#bookshop fire

[aziraphales-library]

Hey! I was wondering if you have any fics of Aziraphale not realizing he’s the “best friend” that Crowley lost back in s1. tysm!!!

Hello! Here are some fics with misunderstanding around the "I lost my best friend" line...

I Want You To Know That My Feelings Are True by allonsy_gabriel (G)

When the dust settled after the Apocactually-what-if-we-didn’t, when they were back at Aziraphale’s newly reformed bookshop with a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and the angel saw the way the demon’s lips were pressed into a thin line, the way his brows were furrowed together, when he looked and he knew that, should Crowley have removed his eyeglasses at that moment, Aziraphale would’ve seen something akin to sorrow, something akin to longing in those golden eyes, he wondered if he actually knew Crowley, or if he'd only fooled himself into thinking he did. “I never did ask,” Aziraphale said softly, placing his glass on the table next to him. “Your friend… did they come back, after Adam reset everything?”

It's You, You're All I See by angelsandbrowncoats (T)

After stopping the apocalypse, Aziraphale decides to offer his shoulder for Crowley to cry on about whatever mysterious best friend he had lost during the fallout of it all. This goes about as well as expected.

Clarification by BloodFromTheThorn (G)

“I’m sorry about your friend.” The words were soft, murmured mostly into the cushion of Crowley’s couch. Across the room and barely awake enough to still be connected to reality, Crowley could do little more than blink at him. “I’m sorry?” He ventured eventually, once he was sure Aziraphale wasn’t about to expand on the complete non-sequitur. “Your friend,” Aziraphale replied slowly, still not looking at him and sounding, if anything, more morose than he had before. “The one who died.”

Best Friend by Marbled Wings (G)

Aziraphale tries to comfort Crowley on the loss of his best friend and discovers the truth. Missing scene on the bus back to London.

My Mind Holds the Key by mikripetra (T)

“Was your-” Aziraphale choked around the phrase, but forced it out anyway. “Your best friend. The one you lost. Were they returned to normal? Are they alright now?” “Angel,” Crowley drawled, blinking up at Aziraphale like he was staring into a particularly bright spotlight. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

The Night Before the Rest of Their Lives by AnonymousDandelion (T)

“Who was it you lost?" Aziraphale says softly. “When I was… ah, when I was looking for a body. You said you lost someone. Your best friend.” Crowley stares. Whatever the expression on his face, it is evidently sufficiently outraged that it makes Aziraphale take half a step backwards. “Crowley…” “You. Bleeding. Idiot,” Crowley grits out. "That was you." ~ ~ ~ The obligatory night-after-Armageddon't. Featuring emotions, expression of emotions, misunderstandings, resolving of misunderstandings, long-overdue words of affirmation, comfort, communication, cuddling, sprinklings of banter, and the interpretation of a prophecy.

- Mod D

[rybkart]

sad wet snake for yall

wow i actually finished it

[lickthecowhappy]

Whickber Street Writers Association It Burned Down

Prompt Words: astray, dust, laugh, sigh, smoke

Whickber St. Writers Assoc. Prompt Repository | Main Poetry List

Venom a gift called “knowing,” the Serpent led them astray. Curséd are you above all to swallow dust all your days.

Laughing at the memory  through choking sigh of dismay, mouth blackened with the smoke of his best friend burning away.

Some bibles have divine dialogue in red text.

Whickber St. Writers Assoc. Prompt Repository | Main Poetry List

@whickberstreetwriters @goodomensafterdark

This poem is also available on AO3.

[greenthena]

"Lessons in the Humanities" Chapter Update

By Monday, they still weren’t speaking. To be perfectly honest, Aziraphale had avoided the teachers’ lounge in the humanities building, refusing even to heat up his leftover casserole, on the off chance that Crowley might be there. Better to eat cold pasta than to face him.

During lunch, Anathema had come to find Aziraphale in his classroom, asking probing questions in that very specific way that always made Aziraphale feel as though she probably knew more than she was letting on, and certainly knew more than she should.

He’d gently shooed the chemistry teacher out the door when she started inquiring whether Crowley had “departed unexpectedly” after an “intense discussion.” He really didn’t need her getting involved in whatever was happening between Crowley and himself, and he was more than a little concerned that speaking about what had transpired the previous Friday would end with him ugly crying onto her shoulder.

And all that begged the question, what was happening between him and Crowley?

Keep reading on ao3...

Annnnnddddd......be sure to catch up on @theangelyouknew's wip, Catch a Falling Star. Chapter 14 is now up!

[theprophetizaiah]

Achilles Come Down | Chapter 1: Pain As a Motive

Summary: Crowley believes Aziraphale died in the bookshop fire. Now, he's sending the armies of hell to avenge him. Based loosely on the story of Achilles and Patroclus.

Warning: None for this chapter! (Aside from some foul language)

Word count: 1.5k (this chapter)

All chapters should be available here! (I haven't written on Tumblr in many moons please forgive me)

To read on AO3, check out my work here!

Crowley burned in the hell he imagined he’d always belonged in. Ashes rained from the heavens. Burning paper engulfed his senses. Black smoke burned in his eyes. He breathed in his dead lover. Misery. Misery for the rest of eternity.

“Somebody killed my best friend!” he was somewhere between a yell and a sob. “Bastards!” Between fury and agony.

They spent the last 6,000 years toeing the line between best friends and lovers. Dining at the Ritz, feeding ducks, saving each other from mortal peril, you know, as friends do. Crowley would know him in any lifetime. From the weight of his step, the smell of his hair, the sound of his breath (it would skip and stutter when he had thought of something clever). The air around Aziraphale was always heavy, but not in the manner of suffocation. Rather, his aura was a heavy wool blanket. Warm, grounded, homey. The closest thing Crowley ever really had to a home.

Before the apocalypse, Crowley recalled their drunken ramblings. Amidst the whiffs of red wine, he remembered how he smelled. Like earl grey, oak, and bourbon: something his barber suggested. He also always smelled a bit like paper. It made the burning around Crowley all the more unbearable. Anthony J. Crowley, fallen angel and Duke of Hell, reeling over the doing of a foreigner’s god. Certainly not the one he knew, or maybe exactly the one he knew.

He laid in the flames, thinking through his new reality. This was a rare moment of clarity for the distraught demon. Who killed him: heaven or hell? Either reality had some sense to it. Heaven could, and would, excommunicate him for working with a demon. Permanent discorporation, or banishment to hell. Hell would kill him just for the sake of it. Just to say they did. Racking his brain, he realized Hell was unfortunately, his best chance of finding Aziraphale, or at least what became of him. Crowley slowly creeped up from the ashen ground. He was unsure how much time had passed, but it seemed that the flames had slowed. In mere moments, he stared between the two escalators. He chose downward. As the escalator carried him into the dank, dark corridors, his anguish gnawed at him, clawing its war from the inside out. He allows a single tear, and immediately wipes it away. Only the damned cry in hell.

Crowley had stopped fighting for hell decades ago. In the presence of his angel, he saw no reason for it. He saw no reason to fill the world with more violence. The humans were better at that anyway. After his bout in Edinborough, he was promptly tortured for the next several decades. Crowley never saw the face of Satan, but he would give it an ethereal, firm uppercut the second he had the chance. He lost faith in his leadership, in the art of mass scale temptation. He preferred the gentle temptation of his beloved. Of asking him out to breakfast, bringing him wine, planting seeds of heavenly doubt in his mind. He thought often about the Greek myth of the origin of love. They were alone together at the edge of the universe, a body of eight limbs, four eyes, and a flutter of feathers. Whoever Crowley was, it was a product of the angel. Whoever Aziraphale was, it was Crowley’s collateral. And beautifully so, their symbiosis carried on through the centuries. The demon had the fight pulled out of him the way the angel unshelved his books. Carefully and with gentle hands. 

But now that he was gone, this was war. If he had nothing, he would still have Aziraphale, but if he didn’t have his angel, he had nothing. His fury craved battle, to make them hurt the same way he did. His wrath could summon the very same fire that had surrounded him in the hours prior. If his beloved really was gone, then he would destroy the heaven that took him.

Crowley barely managed his way through the crowds of demons slowly but surely trudging their way through the crowded corridors of hell. After passing the rest of the high offices he comes to the door of the one and only Beelzebub. For a moment, he questions if he should even knock, let alone open the door. He wonders if any of this is worth it in the first place. What if his Angel didn't care whatsoever about him? What if he didn’t need saving, or worse, he was already long gone? But in reality, he knew that wasn't the case. He’d be damned, more than he is already, if he let Aziraphale die knowing that he could have prevented it. Crowley gulps and burst open the door of Beelzebub's office. Demons were typically not known for their politeness. Inside, he sees Beelzebub sitting upon their throne, legs crossed fancifully, almost as if they were expecting him. Crowley's stomach turns at this realization. 

“How's it going up there?” Beelzebub asks. Crowley puts on his best front and looks Beelzebub dead in the eyes and lies:

 “Fantastic,” he says. “The Antichrist is mere moments from inciting the Apocalypse.” 

Beelzebub smirks. “Wonderful. Great job.” 

Crowley shudders ever so slightly. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for him to feel a profound discomfort. He again looks to Beelzebub, “did you capture the angel? Is he here?”

Beelzebub looks confused. “What do you mean capture the angel?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley starts. “The other angel that has worked in my same jurisdiction for six thousand years. Did you capture him?”

Beelzebub purses their lips, seemingly scanning their memory. Alas, still confused. “No… Why would you assume that? Why would we let him in here?” They began to look vaguely suspicious of their colleague.

 Crowley pulled something out of his ass. “I saw that the Bookshop was on fire,” he blurted out. “I could have only imagined that it was demonic intervention.” Beelzebub chuckled. 

“It's not always hellfire,” Crowley stifles a laugh, just enough for Beelzebub to think it's genuine. Beelzebub speaks up once more. “Yeah, I don't know about the angel. We don't have ‘im here.” Crowley takes a moment and a step back. He decides to tell the best lie that he's ever told, aside from the fact that he was not madly, disgustingly in love with a forbidden fruit. 

“I want that slimy bastard gone forever,” Crowley spits. “I want that fussy dumbarse to not be anywhere near God's green Earth.”

“Well, I know that much… What are you suggesting?” 

Crowley laughs disingenuously, but trying desperately to seem genuine. “I think we need to raid heaven.”

Beelzebub looks puzzled. “But why do we need to raid the heavens if we have already conquered the Earth, Crowley?” they said. “Why would we postpone destroying Earth to fight this war first?”

“That’s exactly it… they’ll never see it coming,” Crowley says. “We can start with the archangels: Gabriel, Michael, Uriel… There will be no one left to lead their army in such short order. Then we let the Earth burn, and winning their holy war will be easier than dropping the antichrist at the convent.”

His voice grows raspy. Crowley takes a deep breath. “It'll let them know once and for all that their God means nothing.” Crowley sits down in front of Beelzebub. They seem a bit more intrigued. Crowley describes a plot more ambitious than any of his plans to date: to invade the heavens. To crusade his lover’s workplace by summoning a demonic army, comprised of hundreds of damned souls. He plans to force them through the Gates of Heaven to slaughter any angels in their sight. Beelzebub loved this concept, and was almost surprised Crowley came up with it. But, he did dream up the Spanish Inquisition, after all (or so they thought).

“Honestly, why not?” Beelzebub smirks. “If we're all going to be separated for the rest of time anyway, this would be a fun way to go out. If they want us to fight this war, we ought to do it our way. Hell fights dirty.” As the flies buzzed among their crown, they grinned the way a child would when they had come up with the perfect prank. Except this wasn’t a prank. It was the end of the world. Of Crowley’s, at least.

Beelzebub grimaced. Crowley laughed. “Well, I'll go talk about it with head office, and we'll get it sorted. I want it done by the end of the day today. That sound alright?” Beelzebub nodded in excitement. Crowley seems giddy with anticipation but not in the way that you would imagine. The anxiety pulsed through his veins. He was setting into motion the divine war days earlier than was planned, all for a fussy angel he drank wine with one too many times. But at the same time, he knew this was his reality. Crowley couldn’t pretend he didn’t love him anymore. Not when he could be dead. If heaven wanted a war, they were going to get it, god dammit.

[arielavader]

Just in a mood I guess, thinking about seeing more potential rescues of Aziraphale by Crowley in seasons 2 and 3 (I'm manifesting) and it making the bookshop fire hurt even more.

[irradiatedwarlock]

Baby boy is so traumatized. "Somebody killed my best friend!" ripped a whole in my heart. 😭

Protective!Crowley

let's be honest, how else did we think he got all those fire extinguishers?

[hg-aneh]

abandoned pubby

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there!

I was wondering is you had any fics preferably angst about or just after the bookshop fire?

Thank you I absolutely love your account it had been a miracle finding you!

Hello! We have a #bookshop fire tag with a couple of posts, so check that out. Here are more to add...

You’ve gone by IneffableRainstorm (T)

Crowley was too late. He had missed his chance. There would be no confession. There would be no us. They wouldn’t face the end together. Aziraphale was too late. He would never see those beautiful yellow eyes again. Never hear that familiar voice, calling him angel. He had missed his chance. What if the bookshop fire didn't happen? What if Aziraphale goes to Crowley's flat instead? What if Crowley goes to the bookshop? What if they both think the other has gone - one way or the other? What if the world is ending and they are alone?

The Garden by The_Firebird (T)

Crowley's thoughts during and after the bookshop fire.

Inferno by Whovian_holmes (T)

As if the events immediately before and after the apoca-wasn't weren't bad enough the first time, Crowley has been forced to relive them every night since.

Love and the Ability to Lose it by orphan_account (T)

Aziraphale is gone. The bookshop is burning. The nightingales are asleep.

Fire and Water by Sylvania_Gold (T)

Instead of deciding to tell Heaven about the Antichrist, Aziraphale chooses to instead tell Crowley, therefore leaving the bookshop to go to his flat while Crowley leaves his flat after trapping Hastur in the answering phone. Crowley then arrives in a burning bookshop and Aziraphale finds an empty flat except for some holy water and the remains of a demon on the floor.

But The Smoke Clears When You're Around by midnightdragons (T)

“Mhm,” Crowley mumbled, before closing his eyes, curling back up around Aziraphale, and promptly falling back to sleep, one hand hooked loosely around the angel’s middle, his face pressed into his chest. Aziraphale looked down at him, his heart seizing in his chest, and gently hugged him close. “You are silly, my sweet boy,” he whispered breathlessly, sparing a single chaste kiss to the demon’s forehead. “And I . . .” Love you, he wanted to say. Wanted so badly to say it, to reveal it to the world, if only for a single moment.

After the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley can't rid himself of the trauma caused by a certain event, and shields himself with defensive anger and a mask of irritation. Aziraphale convinces him that it's okay to rest and recover. (Alternatively: purely sleepy intimacy, comfort, and fluff, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke in a bookshop.)

- Mod D

[finleycannotdraw]

4. Historic Time ~ won’t you stay with me, my darling, when my walls start burning down? (x)

I have so many thoughts about Aziraphale and the Library of Alexandria (which, as a friend explained, should actually be translated to Alexandrea). I definitely think he was there when it burned. I also think it could’ve been the first time (one of the only times) Crowley touched him without thinking, and maybe one of the reasons he decided to run a bookshop! I am unwell. Aziraphale would’ve been devastated when that library burned.

[camdenleisurepirates]

I still am not convinced that David Tennant is the one getting hit in the chest with that blast of water - shhh

then crowley came out of the flames. the police and the firemen looked at him, saw the expression on his face, and stayed exactly where they were.

[p4nishers]

crowley saying "if any harm comes to aziraphale because of this i will–" to gabriel is SO fucking special to me bc he was so clearly afraid of gabriel after the trial like just look at his reaction when he first sees him and him saying he spent a WHOLE NIGHT worrying that gabriel's gonna smite him like he's actually terrified and still after ALL THAT he still threatens gabriel and i just think threatening someone like THAT is actually so vulnerable bc he's making it abundantly clear that he cares for aziraphale and wants him safe and that aziraphale is HIS to protect and he WILL protect him no matter fucking what and i just i can't deal with how outright and upfront crowley was this season not only with aziraphale but with other people ABOUT aziraphale too like he was really not fucking around this season and he needed everyone to know aziraphale is his and made gabriel almost JUMP OUT OF A WINDOW for wanting to hurt aziraphale and the vulnerability of it all is making me go NUTS

[crowlixcx]

There's an empty place in my heart It won't heal, it never fades away I'll go crazy, now you're gone

Now You're Gone by Basshunter - The Brainrot Series

(requested by @thesherrinfordfacility)

[elentary]

And some questions rise about that:

1) did Aziraphale choose to switch them because he didn't want to risk another fire?

2) did Aziraphale switch to electric candles because Crowley was flinching too much to any open flame?

3) did Crowley gift the fake candles to the angel because he didn't want to live again that fear?

To me, each scenario is rather heartbreaking, looking at how the second season ended.

Edit:

Yeah, @madfoxx that has the same feeling as the candles.

aziraphale using electric candles rather than open flame in the second season is making me so emotional actually

[sangitakoos]

Good Omens Dance

Lost my Friend

[ineffable-romantics]

If I had a nickel for every time Aziraphale's last words to Crowley's face right before Crowley thought he'd lost him forever were "I forgive you", I'd have two nickels.

(Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice)