#azirapahel

[crowleysgirl56]

Wildest dreams wishes for Good Omens Season 3 which will probably not come true but I can still hope hey!

Number 39

This one is dedicated to @hikarry who posted a couple weeks ago about Crowley reacting to finding out the walls in the bookshop’s back room were painted the same colour as his eyes. It made me remember I had this wildest dream idea sitting in my drafts and inspired me to finish writing it.

I therefore present to you yet another scene in the Adventures of Crowley and Muriel. What happens when Crowley finds portraits drawn of himself by Aziraphale, and works out just why Aziraphale thinks the colour yellow is pretty. Starts out as fluff, but ends in heartbreak and angst. Enjoy!

It had been eight months since Crowley last took off his sunglasses. He only did so now in order to press his finger tips into his eyes in frustration. Confused and exhausted at what he was seeing, he pushed the glasses securely back on his face, took a long annoyed breath in, and called out for the angel.

“Muriel! Get out here!”

Muriel popped their head out from the kitchenette.

“Something the matter Mr Crowley?”

“Is something the-? You bloody well know what the matter is, now come over here!”

Muriel bounded over to Crowley, currently with his back turned to them, staring intently as the bookshelves.

“Where are they?!” He gruffly demanded.

“Where are what?” Muriel innocently replied.

“The books! What have you done with the books, where are they?!” Crowley gestured around wildly at the filled bookshelves. Muriel looked confused.

“They’re right there Mr Crowley.”

Crowley advanced on Muriel, in a slightly but not really menacing way, “Yes, I can see that. But you know what I mean.”

“I haven’t been selling them again if that’s what you mean.” The first time Crowley returned to the bookshop after Aziraphale had left he was horrified to see a stream of customers coming and going. He had personally ran down (“Ran after Muriel, ran after! There’s a difference!”) 17 different people before they returned home just to retrieve the precious possessions before they could be dogeared, spines bent, or worst of all, read on the toilet by careless humans. Afterwards he updated the opening hours sign to include an additional layer of confusion, then spent two and a half hours lecturing Muriel on the evils of capitalism and how to take care of the books properly. Muriel wouldn’t be making that mistake twice.

“Obviously. What I mean is, where are they. They’re all out of order. There’s cookbooks next to Tolstoy, and Pratchett next to Sun Tzu! Where is everything?!”

“Oh, I arranged everything by colour!” Muriel replied proudly, a shining smile spreading across their face.

“You…what?!”

“It’s much prettier this way don’t you think?”

Crowley took a step back and viewed the colours splashed across the shelves. The effect was like staring at a magic eye painting when it suddenly comes into focus. Before him was a kaleidoscope of colour, books positioned in such a way that their outward facing spines when pushed together formed a massive rainbow.

“No it’s not, change it back!” He demanded.

Muriel’s smile dropped and suddenly their eyes went as wide as a puppy’s as they implored him to reconsider.

Crowley was a demon. He was not nice. He didn’t have feelings (certainly not now!), and his one hundred percent NOT broken heart was most definitely not going to be guilted into changing his mind by some sappy eyed angel, especially one that sometimes reminded him of a certain other silver haired cream puff who’s gorgeous pouty lips would make even the coldest of glaciers melt on the spot DEFINITELY NOT!

Crowley rolled his hidden eyes, hissed and then growled a deep low sigh before caving into their pleadings. “Fffffine!”

Muriel gleefully clapped their hands in a completely not adorable or endearing way.

“At least tell me where you hid the first editions?” Crowley moaned.

“Oh that’s easy, they’re over in the brown section.”

“Brown section?”

“Yes unfortunately there’s quite a lot of those.” Muriel pointed behind him.

Crowley turned and startled at crammed shelf after shelf of “brown section”. It took up a majority of the bookshop. The different shades of browns were almost a rainbow in itself. Typical he thought to himself. S’what you get when you only collect books from a hundred years ago.

He thought he’d start with some Dickens, but when he found Dostoyevsky next to Marlow he knew he was in trouble.

“Muriel, how exactly are these books sorted?”

“Easy! First by height then by length!”

Crowley fought the urge to once again slip off his glasses and rub his hands across his face. “Naturally.” He instead murmured.

Muriel by this point had produced the yellow feather duster he remembered Ji- Gabri- Jimbriel had managed to get his hands on, and was vigorously dusting the spotless gramophone.

Pulling his gaze away from the swishing of the bright feathers he turned his attention back to the shelves. Something caught his eye. “Huh, so she did write novels” he remarked as he thumbed his fingers over a copy of Persuasion. As he pulled the book from the shelf he noticed it was wedged in particularly tight next to a rather bulky looking tome, which promptly clatter to the floor scattering delicate pages everywhere.

“Bugger!” Crowley exclaimed as he bent down to pick them up. As he collected them, his hand froze over one page as he suddenly recognised the neat and flourished handwriting.

“Muriel,” Crowley half whispered as he began carefully lifting the pages from the floor, “where did this book come from?”

Muriel turned and looked at the front cover, “Oh that was on Mr Aziraphale’s desk. It was the perfect size for that section of the shelf so I thought I’d pack it away.” Muriel was already approaching the mess, bending down to assist when Crowley shot out a hand to stop them. He turned some more pages over and was greeted with careful hand drawn images of himself. Striking and candid portraits, spread across the years of his existence. One detailed a silhouette sitting at what looked like a bar table, a silver circle of leaves upon his head. Another a simple elegant hand grasping a wine glass. Pensive, brooding, and silent profiles adorned many of he pages. But others showed the demon smiling or grinning, and in one vivid rendition with his head thrown back in laughter.

Heat spread across his cheeks as he hungrily dove into more of the scattered pages. Sketches from Scotland, Golgotha, 1941, even one of his Bildad the Shuite persona, an arrow pointing at his beard and a simple scrawled “No” next to it. A laugh escaped his throat.

Then one particular portrait stopped him in his tracks. He stared at himself as the picture seemed to stare back. Aziraphale had drawn this one without sunglasses, his face was naked, his eyes uncovered. His eyes shone back at him from the page. Aziraphale had coloured his eyes a deep golden yellow. Something about the colour struck him, and before he realised he was on his feet striding for the back room.

Hand shaking, he lifted the portrait up to the wall. The eye colour matched the walls exactly. In fact he wouldn’t have been surprised if Aziraphale had used the same paint on the walls as he did to colour the portrait. Something coiled in the pit of his stomach and radiated out up his spine.

“Mr Crowley are you alright” Muriel asked quietly behind him. He turned and stared at them, when the feather duster they still held came into focus. The yellow feather duster. A conjured memory, only a few short months ago struck him like a train. “My car is not yellow, change it back” “but it’s pretty!” echoed across his mind. Other images surfaced, a yellow band wrapped around a fuzzy top hat, the splash of yellow through a tartan bow tie, a bunch of daffodils displayed on a work desk, and image after image of Aziraphale’s radiant smile. A smile morphing into quiet and confused distress as glasses were placed firmly back in place hiding his eyes away when last they spoke.

Everything came crashing down on him like a tonne of bricks. A dawning realisation rolled over his skin making him shiver. The failed confession. The agony of watching his angel get in that elevator. He was sure he’d gotten it wrong, all those months ago. But he hadn’t. He was right! So why did that make him feel all the more worse? He dropped the pages and silently made his way to the door.

“Wait! Mr Crowley, where are going?!” Muriel fretted, as Crowley reached the entrance.

He paused and with one hand on the handle, half turned back towards Muriel. His throat felt constricted, and drew in a shaky breath as he answered thickly, “I just…need some time…I’ll be back in a little while.”

If Muriel made any further protest he didn’t hear them. He found himself in the Bentley, hands gripping the wheel. He glanced at the back seat half expecting to see the yellow tulips he had once prepared to give to an angel. Long discarded in a local garden. A hesitant hand touched his sunglasses, trembled there a moment, then dropped. Swallowing heavily, he resolutely put the Bentley into gear and drove off. He wasn’t sure where to. But for now the open road seemed the best place to be.

[gingiekittycat]

My Furfur Moments, Compiled

Ok I have been wanting to do this for a while because I think it is HILARIOUS. Here are my misspellings of “Aziraphale” from the most recent draft of my fic, in order of appearance:

Aziraphel

Azirapahle

Azirpahel

Aziraphle

Azirapahel

Azirpahle

Azirapahale

Azirpahale

Azirpaahle

Azriapahle

Azirpahael

Azirawpahle (ok now I'm just getting sloppy. “w”? Really?)

Aziraphrale

Followed by the suggestions that my poor spellcheck made to try and correct these heinous errors:

Aphelia

Arapahoes

Telegraph

Paleographer

Aziraphale (because I have indeed added this to my dictionary)

Triathlete (pls, can you imagine)

Paraphrase

And of course, the one and only, Airplane (iykyk)

[smoreobscurelore]

I'm too lazy to write proper fan fiction.

I like thinking about Crowley hanging around in the bookshop even though Azirapahel has left. His new hobby is teaching Muriel to lie. I haven't thought any further past this scene.

[geronimomo-spd]

what i truly want for Crowley and Aziraphale in season 3 is this: fresh interactions of how being a couple means to them!!!

these are two aro-spec mother fuckers trying to be a couple for the first time, someone posted a while ago that they would be insuffreble when they come together, which is very true as i really support it, but before that!! i want them like, to figure out what they feel like as a couple slowely, i want Azirapahel to reach out to crowley and crowely actually leaning into him for the first time, trying to give Aziraphale what he wants, and i want Azi to be like ??? stare at him for a second, just because he is not used to this omg!! and Crowey would be like 'oh shit... he did not want that apperently' and trying to step away... just for Azi to be like NO PLEASE COME BACK and they are both smiling at each other.

I want Azirapahle to think that now they're a couple, he must hold Crowley's hand all the time and hug him in ways Azi doesn't want to do, but thinks they should because they are now a couple, and i want Crowley to think that they are a couple now so he must be overly nice to Aziraphale which would leave him all confused.

I want them to work on misgivings and expectations of human coupling until they figure out that they really don't need to change themselves to be more palatable and diffrent just because they are now "offical". they are useless, do you expect them to be completely normal and calm about being together?? they would want to show the other they are willing to take the first step! they would over try and tear themselves a new one just for now not exactly knowing how to oparate being in the same room together, just that they love each other and are also extremly happy by this equasion!

then... little by little, settle into loving each other, taking what they learned each other loved, (which im guessing would be hugs, tender face touches, the works!) and settle into being with each other!! learning that yes, they can be more affectinite to each other, just that that they don't have to be "the perfect partner" by human standers, and i do not care how long that would take, even just, two scenes like this would kill me, but it will show that these two beings need to work to figure this relationship out and would be so in character for them!!

[goldenmorningglory]

i think every time azirapahel says "i forgive you" he's:

1. using the identity of being an angel as a wall of defense

2. meaning it in some way for himself, because he's so at war with his faith to God v/s his love for Crowley. "i forgive you" for considering leaving and abandoning your faith. "i forgive you" for thinking of abandoning your divinity. "may you be forgiven" and that you still be an angel despite all your transgressions.

[insanusnavicularis]

Controversial opinion I know but-

I was disappointed in the good omens season 2 ending the first time I saw it.

Before you come at me hear me out-

I get it okay, I get it. From a completely narrative, character development, coherency point. It makes so much sense. Objectively, it was a good decision. I get why it had to end that why. I get it.

But, and stay with me here, I study marketing and literature and I know how this goes.

Via marketing you have to make your consumers understand what they’re getting, you have to give them enough info for them to make assumptions and get expectations about your product, so they can buy it and be satisfied with it. If they have unrealistic or different expectations than what you’re gonna give them, then they’re gonna be disappointed no matter how good the actual product is.

The same happens with literature. There’s something called the promise of the premise. Basically it means that you have to set the tone of the story in the first chapter or two, you have to make a promise to the readers about what they’re gonna get.

All the clues were there from a literary standpoint. The scene with them both as angels. Aziraphale choosing to help Gabriel despite everything. Azirapahel seeing time and time again how much Crowley wanted to do good and go against hell.

We should’ve seen it coming.

But we didn’t. I don’t think anyone did. I didn’t at least.

And that’s because of the marketing.

Because I had expectations for this season. Expectation created by what I’ve seen and heard from the actors and from Gaiman and from Prime.

Maybe it was me who interpreted it all wrong. Maybe. I don’t know.

But I entered season 2 expecting something and I didn’t get it. The actual thing I got makes sense and it’s not bad. I don’t hate it. I actually kinda like it now that I think about it. But that does not take away the fact that my expectations weren’t met and now I’m disappointed in the product I “bought”.

It’s like this: if I told you this thing is a blender and you bought it thinking it’s a blender, thinking about all the smoothies you’re gonna make with your new blender and you’re really happy about it. But you get home and realize it’s actually a microwave and not a blender. Now, are microwaves bad? No. Do I like microwaves still? Yes. Are they useful? Yes. But it’s still not a blender, and a blender is what I expected, what I needed.

I guess I just wrongly assumed things about the show before knowing or seeing anything about it. And that’s on me okay. That’s on me. That’s my bad. Still it doesn’t take away my feelings.

What I needed was a queer or queer coded piece of media that was lighthearted and funny, I needed a queer piece of media that didn’t take itself too seriously. I needed a happy queer show. As a queer person I needed a queer show that showed me a happy ending. I needed something to escape reality, not to remind me of it. I needed something like season 1 I guess and it’s my bad because I know it’s not season one but again- expectations.

Would I still have watched it if I knew how it ended? Definitely. I’m part of the fandom and I love these characters, I’m willing to take anything they give me.

But I wouldn’t have watched it the during the time I did and with the expectations I had.

Maybe it’s because I had been having a bad week and was hoping to escape it through instant gratification in the form of a show. Maybe it’s because my anxiety had been acting up. Maybe it’s because all of that that I was so affected by the ending.

I would have still watched it. But not at that moment because it wasn’t what I needed.

I’m not disappointed in the show or the end itself. I’m disappointed in the marketing of the show I guess.

And before you come at me saying that surprise and no spoilers is a big part of media: yeah I know but remember the blender.

Tl;dr: I’m not disappointed in the show itself, it’s just that they didn’t give me enough info to realize what I was getting into so my expectations weren’t met.

[ghostlycreatoruniverse]

Reading all of this theory makes me think that people is onto something but not the right one.

Ever since the season started I’ve found something was missing, and it took me a while to caught on what specifically. Now I know: God’s voice as a narrator. The only moment we hear God’s voice is when they are speaking with Job, but even those dialogue little makes sense.

As Aziraphael reminded us, the universe was meant to be over with Adam’s comings. This is literally what everyone , Supreme Archangel Gabriel as well, believed. Even the 1st ranked Angel didn’t know better. But the whole point of season 1, the real reason Azirapahel could save the situation is realising that the great plan is indeed ineffable. As this season is , due to God’s absence.

So here we are with a Metatron who of course twisted the truth. He said the second coming was a plan they were working on about sometime. Hello? Time was supposed to END two years ago. So now, here the only possibilities: either Metatron doesn’t know a thing and had been sightly informed, and he’s acting like he believes fine or either this is the great plan and he knows it.

But let alone this, Metatron could refer to the thing that Aziraphael’s choice was, indeed, very obvious. As someone would pick the cooffe instead of death. Coffee is a symbol of heaven, of an easy and more “socially confirming choice”. As asking : “who would choose death over cooffe?” “Who would choose to fall from heaven for a demon?”

So back to the conundrum , about Metatron now knowing the great plan or following his own choices… both way, it’s obvious that Metatron knows his driving Aziraphael. He said two big lies to him

1) the second coming being a plan they were working on vs Aziraphael knowing about Armageddon. Like he was literally in it! And he doesn’t question.

2) Gabriel searching for Aziraphael. No. Few moments ago Aziraphael literally heard Gabriel himself saying he was looking for Beel but he forgot. He was never looking for Aziraphael. He very much conveniently happened to forget his memories before getting into hell and ended up roaming in London. And again, who made it possible in the first place?

So both way: if Metatron doesn’t know about the plan… we’ll, I guess he’s labelling Aziraphael as “boring”. And not bold enough to pick “death” over “coffee” despite not liking coffee much anyway. As he’s not bold enough to choose Crowley for an heaven he doesn’t really like that much.

On the other hand if Metatron DOES know… imagine his standpoint. Nothing really exciting happens because it was all predicted in the Great Plan. Of course Aziraphael chose coffee. Of course he fell for his little half truths. Of course he would choose coffee instead of death, heaven instead of Crowley. As always, nothing exciting, which is the point of his conversation with Nina. The whole conversation! Nina telling him if it’s order sucks she will insult him, and him debating wether someone had ever picked death.

If someone had ever make an interesting choice.

And in the same pattern of dialogue we have Crowley , depicted as a wild card. The one who always ask silly questions vs a god who giving silly answers about whales.

I don’t think there anything more about their dialogue. Metatron doesn’t really need to. This is the sign he offered Aziraphael a more conventional and convenient choice vs something dangerous , unconventional but at least passionate (Crowley : “if you gotta go, do it with style”).

And of course old Aziraphael picked the safe choice. Must be really boring for someone who saw pretty much everything.

Give me coffee or give me death

I don’t believe in the Coffee Theory per se. I think the whole ‘drugged coffee’ thing is a bit too spy movie to be in Good Omens, but- BUT

The fact that that coffee is in the intro;

The fact that you can see The Metatron in line, waiting for his turn, BEFORE he gets into the coffee shop, like if he was an out of place detail you were supposed to notice and ask yourself questions about;

The very long and apparently superfluous dialogue about choosing coffee instead of death, and how “predictable” that is;

The fact that for two seasons we NEVER see Aziraphale drinking coffee, like that’s not his thing, that’s Crowley’s thing, he’s the “six-espresso-in-a-big-cup” guy, Aziraphale drinks hot chocolate or tea, and we have to assume The Metatron knows that, because he went into that coffee shop and asked for such a specific thing that makes you think that’s something he chose specifically for Aziraphale (who still doesn’t drink coffee, so why?).

He looks reluctant at the idea of drinking it at first

but he accepts it out of courtesy, I presume, and this is the face he makes when he tries it:

Even he is surprised he liked it. He’s on Earth since 6000 years, so we can assume he tried coffee before and chose not to drink it. He’s either lying about liking it out of courtesy, or this is the only coffee he’s ever enjoyed, and The Metatron knew he would have liked it and chose that coffee on purpose.

So, the coffee is either important as a physical element, as something that had an actual effect on Aziraphale and changed him somehow, or it’s important in its metaphorical significance. In Good Omens almost everything is metaphorical, so the second option is very likely.

Now, what’s the coffee supposed to represent? The only certain thing we know, is that the coffee is something The Metatron offers Aziraphale, so it probably represents the offer he’s about to make.

Considering the whole “Does anyone ever choose death?” conversation, considering the fact that we don’t know how the conversation between The Metatron and Aziraphale went, we only know the version Aziraphale chooses to tell Crowley, and considering The Metatron is the angel that decided to erase Gabriel’s memory just because he said “nah” about Armageddon 2.0 and Aziraphale is the traitor, the one who stopped the Armageddon 1.0, so The Metatron has no reason to be friendly with him, my question is:

Did Aziraphale actually have a choice?

Or the alternative was worse than leaving Crowley and the bookshop?

Was it actually coffee or death?

[inafever]

i need your opinion: would aziraphale punch the metatron in the face?

the context could be he was insulting crowley or implying hes bad or a demon’s opinion is worthless or smth. Could be he found out meta was the one that made her fall

(this may or may not be for a fic thats growing in my head) ((also if meta made crowley fall?????? That really shows how naive and ignorant of a plan azirapahel has - no fault of his, own lack of communication and trama and all- like he thinks he can convince heaven crowley is good? That theyd let crowley back in and hes opinions would be heard since he is now an angel and in charge? But the metatron (aka person playing god rn) cast crowley out???? Cast out an angel for asking questions and giving opinions. Az seeing angelicness as a symbol of worth but its not. Heaven didnt want crowley as an angel. His opinions werent worth while even as an angel))(sorry im loosing my mind- this came from me like a vision)(eating the walls etc etc) (going to copy and past this in my messy brainstorming google doc of mixmatching headcannons and hope i find it when i need it)

we've seen Aziraphale treating people who have been very mean to him with kindness or at least politeness in the past? But I'm not sure if he'd still be taking the high road if the person getting hurt was not himself but Crowley. I could see him not punching the metatron but planning something nasty for him in the end and taking pleasure in watching it unfold, looking like this 😈

[wisesnail]

I took some time off the internet to attend a fantastic workshop about watercolours... Anyway, back to posting with this little study of Michael Sheen as Aziraphale along with the GIF of how a blob turns into Mr. Sheen’s face c; Hope you like it!  💙

Prints and other stuff on my Society6 and RedBubble

[animanightmate]

Oh, beautiful analysis – I’d never seen that.

Also: that dividing line running down Aziraphale’s face, and they’ve lit his painful exultation with steel (Crowley side) and straw (burning church side). The dark half looks older, less innocent than the other.

I really need to watch this again for more layers, clearly.

A kinda quick study of one of my favourite shots in Good Omens and my favourite Aziraphale moment in the series. This, right here, is a perfect example of how to use subtext to tell more about a character (spoiler alert, by the way): at the church scene, the wings of a sculpture right behind Aziraphale are in flames, and there’s a fallen cross at his feet. The entire shot also shows Crowley, standing, gazing at his angel surrounded by a darker and cooler background. With so much orange and burning colours going on in Aziraphale’s half, from Crowley’s side there’s a blue light cooling him down, like water in the middle of the desert. I also find incredibly beautiful how classic both Aziraphale and Crowley are standing: the angel in a quite symmetrical, frontal view; the demon, in profile, almost out of camera. Given what’s happening at the moment, it feels like Crowley is giving Aziraphale some space to understand what’s going on (namely, his own fall and, in a matter of seconds, his falling *in love*), but keeping him cool with his blueish ambient. If I’m not mistaken, the bag with Aziraphale’s books is right in the middle. This could easily be a classical painting structure, if you ask me.

[linipik]

4., 10. and 12 :3

[for the ask game]

4. Fav character/subject that’s a bitch to draw

Fucking. Wings.

Do I love characters with wings? HELL YEAH! they look amazing in compositions and feathers floating around is 10/10 anime trope.

Do I like drawing wings? N O

...do I draw Crowley and Azirapahele's wings any chance I get: yep

10. Favorite piece of clothing to draw

Shoes, and even more if they are the classic converse shoes!! they can be so detailed or so simple and still feel like converses!

oh, and also and puffy historical sleeves

12. Easiest part of body to draw

Hair and eyebrows!!! And even more when I get to simplify it and I have 3 lines and it still looks like the hairstyle I'm going for. aaa I love that!!

[cultofthepigeon]

broke: Azirapahel hangs out around the wealthy because he enjoys the finer things in life that you just can't get hanging around commoners

woke: Aziraphael hangs out around the wealthy cause he knows their wealth allows them more control over society and he wants to guide them into doing good things with their money

bespoke: comrade Aziraphale has spent 6000 years mooching off of, scamming, and generally inconveniencing the wealthy so that he can get all the good food and clothes he wants and he views it as Good the same way Crowley views glueing pennies to the sidewalk as Bad

[mslanna]

Reasons I relate hard to Jaskier and Azirapahel

soft

disaster

(arguably) pan

bastard

unbreakable bond with the evil guy ™

knows aforementioned evil guy ™ will save them (he always does)

atrocious sense of fashion

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Wicked One

by Sinticide

Aziraphale wants something from Crowley that she can't have... But the demon will find a way to give her just what she wants by any means necessary.

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

This is just basically a backstory for an OC of mine. @WickedOnex on Twitter. I promise it gets better. The writing? Not so much but the story, possibly.

Words: 1702, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Azirapahel, Crowley (Good Omens), OC - Character

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Smut, Abduction, eventual kid fic, eventual pregnancy, backstory for oc

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/25653886

[ao3feed-goodomens]

Wicked One

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/30kVuCs

by Sinticide

Aziraphale wants something from Crowley that she can't have... But the demon will find a way to give her just what she wants by any means necessary.

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

This is just basically a backstory for an OC of mine. @WickedOnex on Twitter. I promise it gets better. The writing? Not so much but the story, possibly.

Words: 1702, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/M

Characters: Azirapahel, Crowley (Good Omens), OC - Character

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Smut, Abduction, eventual kid fic, eventual pregnancy, backstory for oc

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/30kVuCs

[mostfacinorous]

Whumptober 28th

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27]

Whumptober 28th: Beaten

They’d got the jump on him, as the saying went. 

Rightly rude of them, but then, he doubted there was a polite way of ‘roughing’ someone up. 

Initially, he’d thought it was demons, hellions, some occult force that had decided to move on the only angelic being constantly stationed on Earth. In fact, he was so busy trying to sense how powerful the occult forces were, that he failed to fight back. 

It was enough of an opening that it allowed them to hit him in the back of the shoulders with double fists, an area twice as sensitive on an angel as it was on a human, at least. 

He crashed to the floor with a whimper, and the one who had hit him laughed. 

“This fockin’ ninny’s th’ one been driving off your boys?” He asked the other incredulously, and Aziraphale understood suddenly. 

This was about the shop, and the men who kept offering, steadily more aggressively, to purchase it. 

He rolled onto his back and looked up at the men-- only three of them, which was good odds for him. 

“Now see here--” he began, but the one who was in charge-- he assumed, given the ones he’d sent off before had been ‘his’ boys-- was obviously not in a seeing here mood. Instead, he landed a swift kick to Aziraphale’s belly. 

“You’ve been playing games with us long enough. I don’t want any of your hoodoo bullshit-- just an agreement to fork over the paperwork, and clear out. We’ll pay you, even-- bout half what the place is worth. And that’s plenty generous, considering what you’ve done.”

“What have I--?” Aziraphale began, but the first man, who’d knocked him down, put a foot on his chest and leaned on it. 

“That didn’t sound much like an agreement to me.” He said mildly, and Aziraphale, tired of this farce, took hold of his foot and pushed it up, revealing his strength to be far greater than they’d expected. 

Big and angry yanked his foot away, shaken.

“The fuck?” He asked, looking around at the others, but when Azirapahel made to sit up, he reversed the movement and slammed his foot into his face. 

Aziraphale felt his head hit the floor and his nose shatter, and he groaned, reaching for it. 

“Enough.” The voice was loud, sudden, and angry, and all the light seemed to bleed out of the place as a great black snake that hadn’t been there a moment before filled the room.

“Out.” 

It commanded, and the two who were smart started scurrying over its mass to reach the door. The third, though, the big and angry one with the bad attitude, pulled out his gun. 

“Fuck this!” He said, firing off a round. 

Crowley acted instantly, putting himself squarely in front of the gun and around the man, catching him in a coil and squeezing. 

“You hurt him.” Crowley hissed, fangs long and wicked, eyes all but glowing with anger. The big man whimpered. “You won’t hurt anyone ever again.” He finished solemnly, and tugged until there was a nasty sounding crack, and the bad man howled. 

Crowley whisked what was left of the man outside, then calmly came back in as a man-shaped being, closed and locked the shop door, and vanished the gun that had fallen to the floor in all of the drama. 

“Alright there, Angel?” He asked, fingering the already healing patch of skin where the bullet had gone into him. 

It’d been a long time since anyone thought to bless their weapons, and Aziraphale was grateful for that, at least. 

“I am, yes. Thank you. I had it under control, though.”

“Oh, yeah, right, I saw that.” Crowley said, gesticulating wildly. He paused though, and went still. 

“Your nose is still bleeding, Aziraphale.” 

“Good.” Aziraphale said, climbing stiffly to his feet. 

Everything hurt, and he couldn’t help but think that it was well deserved. 

Some guardian he was, some angel, couldn’t keep himself or his home safe from three humans. 

“Oh come on, none of that.” Crowley spoke more gently now, following him into the kitchenette. 

“What.” Aziraphale snapped, or would have, if his nose wasn’t making all of his speech fairly obtuse. 

“Just heal up. You don’t deserve to suffer. It was just some dumb thugs.”

“Yes, and I ought to have managed it better.” 

“Sure.” Crowley shrugged. “And you will next time. For now, though, it’s over. Stop letting them keep hurting you-- you’re giving them more credit than they’re worth.” 

Aziraphale glared at him over the top of the damp dishcloth that he was pressing to his face. 

“They aren’t hurting me, I am.” He said pointedly. 

Crowley snorted. 

“Then that’s twice as dumb. You didn’t hurt them, who made the choice to hurt an innocent man in his home, but you’ll hurt the victim? Not particularly angelic of you.”

Aziraphale lifted his chin, but was well aware that he didn’t have much of an argument to offer. 

Crowley took his silence for the pig headedness it was, and clucked his tongue. 

“Either heal yourself up, or I’ll heal you, and we’ll both suffer for it. And I already got shot for you tonight.”

That did it-- the guilt was all it took, and Aziraphale pulled some Heavenly comfort down onto himself, wrapping it around his corporation to heal the bruises and straighten and mend his nose. 

He sighed.

“Thank you again for that. Are you… are you quite alright, my dear? No hidden surprises with that bullet, were there?”

“Nah. Just a plain old bullet. But you know what’d make it all better?” 

“Wine or whiskey?” Aziraphale asked, settling into something a little closer to normal with a great rush of relief. 

“What’ve you got?” Crowley asked, and their usual banter began, the fight and Aziraphale’s beating fading into a dull throb at the back of both of their minds.