#Aziraphale fanfiction

[bi-bard]

The Angel, The Demon, and the University Student They "Adopted" - Aziraphale & Crowley Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: The Angel, The Demon, and the University Student They "Adopted"

Pairing: Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 2,071 words

Warning(s): headache, mention of break-up

Summary: In which a struggling college student stumbles upon a demon and an angel, who agree to help in any way they can.

Author's Note: to celebrate the announcement of the release date... and give a little comfort to those who are having a rough time in college right now.

----------------------

I had gone to that small bookshop for something to work on a paper.

I had been looking for it online, but nothing was affordable. My best option was going to be to find a small bookshop that didn't charge as much. I simply had my fingers crossed that it would work out.

I must've been walking around with my eyebrows furrowed for a little while because a man walked up to me. He was wearing a beige suit with a-little-too-perfectly white hair. He seemed friendly enough though.

"Can I help you find something," he asked. I paused for a moment. "Sorry, I'm the owner. I can tell you where everything is."

"Oh, okay," I chuckled. I pointed at a part of my paper where my potential sources had been scribbled down. "Um, yes. I'm looking for this... it's for a school paper."

"I see..." he muttered. "Wait here."

I nodded.

I watched him walk behind a set of shelves. There was maybe a minute of waiting before the man walked out again with the book in his hands.

"Oh, you are a lifesaver," I said excitedly. "Thank you! How much?"

He hesitated, staring at the book. As if he grabbed it without thinking about it but now was realizing that he was going to have to part with it.

"How about a deal," he offered after a few moments. "Once you're done with your paper, bring it back here in largely the same condition. No charge and you have no additional clutter to take up space in your home."

I grinned. "Sounds like a deal."

"Well, then, I wish you luck on your paper," he handed me the book

"Thank you," I said. I only took a few steps toward the door before stopping. "I didn't get your name."

He hesitated for a moment before replying, "A.Z. Fell."

"Oh, I thought... Sorry, I assumed this place had been open for a while, so I thought the name on the front was your father or something."

"Afraid not."

"Well, thank you again. I'll see you in a few days."

Which I did.

A few days later, my paper was done, and I walked back into the little bookshop.

"Mr. Fell," I called.

He rounded the corner. "You're back."

"I'm here to return your book," I held up the book as evidence. "Perfect condition."

"Thank you so much," he said as he grabbed it from me. "I hope you get a good grade on that paper of yours."

"Me too," I chuckled. "In all honestly, I don't think I've read it without just a little more of my brain frying."

"Oh no," he mumbled. "I... I could read it over for you. If that would help, of course. I won't force you to give me your paper."

"I... I can't ask you to do that."

"Well, that's precisely why I'm offering," he grinned at me.

I grinned back. "Okay. When would you like me to bring it by?"

"Do you have time now?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

"Here," he led me into a corner of the shop with a small table. "You get your paper put together and I'll make us some tea."

"Okay," I nodded.

As he walked out, I sat down and unzipped my bag, grabbing the binder that held my paper. I also grabbed a red pen just so it was more convenient.

When he came back, he placed a mug in front of me. I grinned and thanked him.

"You can go find a book to enjoy if you'd rather that than watch me read..." he looked at the paper in front of him. "(Y/n)."

"Thank you."

I took his advice. I took the mug of tea and started pacing around the collection of books. I was scanning the spines of the books when the doors of the shop slammed open.

"Angel!"

I jumped at the sound, looking over at whoever had stormed in. Another man, dressed in all black, sunglasses sitting on his face.

"Who are you?"

"(Y/n)," I said. "Who are you?"

"I have told you to not run in here shouting like that," Mr. Fell walked out of the corner that he had been hiding in.

"Who is this," the other man pointed at me.

"I just told you my name," I replied.

"How am I meant to trust you?"

"Why would I lie about my name?"

"Don't know, you tell me-"

"Stop it," Mr. Fell cut him off. "This is (Y/n). I am reading over a paper that they wrote for school."

"Why?"

"Because it's kind," he turned back to me. "(Y/n), this is... Anthony."

"Nice to meet you," I nodded to Anthony.

"Yeah, you too," he muttered, barely paying me any mind as he spoke to Mr. Fell. "We need to talk."

"I am busy-"

"Do I look like I care?"

"I can come back later," I spoke up.

"No, no, please, I promised to read your paper," Mr. Fell stopped me. "Anthony will simply have to wait."

"Excuse me," Anthony snapped.

"You heard me perfectly well," Mr. Fell mumbled. "Please, stay. I'll finish this paper."

Anthony glared at me as Mr. Fell turned around and went back to the table he had been sitting at.

If you had told me that day that the little bookshop was going to become such a place of comfort for me, then I am not sure that I would have believed you.

But it did.

I continued going to that little shop whenever I had the time. I would study, read, or just help with whatever I could help with. Mr. Fell was not a fan of me doing "so much" work around the shop, but I insisted. He had given me a safe space. The least that I could do was help him maintain it.

I grew closer to him as time went on. I even grew closer to Anthony.

Or Crowley, as I soon learned.

I still chuckled from time to time over how they told me their real names. I had been sitting at the table, scribbling notes for one of my courses.

They both stood in front of me silently until I noticed them. I raised an eyebrow at them. That's when they confessed that their names were fake.

When they told me their real names, I felt bad for chuckling. They both looked a bit confused.

"I'm sorry, but... your fake name just used your real name as a last name," I pointed to Crowley and then to Aziraphale. "And yours was your real name with a couple of letters taken out."

"Alright, we get it," Crowley grumbled.

"Thank you for telling me," I added. "I mean it."

"You're welcome," Aziraphale replied. Crowley didn't say the same until Aziraphale looked over at him with a somewhat grumpy look.

The three of us were only closer after that.

It was nice. Having that small support group that I could turn to.

Aziraphale was always ready to help. As soon as I opened the door of the shop, he was ready for whatever assistance I asked for. A hug, an extra set of eyes on an assignment, a quiet place to read a new book.

Crowley acted cold, but I could tell that he cared.

I came in one day with one of the worst headaches I had ever experienced. Aziraphale was gone, but Crowley had been waiting for him. I walked into the building with the heels of my hands pressed into my eyes. After grumpily explaining what was happening, I walked off to put my bag down and hide in the corner.

He waited for a moment before following me.

"Come here," he said.

"What," I asked.

"Come here," he repeated, holding his arms open.

I kept my eyebrows furrowed as I stepped forward. Once I was close enough to him, he grabbed my arm and pulled me forward into a hug.

"Oh," I mumbled before slowly hugging him back. "This is nice."

"Don't call me that."

I chuckled. "I didn't call you nice."

"Oh...," he muttered. "Well... don't get any clever ideas."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you want, Crowley."

I closed my eyes for a minute, holding onto him a little tighter.

I don't know what happened, but I could feel my headache slowly fading away as we hugged. It felt like it was there one minute and gone the next. I let out a sharp breath when it was gone. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of my head.

"Thank you," I said after a while.

"Yeah, whatever."

That may have been the closest I ever got to a you're welcome with him and I was okay with that. For the time being.

I don't know if I truly realized how much Crowley and Aziraphale cared for me until I walked in crying.

I felt like a child. I was crying as I walked down the sidewalk.

When I made it to the shop, I almost sprinted inside.

Aziraphale jumped at the force I used to open the door. Any scolding died as soon as he saw me.

"Oh, dear," he muttered, walking over to me. "What happened to you?"

He pulled me into a hug as I cried. I hid my face in his shoulder, clinging to his suit a bit as I did. I saw Crowley walk out from around the corner.

"What's going on," he asked.

I stepped back. I went to speak but nothing came out.

"Come on," Aziraphale guided me to my normal corner, guiding me to sit down. I dropped my bag on the floor and wiped my eyes. "Take your time."

Crowley sat in the spot next to me while Aziraphale stayed standing.

"There's... There's this guy," I explained. "I... We were seeing each other for a little while. We went on a few dates. I thought... I thought it was going well. And then, he just... changed. And he sent me this."

I tossed my unlocked phone on the table. Aziraphale grabbed it first. I heard a disgusted sound escape him.

"That is just... despicable," he muttered, placing the phone down.

Crowley reached out and grabbed the phone. I saw his face twist in disgust as a reaction.

"I think he sounds like a waste of time," he said as he placed my phone down. "It's stupid to waste an ounce more of your time on him."

"Crowley!" Aziraphale was fast to scold him.

"What?"

"Now is not the time to insult (Y/n) about their relationship!"

"I'm not! I'm only insulting them if they decide to spend any more time on this person. What I did was just an example of bluntness."

Aziraphale gave Crowley a look before turning back to me with a soft grin. "I am going to make you some tea. You just relax. And Crowley..."

Crowley smirked at him, an eyebrow raised.

"Be nice."

"I am not nice."

"Well, maybe now is a good time to try."

Aziraphale turned around and walked away from the pair of us.

There was a pause between the pair of us before I could speak up.

"Do you actually think that I'm stupid for wasting time on this guy," I asked quietly.

Crowley let out a sigh as he sat up a little bit straighter, tilting his head so he was looking me in the eye. "Not as stupid as he was for leaving you."

I felt a grin form on my face. He leaned over and kissed my head before standing up.

"I'm going to get you something a little stronger than tea."

"I don't drink-"

"And I clearly meant chocolate."

I chuckled and shook my head. "Thank you, Crowley."

"You're welcome."

He walked out of the little nook in the corner.

As he did, I leaned my head on my folded arms on the table. I felt my eyes slowly shutting. I felt bad because of what the pair were off doing, but I couldn't help it. It had just been such a long day. I couldn't help it.

As my blinking got slower and slower, I found myself thinking about how lucky I was to be in that situation.

I had never felt as safe as I was when I spent time in that little bookshop.

I would never be able to thank Crowley and Aziraphale for that.

But I would never stop trying to do so.

----------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Spent and Sated (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Aziraphale knows you can take one more load.

Fic type: smut

GOMENS: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @florduarte @complimentary-breadbasket @thekirbishow (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

From an outsider’s perspective, Aziraphale could come across as a very… unsexual person. You, however, knew the truth of how deeply depraved the Angel could be when he wanted to. 

Right now was no exception. 

Right now Aziraphale had you bent in half underneath him as he ploughed his thick cock into your hole. You were whining and writhing under him, but he didn’t let up for even a moment. This was round two, you were pretty sure- or was it round three? 

Either way, you’d been fucked completely dumb and were loving it, too. 

“Look at you,” Aziraphale panted, sweat dripping down the side of his face. “Fucked to completion under me like this-” 

You groaned, spasming around his cock as his words shot heat down your spine. 

“How many times, hmm? How many times have you climaxed for me, my dear? Three? Four? Oh, my sweet thing. Do you have any more for me?” 

You nodded dumbly, tears welling up in your eyes as he fucked into your harshly. You were coming undone once again, that pressure building as the desperation grew. Was it desperation for him to stop or was it desperation for him to continue? At this point, you couldn’t tell. The only things you knew were the throb of his cock and the feeling of fullness in your hole. 

“Fuck, Zira–” You whimpered, clenching weakly around him as he brought one hand to that spot between your legs that had you seeing stars.

“Now, now,” Aziraphale tutted. “There’s no need for blasphemy. You know I’m going to breed you, my darling. Wouldn’t you like to finish for me one more time?” 

You decided to ignore the fact that Aziraphale had sworn only about two minutes ago, figuring that it wasn’t worth the effort to argue the point right now. 

The wet slap of the spent seed already inside you as Zira fucked into you only managed to make you feel all that much more full, and you weren't entirely sure you were going to be able to handle another load. 

“You know you can, my darling,” Aziraphale panted, fingers tightening on your hips. “You know you can take more.”

Your face screwed up with pleasure as he fucked harder now, nearing his climax. 

“You want to be full of my seed, don’t you, my dear? Oh, yes, bred full and willing- you’re so wonderful-” 

You feebly attempted to squeeze around him to encourage him to finish. It seemed to work as he finally jerked forward once, twice more and spent himself inside you. 

Aziraphale groaned, head dropping down to rest on your shoulder as the last ropes of his seed found their way into your hole. 

“That’s it, my dear,” he panted, “always so good for me, aren’t you?” 

You nodded, exhausted and so very sated. 

“Always, my Angel. Always.”

[itsscottiesstark]

Not to be horny on main but seeing people writing fanfiction!Aziraphale with insecurities about his weight makes me so sad cause I know it's unfortunately based on reality but then I see Crowley's reaction to Aziraphale's body and I'm like yes gurl you're absolutely right I agree with Crowley's sentiment wholeheartedly, get it.

[filmtv2022]

Ineffable Agony

Pairing: Aziraphale x Platonic!Reader x Crowley

Synopsis: One quiet night, Aziraphale and Crowley's world is rocked. A fallen angel is dropped on their doorstep. Their very presence shoves the reality of their Earthly partnership back into view and calls into question the very stability of Heaven and Hell. Aziraphale and Crowley struggle not only to understand the depth of the situation they've found themselves in but also to save the reader.

Warning: bleeding/blood loss + death.

A/N: I tried my best to use gender-neutral language in this one. The reader does have hair, but other than that, I think their physicality is fairly nondescript. As always, I apologize for any mistakes. It's getting late & I'm super tired.

-----------------------------

Warm light spilled out of the wide windows of A.Z. Fell and Co: Antiquarian and Unusual Books. Inside, surrounded by unruly shelves and half-empty bottles of red wine sat the oddest and most right pair in celestial history. Aziraphale had long since set aside his glass of wine, forgoing further intoxication for a steaming cup of hot chocolate. Crowley on the other hand had continued to sip away, which glass or bottle he was on remained a bit unclear.

Feeling his head turning fuzzy, the demon slowed his pace of consumption, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion and inebriation. In the days post averting the apocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves settling into this new life. One free from apparent oversight from both Heaven and Hell. The two indulged in human luxury wherever and whenever they liked, unencumbered by the pull from their respective head offices. For the first time in millennia, they felt truly free to live as they liked, and what a life it was.  

“How does breakfast at the Ritz sound, Angel? I think I could do with a nice morning out, feeding the ducks, fancy tea… or perhaps we'll pop over to France for some crepes?” 

“That sounds lovely. ” Smiling sweetly at Crowley, he swallowed the last bit of his drink before standing to return the dirty cup to the sink in the back. 

A sudden burst of white light flashed like the sun, flooding the space before being replaced by the wretched orange and red of hell fire, stopping him in his tracks. Inky darkness replaced the flare as fast as it happened. Snapping his attention to the entrance, Aziraphale stood in observation waiting in anticipation for something more to happen. Having seen, the display from his seat, Crowley stood and joined the Angel.

“What’s going on?” 

“I…I don’t know. There was a…”

A sudden thump of something heavy smacking into the door forced him to stop speaking. To the human senses, nothing seemed out of place, the world continued to move just as it always had, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. The air began to thrum with energy, the waves pouring into the store erratically, their intensity growing stronger the longer it went on. Crowley hissed, a guttural reaction to the feel of pain that roared through them both. Fighting to stay upright, Aziraphle gripped the demon’s shoulders as he doubled over in pain.

“Are you all right?” Pushing aside the ache that filled his own head, Aziraphale struggled to focus on the present, caught between concern for Crowley and whatever… or whoever was causing this to happen. 

“I’m fine, just dandy, but I’d be better if my insides weren’t twisting around knots.” 

“Yes, of course.”

Closing his eyes, the angel searched for a miracle, one strong enough to put an end to the horrific suffering that flowed freely into the room. Celestial magic hummed over his skin but died as he worked to make it so. Trying again, and failing, dread bubbled hot in in Zira’s chest. 

“It’s not working!”

“Obviously!” 

Groaning, Crowley clutched at his stomach as Aziraphale whimpered next to him. The angel’s head was full to the bursting point as if his mind was being ripped apart at the seams.

“I… I don’t know what to do!” 

Forcing himself to stand to his full height, Crowley removed himself from the angel’s hold, “Fine, I’ll finish this myself.” 

He too searched for a miracle. The darkness of his own magic flooded over his senses as he worked, but nothing happened. The lick of heat that always accompanied his miracles ran cold, leaving a chill over his skin in its absence. Aziraphale’s knees buckled as the pressure in his skull intensified. Dropping to the ground with him, Crowley held onto his angel.

Then as quickly as it started, the vibrations ceased to exist. Panting hard, the pair stood up on shaky legs. Crowley’s hand stayed firm on Aizraphale’s back, helping the Angel along as well as grounding himself. Stumbling toward the door, Zirh’s fingers trembled as he reached for the handle. Glancing at Crowley, he waited for some sign of reassurance, which was freely given in the form of a nearly imperceptible nod. Opening the door, their eyes immediately fell on the torn figure slumped face down on the ground before them. Slashes cut through their jacket and pants, the flesh below ripped to shreds and bleeding heavily. Ichor coated the surface of the stoop, pooling in a wide swath before spilling down the step. Kneeling down to see things more clearly, Aziraphale gently rolled over the stranger, the gore staining his hands red. 

“They’re an angel.” Laying them on their back, his fingers felt for a pulse. It was weak, barely more than a flutter, but it was there.

“Not anymore.” Crowley gritted his teeth as he spoke, the realization of what had happened hitting too close to home, “They’ve been cast down.”

“Cast down? But Heaven they’ve… they’ve taken…” 

“Taken their wings, yes.” 

“That’s not supposed to happen?” 

“And yet it did.” 

“Why?”

“Why not? It certainly makes a statement.” Reaching for their hand, Crowley slowly unfurled their fist, removing the gore-soaked paper from within. 

“A statement for who?”

“Us.” Peeling apart the folds, Crowley read the smeared words aloud, “To the attention of one A.Z. Fell & Anthony J. Crowley. Your actions have consequences that reach far behind the realms of Heaven and Hell. You’ve set something in motion that must be stopped.” 

Locking eyes with the demon, Zira struggles to find words, “What does this mean?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.” 

Scooping the fallen angel into his arms, Crowley deftly made his way toward the second floor of the bookshop. Finding the first door on the right partially open, he pushed it open with his foot. A couple of strong strides had him standing next to the bed, scanning over their face for any sign of familiarity. Finding nothing, he placed them down on the mattress on their side before turning his attention to the wounds. Trying yet again to use his magic, Crowley reached out in search of a way to staunch the flow. The stream slowed slightly, but not nearly enough.

“The bleeding won’t stop.” Waiting for an answer, he pushed his palms into the worst of the gashes, but when no response came, he shouted for assistance, “Angel, a little help here!”

“Oh, yes!” knocked back into reality, Aziraphale made his way to the bed, his stained hands once again reaching for the being before him. Using what little magic he could muster, he managed to lessen the bleeding to a trickle.

Feeling it still running between his fingers, Crowley’s head dropped between his shoulders, a deep exhale releasing as he tried to let go of the panic coursing through his system. It was an unnatural state for the demon, one that he’d only felt a few other times in his 6,000 years of life. He’d done a keen job of compartmentalizing the memory of his own fall, relegating it to the deepest depths of his mind. This, however, hit too close to home. While he’d been lucky enough to keep his wings, the transition from Heavinly Being to a Demon of Hell was horrific at best. The darkness, the pain… the loneliness. It was all too much to think about even now, all these years later. 

Letting go of his hold on their wounds, Crowley gingerly placed them on their back, hoping the pressure who stop the rest of the bleeding. Sinking down beside the bed, he rested his head back on the mattress and closed his eyes tightly.

“What could they possibly have done to deserve this?” Aziraphale’s voice cracked as he spoke, his eyes never leaving their face. Brushing his fingers over their hair, he pushed the blood-coated strands out of the way.

“We better hope they wake up so we can find out.” Standing up, Crowley stalked out of the room, pounding down the hall toward the bathroom. 

Turning on the water, he let it pour from the faucet until steam rolled from the stream. Hot enough to scald, he scrubbed vigorously at his hands. The red of the gore was replaced by the angry color of his skin beneath as he fought to rid himself of the stains. Standing in the doorway to the bathroom, Aziraphale watched in concern, his brows furrowed at the sight before. Losing control of himself, Crowley snapped off the water, slamming his fists down upon the porcelain and letting loose a rage-filled growl. Pushing his way past the angel, he pounded down the stairs toward the front door.

Following in his wake, Zira called to his demon, “Where are you going?”

“To find out what in the hell is going on?” 

“But what if something happens… I-I should come with you.”

Snapping around, Crowley’s yellow eyes stopped Aziraphale in his tracks, “Stay here, take care of the angel… demon… thing. I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Nodding in agreement, Aziraphale watched Crowley drive away, the Bentley tires screaming along the pavement.

--------------------------------------------------------

Agonizing flashes of pain radiated from the jagged wounds as cold sweat coated your skin turning into a slick mess of drying blood and perspiration. Spasms racked your body, each one more powerful than the last. You were dying, or so you thought. But what did that really mean for angel turned demon? You were even really alive to begin with? Where would your ‘death’ leave you? Certainly not in Heaven, they’d made it quite clear you were no longer welcome amongst their kind. So that left two other options. One being an eternity in Hell, rotting away with the other demons. The other was much more frightening… nothingness, your soul relegated to the black void somewhere between the realms. Alone. Cold. Unneeded… Unwanted. Stuck in purgatory for all time. 

Time ceased to exist, and all sounds and feelings apart from the physical and mental torment fell away as you were trapped in the endless cycle of pain. Giving into it all, you allowed yourself to fall further away from the light. The beacons of Heaven were only a dim glow on the horizon. Their cool white was replaced by the furious red of the gates below. It was warm, welcoming even. It would have been so easy to let go, to surrender, and yet some small part of you keep a firm hold on the life you’d had before. Unable, or perhaps unwilling, to relinquish it fully.

The gentle press of a hand against your cheek pulled a quiet whimper from you, the touch kind and comforting. A tender voice spoke in a low mumble, their words unclear, but their intentions certain. There was something familiar about it as if a long-lost friend had come to visit. 

“I’m so sorry, but this is going to hurt.” 

Undoing the buttons of your shirt, the person gingerly pulled you into their chest, your forehead resting on their shoulder as they removed your top. A strangled groan fell from your lips at their ministrations.

“I know, I know.” Smoothing over your hair, they laid you back on the bed, this time on your side so they could access your body. 

Walking around to the other side of the bed, they began the delicate work of cleaning the wounds. Rag and after rag came away crimson, and the cloths were discarded nearby on the floor. Slowly, but surely, the gashes were stitched and covered. Finished closing the wounds, they began to wash away the rest of the blood as best they could. The task was slow and tedious. 

“There, that’s better. Now. let’s get you some fresh clothes.” 

Standing from the bed, Aziraphale sought out a pair of his pajamas. Returning to your side, he slipped the jumper over your head and shoulders, taking great care to not bump your most tender spots. Moving on, he carefully peeled away your trousers, the white was splotched with darkening red. Dropping them on the pile of used rags, he then shimmied the plaid bottoms over your frame. His hands were unsure and timid as he moved. 

Once again laying flat on your back, Zira pulled a blanket over you. Taking a moment to adjust the pillows, he sank back down into the spot next to you, his hands wrapping warmly around your own. 

“Who are you?” 

The previous question was barely more than a whisper, making the utterance of a name from your lips even more surprising. With eyes closed tight, and no other signs of consciousness, a singular word tumbled out for him to hear.

“Aziraphale…” 

Zira was left speechless. What about him? Why were saying his name? 

In a measure of cosmic timing, the telephone downstairs began to ring. It’s incessant trill bounding off the walls, calling to the angel. Leaving his spot, he was forced to let go of your hands. The loss of his touch caused a pained look to contort your features.

“I’ll be right back, don’t you worry.” 

Silence fell over the room, as Aziraphale quietly closed the door behind himself, leaving you alone. It was as if in his absence the darkness began to creep back in, closing the distance between you and the void. Black hands reached for you, threatening to drag you away from the world of the living. Fighting against their searing grip, your body twitched and thrashed on the bed. Soon the motions were followed by gasping screams, the sounds shrill and bloodcurdling flew down the stairs toward Aziraphale. The pounding of footfalls was masked by the blistering screeches from Hell that rang in your ears. Soft hands gripped your shoulders, calling to you through the panic.

“I’m here, I’m…” Placing his palm on the side of your head, the heat rolling off your skin nearly burned him. Knowing he needed to act quickly, he flooded your mind with celestial light. Instantly, your body began to relax and your temperature dropped.

Falling limp against the pillows, your chest rose and fell in rapid succession. Sweat had soaked through the collar of the shirt, staining it darker than the rest. Aziraphale’s fingertips ran in soft arcs down your face as he continued to murmur words of comfort. Fearful of leaving your side again, he yanked the chair from the corner of the room to the side of the bed. Clasping your hand in his, he took a seat and waited. Crowley would be back soon enough, he’d promised.

------------------------------------------------

Hours passed and eventually, sleep overtook Aziraphale. Slumping back in the chair, he managed to keep a hold of your hand. Returning to the bookshop with little to no information in hand, Crowley made his way upstairs in search of his Angel. The door to the first guest room was flung wide open, and he was greeted with the image of Zira fast asleep, the lines of worry still creased between his brows. With his promise to return in mind, Crowley softly shook the angel awake. 

“You’re back.”

“I promised, didn’t I.” 

“Of course, What did you find out?”

“Not much. Nothing seems out of place, and the lines between Hell and Earth are quiet. Whatever this is, it’s either from Heaven alone or somebody’s going to dangerous lengths to keep it hidden.” 

“Hidden? They were dropped on our front porch! How is that hidden?” 

“You’ve got a point, but it doesn’t change the fact that there's nothing on the radar.” Turning to look at the stranger on the bed, Crowley’s tone softened as he spoke again, “How are they doing?” 

“As best as can be expected… there was so much blood.” Shifting forward, Aziraphale adjusted his grip on your hand, “They spoke in their sleep while you were away. It didn’t make sense, but they spoke.”

“What did they say?”

“My name…”

“You name? As in Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate, giver of the flaming sword and forestaller of the end of days” 

“That’s what I’ve said isn’t it?” Impatience touching the edge of the question.

“Yes, but how would they know your name?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea…” 

Crowley’s thoughts raced at the realization of what that could mean for Heaven. If they had fallen so far as to mutilate those they cast down then things were much worse off than he’d ever expected.

“Perhaps Heaven’s become more like Hell than they’d ever care to admit.” 

Stunned into silence, the pair sat quietly for a while, observing the rise and fall of your chest. The steady movement was just enough to ease some of the worries that festered. 

“There was one other thing they said while you were gone?”

“Yes?” 

“The phone rang while you were out, when I left to answer, they… they started to scream—terrible screeching wails, as if… as if Hell itself was coming for them. And when I returned, their skin… it was burning like fire. Between the screams, they were calling for you.”

“Me?”

Nodding yes, he continued on, “Over and over, begging… pleading for you. They know us Crowley, and yet I’m sure I’ve never seen this face before.” 

“Neither have I.” 

----------------------------------------------------------

Morning broke over the quaint yet busy street, and the rumble of cars and voices floated in from outside. Your eyes fluttered open, and the unchecked sunlight beaming into the room assaulted your sensitive eyes. Hissing at the daggers of light, your whole body recoiled. Slamming your lids shut again, you scrambled back to retreat from the intrusive light. The mangled flesh of your back crashed against the headboard in your attempt to flee from the light. The sudden movement sent shockwaves through your body as the stitches in your wounds tugged sharply. Hearing and feeling your stir, Aziraphale and Crowley sat bolt upright in their respective positions. Zira in the same chair as the night before, and Crowley in the vanity chair across the room. 

Catching your attempt to flee from the overwhelming sensations, Aizraphale reached for your shoulders and tried his best to push you back down into the pillows. His sure hands were commanding and gentle as they kept you from hurting yourself further. 

“You’re all right. Careful now or you’ll rip your stitches.” 

Simultaneously, Crowley was up out of his chair, his own hand coming up to grip your chin, holding your face in his direction. Your eyes flew open again as if called to look by some hell-born bond. And what he saw brought a moment of hesitation. The whites of your eyes were flooded with a sickening crimson as if every blood vessel had burst. While your pupils were blown large, covering nearly the entirety of your eyes. Shaking off the unsettling nature of your appearance, the demon deftly removed his sunglasses and placed them on your face. 

“It’s their eyes, they’re not used to the light.” Stepping back, Crowley reached out a hand to Aziraphale, pushing him away from you, “Careful, Angel, emotions can be a bit unsteady.” 

“It’s all right, Crowley. As you said, they’re in pain, why don’t you let me help.” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

“Nonsense!” stepping back to your side, Aziraphale’s fingertips aligned with your temples as a gentle light filled the room.

Your breathing began to slow as the ache faded both mentally and physically. Slowly, you opened your eyes, finding that the dark lenses made the world around you much more bearable to view. Weakness replaced the pain leaving you incapable of moving, your power sat dormant, but hot beneath your skin. The heady mix of emotions melded together in what was certain to become an explosive combination. 

Pushing down the flames, you spoke as if greeting old friends, “Crowley… Aziraphale… finally.” 

“How do you know our names?” Zira’s question was far from accusatory.

“Oh Aziraphale, I’ve known you for thousands of years… the same goes for you, Crowley.” 

“Who are you? Why do you know us?” Crowley on the other hand couldn’t help the accusation that threaded over his words.

Tilting your head to the side, you focused on him. The yellow of his snake-like eyes glinted in the sun, strong and fierce in demeanor. 

“It was my job, to know you, to follow your biddings here on Earth. Like a celestial watchdog, I suppose.” 

“Watchdog?” Crowley tensed at the very thought of Heaven having watched him for millennia after his fall. 

“Yes. It was my job to track your movements, particularly in the years since your delivery of the AntiChrist. Well, you and Aziraphale. There was some… hesitation regarding the pair of you, given your shared history of questionable decision-making. Need I mention your flaming sword and apple debacles?” Your voice was weak and breathy as if speaking drained you of what little energy you’d recouped.

“All right, no need to rub it in. Enough about us, you’ve yet to answer our other question, demon. Who are you?” 

“Well, I don’t know how this works exactly, but I suppose my angelic name will do for now. I’m Y/N.” 

“And why are you here… Y/N?” Aziraphale uttered your name sweetly as if to encourage you to continue. 

“It’s simple really, I’m the same as you, Crowley. I asked too many questions… I doubted the ineffable plan.” Sinking further back into the pillows, you turned your head to look at the demon. 

“You what? Why?” Aziraphaled asked in shock.

“Because… you were happy.” Shifting your body slightly so that you could gaze at him, you felt a warm hand wrap around your own, “And the more I watched you here on Earth enjoying your lives together, the humanity … it made me think. Why were we going to end it all? And after such a short time as well? I saw how you looked at the world and couldn’t imagine it ceasing to exist. But even more than that… I couldn’t bear the thought of…” 

Your voice caught in your throat as a fresh spasm racked your frame. The tightening of the muscles along the expanse of your back ripped the air from your lungs causing you to gasp and groan. Folding forward at the waist, the glasses slipped down your nose exposing your eyes to the blinding rays once again. Desperate to block it out, you pressed the heel of your palms into your eyes knocking the sunglasses onto the blanket covering your lap. Steady vibrations rolled through the space around you as your power spilled out unchecked. A blood-curdling wail tore from your lips as your skin flushed hot from the touch of Hell once more. Shocked by the sounds, Aziraphale took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of you.

Crowley had returned to your side, his strong hands holding tightly to your biceps. The heat of your skin burned and blistered his palms, and yet he remained unfazed. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to- listen to me. You’ve got to push away, you’ve got to fight against it!”

Gripping you tightly, he watched as your body spasmed beneath his touch. Blood soon tinged the light cream of the jumper you were wearing, the sudden movements having torn the stitches from your flesh. Furthermore, the heat radiating from within you singed the fabric, leaving behind blackened holes in its wake. A wet gurgle accompanied your labored breathing as if you were drowning on dry land. Coughing and choking, a blackish liquid oozed out the corners of your mouth, the scene grew more horrific as the substances ran down the exposed column of your neck. Crowley’s palms smoothed over it, wiping away the mess as best he could, but it just kept coming. Every wet hack brought more of it flooding out to replace what he’d tried to clean up. 

“Crowley! Crowley, what’s happening?” Stammering, Aziraphale was frozen to his spot.

“They’re dying, the transition is consuming them.”

“But I thought-”

“Whatever you thought about this was wrong, Angel. This is the reality.”

“But I… what we can do?” 

“There’s nothing we can do except ease their pain and hope for the best. It’s up to them now. Either they find the strength to fight against the darkness or it consumes them.” 

Trembling, Zira moved to your side and eased himself down onto the bed. Cautiously, he reached out to touch you, his hand brushing over Crowley’s as he sought out your temples. 

Turning his head to look at the demon, Aziraphale whispered one simple word, “Together.” 

Understanding what he meant, Crowley nodded his head silently. Placing the pads of their fingers along your hairline, the two worked to rid you of the pain. A calming wash of peace flooded over you, chasing out the panic and terror. Your hot skin now sat cool to the touch, and the blisters covering Crowley’s hands began to heal. Slowly, your breathing regulated and the crackling wetness ceased to hinder your lungs. Serene peace settled over your features as they untwisted from the pain. Sensing that the limit of help and available miracles for this situation had been reached, both Crowley and Aziraphale sat back. Their eyes never left you as they watched for signs that their magic had failed. Zira was the first to speak

“What do we do now?”

“We wait.” 

“For how long?”

“Not long now I think.” Crowley’s voice was thick with emotion. 

Tracking the rise and fall of your chest, the pair watched as the movement became more erratic. The time between inhales turned more inconsistent and further apart the longer time went on. Eventually, it stopped altogether, and the last vestiges of pain fell from your features leaving behind a mask of perfect peace. 

“What do we do now?” Zira asked in shock.

“We find out who the hell is responsible and we make them bleed” Looking Aziraphle in the eyes, Crowley's own brimmed with emotion, “But more importantly, we live, we live for them.

[ink-and-blood-goddess]

Just a Little Bit (Aziraphale x Reader)

Requested by Anonymous-Hello and thank you for opening up the requests! May I request an Aziraphale x reader fic 🌸❤️‍🔥 where the reader is making a cake for Angel. He peaks every now and then and steals sweet cream laced with lovely kisses... 

A/N-Whoo hoo my first Azirapahle fanfic request finished and all ready. I had fun writing this. Wanting this to be a one-shot and didn’t go overboard with it makes me feel good to get this done. Requests are still open in the comments and my DM board :)...

Anon, I hope you love what I wrote for you as well

Warnings: Nothing much. Just ton of tooth rotting fluff and a smidge of smut

Citrus Scale:🍊

W.C+:1.2K

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ah. That’s perfect.” You were standing at the kitchen counter, getting a quick whiff of the vanilla sponge cake that was sitting out to cool off for a moment. The next thing to do is cover it with strawberry buttercream. 

Grabbing a hold of the bowl that sat next to the cake, you mixed it the spatula and began to scoop it out on top of the cake. The scent of strawberry wafted across your nose, making your mouth water a bit. 

“Oh yes. This is going to be so good tonight.” Spreading the buttercream all over the top, you were thinking of the small get together with Aziraphale and Crowley for dinner and dessert tonight. You piped up saying you’ll make the dessert. Wanting to make it a surprise, you didn’t tell either of them what it was going to be.

  Then you heard the door to your apartment open, followed by the sound of a familiar voice. “(Y/N), are you here?” The angel asking you nicely. “Yes I am,” you called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”

Aziraphale walked into the kitchen, with his coat neatly folded over his arms. “Something smells absolutely scrumptious in here.” He noted. Taking a whiff of the sponge cake, filling the whole air with a sweet scent alongside the buttercream.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him. He was licking his lips, like Crowley did. The smell of the cake and buttercream really got to him. His mouth was about to water.

“I see you like the smell of my sponge cake all the way from there.” Laughing a bit, you turned back to what you were doing. Still spreading the cream all around the top, you could feel Aziraphale looming over your shoulder.

“My, my dear (Y/N). what is that lovely smell before us?” Noting the scent of the strawberries. You laughed again. Your angelic friend is quite observant and always has been.

“It’s my famous and utterly favorite strawberry buttercream. I was going to surprise both you and Crowley tonight after dinner and wanted to see your reactions, but guess the secrets out.” You sounded defeated now, that Aziraphale found out about your little secret. 

Aziraphale scoffed a bit, “oh don’t worry my dear. I won’t tell Crowley about this at all. It’s our little secret.” He patted your shoulder a bit. 

As you began to frost the side of the cake now, Aziraphale came around to the other side to get a better look. He immediately spotted the bowl next to you that had some buttercream left in it. In a split second, Aziraphale dipped his finger into the bowl.

“Aziraphale!” You squeaked. The angel quickly pulled his hand back, before you could catch him. As he licked the buttercream from his finger, his blue eyes went wide. Like he was seeing stars for the first time.  

“Oh my Lord,” he whispered, “this is so good.” He had no other words to say at this point. Before you could scold him for what he did, he quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. Lips brushing against your warm skin. You felt your face heat up from that quick distraction he pulled.

“Okay. I’ll let that one slide for now. If you want to watch me finish the cake, you better not steal anymore buttercream. Promise Angel?” You looked at him with an arched eyebrow. Aziraphale nodded his head. “I promise.” He crossed his heart to seal it.

Turning back to the counter, you continued to spread the cream on the cake’s sides. Aziraphale stood behind you, watching closing as you went back and forth with the spatula. After you finished spreading the last dab of buttercream, you placed the spatula in the bowl with the leftover cream.

 Before you could move, Aziraphale went for the bowl again and got another whip of buttercream out. You were speechless now. “Aziraphale! You pro-,” before you could get another word out, Aziraphale kissed you again. This time on your jawline. Again you were speechless at him.

“I’m so sorry my dear., I couldn’t resist myself. Even though I promised to stop.” He said with a bright smile on his lips. At this point, you felt your face flushed and warm from that kiss. Aziraphale never kissed you like that. Never at all.

“Okay,” you finally said, “I’m going to finish putting the cake together. Just. Just don’t distract me. Okay Angel?” He nodded his head again. “Of course my dear.” Reassuring you. Still reeling from that surprise kiss, you walked over to the fridge to retrieve the toppings.

Wanting to double check, you looked over your shoulder at him. Just standing there inches away from the counter. You then grabbed the bowl of cherries  and homemade whipped cream from the center shelf and closed the door.

“Alright Aziraphale,” you said as you placed the last two remaining ingredients onto the counter, “I’m going to put the finishing touches on the cake. So please, don’t distract me with kisses while stealing the buttercream.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll just watch,” he said as he brushed the tip of his nose with his finger. Deep down, you knew that was a lie. He’s going to do it again. Just don’t let it get to you.

 As you began to pipe out the whipped cream through the piping bag, Aziraphale went for another piece in the bowl. He licked it off his finger and peppered your cheek with a few kisses. You giggled a bit. 

Concentrating on doing the smaller details of the cake, Aziraphale dipped two fingers in the bowl and peppered your other cheek with kisses. “Aziraphale. Please stop it. I need this cake to be finished before tonight,” you squealed with giggles. “No never.” The angel replied. He refused to stop.

You could barely keep your hands steady as Aziraphale kept stealing small whips of buttercream and kissing you.

After you managed to get every bit of whipped cream onto the cake perfectly, it was time to put the cherries on top. The moment you put the first cherry on, Aziraphale striked again. Only this time he kissed you on the neck before stealing another piece or two of buttercream.

Your face felt hotter now with each kiss he left behind. Turning a bright red color. Each time you placed a cherry on top, Aziraphale would kiss you more and more on the face, jaw, and neck. At this point he stopped stealing the buttercream and instead peppered kisses all over you.

Snaking his arms around your waist. Feather light lips brushing against your warm skin. Your heart fluttered each time he kissed you. With the final cherry on top, the cake was finally completed. Everything was ready for tonight.

There was some buttercream leftover in the bowl. Untouched by the angel’s prying fingers. An idea just popped into your head. Using your two fingers, you scooped out the remaining buttercream. Instead of licking them, you smeared it over your lips.

With his arms still around you, you turned around to face him. Once he looked at you, his blue eyes went wide upon seeing the buttercream smeared over your soft lips. In a split second, Aziraphale pressed his lips up against yours.

Feeling his lips and tongue lick the buttercream off of your lips. Then you felt his tongue touch yours. Swirling and dancing around each other like serpents. 

Aziraphale then pulled himself away, licking the bits of buttercream off his lips. “My my, dear (Y/N). That was delicious.” He said with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“That’s my famous strawberry buttercream for you angel,” you said, as you licked off the remaining buttercream off of your lips.   

[aliahm]

Question time! (NSFW Content Below)

I’m working on a Crowley x Reader NSFW Alphabet post, and it brought to mind a few questions I’m curious to hear your answers to: What do you think Crowley and Aziraphale are into? What kinks do they each like, what do they like to be called in the bedroom, what would they like to call the reader in the bedroom, etc, etc. If you share your thoughts, feel free to mention or link to any stories that include them as well, I might check them out ♥️♥️

[embersandlamplight]

TW: HIV/AIDS subject matter

I had a dream last night.. sort of. Sort of between wake and sleep.

It made me want to write a fic about Aziraphale promising a dying mother that he would look out for her son as he grows up. Not adopting him, as he has a father, but just that the boy always loves going to "Mister Fell's Shop", to the point of begging his mother every time they pass it, and the family struck up a kind of friendship over the years.

And then the boy grows up into being a young adult during the 1980s AIDS crisis and yeah. I plan for it to be raw and heartbreaking, but also not a spectacle.

I just wanted to post, because I'm really excited about the idea and will do all the research to try and do such a difficult subject matter justice.

[orayart]

Here it is!! 🫶🏻 Commission I've made for @bucky1984 for their collection of fanfic prompts ! You can read them here

[thatskindarough]

“‘I just…I thought you might like to come back, one day,’ Crowley said very quietly. Aziraphale’s foot pressed against his again, and Crowley drew in a sudden breath, as if he hadn’t been breathing properly since Aziraphale had stopped touching him.”

This piece was a commission from the lovely @fellshish for their lovely friend, @alphacentaurinebula ‘s fic What Are You Doing Here? This fic is cute, funny, heartwarming, and incredibly spicy, and I’m very much looking forward to finishing it! Thank you Fells for being wonderful to work with, and happy (belated) birthday to you Alphacentauri, I’m very happy I could do this for you!

[deadlilmoon]

Fixed it

[bi-bard]

Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason - Crowley & Aziraphale Imagine [Good Omens]

Title: Throw a Punch, Fall in Love, Give Yourself a Reason

Pairing: Aziraphale & Crowley X Platonic!Reader

Based On: Call Your Mom

Word Count: 2,279 words

Warning(s): **LOOK HERE** depictions of mental illness/poor mental health, yelling

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are left on a hunt for something... well, someone quite important. When they find who they were looking for, they are confronted with questions that they have no answer to.

Author's Note: **PLEASE READ THIS** Let's have a serious talk here. This imagine is heavy. I use my personal experiences as a major influence for this (granted that I will not go into detail about that at this time). This is to say that it won't reflect everyone's experience and that is not the goal. This story is not meant to be educational in any capacity and I will not claim as much.

If you are experiencing struggles with your mental health, then I would invite you to skip this story. Please be responsible with the media that you are consuming. Thank you.

NOAH KAHAN - STICK SEASON [WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER] WRITING CHALLENGE MASTERLIST

-------------------

It all started with pacing.

Quite annoying pacing, really.

Crowley had walked- no, sauntered into the bookshop and found Aziraphale pacing the floor.

Over and over. Back and forth.

Annoyingly consistent steps. Floorboards seemed to creak along with each one, no matter how many times before that he had crossed them.

Crowley's voice was slow, "Angel..."

Aziraphale's pacing didn't change much as he hummed in response to Crowley. Crowley's face scrunched up a bit. He wasn't used to Aziraphale's attention not turning immediately to him when he spoke up.

"Angel," he said more firmly. Aziraphale finally looked at him. "What's going on?"

"I haven't seen (Y/n) in some time," the angel replied. "Have you?"

"I was honestly getting suspicious that they just hid in the shelves," Crowley muttered. "I don't visit them outside of your shop, Angel."

Aziraphale frowned even further than before.

"How long has it been?"

"Weeks," he answered simply. "I will admit that I have been getting a bit worried."

"Then, go visit," Crowley suggested. When there wasn't a response, he continued, "You didn't think to do that?"

"I didn't want to intrude!"

"Well, I do," Crowley turned on his heels and began his walk to the door. He stopped when he didn't hear an extra set of footsteps behind him. "Angel."

"Are you... What if they don't want to see us," Aziraphale asked.

"Well, (Y/n) can tell us that to our face," the demon shrugged before continuing his path out.

It wasn't until they started walking that the pair realized that neither one of them truly knew where (Y/n) lived. They had been told small details. Colors of curtains, what books were on shelves, the collection of notebooks that they always seemed to have. However, beyond that, the demon and angel had not thought much about where their dear friend lived.

Why would they when (Y/n) spent more time in the bookshop than they ever did in their own home?

It took some time- and a small miracle- before the pair found themselves outside an apartment door.

There was a small welcome mat sitting before their feet. It had been clearly well-loved. It had followed (Y/n) from place to place. An old gift from a parent that was meant to symbolize being a proper adult for the first time.

Aziraphale hesitated. He was still thinking about how (Y/n) may simply not want to see the two of them and that this visit would be incredibly intrusive.

He had tried to stop Crowley on the way there in the hopes of avoiding such a fate. He had mentioned that (Y/n) may just be sick, but Crowley reminded him that (Y/n) would still stop by because the pair of them couldn't catch a cold. He suggested that (Y/n) was on a trip, but Crowley mentioned that (Y/n) would have told them to keep them from worrying. Any and all alternative explanations for the unexplained absence fell less on deaf ears and more on a stubborn mind.

Crowley raised his hand and knocked on the door, hitting the wood a little harder than he probably meant to. He'd never admit that though, so it's best not to ask.

There was a long pause. A pause that caused Aziraphale to feel even more like their presence was not wanted. A pause that made Crowley contemplate how much harder he could truly knock on the door.

The two stared at each other. It had been thousands of years since the pair had met each other. A conversation done with no words exchanged was alarmingly common for them.

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale said through the door. "Are you home?"

It was still silent.

"Open the door," Crowley added after a moment. "Aziraphale may not give up, but I am far more stubborn than you think."

(Y/n)- who had confined themself to their couch- knew that the demon was being honest.

With a heavy sigh, they pushed themself off of the couch cushion and trudged to the door. They considered leaving it shut. Leaving the two celestial beings standing on their doorstep until they gave up. Like one would do to missionaries or door-to-door salesmen... which were truly one and the same when you thought about it.

They rolled their eyes at the thought and finally unlocked the door, pulling it open a second later. The angel and demon stood there as if this visit was the most normal thing in the world. Crowley in his standard all-black outfit with his glasses seemingly glued to his face. Aziraphale is ever formal attire, a grin on his face that was meant to offer some silent comfort wherever it may be needed.

"Hi," (Y/n) greeted quietly. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, we haven't seen you for a while," Aziraphale explained. "We were worried."

"Well, I'm fine," (Y/n) didn't even bother to question the angel's statement... no matter how certain they were that the demon would never admit to feeling the same worry as Aziraphale had. "You two can go."

"What's going on," Crowley asked.

"Nothing. I'm just tired and want to be left alone."

Crowley raised an eyebrow at them.

"Please, just go."

"When will we be seeing you again," Aziraphale asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

"Can we come in?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why would you want to?"

"Because we're your friends and we care for you-"

"Friends would respect my boundaries when I asked them to leave."

Crowley scoffed. "Not if they got a proper look at you."

"Thanks," (Y/n) replied sarcastically. They knew how they looked. How the bags under their eyes looked and how their clothes looked and their skin and their hair. They knew.

"Tell us what's going on," Crowley pushed.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you."

"That's not my problem."

Aziraphale tried to step in, "(Y/n), we just want to help-"

"Well, I don't want your damn help!"

The door slammed shut in front of them.

Another silent conversation was enough for both of them to be fully prepared to break in. This kind of anger was not common from (Y/n). (Y/n) was typically very levelheaded. They made a point to be so. It was meant to keep the angel and demon from picking too many pointless fights.

Crowley vaguely moved his hand to ensure the door had unlocked before going to walk inside. Aziraphale walked in awkwardly, making sure to close and lock the door behind the two of them.

(Y/n) jumped at the sound of the door opening. "What is wrong with you both?"

"You're lying to us," Crowley said simply.

"Oh my..."

"(Y/n)," Aziraphale's voice was much softer than Crowley's. "I promise that we're only trying to help-"

"Fine, then help me," (Y/n) stepped even closer to them both. They both seemed puzzled at (Y/n)'s reaction. "Go ahead. Angel and demon, right? Do one of your little miracles and fix me! Rewire my brain! Adjust all of the chemicals and impulses! Make me suddenly feel better! Get me to stop feeling like such... crap!"

The pair fell silent as they caught sight of the tears building in (Y/n)'s eyes. How long had (Y/n) been holding this in? How blind had the two of them truly been?

"Go on!"

Aziraphale spoke up first, "(Y/n)... I- I can't-"

"Fine, what about you?" they turned to Crowley. "Or is this all part of Hell's hope of causing suffering and torment? Is that why you won't properly help me?"

Crowley felt guilt begin to sink in his stomach like a weight. "(Y/n)-"

"What's Heaven's excuse," they turned back to Aziraphale. "The race of angels that claim to want to protect the humans and all of God's creations... what's their excuse for... this?!"

Aziraphale didn't have a response.

"What is it? Some garbage excuse about God wanting his bravest soldiers to face the hardest battles?"

He didn't want to respond. There wasn't a response that wasn't going to sound like some variation of exactly that.

"Because I don't want to be brave!" they continued shouting. "I am so tired of being brave and strong and calm and controlled! I am so tired! So stop acting like you can fix it!"

Any further attempt at conversation from Aziraphale or Crowley got interrupted by (Y/n) storming out of the living room. The next sound was the slamming of (Y/n)'s bedroom door.

The silence after the fact was nothing short of suffocating.

Admittedly, it was foolish of (Y/n) to assume that the pair would give up at the sound of a slamming door. The two had been around for far too long to let such an action truly stop them.

When they opened the bedroom door, (Y/n) was lying on their side, back facing the door. They were shaking a bit, clearly crying or overwhelmed or both.

Crowley stayed behind as Aziraphale stepped forward.

"(Y/n)...," Aziraphale said softly.

No response.

"I know that you don't believe that we can help you, but you have to understand why we can't just leave you alone right now."

Still no answer, but there was some kind of small shift as (Y/n) wiped their eyes.

"You know... if there's one thing that I've learned about humanity," Aziraphale explained, "then it's that they are creatures of profound hope."

(Y/n) closed their eyes. They had been told to hold onto hope. They had been told to look on the bright side. It always felt so pointless. Almost condescending.

"But I know that they commonly will hide themselves away in the absence of it," he continued. "That there's this embarrassment that comes with finding oneself without hope. And I think that such a thought leads to such loneliness that it makes the hope even harder to find."

There was still no response.

He hesitated for a few moments longer before sitting on the mattress next to them. "I am not going to demand that you complete some search for hope now. I think that you will find it when you need it most. I am going to ask that you don't isolate yourself. Not from us."

Crowley was still in the doorway, leaning against it as he listened to the angel talk. He knew that Aziraphale was much better at this kind of thing. Who was Crowley to speak on not isolating when that was all he had done for most of the time since he had fallen from Heaven?

Aziraphale didn't feel like he was the right person for this moment. Not in the silence that followed his words. He felt as if he had failed. As if (Y/n) would tell them to leave again and he would have to finally accept defeat in this situation.

He was about to push himself off of the bed but didn't get the chance before (Y/n) sat up and suddenly jumped forward. They wrapped him in a tight hug, hiding their face in his shoulder. He hugged them back as he glanced at Crowley.

Crowley stepped forward, letting his mere presence be a comfort. Physical affection in a time like this was never something that Crowley was particularly good at. In all fairness, he had never really had to be. There were two people in this world that he cared about enough to even entertain the idea of such an action.

"Thank you," (Y/n) muttered into Aziraphale's shoulder.

"You're welcome," he mumbled back. "How about you lay down here and I will go make you some tea... maybe a light lunch?"

(Y/n) leaned back and wiped their eyes before nodding. "Okay."

"Good," he nodded before standing up.

(Y/n) didn't speak up until Aziraphale was at the door, "I'm sorry."

The two looked at (Y/n) with confused expressions.

"For yelling at you both," they explained. "You two didn't deserve that. You were only trying to help."

"It's quite alright," Aziraphale promised, nodding with a gentle grin on his face.

There was a pause and a pointed look from Aziraphale before Crowley spoke up, "Consider it forgotten."

(Y/n) nodded before going to lay back down on the mattress.

After taking a deep breath, Crowley rounded the corner of the bed, going to lie on the other side of them. He plopped down on his back, legs thrown over each other rather lazily as he tried to relax into the mattress.

"So, what's the plan," (Y/n) asked, listening to the distant sound of Aziraphale waltzing around their kitchen as if he belonged there. "You two are just going to stay here?"

"Yup," Crowley replied. "You're stuck with us."

(Y/n) sniffled and wiped their nose. "At least take your shoes off if you're going to lay in my bed."

A small chuckle escaped the demon as he sat up for long enough to pull off his shoes. When he laid down, he reached over and grabbed their hand. He offered a small grin. Maybe the gentlest gesture that he had done in hundreds or thousands of years.

(Y/n) accepted it, merely moving closer and resting against his shoulder. "Thank you, Crowley."

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, pretending to be completely unbothered by the situation. "Just don't go telling people about it."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"Good."

By the time Aziraphale had made it back with tea, (Y/n) was in a light sleep, hand still clasped tightly in Crowley's as they did so.

He set the dishes on the bedside table and moved to sit with the pair on the mattress. A quiet comfort for the time being.

And for once, (Y/n) found fighting that isolation to not be nearly as terrifying as it had once been.

They just needed somebody to truly hear them and still be stubborn enough to stay.

-------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Sinning With Lust (Good Omens One-Shot)

Aziraphale x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Aziraphale catches you reading a spicy novel.

CW: Aziraphale has bde here

Good Omens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“What have we here, then?” 

Those five words startled you so badly that it sent your Kindle flying out of your hands and onto the floor. 

“Jesus Christ!” You shouted, hand flying to your chest in fright. Your heart beat hard and fast for a few moments before you returned to yourself, hammering dying down. 

You’d been reading a rather spicy scene in your novel, and you hadn’t expected to be interrupted quite like that. Particularly so startlingly. 

“Oh, come now, that’s not very nice- blaspheming in an Angel’s abode.” Aziraphale tutted at you teasingly, those eyes glinting with mischief. He was good at that. “My house is God’s house, you know.” 

“Listen,” you breathed, heartbeat finally returning to normal. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you sneaking up on me.” 

“Sneaking?! Well, I resent the accusation, my dear. I assure you I was approaching at my usual pace, gait and noisiness.” 

You grunted and made to stand to grab your Kindle, though Aziraphale shushed you and encouraged you back into your spot, insisting that he should get it for you as he was the reason it had been dropped so unceremoniously. 

“What were we reading today, dear?” Aziraphale asks, leaning to pick up the tablet and pass it to you. 

You’d always thought those scenes in movies where the protagonist had something to hide and the main antagonist, side character or whoever went for it in slow motion was stupid. Turns out it’s pretty accurate. 

Your heart beat faster in your chest and you reached for the Kindle to snatch it out of his hands before he could read the page sitting there incriminatingly. You watched as his eyes skimmed a couple of lines and widened comically before settling again after the initial shock. You noted the telltale subtle darkening of his irises and blushed profusely. 

“Oh, I see,” he said, voice taking on a slightly lower pitch. You shied away, looking out the window and covering half your face with your palm. This was truly mortifying. 

“Been a bit naughty, have we?” Aziraphale asked, putting the Kindle on the side table and standing before you. He brought one hand down to move your own and softly cupped your chin, leading it so that you were now looking up at his heated gaze. You swallowed thickly. “Lust is a sin, you know, my dear.” 

You nodded, unable to form words. Your mouth was suddenly dry and you would have given anything for a big glass of water. 

“What’s wrong?” Aziraphale’s head cocked to the side. “You’re looking positively scared, little rabbit.” 

You breathed out a panicked laugh. Oh, this was- Aziraphale was ticking so many boxes for you right now. 

“Reading such filth in my home, dear- In God’s home. Do you think you need to be punished?” Aziraphale’s bottom lip poked out in a mild pout, mocking you. Your eyes flitted between his, and you shook your head no. 

“No? Hmm, I’m not sure I agree.” 

You lean your cheek into the palm of his hand and Aziraphale practically swoons. You know you’re putting on the charm. It usually has about a fifty per cent success rate, and you’re wondering which way Zira will go with it when he’s suddenly leaning down and pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead. 

“Sweet thing,” he said softly, giving you one of the most loving smiles you’ve ever seen. “My office, ten minutes, hmm? Don’t be late.” 

Then he wandered off into the kitchen, leaving you breathless and blinking at the space that your Angel had just been occupying. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you replied to the wall.

[chalametabingbong]

Crowley can't handle it ✋😩

Four Times Aziraphale Wanted to Kiss You, And the Time he Finally Did (Aziraphale x Angel!Reader)

*REQUESTS ARE CLOSED*

Requested by: Anonymous

Warnings: Maybe Angst, Fluffiness although that’s not really a warning

The first time Aziraphale wanted to kiss you was seeing you for the first time after the garden.

You were dressed in a long, flowing white dress and had come to stand beside him as you watched the animals being loaded into Noah’s ark. You were stunning, your hair in curls down your back, a popular style of the time. Just…stunning.

“Good to see you again, my dear,” Aziraphale said to you.

You smiled, “You as well, Aziraphale, I just wish it was during better circumstances” you told him.

Before Aziraphale could answer, you turned when you felt a tap on your shoulder, turning to see the demon, Crawley, standing beside you.

“Oh, hello again,” you said, giving the demon a polite nod.

Aziraphale silently cursed for the interruption, not that he wasn’t just slightly happy to see Crawley, he was a rather interesting companion.

“So, giving the mortals a flaming sword, how did that work out for you?” Crawley asked, looking over to Aziraphale.

“The Almighty has never actually mentioned it again,” Aziraphale spoke.

“Most likely a good thing,” you added, the demon and angel beside you both nodded.

“What’s all this about?” Crawley asked, motioning towards the large boat in front of you all, “Build a big boat and fill it with a traveling zoo? From what I hear, God’s a bit tetchy.”

“Wiping out the human race,” Aziraphale said, lowering his voice, “Big storm.”

“All of them?” Crawley asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Just the locals,” Aziraphale told him.

“I don’t believe the Almighty is upset with the Chinese,” you said, “Or the Native Americans. Or the Australians.”

“Yet,” Crawley said, shrugging.

“And God’s not actually going to wipe out all the locals,” Aziraphale spoke, “I mean, Noah, up there, his family, and his sons, their wives, they’re all going to be fine.”

“But they’re drowning everyone else?” Crawley asked, looking around, “Not the kids? You can’t kill kids.”

You and Aziraphale both just nodded, a bit uncomfortable at the realization. “Well, that’s more the kind of thing you’d expect my lot to do,” Crawley said.

“Yes, but when it’s done, the Almighty’s going to put up a new thing called a rainbow, as a promise not to drown everyone again,” said Aziraphale.

“How kind,” Crawley said sarcastically, you sort of agreed with him, you weren’t as…devoted to the ineffable plan as Aziraphale was.

“You can’t judge the Almighty Crawley,” Aziraphale argued, “God’s plans are…”

Crawley cut him off, “Are you going to say “ineffable?” he asked.

“Possibly,” Aziraphale said, making you giggle softly, the sound was music to his ears.

That was the first time Aziraphale wanted to kiss you.

*

The second time Aziraphale wanted to kiss you was when you met Shakespeare, you looked beautiful in your long, red velvet gown, your hair still long and flowing down your back, but Crawley, well, Crowley now, interrupted you once again.

Not to mention Shakespeare kept flirting with you for lack of a better word, reciting some of his new work to you as you giggled.

“Jealous?” Crowley asked, leaning over to Aziraphale, watching as you blushed at whatever Shakespeare was telling you.

“I-I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Aziraphale said, turning his gaze away from you to Crowley.

Crowley raised an eyebrow, “I’m not stupid Aziraphale, I can see the way you look at her, just get on with it already, it’s been a few thousand years after all.”

Aziraphale shook his head, “I can’t, she’s too…her, and I’m too me,” he said.

“Would you like me to tell her then?” Crowley asked, smirking.

Aziraphale nearly felt his heart jump out of his chest as he quickly shook his head, “No, no, please,” he said, making the demon chuckle.

“I’m only joking,” Crowley spoke, “but I would definitely snatch her up before someone like Casanova over there does.”

Aziraphale sighed, “I’ll tell her, at the right time,” he said, although he himself had no idea when that would be.

*

The third time Aziraphale wanted to kiss you was in 1941 in London when you both thought you were going to be rather inconveniently discorporated by a couple of scumbag Nazis.

You were pretty bad ass that day, talking back to Nazis and all, he himself wasn’t exactly that brave.

Both of you were relieved when Crowley strolled in, well, more like interpretive danced into the room, given the consecrated ground and all.

“Crowley, what are you doing here?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Coming to save you two! Can’t have you getting into trouble,” he spoke, still doing his little dance, it was rather comical.

“We were doing just fine Crowley,” Aziraphale spoke.

“Ah, Anthony J. Crowley, your fame precedes you,” one of the Nazi’s spoke.

“Anthony?” Aziraphale questioned, looking to Crowley.

“You don’t like it?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t say that, I’ll get used to it,” Aziraphale said.

“The famous Mr. Crowley,? That’s such a pity you must all die,” the Nazi woman spoke.

“What does the J stand for?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at the demon, who shrugged.

“It’s just a J really,” he said, looking off to the side, “Look at that! A whole font full of holy water, doesn’t even have any guards.”

“Enough babbling!” one Nazi yelled, “Kill them all.”

After Crowley rerouted that bomb and Aziraphale saved you all from being discorporated, you were covered in soot from the destroyed church rubble now surrounding you.

Aziraphale came over to you, taking a handkerchief out of his jacket, “Here you are my dear,” he told you, smiling.

You smiled back, “Oh, thank you,” you said, using the cloth to wipe the soot off your face, you handed it back after you were done.

“Missed a spot,” Aziraphale said, reaching out and wiping a bit of soot off your cheek, you could feel your face heat up when you looked down sheepishly.

Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to feel that heat against his lips, but he didn’t, not that time at least.

*

The fourth time Aziraphale wanted to kiss you was shortly after you started helping him at his bookshop. You spent hours organizing books with him, finding just the right spots for everything.

He’d accumulated quite a collection over the years, and while he had no trouble organizing things, he was also happy to have some help, especially when it came from you.

After a really long day you’d even go out and buy dinner and pastries to eat together at small table by the window. It was one of his favorite things that came with you helping in the shop.

Another was when you’d bring him tea when you noticed he has having a particularly hard time organizing or trying to interpret some old language no one knew anymore.  

You were incredibly kind, but truly brave when you needed to be, it was something he loved about you. Also, you were different than most angels, sometimes going against protocol for the greater good of those surrounding you, not just heaven.

Aziraphale especially loved watching how careful you were with the books, carefully placing each of them on a shelf, especially if they were very old.

You were the only one he’s found to appreciate books as much as he did, and as he watched you, he wondered what your reaction would be from just a small kiss of appreciation.

Aziraphale shook these thoughts from his mind though, still not the right time he’d decided.

*

The fifth time Aziraphale wanted, and did, finally, kiss you, was when he came back to the bookshop after switching places with Crowley to help the other survive their punishments for stopping the apocalypse. You’d been spared for some reason, probably since Gabriel only had some weird thing against Aziraphale.

But the look on your face when he walked through the doors of the bookshop was so full of happiness and love that he knew this had to be the right time.

You’d run up to him and hugged him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re alright,” you mumbled into his jacket.

Aziraphale smiled, wrapping his own arms around you, holding you close, “I could never leave you behind, love,” he told you, making you blush as you pulled away slightly from the hug, his hands still resting on your waist.

“My dear,” he started, “forgive me if this is completely inappropriate but…”

You’d cut him off, smashing your lips against his. He was quite shocked to say the least, but soon melted into the kiss, pulling you closer to him. You tasted just as sweet as he’d imagined, and your lips were incredibly soft.

When you pulled away, you giggled at how red Aziraphale’s face had gotten, “I’d been waiting to do that for about six thousand years,” you admitted, “I could see you did too, and I figured it was now or never.”

Aziraphale smiled, leaning down to press another gentle kiss to your lips, “That is just what I was thinking,” he told you.

When you’d both told Crowley you were officially together about a week later, he nearly burst with relief, “Finally!” he shouted, “I don’t think I could take another six thousand years of the sexual tension.”

Aziraphale had choked at his tea at that comment, while you on the other hand just laughed.

A/N: This took me a few hours to write, I kept getting stuck haha, but I hope you loved it! Thank you so much for reading and all the love! Requests will be open again either later this week or next week! Love you all! ~ Sara :)

[filmtv2022]

Every Part Of You

Pairing: Aziraphale x Reader (Female Reader) 

Synopsis: Aziraphale struggles to understand why the reader would want to be with him. The reader takes it into her own hands, and does what she can to prove that he is more than worthy of her love. 

Warnings: slight spice/suggestive behavior/kissing

A/N: I loved writing this shorter piece. Also, I know this is a story with a female reader, but I firmly believe that Crowley and Aziraphale are endgame for the actual course of the show. We need season 3 of Good Omens ASAP! Those two blundering idiots (with all the love and affection) love each other!

Warm light filled the room, though the sky outside the windows sat pitch black. Even the stars didn’t shine. Heavy rain beat on the glass, creating a steady calming rhythm. Snuggled into his side, her head rested on his chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. Strong hands held her as they traced patterns along their bare skin. A sleepy haze settled over her, but the same didn’t seem to be happening for him. His body remained tense as if he was ready to spring out of bed at any moment. 

Pushing herself up on an elbow, she scanned over his face. Deep lines of contemplation sat between his furrowed brows. Smoothing over the lines with the tips of her fingers, she watched as he turned his face to meet theirs.

 “What’s going on in that head of yours?” 

“It’s nothing, I promise,” his voice was steady but low.

“Don’t try to lie to me, I know you better than that,” she brushed an errant curl from his face as she whispered, “Talk to me, please.” 

“I just… I don’t…” turning slightly, he wrapped her further in his arms, “I don’t understand how I got here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I don’t understand how a woman like you could ever love a man like… well, like me.” 

“What are you talking about? You can’t possibly be that daft.” She chuckled quietly, but the humor quickly faded when she clocked the look in his eyes. His question was no attempt at humor. 

“You’re serious?” she waited for a response, but when none came she kept going, “Oh my god, did I do something to make you feel-”

“It’s not you, trust me.”

“Then what is it? Who is it?” 

“It isn’t one person, it’s… I see the way people look at us when we walk down the street or sit down for a nice dinner out. Their eyes linger just a touch too long before they turn to whisper to their friends. Their attention never truly leaving us. Confusion, that’s what I see on their faces.” 

“You’re wrong. If you think for a second that you’re not worthy of my love, then you’re wrong. I’m not sure you’ve ever been more wrong.” 

“Sweetheart, please don’t try to make this better, I-”

“No, I’m not going to let you keep thinking this way. Just listen to me for a second, will you?”

“Okay, fine, I'm all yours.”

“Wonderful. Now… where should I start?” Roving over his face and body with her eyes, she contemplated where to begin, “Oh, I know, how ‘bout we start with this.”

Her slender hand came up to brush gently over his forehead, following the gentle curve of his hairline, “I love this mind. Your creativity, your intelligence. The way you are always thinking of me, looking for ways to care for me.” He smiled sweetly up at her, running her fingers along the fine lines of his forehead, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There sat a sadness and uncertainty in his gaze. 

Sliding her fingers into the soft curls a low hum rumbled through her chest. She combed through his shocking white locks as she continued to speak, “And these curls, the way they feel between my fingertips it’s… it’s heaven.” 

Tugging lightly at the roots, she watched in awe at how his eyes closed in reverence and his head fell further into the pillow, exposing his neck to her. A quiet noise fell from him and he focused on her touch. Her soft lips pressed into his temples, brushing a feather-light kiss to each.

Pulling back just enough to see his face again, she swept her thumb gently over his lips, the soft flesh moving delicately under her touch, his eyes fluttered open at the sound of her words, “And your voice, I love that too. The way you speak life back into me when I need it most.” 

Bringing their lips together, she allowed the kiss to linger. His strong hands came to rest on her back, pressing her tenderly to him hoping beyond anything to hold onto this moment. Breaking the embrace, the warmth of her breath was hot on him as she spoke, “Your lips, the way they feel against my body… it’s intoxicating.” 

Firmly held beneath her luscious weight, he lifted his head so that he could find her skin. Taking his time, he laid a line of fire along the column of her throat and along her chest. A sharp gasp tore through the air as he mouthed at the swell of her breast, his teeth raking lightly against the tender flesh. 

“Don’t try to distract me, my love.” 

He grumbled in amusement, “All right, as you were.” 

“Thank you,” a bright smile painted her face.

Sliding down his body, her hands and lips trailed in the wake. His muscles twitched beneath her touch, the feeling of her sent electricity running over every inch of him, “You know what else I love, dear?” 

Giving him no time to speak, the coarse hair on his chest tickled her nose as she nipped at the spot over his heart, “I love this heart and the way that it cares for others. You make people feel special ... like they matter.” 

She soothed over her bite before moving to place a nearly imperceptible kiss on his sternum. Trailing down over his soft stomach, she listened to the way his breath hitched, his hands found purchase on whatever part of her they could. She reached the waistband of his boxers, toying with the smooth cotton. His hips jerked up to meet her touch, and a desperate whine fell from him as he begged for more. A sly grin twisted her lips at his neediness, “Hold on darling, I’m not quite done.” 

Throwing a leg over his, she straddled his hips, the blankets that had covered her pooled around her waist leaving her entirely exposed to his gaze. One of his hands found the curve of his waist, holding her in place. While the other wandered higher, palming her breast. Leaning down. she pressed her chest into his, finding his lips again. It started slowly, languid, but grew heavier as the seconds passed. Her hips rolled against his, earning a heady groan from him. Matching her need, he threaded his thick fingers through her silky locks, gripping tightly to keep her close. 

With her lungs heaving for air, she was forced to pull back, her forehead resting on his, “I love you. Every part of you. Please, don’t you ever doubt that again.” 

“Never,” smiling against her lips, he held her more surely, closing the minuscule gap between them.

[hansoeii]

Supreme Archangel Aziraphale and Duke of Hell Crowley.

This piece was a commission for @moonyinpisces's fanfiction "how do we turn on the light?" on Ao3! Had such a blast working on this!

[camilleflyingrotten]

When Crowley disappeared after the Edinburgh incident, Aziraphale got bored and started to write a novel