm afraid I must go."

"Let us escort you home," Aziraphale said, without realizing what he was offering.

She blinked wide eyes, "there's no need, sir. It's two blocks away."

Crowley lifted his chin, "love, we'd like to see you off safe."

"If you insist. Though I must tell you it's entirely through the city. Eyes will be on you at all times," she said it as a threat, a reminder to not do anything unsavory. Crowley almost frowned at that little bit of false hope. If they actually had bad intentions, a crowd wouldn't stop anything. She wasn't truly safe. But both Crowley and Aziraphale nodded, as though they truly headed her warning.

"Was that your first Shakespeare production?" Aziraphale asked, making polite conversation as he walked on one side of her, Crowley on the other.

"Oh, no. I do my best to attend all of them. I tend to prefer the funny ones, but the crowds can be a bit much for me."

"Eh? What'd you mean by that?" Crowley asked.

She blushed, "I don't like when crowds get very loud. They tend to jeer and toss things at the actors. It doesn't feel safe for anyone. I do enjoy his dramas though."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment before she asked the next question, "what do you two do? If I may, you're dressed rather odd."

"Odd?" Crowley asked with a frown, gazing down at his outfit. He was quite proud of this outfit. The ruff was amazing, really helped one feel confident.

'Mary' giggled. "I don't dislike your outfits, you just don't see these colors often."

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance, shifting in their outfits. Perhaps they do cling to their colors a bit much. But Aziraphale never felt it was a problem, he was proud of his wardrobe.

"I make my own clothes," Aziraphale said with a smile.

'Mary' lightened up, her eyes taking on a bright, sparkling quality before she actually smiled, a little tell that Aziraphale noticed. He'd seen that before, but couldn't place it. "That is quite wonderful, Mr Fell. I'd love to make my own, however I mostly sew for my mistress."

"You make her clothes?"

"Oh no, I tend to mend them."

The conversation lulled again, and Crowley bit his lip as he thought before asking the question that has been on his tongue since the play ended, "why do you love theatre so much?"

Her chest flared, her eyes wide and sparkling, and she could barely contain the words before they poured from her in excited spurts, "what's not to love? It's stories about being human wrapped up in fancy costumes and dramatic voices. It's full of stories that seem so outrageous yet we still find our way to connect. Isn't it just fascinating that you could watch a show about a man, driven mad by jealousy caused by a deceiving friend, murdering his wife and leave full of emotions? You'd think you'd be mad at the murderer, condemning him for killing his love. And yet, there's more to it than that. You can't quite hate Othello, but you can't love him either. It's so hard to explain what it is to be human, there's no word or sentence to explain it. It can be so isolating. But these stories can give us insight. I, sorry, I'm rambling," she said, taking a wistful sigh.

"Stories can be found anywhere, dear. Books, especially," Aziraphale noted. He enjoyed hearing her speak with such fire. In the back of his mind, he felt as though he could recall someone else talking about their love of stories, but he couldn't place it.

She nodded, smiling. "Yes, of course. And I adore books too. It's just... theatre is such a temporary art. Those moments on stage, or watching, could never be recreated, it could never be exactly as it was. And that's what made it so beautifully tragic. You are stuck with a slightly different story each night, with different takeaways."

"What a beautiful takeaway," Aziraphale said, watching her with a slight sort of awe.

She blushed, "I'm hardly unique in that way."

"Ngk," Crowley mumbled in disagreement, though he didn't actually say a word. Yet, she seemed to still understand what he was trying to say and blushed all the same.

As they walked, Crowley took off his sunglasses for a moment to wipe his eyes. He seemed to forget that his were unusual, yellow and with a snake like slit as a pupil.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

"M'yeah," Crowley answered, opening his eyes to look at her. After the initial realization he was seeing her without glasses, thus revealing the snake like eyes, he went to shove the sunglasses back on. But she wasn't looking unkindly at him.

Instead, she smiled widely, "they're beautiful."

"Wot?" He said in shock.

"Your eyes are beautiful, Mr Crowley." Then, as Crowley sputtered in surprise, she stopped in front of an expensive flat. "This is me mistress's. Thank you, Mr Crowley and Mr Fell."

She looked both of them in the eyes as she said their names, and with equal kindness and appreciation. Then, she turned away and scampered around towards the servants entrance. Aziraphale waited until she was inside to blow out a breath.

"She was something," Crowley said.

"Yes, she was."

"I- angel, I could be wrong on this but didn't she feel-"

"Familiar?" Aziraphale finished for Crowley, looking down the alley as though she would magically reappear.

"Yes! It's so bloody weird," Crowley said, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

"Yes, weird," Aziraphale said, enunciating weird in an odd way that made Crowley furrow his brows. The two beings tried to shrug off this encounter, heading their separate ways for the time being.

1865—————

Aziraphale stared at Crowley as though he'd never seen him before, utterly gobsmacked. "I will not provide you that, that thing! It's suicide."

"Aw not for that Angel," Crowley groaned, waving his hand nonchalantly as though he hadn't asked for the one thing that would completely kill him. "Just for, err you know, protection."

"You are a demon, Crowley. The world would need protection from you."

Crowley tried to not let that sting. He'd never said as much to Aziraphale, but these last 200 years have really brought some perspective over what it is to be a demon. He found a weird sense of discomfort over the word demon. As though he were entirely bad because of what he was, and not what he does. But he'd never say it, or tell Aziraphale he accidentally rhymed.

"It's not like that, I just want to secure myself. That's all."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked away, not bearing the thought that his closest acquaintance would dare to think of something like that. It was simply not going to happen, Aziraphale refused to let that happen. Crowley was going to live forever, with Aziraphale, and he was going to do so happily. He'd never tell Crowley, of course, but Aziraphale didn't know if he could manage eternity without him.

"Oi! That can't have that!" Crowley said quickly, throwing himself off the bench and facing towards a woman standing by the river.

She turned to look at the, in her view, random man dressed in mourning garb barreling towards her and shouting in a thick accent. She clutched the loaf of bread close to her chest, eyeing him warily as he continued rambling.

"Bread's not good for 'em, it can - can - can cause diseases," he said once he got close to her.

She sucked in a breath. He was taller than he'd looked from afar, and she found herself staring at him. He was also quite handsome, with tanned skin and shocking bright red hair, curled away from his face. She noticed a pair of odd looking spectacles hiding his eyes, and a tattoo peaking out beneath his sideburns.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," she said breathlessly. She felt kind of stupid now, holding a loaf of bread as he stared at her with a passion for the ducks. A man dressed in all beige apparel came by quickly, standing by the other man's side. He looked kind, with bright blue eyes and plush pink lips she didn't even realize she'd taken note of.

"I'm terribly sorry for my friend's outburst," Aziraphale said to the woman, still looking shellshocked. "Though I'm afraid he is right, bread is not the best for them."

She looked down and stared at it. "Right, well I apologize. I hadn't been doing it long, if it's of any comfort."

Crowley grumbled but didn't say anything else, eyeing her with skepticism. After a pause where the three stood in silence, the woman tore the loaf into three sections. She then offered up a piece to each of the men, "better we eat it than them?"

Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a glance, they hadn't expected this. Maybe it was the mood of St James's Park or the pull of this young girl, but they reached out to accept their proffered piece.

Just then a golden shine passed over her eyes. Both men's jaws dropped as they'd never shared of this particular detail of their stories, and had never experienced it together. And, for the first time, she seemed conscious of it too.

A hand went up to her cheeks just below her eyes, which had grown wide in surprise. "What was that?"

"Pardon?" Aziraphale asked in that slightly tense voice he had when he was covering up for something.

"The, my, my eyes. I was looking and then it went all - gold like."

"Oh I don't know about that," Aziraphale said.

She shook her head vehemently, pointing at the both of them. "Yours did too, and yours!"

"You saw our eyes shine gold?" Crowley asked shyly.

"Y-yes. I saw through your spectacles. The whole eye, it went gold -"

"It must have been a trick of the light, dearest. Eyes don't 'go gold.'"

She shook her head again, "no. I know what I saw. I, I think I'd better go. Thank you for the, the, the ducks."

"Wait-" "Don't go-" Aziraphale and Crowley started at the same time, but she'd already lifted her skirts so she could walk away as quickly as possible.

"She saw it this time," Crowley said, mouth open in surprise.

"This time? This time? You've had a girls eyes shine gold before?" Aziraphale asked, trying to ignore the way his heart ramped up at the news. Crowley felt it too, it wasn't all him.

"And by the sound of it, you have too."

"Yes, I have. But only thrice before, 55BC, 13-"

"-77 and 1601."

Aziraphale's blue eyes widened and he stared at Crowley in shock, "I- I, how did you know?"

"Same for me, Angel. Same for me."

"So she's connected then, to the both of us." Aziraphale said slowly, trying to work it all out in his head. Crowley nodded, pursing his lips and making a 'tsk' noise under his breath.

"She's looked different each time. I don't think she's an Angel or a demon," Crowley said, ripping off a small piece of the bread she gave him and tossing it into the water. No, it wasn't good for them but who cares at this point. They were eternally connected to something.

"No, I think you're quite right. She's something else entirely. I'll have to do some research, I'll let you know if I have anything of note."

Crowley swallows, "same 'ere."

"Okay. Well then, good afternoon to you," Aziraphale tipped his hat and wandered off back to his book shop, his head completely filled with ideas of shapeshifters and witches, all sorts of creatures.

Current Day—————

Crowley parked the Bentley outside Aziraphale's shop, the wheel a slight tap before getting out. It was cold today, and he saw dozens of people shuffling into Nina's shop for some warmth. He himself was freezing but he knew even slightly suggesting to Aziraphale would earn him some pampering, blanket tucked in, hot chocolate, and near undivided angelic attention. Normally he didn't like asking for it, but it's been a weird few years with the Armageddon't, and he could use some pampering.

He felt a pang in his chest, a strange sort of pull he didn't know what to do with. What did humans do when their hearts hurt? Then it struck him - he wasn't human. Why would his heart be hurting?

"Oi, you doing okay?" A voice said from the pavement outside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley looked up, surprised to see Nina with a bag full of ingredients.

"What're you doing out

She held up the bag with a raised brow, as though he was stupid to just suggest it, "you're alright then?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. But you haven't got other staff and the place's full."

"Oh, yeah, forgot you didn't know about that." Nina said dryly. "I hired a new barista. Name's Y/N. New to town."

There it was, that pull dragging him towards her shop. He couldn't explain, tried to rack his brain as to what would want him in there. He glanced back through the windows, trying to see if anything was amiss.

Each instance with her seemed to last for a second, barely enough to know if it was the truth or a trick of the light. But Crowley had lived long enough on enough stupid planets to know that when he saw something that wasn't typically there, it wasn't a figment of his imagination. He swallowed, trying to betray anything to Nina.

"Right. Well then, better get back to it," he said, moving past her shoving his way into Aziraphale's bookshop.

"Oh Crowley, wonderful you're here-"

"Yes, yes, I'm wonderful, you're wonderful, the world's bloody wonderful. Angel, do you remember in 1865 when we saw her in St James's Park?"

There wasn't a need to clarify who the 'her' was. Aziraphale straightened, removing his spectacles from his nose. "Yes, I do."

"And you remember when you said you'd research it and report back, but never did?"

"Yes, I do. Crowley-"

"I need that research now, Angel." Crowley said quickly, not letting Aziraphale ask more pointless questions.

"Nothing came of it, dear, that's why I'd never told you. We would have sensed if she was a witch, angel, demon, or anything other supernatural. We have those senses."

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Crowley, what happened? What did you see?"

"She's here."

Aziraphale's eyebrows shot up and he placed a surprise hand on his chest, not quite knowing what to do with that information. "Here?!"

"In London. In the coffee shop, in Nina's coffee shop. I - I saw her. There was a golden thread between us. I know it's her, Angel. She looks different but she has every time. It's her."

"You saw a golden thread?"

"Yes."

Aziraphale put his spectacles back on, heading for one of his bookshelves towards the back of the shop, "are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes, Angel, I'm bloody positive."

"A Golden thread has never shown up before. The previous times were all the, err, the eyes. This means something." Aziraphale said, gathering the dusty book from his shelf and depositing it on his desk with a thud. "In Greek mythology the golden thread was your life line. Your life thread so to speak. Fate, destiny, the whole nine yards."

"Yes, Angel, but the Greeks were wrong and that's how we exist so what does it mean for us?" Crowley grabbed a chair and fell into it, placing a frustrated hand on his temple.

Aziraphale thumbed through pages until he found what he was looking for. He read the words, but it only helped to scrunch his brow. "This doesn't make any sense. The threads only have two colors, two avenues."

"What do the threads mean, Angel?" His tone pained in frustration. This girl was scaring him, and he couldn't explain why. As far as he knew she presented no threat to him. And yet all the same, he feared her. He wasn't a fan of the unknown. Everything had been so planned out for so long, even though he didn't like the idea of the world ending it was a plan nonetheless.

"It says here that white thread is for eternal blessings. Saints and what not. Black thread for eternal damnation. But it only exists on a human while they are alive."

"Wot? I don't see black threads on people, d'you see white threads?"

Aziraphale adjusted his spectacles, "it says here they only appear if an Angel, or in your case, dearest, a demon, specifically bless them. Or, err, curse them."

"Still, you'd think 6,000 years and I woulda seen something."

Aziraphale nodded in agreement, "I've not seen any either."

"Wait, how'd you know about all this then?" Crowley waved a hand vaguely in between Aziraphale and the book.

Aziraphale looked confused for a moment, "all this? Oh, ah, you mean how I've come to know about the threads? Well it is to my understanding that this was brought up by Michael -"

"Head honcho Michael?" Crowley asked.

"Yes, though I wouldn't use such human terms myself. Michael had thought it up around 100BC. Thought it would be a fun way of identifying humans. But the upstairs didn't fancy the idea, She dispelled it not too long after."

"Hmm... never woulda pictured that out of Michael."

"Well, they say you never really know someone." Aziraphale replied, looking back over the pages as Crowley began to ramble.

"Always thought that applied to killers. No one ever says that 'bout the good deeds, they only say it after you've hurt someone. If someone's killed a kid, everyone's all up in arms like 'you never really knew 'em.' But if someone's a paramedic no one's like 'you never really know-'"

Aziraphale felt his jaw drop open as the words at the bottom of the page finally clicked. Part of the reason Michael's plan never worked, at least according to Gabriel, was that the wording was too specific. "No one uses 'eternally' in their everyday vocabulary," he had argued. Back then Aziraphale had quite agreed with Gabriel, but everyone agreed with Gabriel if it meant shutting Michael up. But he remembered a time not long before the thread idea was vanished when he had used the word 'eternally' in conversation. He reread to be sure, then piped up over Crowley's random complaining, "C-Crowley... do you remember what you said to her in 55BC?"

Crowley's face scrunched as he tried to think all the way back. "I, uh, tripped her. On accident, then she called me an asshole and I-I damned her for eternity I think."

"Oh dear."

"What does this 'oh dear' me? Angel?" When Aziraphale didn't say anything Crowley got up, stalking over to him quickly. "What did you see?"

"I blessed her for eternity."

"So? What's that mean?"

"I-I think, and I could be very very wrong, however I think that means we've, err, we've trapped her soul in an endless strain between Heaven and Hell."

"No, no, no, no," Crowley started to say, unconsciously pacing as he tried to unravel it all in his head. "That doesn't make any sense. Her thread is gold, white and black don't make gold. It makes grey, she should be grey!"

"I think the color of her thread is far from our biggest issue, Crowley."

"So, so what? She's trapped to us?"

Aziraphale ran a hand down his face, trying to process. "I- she might be."

"But her body's changed each time. It's not the same woman."

"Ah, but her eyes. They've stayed the same. You know as well as I do they're the same."

Crowley stopped, knowing he didn't have grounds to argue. Aziraphale was right, after all. Then he groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell-"

"Language," Aziraphale said with pursed lips.

"Wot? For the fucking or the hell part?" Crowley snapped, then upon seeing Aziraphale's dropped expression he immediately retracted. "I'm sorry. That was rude. You're not getting the stupid dance though. Angel, she's not immortal. Her soul is. She must just keep being, being reborn. But the soul from 55BC is still the same."

"That would make sense," Aziraphale said. "They do say the eyes are the window into the soul. Perhaps that explains why they remain while the rest of her can change."

"Yeah, yeah. It makes sense, don't it?"

"So we've accidentally trapped a human soul to Earth to live and die for eternity?"

"Yeah, yeah," Crowley sniffed. "Think we did, Angel."

There was a quiet pause as the two reflected on what they just realized. They, unwittingly, had created an immortal creature. She doesn't even know she's immortal, and by the past experience it sounds as if her mind is wiped with each death. But her soul lives on.

"Fuck," Aziraphale said quietly.

Crowley looked up sharply, "wot'd you say?"

"I said fuck." He repeated, with more confidence this time around.

On any normal circumstance, Crowley would laugh and cherish the moment he saw Aziraphale curse - and with fuck of all of them - but he couldn't help but think Aziraphale was right. Fuck, indeed.

"What do we do?" Crowley asked.

"We have to tell her."

"We do? Why's that? What d'ya think we're gonna say? Hi random stranger I'm a demon he's an Angel and your soul is stuck, here have a cuppa."

"Well that would be straightforward -"

"Sarcasm, Angel. You've been here for thousands of years and you still don't process sarcasm."

Aziraphale stood up and went over to Crowley, touching his shoulders so he'd look up to him. "I understand that this is difficult. This is, it's entirely unprecedented territory. But she deserves the truth." He leaned in, his voice but a whisper. "It does help that we both feel a pull to her. Once we see her, it hurts to no interact. Perhaps we can find a way to end this, to help her."

Crowley swallowed, looking away from Aziraphale's bright blue eyes. He smelled of vanilla and old books, a scent Crowley would bottle up and spray all over his stupid, cold flat if he could. Maybe this girl could help, maybe she was good. But they first needed to meet her.

"Alright. Fine. Let's go, now," Crowley said, sliding his sunglasses back on. Aziraphale nodded and retrieved his coat.

The pair walked out of the bookshop, locking up, and swiftly walked cross the street. They hesitated outside the door, neither knowing what to do. A flash of a blue apron in the window caught their attention, and then a golden thread, shining in the light, emerged and wrapped round the owners waist.

"You seeing that, Angel?"

"Y-yes, I am. It's not faded."

It didn't. It sparkled and swayed in the air, moving with the owners body as she walked around in the shop.

"On three," Aziraphale said. Crowley grumbled in agreement. "One, two ... three."

They opened the doors and were almost immediately greeted by a sweet smile and kind eyes. The same eyes they'd seen for hundreds of years. She smiled, tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear.

"Hi guys, welcome in! Feel free to take a seat wherever you like, I'll be with you in a moment."

"O-okay," Aziraphale said, his voice wispy in the confusion and whirlwind that was her. But she was entirely unaware, blissfully living in her own world that she didn't know was about to be ruined.

They sat in a far corner, away from any windows. Crowley sprawled in the seat, looking anywhere but at Aziraphale. Aziraphale sat stiff as a bored, left leg bouncing so furiously the table itself started to shake.

"Right, what can I get you lads?" She seemed to appear out of nowhere, shining golden thread wrapped round her sweet waist right where the apron was tied.

Aziraphale spoke first, not looking her in the eye but instead staring out the window. An uncharacteristically rude action on his part. "Oh, um, just a latte please. With 3 shots of vanilla."

"Ooo, yum. And for you, the one with the glasses?" She asked, her voice light.

Crowley thought for a moment. Better bite the bullet, eh? He turned, took his sunglasses off, and looked her in the eyes. "Espresso, darling."

Her eyes had a golden flash and she seemed to jump, her pad falling to the table in her shock. She looked between Aziraphale and Crowley with wide eyes, hands going to her stomach as she took deep breaths. "Aziraphale. Your name is Aziraphale," she said to him. Eyes wide. She turned to the demon. "You're Crowley."

"Yes, dear, we are."

"Why do I know that?" Her voice was shaky and yet she stayed, not angry or scared that she knew unknowable information.

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Crowley sighed, flicking his hand. Time around them stopped. Customers held their mugs up in the air, Nina mid pouring a cup, and a man getting ready to ask for the most ridiculous drink he could think of. All were trapped in this moment except for her, Aziraphale and Crowley.

She jumped, looking around with wide eyes, "h-how'd you do that? Why did you do that?"

"Please, take a seat dear," Aziraphale said, snapping as a plush chair appeared behind her. She tripped into it, her body language stuff and frightened.

"This is all feeling like a very strange dream, and I don't like it," she said, taking deep breaths to try and clear her mind. "Did you just stop time and if so, how the hell did you? And you just miraculously created a chair? And why do I know who the hell you are?"

"Dearest, it's not a dream, I'm afraid. You have met us before. You've met us multiple times before," Aziraphale took a breath. "I-I'm afraid we have some complicated news."

"Tell me who the hell you are!" She was getting scared, her heart fighting against her rib cage. She wanted to get up, she wanted to run away, put her hands over her ears and scream 'la la la' over and over until they left her alone. But she didn't. It wasn't a physical thing, even though these familiar strangers had put her in a terrifying position she knew they'd let her go. It was her soul that kept her trapped. "Who are you? I need to know. Who are you really?"

Aziraphale placed a warm hand on her own. His was large, soft and yet strong. She liked the feeling of his hands as he held one of hers, looking into her eyes. "My name is Aziraphale. I am an Angel of God. I was the Guardian of the East Gate at the Garden of Eden, but now I am on Earth. I perform miracles and I run a bookshop, with my dearest friend."

His eyes glanced over to the other man. He was handsome, tanned skin with fiery red hair slicked up and back over his head. Aziraphale might have called him a friend, but she wasn't stupid enough to believe that. It was more than that, maybe they didn't know it but she definitely did.

Another hand grasped hers, this one lean and long. He grasped her hand with a soft intensity she didn't know possible. "My name's Crowley. I'm a demon, you'd know me cause I was a, uh, let's call me a reptile."

She blinked rapidly, "you were the snake that tempted Eve?"

"Wow, she's a quick one," Crowley smiled widely.

"Wasn't he cursed to only use his belly?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "it's complicated."

"You, both, are not human. You're an Angel and you're a demon. So Christianity is right."

"Yes, love. But God is actually a She, that bit got muddled," Aziraphale smiled. "Are you feeling better?"

"That doesn't explain, why- why do I know you? I recognize both of you, but I don't know why. Then you made that comment about having met me multiple times, for years, what does that mean?" She was getting a little riled but she tried to stay calm. This wasn't going to make any more sense by screaming at a literal demon. And Angel, but the demon was more infuriating at the moment. He stared at her with a mix of awe and shock, and she didn't want to think about any of it.

Aziraphale sighed, "before the current era, you know Roman times and what not, the Archangel Michael played with the idea of threads. It was similar in concept to the Greek idea of fate -"

"You happened to be alive when this was a thing. It means when a demon curses you and says the word 'eternally' a black thread'll appear to let everyone know you're damned forever. White thread with angels."

"I'm damned forever? Wait, you said Roman times - I was alive during the ancient roman era?"

"Well, darling, he blessed you and I cursed you at the same day. Meaning your soul is trapped with both Heaven and Hell," Crowley said softly. "We think your soul has been reincarnated since about 55BC. And it's because of us. This Golden shit you see is our connection."

"But white and black make grey?"

Crowley clapped and said "aha! She gets it!"

"Crowley," Aziraphale said, though his eyes were light with amusement. "We can't explain the color of the thread. But we believe it means you're connected to us. Both of us, we get this pull to you when you're around. As though we have to see you."

There was a moment of silence as they let her collect her thoughts. Unconsciously, she'd curled up into a ball on the comfy chair Aziraphale had miracled. She thought and thought, rolling over the idea that she's trapped here on earth. An accidental immortal being tied to these two.

She glanced at Aziraphale. She knew him, she has known him. She bit her lip, wishing to understand everything as it was.

"M-May I?" She asked, tentatively lifting a hand near his face. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to try and remember.

The Angel nodded. He was soft, his hair light and white, in short curls on top of his head. She liked the curls, they looked rather fetching on him. Her fingertips brushed lightly down his face, feeling his kind face. She liked his lips, they were pink and couldn't fight a smile. Then she glanced down and saw his hand in his lap. Running an hand down his shoulder to his hand, she lifted it and eyed the golden ring.

"Aziraphale..." she murmured. It all started to fall into place. The dancing, the food, the wine. He'd looked so out of place in pale clothing, so obviously finer than anyone else's. He'd tried to blend in with an outdated style, to balance the richness, but she could spot him through the crowd with ease. His cheeks had gotten pink, and he'd gone for a drink. She hadn't meant to spill on him, she just wanted a chat. "I gave you this ring. You didn't want it at first, but I gave it to you. It says Aziraphale on it."

He took a shaky breath, his eyes becoming glassy with tears. His lips trembled as he said, "you did."

Aziraphale slid the ring off his finger, turning it so she could see the inside. There enough his name was scrawled in haphazard writing. It had faded from the years, some of the details lost to time. But she remembered this ring when it was new. When William had gotten it in his shop and didn't know what to make of it. And she'd taken it, knew it would be special.

She pressed a soft kiss to the ring, then slid it back on Aziraphale's finger. She looked him in the eyes as she kissed the back of his hand, "I remember you."

The tears had actually fallen now, hitting his cheeks softly. He didn't try to hide it, and she wouldn't want him to. Perhaps it was this whole eternal blessing thing, but she was drawn to him.

Then she turned to the demon. Crowley. He sat high and mighty in his chair, looking away as though he were intruding on Aziraphale's private moment. He was handsome in a different way than Aziraphale. Where Aziraphale was soft and strong, Crowley was sharp and sweet. She smiled when she looked at him, knowing he was sweet without saying it.

She went to him to, lifting her hand then asking softly, "may I touch you?"

He swallowed, and nodded. She first touched his hair, it was softer then it looked. Her fingertips brushed it so it feel on his forehead, liking the contrast of his skin against the red. Then she traced along his tattoo, the way his cheekbone felt under her touch.

With gentle hands, she cupped his cheeks and turned his face so he had to look her in the eyes. She smiled. "I'd wondered if they were still yellow."

He closed his eyes, cringing. He'd always hated his eyes. "Sorry they're-"

"Beautiful." He opened his eyes quickly. "I remember your eyes. They've been in my dreams and I never knew why. The man with the yellow snake eyes. They are so, so beautiful. Like a sunflower."

"You're comparing s'demon eyes to a sunflower?"

She smiled and nodded, "you have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

Crowley sucked in a breath, closing his eyes. It as though the attention itself would make him implode.

"Keep them closed," she said. Then he felt a pair of soft lips kiss one eyelid, then the other. "Absolutely beautiful. Don't you think so, Aziraphale?"

Crowley was shocked to hear Aziraphale agree. "I adore your eyes, dear. They've been my favorite for a long time."

The three didn't know what to do with themselves, time frozen around them. But however strange the situation, she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. She wanted to get to know this Angel and demon, understand their pasts and more about their connection.

“Thank you, my dear, for your patience,” Aziraphale said kindly.

“I suppose I should be thanking you, you’ve waited hundreds of years.” She said with a dry laugh that made Crowley smile.

There weren’t any words that seemed to describe the moment the three of them shared, in a moment frozen in time knowing they had all the time in the world. But for now it was enough, and that was all it needed to be.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #fluff #soulmate au #good omens fanfiction #good omens x reader #kind of on accident #didn’t think I cared about it until now and I still don’t but I’m proud of this fic #god it’s long please read #historical shit #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #Aziraphale x Crowley #12k words #my sanity is gone #don’t even care that much about a reader insert with them but I’m here #so enjoy

[owen-writes]

Dysphoria Blues

Ineffable Husbands x Gender Neutral Reader

No pronouns but the reader is implied as transgender

You were feeling a bit off today, the weight of dysphoria settling on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. Sensing your mood, Aziraphale and Crowley decided to take matters into their own celestial hands.

Aziraphale, ever the caring one, ushered you to the living room, adorned with soft cushions and warm lighting. "My dear, I can't bear to see you like this," he said with genuine concern. "Crowley and I have devised a plan to lift your spirits."

Crowley, leaning against the doorframe with a sly grin, added, "Yeah, angel and demon dream team at your service."

They gently guided you to the couch, Crowley's touch reassuringly warm against your skin. Once settled, Aziraphale fetched a weighted blanket, draping it over you like a comforting embrace. Crowley, with his characteristic swagger, took his place beside you.

Aziraphale's soothing voice filled the room as he began reading aloud from your favorite book. "Darling, we thought this might distract you a bit," he said, his eyes sparkling with kindness.

Crowley, with his characteristic wit, chimed in, "And if it doesn't, blame the angel. I'm just here for moral support."

You couldn't help but crack a small smile at their banter. Aziraphale continued reading, his voice like a balm to your troubled soul. Meanwhile, Crowley, draped in an air of nonchalant confidence, had his arm around you, fingers tracing absent patterns on your shoulder.

"Angel," you murmured, your head nestled comfortably in Aziraphale's lap, "thank you for this. It really helps."

He looked down at you, his expression softening. "Anything for you, my dear. We only want to see you happy."

Crowley, playing his part, smirked and whispered, "Yeah, don't go thinking we're turning soft or anything."

As Aziraphale continued reading, Crowley's fingers found yours, intertwining in a subtle display of solidarity. "You know," Crowley said, his voice lower now, "you're not alone in this. We're here for you."

You nodded, feeling a warmth spreading through you—a warmth that had nothing to do with the weighted blanket. Despite Crowley's tough exterior, there was a genuine concern in his eyes, and you couldn't help but appreciate the effort they both put into making you feel better.

Hours passed in the cozy embrace of the weighted blanket, Aziraphale's voice becoming a lullaby, and Crowley's presence a steady anchor. As the story unfolded, so did a sense of calm within you.

In that shared space between an angel and a demon, you found solace—a reminder that love and care transcend celestial boundaries. And as the words of your favorite book wove a tapestry of comfort around you, you couldn't help but be grateful for the extraordinary beings who had chosen to share their ordinary, heartwarming moments with you.

#crowley x you #crowley good omens #crowley x reader #crowley #good omems fic #good omens x reader #good omens imagine #good omens #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x Aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x you #Aziraphale x Crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #ineffable husbands x reader #ineffable spouses x reader

[vavoomed-for-crowley]

Living With(out) You Chapter 4: Silent Night

Out now on AO3

A little teaser:

"Aziraphale, you damn idiot!" Crowley yelled at the sky again, although this time the pain could be heard in his voice. He noticed this himself, took another long sip and just stared at the starry sky above him for a moment. Emotions were surely the least useful thing in his existence and he'd drown them out for as long as he needed to. He didn't see much in the sky, which was not only because the streets of London were too brightly lit, but also because he was already so drunk that he could barely see clearly at all. It wasn't like the stars had any answers for him anyway. They would stay just as silent as a certain angel he missed so much. And Crowley felt lonelier than ever as his back dropped against the Bentley. He exhaled deeply and looked at the bottle in his hand. It was almost finished so why waste it, he thought and finished the rest.

He had been near the bookshop every day. How could he not? The bookshop had been there for years, centuries even. And Crowley had always been welcome. It didn't matter that the last time he had been inside had been rather painful. He came nonetheless. He didn't know what else to do. They had spent the past few years together, seeing each other multiple times a week and now Aziraphale was just gone... Where was Crowley supposed to be at when not at the bookshop or at least near it?

[...]

He wished to just sleep for a few decades. And it wasn't like he hadn't tried. But something kept him awake. Or rather: someone. Whenever he had closed his eyes, Crowley saw him. His beautiful blue eyes and white curly hair. His sweet smile. Even his stupid glasses when he was reading. He felt every touch of him that was sometimes more and sometimes less unintentionally. And then... Then, Crowley saw his sad eyes before Crowley put on his sunglasses in front of him for the last time, he heard his voice that told him that he forgives him... And he had been wide awake again. And most times even grabbing the next bottle of alcohol to drown out the memories; to somehow cope with his emotions.

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut to stop any tears that were about to form and angrily threw the empty bottle against one of the walls of the buildings, luckily not hitting any window, which, to be fair, was close. "All of this for them? For heaven? You damn idiot!" 

Had Aziraphale ever loved him like he loved him? Were there ever real feelings? All those looks, the touches, the risks they had taken for each other... The peaceful existence they had carved out for themselves... Everything they had worked for over the last few years... Had it all mattered half as much to Aziraphale as it had to Crowley? 

#ineffable breakup #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #good omens #good omens ao3 #good omens fanfiction ao3 #good omens fanfiction #crowley #good omens aziracrow #good omens crowley #good omens fandom #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #good omens aziraphale #crowley x reader fanfiction #crowley x reader #aziraphale x crowley x reader #hobby writer #self promoting #archieve of our own #ao3 #ao3 fanfic

[avocado-writing]

🎁 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. 

#aziraphale x crowley x reader #crowley x reader x aziraphale #good omens x reader #Fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #Xmas prompts

[doctorcrowleywho]

December 3. “Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” (crowley x reader x aziraphale)

25 Days of Ficmas - Day 3

“Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” (crowley x reader x aziraphale)  

Word count -   1709

Warnings - Maybe a few curse words, and a few grammar mistakes (I wrote this at 3am!)

Pairing(s) - Crowley x gn! reader x Aziraphale

Summary - The husbands want to ask you out with Christmas style

When Aziraphale set his mind to something he wouldn’t stop until he saw it all the way through. Call him an old silly, but that’s just the way he did things as an angel. Of course, certain demons would always tempt him away from his work. But, that was just the price he paid when you had a literal demon for a partner, he had to make sacrifices to see those amazing fiery locks in bed.

For most of Aziraphale's existence, he believed Crowley was the only one that would ever be able to distract him from his angelic work. Which, in fairness just consisted of looking after his bookshop. However, that all changed the moment he met you. 

He still remembered how adorable you looked as you wandered into his shop looking like a lost little puppy. It had been raining like crazy that afternoon, and you had run into his bookshop seeking some kind of refuge. 

Confused about who could have possibly decided to come into his shop at a time like this, Aziraphale emerged from the back of his shop. Seeing you shivering immediately made his eyes soften. He quickly rushed towards you offering you every kind of comfort you could possibly imagine. Anything from a nice warm towel to (as he put it) the best hot cocoa you would ever have in your life. He was so kind you didn’t have the heart to deny his invitation to make you feel better, and he wasn’t lying about the hot chocolate. 

Ever since that evening in Aziraphale's shop, you made it your mission to visit him at least once a day if you could. He was just so kind, you swore he was the personification of sunshine. It didn’t take you long to start to develop feelings for the angel. I mean how could you not, when every little smile from him made your heart do a professional gymnast routine?

A month after you met Aziraphale you met his demon partner. Which, at first caused your heart to sink a little bit. Seeing how close they were together made you assume that Aziraphle would probably just want to stay friends. Which, had to be fine with you. But, then you stumbled in on a conversation you probably weren’t supposed to hear. 

“And how do we do that Crowley? ‘Hi, we’ve liked you since we met you and would like to take you on a date.’ It’s never that easy!” Aziraphale piped up and you felt yourself freeze.  Are you sure you heard him right? He wasn’t talking about you was he?

“It is that easy! In fact, we’ll ask them tonight! I’ll show you just how easy it can be, Y/N won’t know what hit them!” Crowley chuckled proudly and you let out a soft gasp before running out of the store. You had to get home to reevaluate several parts of your life. However, you couldn’t fight the smile that was tugging at your lips. 

Tonight was the night Aziraphale and Crowley were going to ask you out and they had to prepare. It was at that point Crowley realized he actually had no idea how to ask out a human. Apparently, you can’t just romantically pine after someone for 6,000 years- that style of flirting only works on specific angels. 

So, Aziraphale turned to his books as he always does in a pinch. “Well it is the Christmas season, so why don’t we….” he trialed off as his fingers skimmed every book beginning with the letter ‘C’. “Ah there you are!” he smiled bringing out The very big book of Christmas Traditions 

“This has to have something that could help us right?” he looked up realizing Crowley had wondered off to god knows where, so it was now apparently up to him to prepare the perfect date proposal…fantastic. 

That’s when he found it! Mistletoe, reading up on it mistletoe is supposedly very romantic. Which was absolute perfection in his eyes, and it was even a type of plant. So, if Crowley wanted to take credit for some of it he absolutely could. Although, he secretly hoped he’d get the first kiss it was his idea after all. 

From there he got to work. Busying himself by putting different sizes and types of mistletoe all throughout his shop. Stepping into his shop now, someone would think they were stepping into a greenhouse. Aziraphale created a strategic ‘getting someone to Christmas kiss you battle ground’, and you were the victim. 

Of course, the angel saw nothing wrong with this. He only ever wanted to make you happy, and the Christmas season made everyone happy. Good lord, he hoped that this would put one of your famous smiles on your face. The kind that made your eyes crinkle and your head tilt. That was Aziraphals favorite, and often how he judged if a joke he said was actually funny. 

Oh, how he and Crowley absolutely adored you. You were the first human that made the pair actually feel something. Of course, they loved and enjoyed humanity, especially enough to save it. But, when you came along you gave them purpose.

Having you in their lives was like God putting a third player into their game of chess. They didn’t expect it, but once they got used to it they never wanted you to leave. 

Crowley sure as hell didn’t expect to like you this much, in fact he never expected to love anyone as much as he loved you and Aziraphale. But, it was the little things that went straight to his heart. The way your eyes would light up whenever you talked about something you loved, how you’d squeeze his hand before dragging him off when you saw something you ‘just had to have’, and especially how you made him feel safe. As if for a couple of moments he wasn’t evil, or wrong, or bad, he was just Crowley, and for you that was enough. He truly loved you.

“Angel I’m ho-” Crowley called out carrying a very nice bottle of fine wine and a lovely bouquet of flowers. Immediately he took off his glasses so he could examine what the heaven was going on here.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley hissed out having to step over some mistletoe placed on the floor for some odd reason. Sauntering to the back of the shop Crowley found his angel happily snapping his fingers as he made sure his office was properly covered in the plant. “Angel, would you like to explain what exactly is going on here? Why does your bookshop look like the jungles of the North Pole?”  

“Well, I did some reading and the book said that if two people…or more,” Aziraphale wiggled his eyebrows at Crowley who let out an over-dramatic huff “, were underneath one then they have to kiss!” He finished beaming proudly.

“Was that book 50 Shades of Christmas?” Crowley rolled his eyes placing his sunglasses back on as he heard the front door open, but he assumed it was just a customer. Oh, that poor customer.

Aziraphale glared at Crowley as he straightened his bow tie “Honestly Crowley could you be a little bit more supportive? At least I didn’t wander off to who knows where, I had to do all the work!”

“I left to get some wine and flowers, so we could have a nice evening in and then ask them when the time is right!” Crowley hissed back placing the bottle and flowers on the counters and making sure to be as loud as possible. He was a demon he had to be dramatic.

“But it’s tradition!” 

“It’s now a fire hazard!”

At this point the tensions were so high they didn’t even realize you were standing in the doorway of Aziraphale's office. If only you had brought your popcorn you thought to yourself, no longer were you embarrassed about all of this. Honestly, you were a little bit flattered, Aziraphale did all of this for you? He truly was the sweetest being in the universe.

Seeing them bicker like an old married couple over you was the cherry on top of an already perfect cake. “You know Crowley, you always have to do this, you have to go and be nice-” Azirpahale started, but Crowley effortlessly shoved him against the wall right next to you. 

“What did I say about calling me nice?” he hissed darkly, and that’s when you decided to step in. As much as you’d like to see how far they’d get, you didn’t exactly want it turning to violence. 

Clearing your throat you took a few steps closer gently removing Crowley's hands from Aziraphale's jacket. “Excuse me boys, but you’re doing it wrong,” you said with a soft smile on your face watching as both their heads turned to face you. 

You then took it as your opportunity to strike “Oh look Aziraphale is that mistletoe?” you said softly before pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It wasn’t long or passionate, but it was soft and oh-so-sweet. It was the kind of kiss that would make your heart melt if you weren’t careful. 

As you pulled back you couldn’t help but giggle at his wide-eyed expression. But,you wasted no time as you turned towards Crowley “Oh look Crowley is that mistletoe too? What are the chances!” you beamed seeing a dumbfounded smile of his own on his lips. 

“Oh just come here you silly little-” he didn’t even get to finish that sentence as your lips collided effortlessly. Now Crowley’s kiss was everything you expected it to be. Sugar and spice and everything nice. As you pulled back you had to take a moment to catch your breath. 

“Wait does this mean that you’re…that we’re….oh my dear.” Aziraphale chuckled to himself in utter disbelief. His plan actually worked this time, which was an utter surprise. 

Quickly he pulled both you and Crowley in for a tight hug, and you relaxed knowing you had exactly what you wanted for Christmas right here. “Where did all of this mistletoe come from?” you wondered out loud. 

“Long Story-”

“Don’t ask.”

#crowley good omens #Aziraphale #Good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens fluff #good omens fanfiction #crowley good omens x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x crowley x reader #x reader #gn! reader #david tennant fanfiction #micheal sheen #david tennant #micheal sheen fanfiction #25 days of christmas #25 days of ficmas #merry christmas #happy holidays

[t0omanyfandoms]

"Good omens"

Put what you think in comments???

#good omens #Crowley #anthony j. crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #aziraphale and crowley #Crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x Crowley x reader

[jessicaellenart]

I've just read the most lovely and brilliantly written Good Omens x Reader fic 🥺 I've gone down an AO3 hole again after season 2!

"The Light, The Dark, and the Spaces Inbetween" by Avocado.

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #aziraphale x crowley x reader #crowley x aziraphale x reader #good omens x reader

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

Aziraphale and Crowley fanfics requests are now OPEN!!!

Hello to all of my followers and newbies

So, awhile back I posted my third list of character fanfic requests and I included our beloved angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley together on the list. After finishing watching season two almost two months ago, I decided to jump onto the bandwagon to write x reader for them.

Before anybody asks why I'm just now opening requests for them, THIS is a reminder that they are still open for requests in case if anybody forgot about it.

I can do fanfics for one or the other, but I'm also game to do a poly relationship for them both with the reader :D.

The rules are still the same. Both my inbox and DM (Direct Message) are open for the duration of the request period. However, I'll close my inbox if the flow of requests slow down. On the other hand, my DM is open 24/7 if anybody still wants to make a request.

When you do make a request, please include a plot alongside it. This helps me out more when I start a new fanfic.

One last note, I do have a personal life and a job to handle on a daily basis. Also, I'm still in the middle of writing other fanfic requests, so it'll take me longer to get yours done.

So, thank you for understanding and request away :)...

Aziraphale 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Crowley 🌸❤️‍🔥👐🏻💐💘🖤🔪🩸🔞

Symbols:

🌸-Fluff 

❤️‍🔥-Smut 

👐🏻-General 

 💐-Dating 

 💘-Romance 

🖤-Angst 

🔪🩸-Violence 

 🔞-NSFW

Citrus Scale: 

🍑 (Peach)-No Sexual Interactions 

🍎 (Citrus)-Romantic hug/or kiss 

🍊 (Orange)-Romantic hug/or kiss with a hint of sexual interaction 

 🍈 (Lime)-Heavy making out with light groping 

 🍋 (Lemon) Actual Sexual Intercourse

#aziraphale #crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x crowley x reader #aziraphale x y/n #crowley x y/n #aziraphale x you #crowley x you #aziraphale x crowley x y/n #aziraphale x crowley x you #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction blog #fanfic blog #character x reader #x reader fanfiction #x reader fanfic

[ineffablyruined]

DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT SMILE?!!?

Gif by @stars-bean

It's at the very end. And it's just a split second. A hint.

But I swear it's there.

You all see it, too, right?

His eyes get a little twinkle, the corners of his mouth twitch up. He wants to spend the night before he realizes he shouldn't.

HE WANTS TO SPEND THE NIGHT.

(Someone help me, I'm unwell)

#i feel like i should be a microexpressions reader at this point #but only Michael's expressions #can i get paid to just notice things about his face? #please? #michael “acting choices” sheen #aziraphale #good omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #ineffable spouses #otp: ineffable #crowley #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #azicrow #good omens gifs #michael sheen expressions #ineffablyruined

[thebootstrap-paradox]

The necessity to touch your lips when the millennia-long love of your life kissed you but you've to reject him

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens season 2 #good omens season two #good omens spoilers #go season 2 #go s2 #go s2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #crowley #Aziraphale #good omens aziraphale #aziracrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale good omens #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale x reader #good omens crowley #ineffable divorce #ineffable idiots

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Demon's Blood

Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Vampire!Reader - 18+ ONLY

Summary: Part two to Angel's Blood. You've tried Aziraphale. It's high time you tried Crowley, too.

CW: blood, bloodplay, knifeplay (only a smidge and it's barely play), wrist cutting (for snack purposes), choking, p in v, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, Dom!Crowley, Switch!Aziraphale, degradation.

Requests are: open and encouraged

Gomens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

Vamp!Reader tag list: @purplefrog1sblog (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You’re not sure, but you think they may have planned this, not by starving you, of course- or removing your food sources, but, by just… waiting for the right moment to strike. 

And it would be a blatant lie if you had said that you hadn’t been thinking about the way you ground an orgasm out on Aziraphale’s thigh while drinking down his blood (it would also be a lie to say Aziraphale and Crowley hadn’t been thinking about the same with regularity) more often than you should. Thinking about it late at night when you couldn’t sleep (not that you needed to sleep at all, of course) you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of it more than once. A lot more than once if you were completely honest with yourself. 

Since you’d fed from Aziraphale, your relationship with the Angel and Demon had changed quite a lot. Gone were the days of quiet platonic contemplation in each others’ presence. Now there were days of stolen kisses, picnics in the park, and theatre shows. Days of mind-blowing sex, too. That was also now a regular occurrence- and one you were not going to complain about any time soon and neither were they, just quietly. 

You hadn’t fed from him since, as you hadn’t really needed to. That was changing, though. You were beginning to grow hungry again, beginning to feel your cells fizzling and dying. At least this time you were in the early stages of hunger and not leaving it until the brink of desperation to actually do something about it. 

Your partners had also clearly started to notice the way your eyes would dilate at the scent of blood. The little sharp gasps you’d make when someone would get a papercut across the street, or when someone scraped their knee. You would never feed from someone innocent, you all knew that. But it didn’t change the visceral reaction you had to the smell either. 

Tonight, however, blood was the last thing you had on your mind. Sure, the need was always lingering under the surface, waiting for you to snap and feed to your undead heart's content- but it was also extremely hard to focus when you were laying on top of Aziraphale with his cock rubbing up against the crack of your ass and his thick, warm fingers prying your legs up and apart. 

Aziraphale was peppering kisses all over your neck, whispering sweet nothings as his grip tightened on the meat of your thighs. Crowley was currently in the midst of burying his fingers as deep into your cunt as he possibly could. In and out, twisting and stretching your hole without mercy. 

You’re doing your best not to snap your hips up off the bed, and Aziraphale is whispering sweet and filthy praise into your ears as a reward. When his tongue rakes up the shell of your ear you whine loudly. 

“What’s the matter, Pet?” Crowley asks, slinking over you to nip at your jaw. “This not enough for you?” 

Your face screws up with pleasure as Aziraphale grinds his heavy cock against the small of your spine. You know he’s loving this, the little shit. Aziraphale, you had figured out- liked the teasing. He loved to make himself wait, to get just enough pleasure to keep him going before being able to truly let go. 

“Mm- please?” You ask, forcing your eyes to open and focus on the Demon currently paying deft attention to your nipples with his forked tongue. 

“Actually, dear-” Aziraphale pipes up softly, giving your thighs a yank when he notices that they’re starting to slip closed again. “We rather thought we might try something new tonight.” 

Crowley’s brow arches deviously. “If you’re interested, of course,” the Demon says innocently, forcing himself to quit tonguing your nipple.

“What did you- oh- have in mind?” You ask, jumping when Crowley gives your nipple a harsh pinch just for the fun of it. 

The Demon’s lips curl into a knowing grin. A grin you’ve come to know quite well over the last few centuries, although not something you’re entirely familiar with in this current scenario. Your pussy clenches around nothing, and you wiggle back against Aziraphale’s cock, who gasps behind you. 

Crowley leans over you to the bedside table, giving you the perfect opportunity to press a sharp bite into his side. He chuckles, and Aziraphale gives your thigh a vaguely scolding pat. When he returns to sit back on his haunches, he hides what he has behind his back. 

“Toys aren’t something you need to hide from me, Crowley, dear. I may have been born in the sixteenth century, but that doesn’t mean I’m a sixteenth-century prude either.” You bat your eyes at him for emphasis and he just ignores you, launching right into a new question. 

“Mm, right- are you hungry?” 

Now this does confuse you. Hungry? Yes, always, and quite frankly the reminder of your current lack of blood supply is not helping the intimate mood as much as you’d like it to. 

“Y-yes?” You supply. Zira noses at your ear, making dark and heated eye contact with the Demon over your shoulder. 

“Well, see- the Angel and I were thinking,” Crowley said, twiddling the item behind his back in his hands for a moment. “If you wanted to try, erm, the other side of the Canal, so to speak.”

One of Aziraphale’s hands slides down from where he’s holding you open to rub as best he can at your clit from that angle. Your eyes flutter and the muscles in your now free leg groan in protest as you stretch it back out. 

“Not too far, dearest,” Aziraphale interjects. “We’re going to need that back there in a moment.” 

You’re not sure what to make of this, but you can’t deny the way your pussy clenches at the thought of trying Demon’s blood. Particularly after knowing how Angel’s blood had worked on you. 

“What have you got behind your back, Crowley?” 

He pulls the object out and into view. You recognise it immediately. A blade. A delicate little thing, curved at the tip. It looks like something Crowley’s taken good care of for quite some time. 

“You like it?” He asks, twirling the sharp thing in his fingers. “They don’t make ‘em like this anymore, do they?” 

You shake your head. They definitely didn’t. 

Crowley took the blade and set it aside for a moment, shuffling forward to sit closer between your legs. You eye his cock as he takes it in hand. He nudges Zira’s fingers away from your clit, who splutters at the ridiculousness of the act and Crowley replaces them with the head of his cock.

 

He’s still holding it in place as he rubs himself against your clit, little gasps escaping you both. Your thighs twitch with pleasure and pain as Aziraphale goes back to holding them both in place. 

The Angel can’t help but rock himself against you, pre-cum leaking onto your skin. The slide of his cock against your arse, and Crowley’s cock against your clit makes you shiver, head falling back onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Oh, she likes that,” Aziraphale pants, fingers leaving red marks on your skin. You can’t help but let the little shy whimper out. Crowley snickers mockingly, slapping the head of his cock against your clit a few times. 

“Be a dear,” Crowley said, reaching for your hand and placing it above his length. “Hold that there, eh, love?” 

You blush at the request, placing the flat of your hand over him so he can continue to rub his cock into your clit while he reaches once again for the blade. The feel of his cock sliding against your folds and your hand has you writhing. 

Crowley takes the blade and trails it down your chest, hips stuttering just a little when you swell with intrigue. Oh, this was looking interesting indeed.

“Didn’t fail to notice, Pet,” he emphasises the ‘t’. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Didn’t I?” You pant back, rolling your hips against his cock. Aziraphale groans at the friction. Crowley hums a ‘no’ at you, and you grin. “Yes, dear- I’m hungry.” 

Your Angel and Demon take this as word enough, and Crowley takes his blade and his wrist and raises it above your body. He gives you one more heated look before slicing the skin there softly, a little ‘oh’ as fat drops of blood slither down his skin and drip off onto your body. 

Pat. A drop lands on your chin. Pat. Another on your chest. Pat, pat. More down your tummy and then- pat, pat, pat. Drips landing on the hand keeping Crowley in place. You can smell it, sweet notes of cedar. You feel out the points of your fangs with your tongue. Crowley clocks the motion and grins, allowing some more of his blood to drip onto your fingertips. Pat, pat. 

He moves your hand, raising it to your lips. 

“Go on,” he tempts. “Have a taste, hey?” 

You glance between your bloodied fingers and Crowley’s heated smirk. Not breaking eye contact, you slide your fingers to your mouth. The first taste of his blood on your tongue feels charged, almost electric. Oh, this was definitely different from Angel’s blood. 

Your lips wrap around your fingers and you begin to suck them clean. Crowley places one hand around the base of his cock and slaps your clit a few more times, groaning as pre-cum beads at the tip. 

While Aziraphale tasted of peonies and ink, Crowley tasted of grapes and smoke with the obligatory iron that followed. God, they both tasted divine. Your tongue wrapped around your fingers and cleaned off the last traces. Your eyes flicked to the drop on your chest, which you swipe onto your forefinger and promptly suck clean. 

“Oh, Crowley,” you moan. He’s got a wicked grin plastered across his features.

“Good, then, I take it?” 

You nod, already starting to feel the effects of the blood in your system. Cells coming back alive, energy returning but there’s something else too. You’ve only had a few drops so you can’t be sure yet, but it almost feels like your blood is heating under your skin. 

Your eyes flick to his dripping wrist, and you allow a soft “more, please?” to convey just how much you desired to taste him. Crowley acquiesces, presenting you with his slick wrist. You take it softly with both hands, pressing your lips to the cut and laving your tongue over it to collect any and all of the blood that has leaked out. 

Once you’ve done this, you brush your fangs over the soft skin, completely lost to anything else at that moment other than the fact that you were finally feeding. 

It’s as you begin sucking anew on the cut and properly feeding that Crowley sinks his cock inside you. You gap, eyes fluttering shut as he sinks all the way to the hilt. Aziraphale lets out a few breathy moans at the sight and adjusts himself so that it is now his knees and thighs locking yours open for your Demon. 

This leaves Aziraphale’s hands free. He stretches them to get the ache out before caressing up and down your thighs and sides. He squeezes at your hips and whispers in your ear about how gorgeous you look like this. 

All of a sudden it hits you- Crowley’s blood. Demon’s blood. Demon blood which was once Angel’s blood. You moan wantonly as the effects start to pile up. Crowley’s blood was an aphrodisiac just like Aziraphale’s, yes, but there was something different about it. The way it was electrically charged, singeing your nerves and setting them alight at the same time. The way it felt as though the blood might be roiling with heat in your veins. Oh, this was definitely new. It was like… Crowley’s blood was just laced with pure sin. Or perhaps it was just pure unadulterated sin. Period. 

All you knew was that your thoughts were fading into lustful madness, and you forced yourself to break away from his wrist long enough to let out a dangerously needy growl. Crowley arched his brow and pulled his hips back so he could slam them inside again. 

Your mouth dropped open in pleasure, and the force of the thrust pressed you back against your Angel, who moaned loudly in your ear. You reached behind you with one hand to pull at Aziraphale’s hair. You couldn’t see it, but given the look Crowley had on his face, the Angel was making an expression that could easily have been branded as pure lust. The whimper that followed also gave you that impression. 

Once the shock of Crowley’s movements had passed, you pulled his wrist back to your lips. You grazed your fangs over a section of skin that was unharmed and waited for Crowley’s permission. Sure, the cut was there, but there was nothing quite like the feeling of flesh splitting beneath your fangs. It satisfied that primal urge like no other. 

Crowley nodded and his hips stuttered with pleasure as you bit down. He moaned, his other arm wobbling as he tried to keep himself up as you started feeding in earnest. That might have something to do with the venom that is secreted from your fangs when you feed. Nothing toxic, of course. It was just meant for numbing the pain felt from feeding and replacing it with pleasure, changing what the nerves picked up so that your prey wouldn’t struggle to get away. 

After all, why would they if your bite was blinding ecstasy? 

Crowley thrust his hips again and set a harsh pace, grunting with pleasure as you fed off him and clenched your pussy around him. You were growing more desperate the more of his blood you drank, blood fizzing in your veins, crackling at your nerves. 

“You’re both so gorgeous like this, my darlings,” Aziraphale said softly, skating the tips of his fingers over your hips to squeeze at the bone there possessively. You whined around Crowley’s arm. 

Aziraphale’s fingers trailed further along your skin, coming to rest on your clit. He could feel where the two of you were connected and felt around Crowley’s cock as he pounded inside you. That coil was winding tighter in your core, and as Aziraphale began to circle your bundle of nerves, you wondered just how long you were going to last. 

Crowley’s blood was sparking inside you, and every tight rub of Aziraphale’s fingers on your clit felt like it was almost too much. It felt as though the raw endings of your nerves were exposed and exploding with every touch. 

Without warning, you came screaming, loud wails of pleasure as your body jerked between them. Aziraphale’s legs tightened on yours, keeping you from snapping them closed from the overstimulation. 

“Oh, fuck-” Crowley grunted as you clenched down tight on him. He fucked you through the orgasm, not letting up for a moment. And you realised with horror that it had done nothing to quell the ache inside you. In fact, if nothing else, you were desperate for more. 

“Harder-” you grunted, abandoning Crowley’s wrist to reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. The Demon complied, snapping his hips up against you harder, setting a rougher pace than before. With his other hand free, he was now able to balance himself properly on the bed and get a more comfortable rhythm going. “Fuck, please- harder-” 

Crowley chuckled breathily in your ear, nipping at the skin just below it. Aziraphale then slapped your clit without warning, causing you to arch off the bed by the hips and shriek. The Angel laughed lovingly from behind your other ear. 

“Oh dear, I rather think she likes that too, don’t you, Crowley?” 

Crowley groaned as you clenched down on him once again as Aziraphale repeated the motion. 

“Fuck, Pet,” Crowley managed. “Oh, you love being between us like this, don’t you?” 

You whimpered, mouth dropping open as you got closer to another orgasm. Your thighs were twitching under Aziraphale’s almost uncontrollably. 

“Oh, you do,” Crowley mocked. “You’re so full up on the taste of me that you can’t stand anything other than our cocks on you, fucking you-” You were nodding desperately, scratching your fingers down his back. Crowley was a little bit of a masochist and made sure to never miracle away or let the marks heal for a day or so after you’d given him some so he could enjoy the sting a while longer. He was going to enjoy seeing these in the morning, that was for sure. 

“Are you goi-nngh- fuck, going to cum, darling? Already? Poor little thing. Go on, then- cum for us again.” 

Your back arches as another orgasm rips its way out of you, more powerful than the one before. You don’t know how to function as the pleasure tears through your nerves like wildfire. You cry out before biting down on the junction of Crowley’s neck. Not to feed, but just to stifle yourself. 

Crowley shouts, hips stuttering forward as he finally finishes too, ropes of cum painting your inner walls. He’s panting and burying himself as deeply as he can inside you. The Demon rocks his hips softly against your hips, riding out his pleasure. 

You’re whimpering and keening, desperate for more. Crowley must give the Angel a suggestive look, who softly unhooks your legs from his own and starts pressing kisses down your neck, hand coming up to squeeze at your breast. 

“My dear, would you be ever so kind as to allow me up?” Aziraphale asks you. You groan with the effort of removing yourself from his chest. It’s a lot of work after having been fucked so thoroughly, but you do it happily for him. 

Aziraphale slides out from behind you and Crowley takes his place. You settle back against the Demon and smile tiredly as he places his bony chin down on the top of your head. 

Aziraphale spends a moment admiring the view before him before kneeling back down on the bed and positioning himself against your entrance. 

“Can I?” He asks, knowing how exhausted and overstimulated you were. You nodded, gasping as Crowley pinches a nipple harshly. You may be tired, but the effects of his blood were still active in your veins. 

Aziraphale spends his sweet time sinking inside you. He’s much thicker than Crowley, and the stretch burns pleasurably as he slowly rocks his hips forward. You’re struggling not to squirm under him as he finally bottoms out. 

“Crowley, be a dear-” Aziraphale swallows thickly as you clench around him, swollen walls making you feel even tighter than usual. “Wrap that pretty hand around her neck for me?” 

“Oh, as you wish, Angel-” Crowley replies, bringing the hand that wasn’t pinching and tugging at your abused nipples to rest on your throat. You whimper and raise your jaw to give him more space. He chuckles knowingly and gives you a quick squeeze. 

Aziraphale must like the way that makes you twitch if the way he whimpered was anything to go by. 

“Please- Zira, I need you,” you pant, hips now beginning to attempt to rock against him. He moans and thrusts his hips shallowly into you. You gasp, though the intake of air is stolen from you as Crowley tightens his hand once again, cutting off any and all airflow. 

Aziraphale can’t hold out any more and begins to snap his hips back and forth, delighting in the way your tummy twitches with the motion. You swear you can feel your clit throbbing and twitching too. 

Crowley loosens his grip to allow you to suck half a breath in before taking the choice away again. Now, as a vampire, you don’t technically need to breathe, but old habits die hard, and breathing was still second nature to you, even after all this time. 

“Oh, that’s it, Pet,” Crowley says, squeezing your breast with the other hand. “Looking so edible for us, aren’t you?” Aziraphale moans at the Demon’s words, and Crowley tuts. 

“Don’t worry, Angel- I haven’t forgotten about you. Pretty thing, isn’t he? Likes to think he’s so innocent, doesn’t he? Did you know,” he pauses for effect, and you can feel the wicked grin from behind you. “This whole thing was his idea. Oh, I know- doesn’t seem like our dear old ‘Ziraphale.” 

Aziraphale blushes dark pink, grabbing onto your hip to fuck into you harder. You’re watching him with rapt attention. He does look so pretty like this, so perfect. Angelic. Not that this is a surprise, of course.

“Crowley-” Aziraphale warns halfheartedly. “Please-”

Crowley releases your throat. You suck a deep breath in and reach down to rub at your clit, feeling pressure starting to build once again. 

“Please what, Angel? You know you love the praise. Did you know,” he trails off in your ear. “Managed to make him cum untouched from praise once.” 

You chuckle airily, though it breaks off into a long moan at the way Aziraphale squeaks and his hips snap forward. You would have to see if that particular event could be replicated.

“Mm, that was a fun day,” Crowley says almost conversationally. “Angel, are you close?” 

Aziraphale nods jerkily, fingers leaving red marks on your skin as he begins to chase his orgasm. You know it won’t be long, given how much he had been denied and teased before. You rub your clit faster, in time with his thrusts.

Crowley laughs darkly and tightens his fingers on your throat again. Your head jerks back. A whine attempts to escape you, but can’t do so with the grip Crowley had on you. Aziraphale moans loudly as he reaches ever closer to that peak. 

“Alright, now, Pet,” Crowley growls when he can tell the both of you are getting close. You can feel his cum inside you being forced out around Aziraphale’s cock as he fucks you ever deeper. “You’d better cum soon because I won’t be letting go until you do.” 

If you had still been human, you might have had bruises on your skin where his fingers pressed into you. You moaned, hips jerking and thighs twitching. There was pressure building in your belly, though it didn’t quite feel as it had before. This was different- oh. Oh. 

Your legs jerked as the pressure built up and burst. Liquid gushed out as you squirted onto Aziraphale’s cock and thighs. The Angel let out a sound of surprise before thrusting once, twice ore and cumming, mixing his cum with the Demons’ inside your hole.

You realised that Crowley had let your throat go and was trailing his fingers up and down your cheek comfortingly. This was definitely new. You had never squirted before, and when you managed to open your eyes to look at the Angel, he looked at you with dark, lustful reverence. 

“That- you- that was glorious,” he managed to supply. You chuckled tiredly and pulled him in for a kiss. The Angel pushed his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours and you whimpered as the act made your clit twitch with interest. 

“My, my,” Crowley said, tilting your head to give him a chaste kiss too when you were done kissing Aziraphale. “You are a dirty thing.” 

You sagged against him, muscles giving out. Oh, you were going to sleep well after this. 

“I think,” Aziraphale panted, pulling a miracle down from above to clean up the three of you and the bed. “We ought to do that again at some point.” 

You groaned and pulled the Angel down on top of you, who let out a startled ‘oof’ sound. You giggled and encouraged the two of them to snuggle with you. 

“Mm- sometime,” you agreed, already feeling yourself giving in to the very human impulse of sleep. “Later.” 

“Get some sleep, dear,” Aziraphale said softly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Mm- we’ll be here,” Crowley added, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. 

And you did, and they were. 

#AN: this took forever i am so sorry- but i hope you all enjoy it! #fanfiction #good omens #gomens #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #one shot #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley x reader #smut #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #david tennant #michael sheen #lemon #aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader x aziraphale #reader x crowley x aziraphale #reader x aziraphale x crowley #pure filth #heed the content warnings

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed-  oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale x crowley #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #fluff #aziraphale x crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #so much fluff #angsty fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #binging broadchurch #accidentally made this a series #didn’t mean to but now there will be probably a part 3 and 4 #so sorry to the people who were really invested #sorry this is short

[strangesthirdeye]

We could have been a bus

I 'honk honk' you

Don't 'honk honk'

#david tennant #michael sheen #incorrect good omens quotes #good omens 2 #crowley good omens x reader #good omens x reader #good omens #crowly x aziraphale #azicrow #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #crowley x reader #crowley #aziraphale x reader x crowley #aziraphale

[book-place-incorrect-quotes]

Crowley: It just doesn’t make sense!

Child!Y/N: *clearly having spent too much time around him and starting to develop his sarcasm* It would if you were smarter

#in honor of the new season coming out tomorrow #ineffable family series #source: the umbrella academy #good omens #good omens x reader #crowley x reader #crowley #crowley x reader platonic #aziraphale #aziraphale x reader #aziraphale x reader platonic #crowley x daughter reader #aziraphale x daughter reader #crowley x aziraphale #innefable husbands #good omens incorrect quotes

[mybookstorecarlovinghusbands]

Imagine. . .

You're falling asleep in Aziraphale's bookshop, feeling warm and safe and spread out over a sofa. There's rain gently tapping against the windows, and it's dark outside. The warm glow of the shop's lighting and the smell of old books surround you as you doze off. Aziraphale has a record softly playing in the background as he's lightly stirring his cup of tea while humming to himself. You know he's sitting at his desk even with your eyes closed because you have the layout of the shop already mapped out in your head. You're nearly in dreamland when you feel a blanket being placed gingerly over you, up to your chin, a slender finger accidentally brushes your cheek while tucking you in. Definitely Crowley.

"Have a dream," he mumbles, mostly to himself, because he can't afford to say 'nice' or 'pleasant'.

You're not sure if you imagine it, but you could've sworn you felt a hand gently brushing a hair out of your face before you completely fall asleep, Aziraphale's humming one of the last things you remember before your consciousness slips.

#hi yes this helps me fall asleep and i wanted others to know about it so they can do it too #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens imagine #good omens x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x reader #crowley x aziraphale x reader #crowley x aziraphale #crowley x reader x aziraphale