#but it's more 'Crowley can be the voice that reminds him he shouldn't take what they trow at him'

[tenok]

.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

A Well Deserved Grudge

Summary: You still hate them after their overblot

Notes: GN Yuu. Some based off some stuff from the light novel. Yuu is pretty evil in Jamils. General edginess that comes with angst

Based on this old post abt Yuu with scars

Riddle Rosehearts

A familiar click of heels has you on edge. As they approach you turn around to face him, messing with some of the bandages around your neck from your last encounter. There stood Riddle, his confident stance dropping the second he meets your eyes. 

His usual piercing gaze filled with anxiety as the words he so wanted to say— needed to say— died on his tongue. He's such a coward without a rule book. He's even more cowardly under your scrutiny.

"What?” You deadpan at him and Riddle swallows, looking at the bandages on your neck and arms. He then looks at your face, covered in a few scratches from rose bushes.

“... I… am here to… ” His voice shook toward the end and he took a breath to steady himself. “I'm sorry Yuu. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

You merely raised a brow and fully turned to him. Riddle could see the gash along your neck that peeked through some of the bandages. A grim reminder on how his magic failed during his overblot. The expression you had on your face as the collar around your neck continued to tighten and cut into you haunts him.

“You’re apologizing?” A flicker of determination flashes in Riddle's eyes as he nods. 

“Yes. I know it's not enough but… I'm sorry.” The dullness of your eyes reminds the dormleader that this was far from enough to smooth things over.

“I do not forgive you.” He should have expected that, yet he winces still. What is he supposed to do in this scenario? What else does he say? There is no rule, no guide to what he has done. Deuce and Ace said that he needs to make things right, but how?

“... I understand. If there's anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, please–”

“I don't think there's anything you could do that makes this okay.” Your voice is dull as you pull at the bandages on your neck. “Shouldn't you be in the headmage's office fighting your expulsion?”

It was true. Crowley was to judge whether or not he was to be expelled for his actions. It scared him. “I… I am but–”

“Then go. We both know you won't be kicked out– Crowley doesn't have a backbone and your bitch of a mother will make sure you stay in. You want to ‘earn’ my forgiveness? Stay the hell away from me.” 

Riddle grits his teeth and closes his fist tighter. Emotions of all kinds surge through him. He's confused, he's guilty, he's angry, he's lost. 

Most of all, he's scared. Scared of your gaze, scared of how you hold yourself. Your eyes remind him so much of the ones above him he tries to please and they're boring into him with such disapproval.

“I don't want to see you around, get your shitty tantrums in check. Just because you lose your head doesn't mean others have to. Just go.”

By now you've turned away and started walking off. Riddle could only watch, unable to find the strength to move or say anything. It was probably for the better. He needs to go to the Headmage.

Jamil Viper

He hates this feeling. You have forgiven him, though and through, water under the bridge and he hates it. He hates how you shrug it off. He hates that you don't hate him. He hates this guilt.

He mind controlled you. You. A magicless and defenseless human who was already helping him. You who are in a position so similar to his. You who had no way to fight back. He kidnapped you, keeping you in Scarabia for days regardless of your own plans. If it weren't for your dorm ghosts feeding the fire fairies, Crowley would have cut off your food for the week.

Then he tried to kill you, and had the audacity to be angry at you for it. To add even more salt into the wound you were so kind with him afterwards. You didn’t seem to take it seriously. Take him seriously. Your attitude reminds him so much of Kalim which makes this even worse.

He hates your smile. He hates your attitude. He hates the way you have to walk because of your injuries. He hates seeing glimpses of the wounds on your abdomen from him.

Yet another reminder of his failures. How he hates someone that's not entirely to blame. How he hates someone that's overly nice. He avoids your gaze so often he doesn't notice the glints of satisfaction within it.

Vil Schoenheit

He could only stare at the prefect within the mirror. Their gaze so fixated on themselves and their new appearance they paid no mind to the hospital bed they should be laying in. He wants to lecture them to sit, lay back down and to stop sitting up, but he's sure they would break down if he did.

Blackened veins run along your body, your skin reddened and inflamed in random areas. Even with all the magical remedies the doctors have given you, the black tar like substance runs through you still. “Good going Vil. Really fucked that one up huh?” 

Vil’s eyes met yours in the mirror, he could see your face steel itself before you turned to him. Your eyes stood out against the inky scrawls of venom coursing through you. They were so cold, so angry.

“... I know this is something I may never be able to amend…” Vil starts, taking a breath. Fuck. Years of acting and hard work are lost on him. It is hard to keep strong when seeing how badly your own childishness, your own selfishness hurt someone this badly.

“I want to apologize. I know this is far from enough. I plan to not only cover any costs that may occur in your recovery, but to also offer my support in any way I can during your recovery.” 

Your gaze only hardens. "Bare minimum I guess…” You sniffle a bit as words slur. It was clear you were still inebriated. You weren't going to be the most logical right now, but that's fine. He will say this apology a million times over if it would make it right.

“... If there is anything you need..."

“Go away.” You sniffle again, wiping away tears. “Just leave.” Vil swallows and shuts his eyes for a moment. “I understand.” 

As he turns to leave the drugs in your system really start to kick in. “You… You really are a villain.” The words come out crude and harsh, no doubt you are speaking to hurt him. Yet as you turned away he could see your face in the mirror.

Scared. You were scared of him. You were scared and truly believed in what you were saying. And you weren't wrong. He is a villian.

Malleus Draconia

A mighty dragon places his glass heart in the hands of a human without their knowledge, and is enraged when the human breaks it. Except here Malleus broke it himself to protect himself from the possibility of the human hurting him first. Now he holds the shards of what's left and sees them stained not by his blood, but by yours.

A position he put onto you, his only friend. He does not even know if he has the right to call you that anymore. Not after his little stunt. Children of men do not deserve to be locked away in the dark, no matter how beautiful you were in it. They were to be free. Even if it hurt him. You and him could have been free together.

He looks at your expression. It still holds no fear, no anxiety, just as foolishly brave you were when he first met you. Instead it holds disappointment. Such a pathetic emotion that he would smite off anyone else if it wasn't you. 

“... You're really selfish, you know that?” You mutter and look away from him, as if not wanting to believe the words coming out of your own mouth. “Were we really friends or was I just some doll to you? Some obsession?”

A sniffle. “I wanted to be your friend…” Malleus hasn't the words to respond. He can only open his mouth then close it. “I know. I'm sorry. You made me so happy I wanted you all to myself. It's not an excuse, but when I thought I would be losing you, it was too much for me. I made… A very rash decision.”

There's silence. More deafening than the silence at his birthday parties growing up. “Is there any possibility you could forgive me?” It was a daring question, one he was afraid to know the answer to. 

“... I don't know, Tsuno. I think… I think I need some time to think about it.” You turn away from him and his heart sinks, the pet name does nothing to soothe his nerves.

He remembers all the times he's told you how his kind are born cruel and you would tell him that his actions have shown just how kind he could be. That him learning to be nice and overcoming his nature is more meaningful than anyone who was born that way. 

And he ruined that. He may not be able to choose his nature but he can choose his actions. He chose to hurt you.

[mimisempai]

We are real

Summary

"Maybe we shouldn't do this.... "

Sometimes nightmares are so close to reality that they make us doubt that reality. But all's well when you wake up next to someone who reminds you that the nightmare is just that, a nightmare.

Notes

As always after coming across a post from an Aziraphale hater (Which is unfortunately frequent nowadays) I have to compensate by writing a certain demon comforting his angel. 

On Ao3

Rating G -  917 words

Crowley awoke in the middle of the night, immediately aware of Aziraphale's absence. He rolled over to see the angel standing at the window, looking out.

He straightened up to sit against the headboard and called softly to him, "Hey, Angel? Can't sleep?" 

Aziraphale didn't even turn around as he shook his head.

Crowley sensed immediately that something was wrong. There was something strange, unusual about the way Aziraphale was standing, his posture conveying a kind of resignation and sadness, and the demon didn't like it at all.

He slid off the bed, stood up, and approached the angel gently before wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on his head.

He asked softly, "Angel, is something wrong?"

Aziraphale sighed and turned around in Crowley's arms, his face lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, and the demon was shocked by the expression of sadness on the angel's face. 

Aziraphale sighed again and whispered as he moved his hand between Crowley and himself, "Maybe we shouldn't be doing this..."

Aziraphale sighed again and whispered, "I had a nightmare about Metatron, and you know the whole situation this day... and I woke up with a single thought."

"Which one?"

Aziraphale murmured in a barely audible voice, moving his hand back and forth between Crowley and himself, "Maybe we shouldn't do this.... "

Crowley, certainly not expecting this kind of reaction, gasped and before he could say, "What?"  

Shocked, he let go of Aziraphale and continued, "Are you kidding me, Angel? What are you talking about? What's wrong with you? If you think for one moment that I..."

Aziraphale silenced him with a finger to his lips and said in a serious tone, "Wait, let me explain. Please listen to me."

Crowley reluctantly shut up, but that didn't stop him from showing the angel his displeasure.

Aziraphale continued, "I didn't say it was what I thought it was, but I keep telling myself I don't want anything to happen to you... I don't want you to get hurt... I could never forgive myself if you... because of me..."

He paused because the mere thought of what might happen to Crowley was absolutely unbearable to him.

Crowley was silent for a moment, pondering what Aziraphale had just said.  He was almost relieved, for it wasn't what Aziraphale was thinking, but a reminiscent fear that his nightmare had awakened. The feeling of dread that had gripped him at the thought of Aziraphale suddenly wanting to stop everything faded and was replaced by a single thought: reassuring his angel.

He raised his hand and cupped Aziraphale's face, causing the angel to immediately lean into his palm.

Crowley said softly but firmly, "I think you still don't understand, Angel. I'm not going anywhere, and you can forget your notions of nobility and self-sacrifice. You'll do me far more harm by leaving now than all those who wish us harm could ever do to me." 

Crowley slid his hand from Aziraphale's cheek down his arm until their fingers intertwined and continued, "Don't you get it yet? I've got you. I'm not afraid of anything. Not because I'm immortal, but simply because we are. You and me. You're the strength that kept me going when I thought I couldn't. If you take that away from me, you might as well erase my name from the Book of Life."

He felt Aziraphale's hand squeeze his desperately as the angel nodded gently.

Crowley planted a light kiss on his forehead and said, "Even if some of it was real, it was just a nightmare, Angel. This here, us, it's real."

Gradually, he saw in Aziraphale's eyes that he had absorbed what he had just said, so the demon, still holding his hand, pulled him toward the bed and said softly, "Come back to bed with me. Let me help you forget."

He helped the angel lie down and then slid against him, pulling the covers over them before wrapping his arms around him to press him against his chest.

He whispered in the angel's ear, "I've got you and you've got me and I'm not going to let you go," he chuckled softly and continued, "I spent far too long trying to get you into my arms and I..."

Aziraphale interrupted, "What? I'm the one who spent way too much time trying to get you into my arms."

Crowley raised his hands in a gesture of surrender and replied, "Okay, okay, we both spent a long time before we were able to be in each other's arms. But what I'm saying is, now that we are, I have no intention of letting go."

He was about to wrap his arms around the angel again to demonstrate his words, but Aziraphale grabbed one of his hands and brought it to his lips, kissing it before whispering, "How come you always tell me what I need to hear?"

Crowley replied in the same tone, "The same way you do with me. I just care about you."

Aziraphale insisted, "I don't deserve you."

Crowley leaned in close and whispered, "It has nothing to do with you deserving me. It's because I love you."

It was that simple.

That's why Aziraphale responded, "I love you," just as simply.

Crowley hummed contentedly, then planted a light kiss on Aziraphale's temple, causing the angel to curl up against him a little more. 

They spent a few more minutes in silence in this newfound peace before they both drifted off to sleep.

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Growing Love series : (After season 2) 

Part 1 Story 1-99

Part 2 Story 100-?

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here (Before season 2)

[drconstellation]

Monkey Business with Furfur

This is a 2024 Smut War meta

(NSFW? I tried to keep it reasonably clean, just filled with innuendo.)

Time to dig up some dirty dirt from before the Fall.

Memory problems? Oh, Hell no! There was no way Crowley was going admit to remembering this bit of history between him and Furfur, especially not in front of Aziraphale.

On the surface this incident with Furfur in the dressing room at the Windmill Theater adds weight to the appearance that Crowley has holes in his memory, just like Gabriel does during S2. But a closer look at the language being used during the post-magic show scene actually reveals quite the opposite - something that is - well, I shouldn't say totally unexpected because I've written about it tangentially before - but something that I think will shake up the way we view things between the three of them.

Firstly, lets review what I call the sub-story theme running underneath this section of the episode: King Arthur and Camelot. I talked about it length in my meta Once and Future Royalty. Here's the important paragraphs from that work for this particular meta:

Yes, poor old Furfur. Two's company, three's a crowd, as they say. Now we know we're in Camelot, we need to be reminded of the central tragedy of the Arthurian story, that ultimately led to the golden kingdom's fall. Lady Guinevere, Arthur's queen, famously loved Sir Lancelot, and the two were passionate lovers. It was essentially a love-triangle at the top, with Arthur being jilted, but he wouldn't/couldn't discard his queen. Where do we see this playing out in 1941? Furfur, pleased with himself for catching an angel and a demon in the act of consorting together (with the help of the zombies,) barges into the backstage dressing room, and confronts the lovers with their crime. But who is playing who in the Arthurian love triangle? I would say Furfur is clearly caught in the role of Arthur here. Consider the following exchange:

[See GIFs at top - I will quote relevant script shortly in detail]

Furfur claims a past intimate relationship with Crowley, which Crowley spurns offhandedly. Crowley is playing Guinevere here, jilting Furfur/Arthur, which leaves the demon-smiting Aziraphale standing in for the handsome hero Lancelot (with his French connections, no less), and doesn't he make us weak at the knees when he drops his voice an octave in dominating disgust. (Is it suddenly getting hot in here...?Phew!)

Recently someone posted more images of Furfur's costume, and the sash was shown reversed, where a red crown can clearly be seen under the stag's head, which to me just adds weight to the Furfur=Arthur role.

Next we need to take another look at this line from Furfur:

FURFUR: I was right next to you. We did loads together. You used to jump on me back, little monkey in the waistcoat.

Everyone took this too literally.

Really.

I mean really really.

There are two things - ok, three things - this set of lines tells us.

The first is the most obvious and likely the surface impression - maybe Crowley did turn himself into a monkey. But this is a misdirection to the real information here, so forget that. Put it to one side for the moment, at least.

Secondly, Furfur had a "monkey on his back."

We see by this turn of phrase that he was burdened by a problem, or something he couldn't let go of, and in this situation it clearly looks like a long held bitter feeling towards Crowley and his apparent freedom on Earth.

CROWLEY: Oh, we shan't, this is ridiculous. [leans back and puts hat over his face] FURFUR: No, what's ridiculous is demons like you doing what they please. And somehow still getting on, while demons like me graft for hundreds and hundreds of millennia and never get a sniff of a promotion! Well, not this time. Expect a Legion to come for you first thing tomorrow. Enjoy your last night on Earth.

Thirdly, the whole thing indicates there is a past history of "monkey business" between Furfur and Crowley, before the Fall. This is further emphasized by Furfur's greeting on arrival:

FURFUR: Hmm, well, well, well... What have we here? AZIRAPHALE: Sorry, have we met? FURFUR: Oh, no, you never had the pleasure, but... we have, haven't we? CROWLEY: Have we?

Ohhhh, Crowley. o_0 No, no, no, no, nooooooo..........

Can you see it? Can you see why he would deny knowing Furfur? That they did "loads together?"

Do you know what "monkey business" is an alternative phrase for?

Remember the Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot love triangle?

Do you think Crowley is going to admit this in front of his angel?

Uh huh.

Really. Really really.

An "unreliable narrator" indeed.

[holycatsandrabbits]

Love's Endless Light

A Good Omens serial romance

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here! NEXT

Chapter 1: Calm Every Fear

2007 BC, Crete

The first time a human tried to warn Aziraphale about Crawly, Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Aziraphale’s favorite perk about being stationed on Earth was that he got to meet so many humans. Aziraphale made friends easily, perhaps because humans were drawn to the angelic aura he gave off. That might explain why humans sometimes didn’t care for Crawly— or maybe, Aziraphale mused, watching Crawly’s human legs morph into a six-foot-long snake tail on the beach in broad daylight, it was because he tended to do that.

One of Aziraphale’s human friends grasped his arm and started tugging him away. “It’s a monster!” he cried. “Run!”

“Yes, you should run,” Aziraphale advised him. “I’m going to— to check the beach for anyone else.”

The man looked at him with fear in his eyes. “No, come with us! It’s too dangerous!”

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how to explain to a human that a Naga demon was still just a demon, and therefore quite inferior to an angel of the Lord. “I’ll be right behind you,” he promised, and when Crawly made a loud snarling noise, the human dropped Aziraphale’s arm and fled.

There was a splashing sound, and Aziraphale turned to find Crawly amid the breakers, salt water waves crashing over his hips and tail, turning the ends of his long scarlet hair dark against his pale skin. Crawly was— Aziraphale could never deny this— quite surprisingly attractive for a demon, with a lithe form that moved in a fascinating serpentine manner whether he wore legs or not.

Well, usually. Right now Crawly was romping about wildly in the waves with a silly grin on his face. It faded the instant he noticed Aziraphale standing on the beach. “Oh,” he said, with a tremor of anxiety in his voice. “It’s you.”

“It is,” Aziraphale confirmed. “So if you were planning to eat any humans, I’m afraid—”

Crawly made a shocked noise. “Eat— are you serious? When’s the last time I ate a human?”

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Never!”

“Then what are you doing? Why have you—” Aziraphale waved a hand in Crawly’s general direction.

Crawly looked down at himself, as if he had forgotten that at the moment he was a very large monster. “Wanted to go for a swim,” he said. “Didn’t feel like sharing the beach.”

“You terrorized a hundred humans just so that you could swim.”

“Wasn’t a hundred,” Crawly said. His eyes kept darting from Aziraphale’s face to his hands, and Aziraphale realized that Crawly was expecting Aziraphale to be holding something— a flaming sword, most likely. “I’ll go,” Crawly said, starting to leave the water.

Aziraphale looked down at his hands, and then slowly folded them together, lacing finger against finger, leaving no room for a weapon.

Crawly watched this with a sort of hopeful bewilderment. He rested half in and half out of the waves now, against both the cold of the ocean and the heat of the sand. It was nearly noon. The sun was high, set where God Herself had placed it, and it shouldn't have been the case, Aziraphale thought, that it could shine so flatteringly on a demon, making his skin and scales glow. Just as there was no way that Crawly’s golden eyes should have always reminded Aziraphale more of that loving sun than the punishing fires of Hell.

Aziraphale approached Crawly cautiously, letting his sandals start to make tracks in the wetter sand. “Have you— how have you been? You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you for—”

“Thirty-two years,” Crawly said, and then he looked away, as if he were ashamed to know the exact number.

Aziraphale knew the number, too. As much as he adored his human friends, there was something rather comforting about being able to speak with someone who’d known you far, far longer than any human ever could.

“Been good,” Crawly said. “Well— been bad, I guess. Doing evil deeds, you know.”

“I’m sure,” Aziraphale said.

“Not eating people, though.”

“Yes. I’m sor—” Aziraphale cut himself off sharply, shocked at himself for attempting to apologize to a demon.

Crawly was staring at him, looking half-surprised and half insulted. “I’ve terrorized plenty of people,” he said.

“Of course.”

Crawly waved his hand at Aziraphale. “Suppose you’ve been doing the opposite, whatever that is. Comforting?”

“Um— yes, comforting.” Aziraphale watched as the edge of a wave reached the toe of his sandal, splashing drops of cold water onto his heated skin.

“Come for a swim,” Crawly said.

Aziraphale looked at him in shock. “What? No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am not taking a swim with a demon.”

Crawly was grinning again, and it always made Aziraphale a little unsettled to see him do that, to see him look happy. Demons shouldn’t be happy, they should always be miserable. And yet sometimes it seemed like Crawly could forget all of that, forget that his soul was damned, that there was an empty cavern in his chest where God’s love should be. Crawly could somehow focus on the moment, taking pleasure in earthly things.

Crawly’s voice fell low and mesmerizing. “It’s fun,” he said. “Innocent fun, swimming in the ocean. You’ll enjoy it.”

Aziraphale sighed. “I can tell when you’re trying to tempt me, you know. And I have told you that it doesn’t work on angels.”

Crawly looked unexpectedly delighted. “You can’t swim,” he accused. “Never learned?”

“I float,” Aziraphale said, disappointed that he sounded rather morose. “Angels, you know— we can walk on water. We— we have to walk on water. Can’t sink even if we want to.”

Crawly burst into laughter and collapsed back into the ocean, letting the waves rush around him. He put up a clawed hand to slick his hair back out of his face, and Aziraphale could not look away from him. “Angels being denied one of life’s greatest pleasures,” he exclaimed. “How poetic.”

“The light of Grace,” Aziraphale informed him, “far outweighs a dip in the sea.”

“Take your word for it,” Crawly said. “I was never much for that.”

“You—” Aziraphale felt cold inside. “You don’t miss God’s love?”

Crawly shrugged, looking away. “What would a demon want with love?”

“But it— it’s your punishment, to want what you can’t have—”

“Seems to me you’re the one who wants what he can’t have,” Crawly countered. “Can’t even go for a swim.”

Aziraphale gave him an exasperated look. “Crawly, honestly. Look, I should get back to the city. Comfort the people you frightened.” If Aziraphale expected Crawly to look remorseful for having emptied the beach, he was disappointed. Crawly looked at peace with his serpentine tail floating in the waves. “I want you gone by nightfall,” Aziraphale warned him.

“Yeah, yeah.” Crawly gave him a smile that was part sadness, almost as if he was going to miss Aziraphale, when he didn’t even miss God.

********

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

NEXT

Why a serial fic? Because I wanted to make a Tumblr comic like all the cool kids do, but I can't draw, so here it is in prose. Updates Fridays on Ao3 and Tumblr.

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous Good Omens serial: Mr. Fell’s Bookshop

*********

Image text: Love’s Endless Light by Dannye Chase (HolyCatsAndRabbits) Chapter 1

As Aziraphale and Crowley slowly fall in love over the millennia, Crowley discovers that Aziraphale is keeping a very dangerous secret.

My Carrd

[silverynight]

The Fallen

Chapter 3

Chapter 1   Chapter 2

His bookshop is looking better now that he has added more books to his collection. Crowley even brings him books himself; it's weird but he always manages to bring the ones Aziraphale ends up loving the most.

One day he says he has found a first edition of Oscar Wilde's short stories and the angel reads everything in three days and the next time the demon walks in the shop Aziraphale pulls him into his arms and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

He can't believe all the things he's been missing for being in Heaven all the time; he should have offered himself to keep an eye on Earth himself earlier.

"Thank you so much, I loved it!" He says and realizes Crowley's face is as red as his beautiful hair. "Are you alright?"

"Ngk!" The demon answers, although Aziraphale is getting used to it. "I–I mean I'm fine! Of–Of course I am! Also, you should stop doing these things, demons are not... nice to each other."

He hisses the word like it's some kind of insult, which only makes Aziraphale roll his eyes.

"But you have been bringing me all these beautiful books..." He starts, moving away from the demon who grimaces like he's in pain the moment the angel stops touching him.

"It's just because I... find them (it's not like I'm wasting my time looking for them just because you seem to love books) and I don't know what to do with them, angel," he blurts out, pushing his sunglasses up.

He calls him angel very often even though Aziraphale is a "fallen" now; he wonders if Crowley has started to get suspicious. No, he couldn't know, could he?

"I'm still very grateful," he smiles. "Will you bring me more? If you happen to find more of course..."

Crowley looks away and Aziraphale wonders if the way his cheek blush has something to do with being a demon.

"Yes, angel," he mumbles, although this time is so soft, Aziraphale remembers when he was in Heaven, a long time ago, a time before the Garden was created.

"Thank you," he repeats, trying to focus on something... anything else.

Anathema, he suddenly reminds himself. He needs to see her again, it's been almost a month since he took the potion.

Although he has to admit he doesn't want to go through that kind of pain again.

***

"It's great to see you again, my dear," Aziraphale mumbles, walking into the witch's cottage. It's as warm and cozy as he remembers, although it's just been a month since his last visit why would anything be different?

"I have no idea what's so great about seeing me since it only means you're gonna suffer... again," she tells him; Aziraphale can tell how sorry she is and he immediately smiles, like every time he sees kindness in a human. She sighs and looks back at the potion. "I tried to make it less painful, but I couldn't test it myself so I hope it works."

Aziraphale nods and takes a deep breath before drinking the whole thing; it's horrible, but he can't hesitate now.

He kneels on the floor, trying to hold back a groan, but Anathema can see it written all over his face.

"I'm so sorry! I thought it was going to be different this–"

"It's not as painful as the last time," Aziraphale whispers, grimacing. It's true, even though it doesn't make much of a difference. He starts shaking and the girl gets closer to help him stand.

She guides him to her couch and Aziraphale feels so much better now that he's sitting; last time he couldn't even rest, the others sent him directly to Hell.

"You're very kind," he manages to say.

"And you're different," she comments, surprising the angel.

"What do you mean?"

"You're different from the other angels... You're good and nice," Anathema mumbles, by her expression it looks like she doesn't like the other angels she's met before.

"All angels are good," he whispers, but there's doubt in his voice and he can't even hide it.

She shakes her head, but doesn't try to argue with him, instead she brings him a blanket and puts it over his shoulders.

"I'll make you cocoa," the witch mumbles and Aziraphale wonders for a moment how she knows it's his favourite, but then he remembers that Agnes left her an entire book of prophecies.

"How did you feel that first time?" She mumbles after a couple of minutes; they're sitting in front of each other with cups in their hands, but she's drinking coffee. "Did it work? Well, I suppose it did since you've come back for more."

"Yes, it worked," Aziraphale grins, feeling as the pain is vanishing, although he knows his wings will still be sensitive for a couple of days. "Everyone down there thinks I'm a fallen. Crowley is really... Uhh..."

The angel stops himself suddenly, feeling his own grin on his face despite of the pain.

"Crowley?" She repeats, amused smile quirking up her lips.

"He's a demon," Aziraphale explains, trying not to look so happy at the mention of his name. He's been really kind to him, but he must remember they're on opposite sides. "He's been... helping me."

"I think Agnes mentioned something about a Crowley on her book," she comments, still amused. "I am not sure, but I'll look for his name and I'll let you know."

"It's alright," he says, trying to pretend he doesn't care.

"So he's helping you," she insists and Aziraphale knows he's made a mistake; he shouldn't have mentioned his name at all.

"Yes, but it's part of his job... I mean, he's the one that must prepare me to be a demon," Aziraphale keeps talking, wondering if bringing him books has something to do with that.

He feels guilty suddenly, like thinking about Crowley too much is somehow like betraying Raphael. But that's ridiculous, because the relationship he had with the archangel was completely different.

He takes a deep breath and decides to make Anathema focus on something else instead.

He wonders if Crowley is tempting someone at the moment; Aziraphale hopes he doesn't notice his absence.

Perhaps he has taken another nap.

***

"Where were you?" Aziraphale gets startled when he hears Crowley's voice the moment he walks into the bookshop. "Are you okay?"

He also doesn't expect the demon to close the distance between them and take his face in his hands.

"I'm f-fine..." He mumbles, trying not to look into Crowley's eyes, he's not wearing his shades at the moment and Aziraphale can see the concern in them.

"Where were you?" The demon repeats, looking irritated this time. "I couldn't find you... You shouldn't–I thought Hastur had taken you..."

Aziraphale takes a step back, feeling nervous; he supposes Anathema's house has protection around it for evil entities not to find it, but he's not sure those protection will work every single time.

"I just needed to be alone for a while," he mumbles.

Suddenly, Crowley frowns, miracles a bottle of wine and sits on the couch.

"Alone..." He repeats, still narrowing his eyes.

"My friend used to–"

"Oh! Your angel friend! How could I forget?" Crowley interrupts, looking more irritated. "Well... He's not here, is he? You're a Fallen now, he's not your friend anymore. Perhaps he doesn't even remem–"

"Shut up!" Aziraphale growls, tears in his eyes. He doesn't want to think about Raphael, not right now... It's really too much for him. He's still weak because of the potion and he certainly doesn't want to cry in front of Crowley.

The demon notices the tears and a shadow of regret falls on his eyes.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't mean it."

Aziraphale shakes his head and turns around; he's decided to focus on rearranging the shelves to distract himself.

He gets closer to the window and flinches away when he sees the same demon that hurt him when he was in Hell.

"Crowley, the other demons..."

Before he can finish, Crowley is looking through the window, glaring at the two demonic entities. He turns around, touches Aziraphale's cheek gently and mumbles:

"Wait for me here. I'll be right back."

He nods, not sure he's ready to face those two again now that he's weak and tired.

Fortunately, they seem to have come to deliver a message that doesn't last too long.

When he comes back, Aziraphale is not prepared for what he says.

"There's just two years left for Armageddon," Crowley announces, not looking really pleased at the idea. "They want me to keep an eye on Warlock to make sure everything goes according to plan."

"The Antichrist?"

A mischievous grin quirks up the corners of Crowley's lips.

"Well, they think he is. But he's just a normal kid. The real Antichrist lives in Tadfield. And we're going to see him."

"You changed the babies?" Aziraphale looks back at him in surprised, only to chuckle a few seconds later. Crowley looks really pleased with himself. "Why?"

"Just because..." the demon mumbles, although Aziraphale knows there's something else.

But it's alright really... It makes a lot easier for him to come up with a plan to stop Armageddon, he wonders if he should tell Crowley about it.

Perhaps not at the moment, Aziraphale is not quite sure he should trust him.

***

Kofi / Patreon