#he’s going to trade them for Crowley’s life

[bellamoss2]

Ahem

Season one:

Season two:

So

Is he going to trade/lost/give away his wings in season 3 or something?

Nvm, just some random thought that has been living in my head rent free haha

[ashtavula]

Royalty AU: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle

This is going to provide a bit more lore for the au, as well as providing some information about what the rest of the boys are doing in this world!

Start Here

Your Kingdom:

-Your kingdom is known as the Kingdom of Sages, and its capital is the city of Ramshackle. As the heir to the throne, you reside in Night Raven Castle, along with your staff. You have Crowley, your tutor and advisor. Master Crewel is your personal healer. Trein is the steward of the castle. Sam is the castle's quartermaster, and Captain Vargas is the leader of your Royal Guard. There are also more maids, butlers, and cooks than you can count. Your parents also reside within the castle, but you don't often see them, due to their royal duties.

Heartslabyul:

Riddle:

-The Rosehearts manage the Heartslabyul march, which is a fairly large patch of land on the borders of your kingdom. However, only Marquess Rosehearts actually lives in the march. Marchioness Rosehearts and Riddle both reside in a rather lavish estate in Ramshackle. The family's investments in medical research have made them more wealthy than most others of their class, and plenty of nobles despise them for it.

-Riddle's mother is still extremely strict with him, but her motivations are a bit different here. The marchioness is fairly power hungry, and she wants social status more than anything. Thus, she's been raising Riddle to be the most suitable candidate for your hand in marriage. If you choose him, then she'll be the mother of your king consort, and that grants her more social standing than the rest of the aristocracy. Riddle, for what it's worth, is hesitant to actually court you because of that. He's aware of what she's like, and he doesn't want to subject you to her whims.

Trey:

-He's recently taken over for the Four Leaf Bakery, which is the most popular sweet shop in Ramshackle. His mother, father, and siblings are still helping out, but his parents are trying to make sure that he knows how to run things properly before they get too old. Trey likes to think that people come to the bakery because of how good his treats taste, but honestly, people also come to see him. He's polite, hard working, and sweeter than a slice of his bakery's famous strawberry tarts. Swing by the shop, won't you? He'll make sure to whip up your favorites.

Cater:

-Cater works for the capital's best selling newspaper, the Ramshackle Gazette. He's always busy writing new articles, and interviewing people. Pretty much everyone recognizes his charming smile, and his news stories are always plastered on the front page. Secretly, he finds all the running around to be more than a little tiring, but he wouldn't trade his job for the world. You've spotted him prowling around the gates of your castle recently, hoping to snag an exclusive interview with you. After all, putting your words to paper will make him even more popular.

Ace:

-Ace works as a delivery boy, making sure people receive their packages and other sundries. He's often paired up with Deuce, who works for the same company. Ace ends up running around all over the capital, and he usually complains about having to do so. Honestly though, he's not sure what he'd rather do in life. He enjoys doing little magic shows, but being a street busker isn't a steady job, and his mother would yell at him for doing it. One day, he might figure out his life's purpose. But that day isn't today, he thinks, as yet another bundle of mail is shoved into his hands.

Deuce:

-He also works as a delivery boy, but he gets a few more benefits, since his mother is the one who runs the office. Unlike Ace, Deuce does like the job. He gets to wander all over the city, and meet interesting people. But he wants to be a knight, deep down inside. He grew up hearing stories about valiant knights protecting delicate princesses, and he's been enamored with the idea ever since. Still, his mother always says he should keep his head out of the clouds. So he'll work hard to make her happy.

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-He's still the second prince of Sunset Savannah, and he still resents his place in life. However, Falena is doing what he can to further diminish Leona's political power by planting rumors and stirring up their citizens. Leona is intelligent, bitter, and ambitious. Three traits that make him a rival for the throne, despite the birth of Falena's son, Cheka. The best way to get rid of Leona is to marry him off to someone outside of their country, where he won't pose as much of a problem. Falena doesn't quite like the idea of Leona becoming your king consort, but it's better than letting him continue to stay. Besides, if you marry his brother, then your country will be more open to diplomacy, and trade. And that's what's driving Falena to push Leona your way.

-As for Leona himself, he's heard about your search, but he isn't all that interested in going to see you. He's not keen on the idea of actually courting you, because he's aware of what Falena is attempting to do. Besides, he doesn't want to end up playing second fiddle to a spouse that won't take his advice, or let him rule beside them. Although, he has to admit that he's a bit curious as to what you're actually like. And who knows? Play your cards right, and you might just be able to snag his full attention.

Ruggie:

-Cleaning, cooking, washing clothes, scrubbing floors, he does it all. Ruggie is a personal attendant for Leona, and that means doing whatever the prince demands of him. It's tough, and he almost never has time for a break, but it's not all bad. Normally, Leona would have a small fleet of servants, but thanks to Falena's efforts, Ruggie is pretty much his only servant. Despite that, Ruggie is proud to serve Leona. The prince pays well enough for Ruggie to feed his family, and that's what matters most. And, if Leona marries you, hopefully the man will remember who actually took care of him.

Jack:

-Jack serves as a personal guard for Leona. Admittedly, Jack isn't sure how he ended up being the one to guard the prince. Protecting the royal family is usually a task only given to the very best of the royal guards, but Jack is still a fresh faced recruit. Still, he takes his job very seriously. He's never too far from Leona, and he's constantly scanning his surroundings. Once he hears the news about your search, his mind instantly goes to his prince. He sincerely hopes that, if you marry Leona, you'll let him continue to protect the man who's earned his steadfast loyalty.

Octavinelle:

Azul:

-His mother owns what is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of the most famous restaurants in your kingdom. Even your own parents have been there, and loved every dish she presented. Azul, however, wasn't satisfied with just helping her run the family business. He set his sights higher, and managed to open his information agency with the help of the Leech family. It's worth knowing that, despite Azul's wealth and connections, his reputation isn't the best. Sure, he always delivers exactly what you asked for, but many people have figured out firsthand why you should always read the fine print.

-As for his reasons for courting you, he claims that it's all about the power he'll gain from winning your hand. And he's not exactly lying about that. But he's also a romantic, deep down. He's always wanted a fairytale romance, and he sees the opportunity to have that with you. He sighs, already dreaming about the tales people will tell about how the heir to the throne fell deeply in love with a common octopus mer. Floyd and Jade are already teasing him for how often he's practiced writing "King Consort Azul" on the margins of his papers.

Jade:

-Jade is one half of Azul's "eyes and ears." Literally. When they first started helping Azul with the Octavinelle Agency, the twins struck a deal with Azul. Now, Azul is capable of seeing and hearing the same things as them, to an extent. As for your search for a husband, he's extremely curious to see who you'll select. After all, it might be fun for him and his brother to have royal backing for their antics. Or, it might be even more amusing to watch you fall for someone else, and crush Azul's hopes and dreams.

Floyd:

-Right now, he's bouncing between eagerly listening for news on your search, and getting irritated at you because it's all anyone's talking about. Honestly, it's so much fuss! He sometimes entertains the idea of trying to woo you himself, just to see the looks on everyone's faces. But Azul's quick to remind him that meeting you is going to be a big deal, so he needs to be on his best behavior. That sounds so boring! He'd rather see how cute you'd look if he gave you a little squeeze. You won't mind, right?

[foolishlovers]

MUTUAL PINING FIC RECS: Below you'll find a list of Good Omens fics in which Aziraphale and Crowley are pining for each other.

You can request more fic recs here.

you play with my feelings (right from the start) by PenroseSun (G, 3k)

There were three things of which Crowley was absolutely certain: 1. Aziraphale, being an angel, was required to be kind and loving towards all things, even when those things were flawed or sinful or fallen. 2. Notwithstanding that obligatory kindness, Aziraphale would never, and could never truly love a demon, in any meaningful sense. 3. Despite this, Crowley was desperately, hopelessly, in love with him.

For To Quench My Thirst by apliddell (G, 6k)

After moving to Sussex with Aziraphale, Crowley is trying so hard to be satisfied with friendship and the suddenly beautiful life he already has.

Slow by write_away (T, 9k)

It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions. You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart.   Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

got a pretty face, pretty boyfriend too by KissMyAsthma, leukozyna (T, 9k)

Aziraphale and Crowley are next-door neighbours. They’ve been attracted to each other since they met. The only thing keeping them apart is a thin wall between their bedrooms and Atticus and Freddie, Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s respective life partners… or are they? A human AU glued together by misunderstandings and wet food.

speed limits (and how to break them) by darcylindbergh (E, 13k)

There is a trick people do with a mint candy and a bottle of cola which results in a small eruption, and something very like it, for much higher stakes than a laugh in a car park, is about to take place in Aziraphale’s back room. Or: what happens when you finally unscrew the cap on a six thousand years of repression, and drop in Valentine’s Day.

Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak by triedunture (M, 17k)

"Yes, exactly. Retire." Aziraphale reaches for the last remaining tartlet brimming with summer berries. "Somewhere along the south coast, perhaps." Or: Crowley and Aziraphale learn to move in tandem.

32 Questions That Lead To Love by ffonippop (E, 32k)

”First formulated in 1997, [32] questions to fall in love is a study by psychologist Dr. Arthur Aron which took place at Stony Brook University, New York. The aim? Speeding up the creation of intimacy between two strangers.” The Cosmopolitan Okay, fine. Crowley was 32-Questions-That-Lead-To-Love-ing Aziraphale. Sue him. He had no expectations, all right? Just, an innocent curiosity.

Flowers From The Grave Of Our Friendship by WaitingToBeBroken (E, 50k)

Crowley is very good at temptation, not so good with what comes afterwards. Aziraphale knows demons don't love so he is happy to take anything Crowley would give him. Both of them are too blind to realize the thing they want is right in front of them.

Fledging by FeralTuxedo (M, 53k)

Cool Dad was at the school gate again. Clambering out of his ridiculous sports car like a great big spider, all black denim and designer sunglasses. What a prat. He made his way towards the entrance, followed by his equally lanky son. All the mums' eyes were on him. Which was fine. At least they weren't staring at Aziraphale for a change. Cool Dad high-fived his son goodbye, because of course he did, then sauntered back to his car. Making it look so bloody easy. Aziraphale Fell is much too young to be looking after eleven-year old Pepper. He barely has his life together as it is, with his minimum-wage job and a half-baked dream of trading rare books for a living. And as if adopting a recently bereaved pre-teen isn’t enough, there are some rather more adult problems to navigate: playground politics, the shadows of his own childhood, and the growing question of how Crowley, the only other dad at the school gate, feels about him. A human AU/kid fic.

Style and Substance by Cabernet_Woebegone (E, 89k)

“But y’know, if my boss finds out I’m helping you even a little, they’re gonna throw me out on my ass.” “Yes, I understand it is a bit of a conflict of interest for you… Is there something I can offer you in return? Something you would like?” Aziraphale questioned hopefully. You, Crowley thought loudly as he took a second sip. I want to know if you moan when you kiss the same way you do when you try something delicious. I want to know if your lips taste like Zinfandel. “Yes, actually.” Aziraphale is having difficulty running his restaurant, and it isn't helping that he believes the place across the street is trying to sabotage him. To his surprise, chef Crowley comes to him on friendly terms. Together they come up with an arrangement that could benefit them both.

On Espionage and Prophecy (or How to Accidentally, but Wholly, Fall in Love With a Soho Bookseller) by RockSaltAndRoll (E, 133k)

1941 is the London Blitz and the year that MI5 really comes into its own with the now infamous ‘double cross’ system. The service keep tabs on suspects, root out enemy agents and try to turn them into doubles. Anthony J Crowley is fucking great at this job. He can be sneaky, underhanded and damn ruthless but also charming and kind. It’s what makes him good at turning. Aziraphale is just a regular Soho bookseller who loves his shop and books and good food and wine when he’s approached by a woman claiming to be MI5, wanting to recruit him for espionage. The poor man is too trusting and gets the shock of his life when he’s approached by a charming but dangerous-looking man also claiming to be MI5. Crowley recruits Aziraphale to double cross a double crosser and Aziraphale takes to espionage like a duck to water. Danger, hijinks, and sex ensue.

Old Vines by sevdrag (E, 189k)

A.Z. Fell, one of the most respected names in wine and food blogging, has been sent on assignment with his assistant Warlock Dowling to spend six months in California Wine Country. Under direction (by his boss, Gabriel) to use this experience to double his blog followers and write a novel, Aziraphale is both excited and anxious about the opportunity. Anthony J. Crowley is the owner and viticulturalist of Ecdyses, a winery that unexpectedly fell into his lap eleven years ago when he hit rock bottom. He may be in debt, yeah, but he’s paying off his loans — and despite pressure from his lenders and their team of inspectors, Crowley has found a kind of contentment tending his little corner of terroir and producing extraordinary wine. Crowley’s old vines are the heart of his vineyard, and he’s never let anyone in. Crowley finds Aziraphale intriguing; Aziraphale finds Crowley enthralling. Turns out a famous wine expert and an experienced viticulturalist can still learn things from each other. The summer of 2019 unfolds.

[avocado-writing]

notes: this turned into a much longer, story-based fic lol. cw for depression. not mentioned: you & aziraphale building a little sandcastle while crowley drinks a margarita. also crowley switches to fem presenting in this fic

pairing: crowley x gn!reader x aziraphale

words: 2.1k

rating: E (smut at the end, minors dni)

Crowley, there’s a problem. Come over as soon as you can. - Aziraphale

Angel, you don’t need to sign your texts off. I know it’s you. 

Usually when he gets these messages it’s because Aziraphale has run out of milk, or there’s a spider in the bookshop. So Crowley doesn’t worry. That’s until he actually turns up and finds Aziraphale staring at the CD rack you put up in the back room, arms crossed and brow furrowed. 

“The Tracy Chapman album is gone,” Aziraphale sighs. Crowley glances over to the calendar hung up on the wall. It’s got pictures of kittens on it. But that’s not what makes him groan, no; it’s when he realises the date. 

“Ah.”

“Yes.”

“Didn’t realise that had sneaked up on us.”

It happens once a year, inevitably. Even when you try to forget it the bloody thing is seared in your mind. It’s almost the anniversary of the day you didn’t die. 

You insist you aren’t sad about it. You insist. But, once when you were very drunk, they got it out of you that for a little while you always feel like you’re mourning. You’re happy with your life how it is now, overjoyed even; and you wouldn’t trade your marriage for anything… but you’re still reminded of the human you couldn’t be. The natural life you never got to live. The children you never had. The family you had to abandon when your death didn’t take. 

Because when it boils down to it you’re not quite human. You’re different. And though Crowley and Aziraphale may not be aligned with their sides any more there are other angels and demons. But there is only one of you. 

And it can get very lonely to think that way. 

So every year you sequester yourself off in your bedroom at your house — since 1988 it’s been with that bloody Chapman CD — and the person they love disappears into a little mist of sadness until you’re ready to be with the world again. 

Crowley slams his hand onto the table, making his husband jump. No. Not this time. They won’t stand to see you like this for another year. 

“I have an idea,” he says, and Aziraphale raises his eyebrows. 

Your house is in quite a nice area of London, plenty of room for three people, but right now you’re sitting in the bedroom all alone. (Of course you have a house. You love your other halves dearly but personal space is a requirement, not a request. Besides you’ve picked up a load of tat over the years you’ve been alive and it’s not fair to make one of them keep it for you). You’ve not seen them for a few days, and that’s fine. You like to marinate in your own misery. Crowley once said people must enjoy feeling sad or bands like the Smiths wouldn’t exist. You couldn’t fault him. 

There’s a knock at your door. Figuring it’s the postie, you drag yourself from your spot in the middle of the bed and wipe the tears from your eyes with your sleeve. You’re a little surprised to find Crowley and Aziraphale standing there, but open the door for them anyway. 

“I’ll stick the kettle on,” you mutter as a greeting. They exchange a look as you shuffle into the kitchen. Before you can even begin to get the mugs out, you’re manoeuvred into a chair and your husbands plonk down in front of you. 

“What—”

“Nightingale, we know you’ve been struggling.”

You deflate under their dual looks of concern, and bury your face in your hands. 

“Sorry.”

You suddenly feel very, very small; but you realise they’re taking your arms and pulling your hands away. 

“There’s nothing to apologise for, my dear. We understand. It’s just that we were thinking, we should all go on a little holiday.”

Cautiously you look up. 

“A little holiday?”

Aziraphale doesn’t do ‘little’. That word simply disguises self-indulgence. “Do you fancy a little treat?” (I saw a whole wedding cake in a bakery shop window and immediately bought it, fancy going halves with me?) or “I’m going to take a little nap…” (time to curl up on the sofa in front of Bake-Off reruns and fall asleep for four days straight) are the examples that spring to mind. 

So a ‘little’ holiday might not be so little at all. 

“Look, we wrote down all of your favourite places and put them into a hat. You just reach in, pick one, and we’ll go.”

They’d spent a solid two hours deciding what made the cut. Edinburgh, obviously. Stockholm. Verona. (You might have had a problem with the Roman Empire, but you can appreciate that nowadays Italy has some of the best food in the world). 

Aziraphale holds out a reporter’s trilby full of tiny white strips of paper, shaking it enthusiastically. Their eyes are wide and full of love. Gingerly you reach out, rustle around in the hat, and pull a single slip. They watch you intently as you unfold it, read it, and widen your eyes. 

You hold it up, and excitement crosses your face for the first time that day. 

“Isle of Wight.”

“Isle of Wight?” Crowley repeats. He doesn’t remember putting that one in there and, from the look on his face, neither does Aziraphale. But no, of course - you love that place. The three of you had spent a summer there back in the nineteen-twenties, when you had gone through your fossil phase. You’d spent hours on the beach searching through rocks for ammonites and genuinely enjoying every moment. 

Plus, with that look on your face, they can hardly say no.

“Isle of Wight then,” Aziraphale says, smiling. 

They help you pack and book the ferry that evening, Crowley making short work of the drive down to the docks. On the journey you’re still a little bit quiet, but when you ask, “can I put on Tracy Ch—” Crowley shouts “No!”, reaches into the glove box to pull out the CD the Bentley manifested to try and please you, and flings it out of the window on the motorway. 

It’s so ridiculous you can’t help but laugh. As a compromise Crowley stuffs Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours into the system so roughly he threatens to break it in half. 

Apart from that the drive is filled with happy chatter. And so is the whole holiday, really. They’ve booked a little seaside cottage to stay in, very sheltered and alone so there are no prying eyes on the three of you. That first night you’re too knackered to do much but curl up and fall asleep, but the next day you go into full tourist mode. Shorts, shirt, big hat and glasses. Aziraphale rubs sunblock on your back in the areas you can’t reach — as luckily the three of you have planned your excursion for the four and a half days that constitute British summertime — and you set out. 

And, really, it’s lovely. You go to the little attractions, play mini golf, pretend not to be annoyed when they miracle their shots to hit better (though you still win, their divine magic isn’t a patch on talent). You get a huge ice cream which drips down your hand in the heat. You watch Crowley spend twenty-seven pounds on a claw machine trying to win you and Aziraphale a teddy each “the old fashioned way”, but finally get irritated enough to click his fingers to make it malfunction. Soft toys are spat out of it like bullets to the glee of the gathered children.  

When you arrive back at the cottage they insist they cook, and even though you offer to help you’re told to go and spend the time looking for fossils. It’s quite miraculous that the beach laid out before your front door is suddenly full of them. It’s equal parts sandy and stony and you busy yourself for the next hour, every now and then a cry of “look what I’ve found!” being shouted over the sound of the waves. 

Aziraphale and Crowley exchange a look and silently agree what they’ve never worded: they’ve married a history nerd. 

It’s still hot as the sun sets and they lay out a little picnic on the soft part of the beach. You’ve changed into swimwear and so have they, and it’s one of those moments when you realise just how different your spouses are. Crowley has her long and hair down, slim body feminine so she can wear a tiny black bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. Aziraphale is wearing a full striped bathing suit that you last saw popularised when Queen Victoria was still on the throne. 

You love them both so much. 

Crowley pours the wine and you spend the evening getting a rosy sort of tipsy. You eat the little smorgasbord they’ve laid out in front of you, and as midnight turns to one in the morning, you totally forget the fact that it’s your would-be-death day at all. 

You stand up on unsteady legs and look at the ocean. It’s still unbearably warm. 

“Nightingale?” Crowley asks. You turn to your spouses and make a show of stripping off, leaving your swimsuit on the sand. 

“I’m going for a swim. Are you coming?”

Crowley needs no convincing, her tiny bikini quickly joining the pile of clothes. You take her hand and rush into the waves, laughing wildly as the water sprays your skin. 

“Angel!” Crowley shouts over her shoulder. Aziraphale hesitates for the tiniest moment. 

“Come on angel, nobody can see us.”

Aziraphale loses a battle against himself, finishes his slice of cake and starts to undress too. Soon he’s joined you and your wife in the water. The two of you pull him close. 

“See? Isn’t it nice?” you hum into his ear. His hand skips your bare waist, his breath hitches. You giggle and float backwards on the water, skyclad to the stars above. Crowley keeps a hold of your hand to make sure you don’t drift away, and you listen to the sound of the ocean in your ears while your spouses kiss behind you. You link your fingers through theirs and close your eyes, warm from the wine, and happy. 

Then you splash them childishly. The noise of surprise they make is fantastic. You cackle like mad and begin to run through the water - albeit very slowly - poking your tongue out. 

“Can’t catch me!” you giggle, which is a silly taunt really because Crowley is able to do so immediately with her long legs, and then she sweeps you up in a kiss. 

The three of you find yourselves laying on the beach, Crowley kissing your chest and neck, Aziraphale the soft area of your upper thighs. You melt against their mouths and drag them each to your lips to kiss them properly in turn. 

“Please fuck me,” you whisper, voice strung out on happiness and a little desperate. They don’t need telling twice. Crowley puts one of her beautiful legs either side of your face and you reach to taste her cunt, a heady mix of salt from the water and her own slick. She throws her head back and lets her flaming hair cascade down her back, moaning in pleasure. 

“Fuck, nightingale, your mouth…”

As your tongue presses firmly against her clit you feel Aziraphale manoeuvre you into his lap, spreading your legs to find your entrance. His hands press against you as his fingers slide inside, getting you ready for his impressive girth. You moan against Crowley’s pussy as he sheathes himself slowly inside you and then giggle as the waves lap up against your body. 

“Ahh,” Aziraphale breathes in pleasure, gripping your hips tightly as he begins to move. With every thrust he gives you mimic the motion onto your wife. 

You know their bodies intimately. You have done for centuries. But each time you make love it still feels like your senses are being lit on fire, the best kind of fire, passion burning hot. 

You love them. You love them so much it hurts, and you let this tumble from your lips as you feel them come, and topple over the edge with them. 

That night they hold you close, sandwiched, one of your favourite ways to sleep. Aziraphale tucks his face into your shoulder and Crowley buries his mouth into your hair, giving you a permanent kiss while you drift off. 

You’ve not felt so light in ages. 

When you get home, you decide, you’re smashing that CD with a hammer. You’ve got everything you need to feel better right here in your arms. 

-

Taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie

[dee-morris]

Titles Are Hard

This is something that's been rattling around in my head for a while, but I'm not sure if I've ever really spelled it out so here goes.

Remember that cold open when we saw Angel Crowley all giddy and happy, making stars and being a total nerd about them? When did we see him that happy again?

Trick question. It never happened. The only time we saw Crowley looked vaguely pleased was when he was trading jobs with Aziraphale or finding excuses to do good. He wasn't happy in hell, he wasn't happy as a demon, he could only find happiness in brief glimpses when he was getting around the rules.

You'd expect him to be more cheerful in season two when hell wasn't instructing him to make people miserable anymore, but his malaise actually got worse. A combination of stress over what hell is going to do next and a complete lack of structure in his daily life, I imagine. Keeping in touch with Shax was a way to stay one step ahead of hell, but that's not a sustainable plan. He was treading water.

Aziraphale saw all this, and remember that these ineffable idiots don't actually talk to each other about anything important. He doesn't know what's behind Crowley's grumpiness. All he knows is that Crowley was happy as an angel, was unhappy as a demon, and he seems less happy now as a semi free agent.

Given all of that, could we please stop scolding Aziraphale for "wanting to change Crowley" and "not accepting him as he is"? Crowley doesn't accept Crowley as he is. Aziraphale just wants him to be happy. It's not out of pocket for him to think that getting him reinstated as an angel might do the trick, if Aziraphale is in a position to make it a better place for him.

I'm writing all of this assuming that everything we saw in the Final Fifteen is all there is to it, which ftr I don't believe. I think there's more to it than we were shown, but none of my pet theories matter in this particular case.

[impala-dreamer]

Sweet Creature

A Supernatural Story

~Bad things happen when you take matters into your own hands and try to prove that love conquers all~

Demon!Dean x OFC Stevie Miller 

3138 Words

NSFW, Danger, Angst, Violence, Blood, Death

“Are you willing to bleed for me?” for @jacklesversebingo

JacklesBingo Masterlist ~ Full Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

It was certainly a risk believing him, but she had no choice. 

Sam was going insane, trapping demons and slicing them open until they talked. Usually, they didn’t, and things got even bloodier. 

Cas was- well, she really wasn’t sure what was going on with Cas, but it probably wasn’t good. 

Nothing had been good since their encounter with Metatron. Nothing had been right since Dean’s bloody body had been laid out on his bed and wiped clean. No one had been at peace since he disappeared. 

Despite the shit storm life had become, it was somehow getting worse. 

Stevie was about to give up completely and hide herself away for a month with a couple cases of Tito’s and enough Takis to burn a hole in her gut, but fate stepped in. And this time, fate came in the form of a text message from the King of the Jackasses himself. 

Crowly reached out to Stevie and sent her Dean’s location, claiming he was done with babysitting the demonic mess. She almost laughed. How many times had she been tasked with watching a tied-up, pathetic Crowley, and there he was begging her to trade places? Seemed fitting. 

It immediately crossed her mind that it might be a trap and not a very well-planned one at that, but what choice did she have? To wallow away in the Bunker while Sam went slowly mad in the next room? To give up and go back home to the sticks and try to build a solid, respectable life? No. There was only one thing she could do, so she packed up her car and hit the road, following the GPS and daydreaming of the fight to come. 

It wouldn’t be easy to bring him back. She knew it would take every ounce of strength she had just to see him there, walking and talking, infested with demonic life. She wondered if she’d be able to stand it. 

Dean had always been the light in her life. He was the beacon in her storm, the icon in the chapel of her heart. For years, she’d tangled herself up in him, giving up a normal life and a hopeful future in service of Dean Winchester. She’d stayed by his side through every rough patch; held his hand each time the earth opened up to swallow him down. She never asked for anything in return, holding on for a sweet smile or a gentle kiss at night. 

Long ago, she realized that she would follow no matter where he went. No matter the price, she would pay it. Heaven, Hell, Limbo- she’d be by his side even if it took everything she had. 

He was everything. 

So the threat of a trap was nothing to her now. She’d deal with whatever was up ahead, as long as it saved him. 

Half a day later she was in the parking lot of Benny’s Bunny Lounge staring at the reflection of soft pink neon lights on the hood of the Impala. Dusk was settling around her and as daylight faded, her courage grew. She tapped the back right pocket of her jeans, making sure the flask of holy water was in place and took a breath.

He was sitting center stage. His muddy boots were propped up on the table; the chair was tilted back on two legs. He wore a familiar flannel shirt open at the collar and he tipped a bottle back as if he hadn’t a care in the world. 

A young woman was dancing for him, rubbing her slim body up and down the pole, and spreading her thighs to give him a peek. Her caramel skin was covered in specks of glitter that sparkled in the flashing lights as each beat of the song made her hips swirl.

Stevie pulled up a chair and sat at the table beside him. 

“Nice tits.” 

Her voice was gentle enough to stay discreet but loud enough to reach him over the DJ’s latest offering. 

His eyes turned slowly and she felt the icy glare prickle her pale skin. 

Dean ran the tip of his tongue against the ridge of his top teeth. If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. There was neither worry nor guilt on his face, only calm smugness. 

“On her or me?” 

Stevie gave him a short laugh as she leaned back and looked him over. His hair was longer than she’d last seen and stuck up as if he’d finally discovered hair products. His jaw was tight as always but shadowed by a little more stubble, and his arms looked thicker, his chest broader. 

She reigned in the memory of lustful nights and cleared her throat. 

“You have bulked up a bit,” she answered with a nod, “but I meant the dessert-named nursing student on stage.”

Dean kicked his legs down and righted his chair. “Actually, her name is Sparkles and she's pre-law.”

Stevie hummed. “Right.” 

Sparkles turned her back to the room and squatted against the pole. Her tiny red thong retreated higher up into her ass and Stevie wondered how hard it was to fish out at the end of her shift. 

Dean didn’t seem to have the same thought but was interested in the giggle of the woman’s plump backside. He turned his attention back to Sparkles and his beer, leaving Stevie to sit in silence carefully pondering her next words. 

She kept her tone casual but took a chance at moving things along. 

“We miss you back home, Dean.” She moved her amber eyes from him to the stage. “The Bunker ain't the same without you.” 

He laughed as he lifted the beer to his lips. “What, you don't like Sam's cooking?”

She smiled and leaned her arms on the table. The top was sticky and she tried not to think about why. “No, I don’t. But that's beside the point.” Disgusted, she sat up and wiped her palms down her thighs. Dean was unmoved, drinking his beer and staring at bouncing tits. Stevie sighed. “You gotta be missing home,” she insisted. “How ‘bout, let's get you back and we can fix this.”

“Who says I wanna fix this?” He set the bottle down and turned in his seat to face her. “I got all the sex, drugs, and rock and roll I want.”

She scoffed. “You always had that.”

“No.” 

In an instant, his tone shifted. He cocked his head to the right and blinked. Midnight flooded his eyes and Stevie gasped. She bit her tongue to hold back a wave of fear and stared into the inky darkness.  

“What I had,” he went on, leaning closer, trying to get a rise out of her, “was a whining, abusive, punk-ass little brother and a fucking poodle constantly yapping at my ankles.”

She swallowed hard. Her heart was pounding; lean muscles aching with the desire to bolt. 

Dean blinked again and the deep green she so loved returned to his eyes. 

Stevie sighed and clicked her tongue, drumming up her casual courage once more. “Really, Dean? A poodle? I picture myself as a more… hearty puppy.” A flick of her wrist pulled a wayward strand of dirty blonde hair out of her eyes.

“Fine. A schnauzer.”

“I don’t know why, but that seems worse…”

He laughed and sat back, returning to a more relaxed and unbothered state.

Still tingling with nervous flight energy, Stevie tapped her hand on the table and stood up. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” she announced. “Can I getcha somethin’?”

Dean’s eyebrows lifted as if he were amusedly shocked. “Could go for another,” he replied, shaking his empty bottle. 

She nodded and reached for the beer. He wouldn’t give up his grip and their fingers touched for a quick moment. She sucked in a deep breath and he grinned. 

“Hurry back…” 

She scanned the club as she walked to the bar. It was mostly empty except for a few staff members, a drunk old man asleep by the door, and two dudes in business suits pretending to be in a meeting so they could write off their lap dances. The front door was guarded by a gorilla of a man in a neon orange shirt and the back exit beyond the stage was watched by a slight, creeper of an older gentleman whose mustache likened him to every porn peddler in every movie she’d ever seen. They wouldn’t be much help if Dean decided to attack. A little, but not much. 

She ordered two domestic beers and paid in cash, leaving a hefty tip simply so the bartender would keep his eyes on her. An added layer of safety never hurt, even if the guy looked like he could get his ass kicked by an automatic door. 

She had to use what she had on hand. Dean taught her that, back when he was really Dean.

This Dean, whatever he truly was, ignored her return, though he surely felt the shift in atmosphere as she moved, and heard it when she cleared her throat. 

“One more for the gentleman in the played-out burgundy flannel.”

He cocked his head to look up at her and grinned. “Thought you loved this shirt,” he mused, accepting the fresh beer.

Stevie shrugged and retook her seat. “Eh. It’s not bad,” she replied, “just… old. You really should think about punching up your wardrobe a bit. There have been significant discoveries within the fashion industry since 1974.” 

He laughed and took a drink. “Yeah. What the fuck do you know about fashion?” Green eyes swept down her thin body, noting the wide-leg jeans ripped at the knees and around the hem, the faded concert tee that had seen better days, and a thrift store jacket she hadn’t washed in years. “Look like you fell out of a Nirvana video.” 

Stevie straightened up and smoothed a hand down her front. “At least I don’t look like an Army-Navy reject. You back on active duty, Radar?” 

Dean’s eyes were back on Sparkles, but his focus was on Stevie. He nearly choked on a sip of beer but pushed it back with a laugh. “Radar?” He sat up and set his elbows on the table. “Fuck you. I’m Hawkeye or I’m no one.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Hold on while I go distill you a martini…” 

Dean licked a smile from his lips and returned his attention to the vibrating thighs a few feet away from his nose. 

“You know where they have delicious martinis? Back home.” 

His palm slammed down on the tabletop and the wood splintered under the force. “Enough.” His growl was intense and a shudder ran down her spine. “I’m not coming home. Fuck off and leave me alone.” 

Stevie froze. Her blood ran cold and her heart raced. She stared at the broken table, at the cracks his fist had made, and thanked god it wasn’t her jaw. 

She tried one last time. 

“Dean… I miss you. Sam misses you. We… we can help. You know there’s a cure and we can get you back to yourself if you just-” 

He cut her off, spinning around in his seat to face her head-on. “If I just what? Let you rip away the one thing that’s made me happy in my entire fucking life?”

She shivered. “You don’t mean that. That’s the demon talking.” 

“Damn right, it is! But there ain’t no demon inside me, Sweetheart. It is me. All me. And I’m finally getting what I deserve. Some fucking R&R. I’m on leave, baby, and I ain’t never coming back.” 

A long exhale fell from her lips and with it any hope of saving him. With her silenced, Dean calmed and turned back to the show. Sparkles was finishing her dance and he wasn’t willing to miss another second. 

Years of friendship and love flashed behind her eyes and her heart ached too badly for him to survive much more. 

She gave up. 

Slowly, she stood and closed her eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move to chase her away, didn’t shout or try to scare her off. He sat stone still and let her lips graze his cheek in a chaste goodbye.

“I love you.” 

Unaffected by her whisper, Dean leaned forward and crossed his arms over the table, green eyes focused on Sparkles and nothing else. 

It was done. 

Stevie walked back to her car, dodging shadows against the milky midnight sky. A blanket of gray clouds had been pulled across the world, backlit by a full moon that wouldn’t make an actual appearance that night. 

She could almost feel the cloud cover heavy on her shoulders. She’d come all this way to do one thing and she couldn’t do it. Maybe Sam could get through to him. Maybe Castiel could do some good. Clearly, she wasn’t the one who could break through Dean’s demonic haze. She wasn’t it for him. 

A few yards from her car, Stevie yanked her phone out and swiped across the screen. She scrolled past Dean’s name and landed on Sam’s. As her finger hovered, Dean called to her. 

“Stevie, wait!” 

The ache in his voice was pathetic and she turned to find him running towards her with a crease in his brow and pain in his eyes. 

“Please. I…” 

He stopped and stared. An arm’s length stood between them and Stevie held her breath. Hope surged around her heart. 

“What?” 

He took a breath and looked away, unable to meet her gaze. His shoulders fell and every bit of defense dropped away. She saw the old Dean for a moment. 

“I need help. I can’t do this much longer-” 

If there was more he wanted to say, she didn’t care. Stevie reached for him and he fell into her. Big arms wrapped around her tiny waist and she nuzzled into the crook of his neck. He was warm and solid, strong and alive. She closed her eyes as tears threatened to fall. 

“Dean… It’s OK. We can fix this.”

She felt his shoulders shake; heard his breathy exhale. 

“Please. Help me.” 

Pulling back, she smiled up at him softly. “Of course. Anything you need. Anything.” 

His grin was devilish and unexpected. 

Her eyes grew wide as his fist came into view. 

The phone fell, shattering as it hit the concrete ground. 

Stevie’s vision blurred and pain spread across her face like a hot web. It took too long to register what had happened and Dean struck again, cracking her cheekbone with his knuckles and forcing a gash to open below her eye. 

“Dean!” 

Her scream echoed through the silent night but he ignored it, opting for violence over communication. The Mark burned on his arm and Dean attacked again, ripping Stevie off of her feet by the shoulders and tossing her like a rag doll. 

The trunk of her car did little to cushion her spine and she crumbled to the ground, limp and seething with pain. 

As the gravel dug into the softness of her cheek, Stevie watched as Dean sauntered over to her. His boots moved with lazy precision, knowing she was going nowhere. When he stopped, the boots split apart and he crouched down, leaning in to taunt her. 

“You really would do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” 

His voice was low and mocking, his laugh like a scalpel sliding across her heart. 

“Always have. You’re like some goddamned love-sick teenager. Always following me around, always tending to my needs… my… desires.” 

She shivered as he dragged a finger down her broken face, lovingly admiring the purple and black mess bubbling beneath the skin. 

“Such a sweet creature.” 

Stevie fought the churn of bile in her gut and bit back a scream. It would do her little good, she knew. Any clapback would earn her a blow to the head, or worse. 

“Such a pathetic… plain… disappointing fuck.” 

Tears stung her eyes but the heartache was soon displaced by real pain as Dean wrapped his giant hand around her neck. Without warning, he tightened his grip and stood, lifting Stevie to her feet by the delicate threads of her throat. 

Amber eyes bulged. Thin lips spread wide in a gasping breath that never came. She clawed at his hand, digging her fingers between his palm and her windpipe, but it was little help. 

Dean laughed. 

She kicked. 

“Anything I want, huh?” he said again, turning on his heel to slam her back against the alley wall. “You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?” 

Desperate for release, Stevie mouthed a promise. She nodded, agreeing with her last bit of strength. 

Dean smirked and loosened his grip. 

Air rushed back into her lungs and Stevie coughed hard. “Please…” Her whisper was raspy and broken. “Anything you need.”

“Are you willing to bleed for me?” 

Her body froze; her thoughts clouded. 

“W-what?” 

Dean pressed himself up against her, and let his hot breath sweep over her lips. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” 

She shuddered. “I’m- I’m here to bring you home.” 

He dropped his hand from her throat and let it slide down her chest. “You’re here because Crowley called you. Told you I was bleeding innocents…” He pushed back a step and fisted her shirt, ripping the worn cotton in a swift motion. “Told you I’m making a mess of things to feed the Mark, to satisfy this hunger inside of me.” 

Stevie held herself still, praying that the wall would soften so she could push inside and get away from his touch. 

“It wants blood, Stevie… It needs blood.” 

The brand burned on his forearm and she felt the heat, felt the evil spark like lightning in the air. 

“I need blood…” Reaching behind him, Dean pulled the First Blade free from beneath his shirt and pressed the ancient bone to her neck. “I need your blood. You have no idea how many people I’ve killed. Demons, humans… It doesn’t matter. The Mark needs blood. So do it, Stevie, bleed for me and save them. ” 

Stevie held his gaze and her breath. “Don’t- don’t do this.” 

Dean growled deeply and laid his hand on her fragile cheek. The Blade pressed in on the left and his fingers on the right. She was trapped and hopeless. Defeated and broken. 

“Don’t…” 

His gaze softened for a split second and she thought she’d broken through. Maybe, somehow her love was enough to bring him back. 

She was wrong. 

Dean blinked and the darkness returned. He kissed her lips and her eyes closed. Quickly, he pulled his right hand down, slicing through her flesh like it was nothing. 

Stevie’s eyes went wide and her lips formed his name. 

The blood flowed and Dean sighed. Sated for another night.  

[angelsdean]

john saying he's known abt sam and the other special children for "awhile" in 2x01

and the demon calling him out saying he's been "playing dumb" like uhh, how he got mad at dean for not calling him (they did) to tell him that all this psychic stuff was happening with sam when john was literally at missouri's house when they were visiting and she directly told john abt sam's abilities.

but also, he's definitely known for much longer imo, and if you take the john journal companion book as canon / semi-canon then it definitely supports the idea that john Knew to some extent about sam's abilities:

these are just two passages from '91 but there are others about how demons are after sam, how sam is special. and if john was hearing this stuff abt sam in '91, there's no way he didn't start digging into things more over the years.

other people have spoken abt headcanons that john was even hunting other special children over the years. which brings me to the crunchy, tastey, AU that i've been rotating around in my mind this morning where john's not only been hunting the thing that killed mary all these years, but also been busy unraveling the sam-psychic-children plot by hunting, kidnapping, and studying other Special Children.

In this AU john isn't as incompetent as he is in canon lmao. In the 20+ years since mary's death he's discovered a whole lot, including his Men of Letters roots. In fact, he discovered the bunker and that's been his "home base" and Special Children Experimentation Lab for years. He's been studying all sorts of things. Watching footage of old MoL experiments. He connected the dots: mothers died in fires at 6 months, kids grew up to develop psychic abilities. He knows the same fate is waiting for sam and john thinks he can fix sam. He has to! That's his son. He won't let his son become some kind of supernatural thing, some kind of monster. In true john fashion he justifies all his actions as an act of love. He's trying to protect sam. Because demons are after these special children. Because these children have been corrupted. He's helping them, actually.

So john conducts experiments to try to draw out the demon blood, to purify them. Similar to how sam later tries to turn crowley human and also forcefully purifies demon dean. It's a very juicy parallel. And it draws on how sam and john hold many similar black-and-white views abt good and bad + what makes someone a monster, and how sam internalized a lot of these ideas re: becoming a monster and how the demon blood led to an obsession with "becoming pure."

John spends more and more time away from the boys, spends so much time tracking down these special children and studying them. Why does his revenge quest take over 20 yrs? Why does it seem like he's nowhere near close to tracking down Azazel until s1 rolls around? Because he's been spending so many years on this subplot. Because in his mind this is him being a good father, this is him looking out for his kids, particularly sam. He's doing all this for sam.

But then, John's never able to find a cure. And then he catches Azazel's trail again and he's off on that hunt. He "goes missing." Sam starts developing psychic powers, just as john always feared. John's aware of all this happening but still projects onto dean, still blames dean for not informing him of something he's known abt for years at this point. John's terrified because he's failed. He hasn't been able to save sam, and now sam might turn into a monster. He might go "dark side" and john can't let that happen. But he also can't kill him. He doesn't have the guts, so he puts that burden on Dean. And he trades his life for Dean's to ensure that someone will be there to carry out John's mission. Either find a way to save Sam, or kill the monster he becomes.

Edit to add two more excerpts from John's journal:

in the canon that includes this journal, john definitely was aware to some extent of sam being Special (or other people insisting he is) and he has been keeping an eye out for any strangeness manifesting in sam and worrying about sam's strange dreams and his bottled up emotions becoming dangerous

[never-let]

Chapter 2 of The Queen Of The Dunes

Chapter summary: Crowley and Aziraphaella finally meet each other. The girl discovers that the village's most famous 'snake' has an interest she never could have thought of him having.

Word count: 5k

You can read it on Ao3

You can read chapter 1 on tumblr

Full second chapter under the cut:

The girl got up early in the morning, before the first rooster crowed and the sun rose, and went about her daily business by candlelight. She washed her face, swept the still fairly new wooden floor and prepared the food, always looking out of the window to see if the sun had coloured the whole sea pinkish red. Almost the same colour as Crowley's hair... 

Scolding herself for those thoughts, she greeted her parents, who stood up and thanked her in a friendly manner when they saw the holiday clothes already smoothed and ready to wear. They were amazed at their daughter's diligence, for levelling clothes was time-consuming. Still wet clothes had to be twisted around a kind of wooden rolling pin, then with a sudden movement the cloth had to be rolled on the table, using a board with a scalloped bottom, and then rolled around the rolling pin back again. This was repeated until the clothes were perfectly smooth, and since metal coal irons didn't do so well with linen, the practice was still popular to their day.

The mother went to check on the animals, while the father sat on the bench and smoked his pipe, looking out the window. Since it was Sunday morning, everyone was preparing to go to the local little church where, although the village population was small, everyone could barely fit on the narrow pews in a small and stuffy room where the only natural source of light was the stained glass window above the wooden head of Jesus, set so that at certain time of the day the sunlight would fall on the altar itself. If there were no candle stands on the sides, people would fall over each other, stumbling over the uneven clay floor, but that didn't stop the faithful from continuing to walk there with eagerness to listen to the priest's long discourse on the past, present and future for which people should be thankful.

Having announced that she was going for a walk, and having met with no complaints - the father considered that his daughter had the right to do what she wanted, for he was completely sure that nothing bad would happen, and Aziraphaella was already a responsible adult, therefore could decide for herself, but it was still nice that she always announced that she was going somewhere.

When the girl went outside, the sun was already peeking out from behind the sea, and the blonde headed towards the dunes without waiting, knowing that the way through the loose sand would take quite some time, and not wanting to keep Crowley waiting - after all, she was the one who had asked the guy to meet her! Even if she had no idea what to talk to him about, or if they'd even find common topics of conversation.

When she reached the top, she began to look around. From here she had a view of the sea that surrounded the spit on all sides, the sandy areas that looked like a desert in sunny summers, the dead dunes, and the green areas that seemed almost grey because of the scant vegetation of mosses and low grasses. Aziraphaella loved this half-island more and more each year, not understanding why some people wanted to trade this life for a bustling life in the city, where you could get lost amongst lifeless buildings and be completely destroyed emotionally without seeing so much nature around you, which allowed the mind to relax.

Aziraphaella sat down on the sand, pulled her knees up to her and dipped her toes under the sand, occasionally spreading her fingers apart and watching the sand scatter between them. She sank into her thoughts and wondered if Crowley would come. It was very impolite of her to say nothing to him at first, and then come over to arrange another meeting. He might have thought she was ashamed of him and didn't want others to see them together. It was actually quite dangerous to meet before marriage, because parents could think that the young people were doing something inappropriate and the lovers would be punished properly, but, after all, the girl didn't know Crowley as a person at all, and the idea that someone would suspect them of doing forbidden things before marriage was ridiculous.

The girl rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. The morning sun had not yet warmed up the ground, so it was a little chilly, the wind was blowing behind her, making strands of her hair stick to her face, but she sat relaxed and not paying attention to what was happening, as if merging with nature and becoming a part of it. Where did people who lived in cities go to relax? Were they satisfied with miserable parks with bushes here and there, where you could still hear the noise of people in the streets?

“Are you not afraid to miss the church?”

A voice which came from nowhere, not far from her, made Aziraphaella flinch and open her eyes. Crowley was standing in front of her with his hands on his belt, looking at her with his head tilted to the side. His hair was gathered into a small ponytail, but few strands still rested on his shoulders.

“Not at all," she said and immediately got up from the ground. She did it so abruptly that Crowley didn't even have time to offer her help, causing his eyebrows to rise for a moment, though perhaps that reaction was due to her words. “And you?”

The girl stopped in front of him and tilted her head to the side as well, mimicking the guy's pose. This caused him to smile, baring his teeth slightly, so sly, as if he knew something more. And what to say about that incomprehensible low grunt that Crowley often expressed himself with instead of using words. But, in fact, this manner of reply was understandable to everyone, expressing both the lad's opinion and the emotion he was feeling at the same time.

“You never go to church. I've seen you tending the chickens or sitting at the spinning wheel in front of the house," Crowley said, ignoring her question. The guy was looking her straight in the eye, she was sure of it, even though he was wearing sunglasses. He didn't seem to be accusing her, just frankly perplexed as to how someone like Aziraphaella could skip going to church and, even stranger, how her parents could take it so easily or even allow her to commit such a transgression, even though they were firm believers themselves.

Aziraphaella only smiled modestly at him without saying anything, and, looking the other way, pointed with her hand to the woods in the distance, which led to a cosy shore where no one would find them, and suggested, “We can go there.”

Crowley, who himself had walked round the whole half-island many times, at once realised what the girl meant, and nodded, following her.

“So you don't believe in God?” he asked curiously, knowing that such a question usually sounded very negative and that it was better not to bring up such topics in public, but for him it was not a taboo topic, and Aziraphaella did not seem to mind.

“In one god, no. Gods, yes. I'm a pagan.”

Crowley snorted out something in reply, as if considering her words. He himself did not believe in superstition, legends, or gods, but the answer intrigued him, for paganism had not existed in the country for centuries, and it was incredible that there were still pagans in such a remote land. He hadn't been interested in the subject before, he just knew that it had been the main religion in their country until it was forcibly replaced by another.

“So what exactly do you believe in?” he asked, not knowing how to continue the conversation. At this time they were descending a steep slope, and Crowley held the girl's hand to keep her from falling.

“That every phenomenon in nature depends on a god or a creature. You probably know Austea, don't you? The goddess of bees. Or Gabia, the goddess of fire. There are many of them, big and small, but each one is responsible for something, and if even one of them disappears, the world will fall into chaos.”

Yes, Crowley remembered something like that. Perkunas, Zemyna, Laima... He remembered a few names and their approximate duties, but there were many more. He had never really cared about any of that, but he was curious about how the pagans perceived the world around them, and he decided to test Aziraphaella to see how strong her faith was, for he was a real trickster himself.

As they walked, he looked carefully around and even lowered his glasses on his nose to see better. The girl at that moment was looking at the clear blue sky, which didn't have a single cloud on it. She looked relaxed, and Crowley was sure that he would manage to surprise her properly.

Finally the young man's sharp eyes spotted what he was looking for. He let go of Aziraphaella's hand, which he still held even when the steepest slope had long since ended. Crowley ran down and leaned suddenly towards the ground and seemed to grab something, shrieking triumphantly. Intrigued, Aziraphaella quickened her step to catch up with the guy who now had his back to her.

As she approached, Crowley suddenly turned around and looked at her through the lowered lenses of his glasses. 

“And the grass snakes, hmm? The pagans believed in them, too," he said, as if trying to prove something to her. The young woman only flinched, surprised by the suddenness of his movement, but not at all frightened, looking at the black grass snake with yellow "ears" wriggling in Crowley's hands, trying to escape from his jail of fingers.

“Yes. Pagirnis is a god in the form of a snake," Aziraphaella held out her hands, and after a moment of hesitation - this was not the reaction he had expected, Crowley placed the snake in her palm. Apparently the warmth of her hands calmed the reptile a little, because the creature stopped wriggling and just curled up in a ball. “He keeps the house in order," she laughed and bent down, letting the snake loose and watching it crawl away. “When dad found the grass snake you left in his clogs, I persuaded him to keep it at home, and now I feed it eggs every morning. You mustn’t hurt them, or they will bring you bad luck.” 

Crowley awkwardly looked away when he heard about his prank, but the girl only laughed, noticing his reaction, because she was not angry with him at all and, moreover, she could even thank him for such a ‘gift’.

“Hmm... Other girls are afraid of them..." he finally answered, deciding it was time to change the subject. Crowley looked thoughtfully after the snake, which finally burrowed into the sand and disappeared. “If you hear them squeak, you can be sure they saw a snake”

“Yes, unfortunately, their religion says that innocent grass snakes bring evil…” Aziraphaella sighed and said something she wouldn't dare to say to others. Apparently, Crowley really influenced people... “The Christian god is very cruel... He forces you to believe in him and doesn't want people to have a choice…”

“God has nothing to do with it. It's people who create it and then attack each other if their opinions on religion don't match. That's why I don't believe in them. Too many fights happen over things that don't exist.”

Aziraphaella chose to remain silent. Yes, their opinions didn't coincide, but she agreed that it wasn't worth fighting about it, especially since they had both expressed what they thought, what they believed or didn't believe, so there was no need to go on about it all. It would be awkward if on their first walk they immediately started hating each other.

When silence came, they started walking again, looking at the trees around them and getting closer and closer to the shore. It was a little uncomfortable as each of them sank into their own thoughts, but they were just starting to get to know each other, so they had to accept that sometimes silence would accompany them, and thus awkwardness, because one of them would have to start a new topic that would suit them both.

“So... do you believe... in... something?” Aziraphaella asked timidly, knowing that faith wasn't necessarily religion, and hoping that Crowley understood that too.

The boy didn't answer immediately. He thought for a long time, going over all the options in his head and figuring out if they would be suitable as an answer to the blonde girl who was patiently waiting for him to find the right answer. He knew exactly what she meant, but he didn't know exactly what he himself believed, which was why it took so long. No one had ever asked him a question like this before. He could answer all the questions he had ever been asked in a split second, even if he had to lie, but now that he had the opportunity to just say “no”, Crowley somehow didn't take that easy way out. 

Finally they approached the shore. Aziraphaella, lifting her skirt slightly, sat down on the grass and dipped her feet into the water. Crowley sat down beside her, tucking his legs under himself, and watched the girl move her white feet under the water. Her movements raised the sand, causing several fish to swim up to her, thinking that the raised sand was food.

“Don't believe in the world, believe in fairy tales,” Crowley said after a while and smiled to himself. Aziraphaella looked at him, waiting for further explanation, and tilted her head interestedly. She couldn't say that she had expected such an answer from Crowley, but she was glad that he had decided to keep the conversation going and try to answer her honestly. “Well... you've probably seen me... I often listen to you while you are telling fairy tales to children…” 

“So you like fairy tales?” the blonde asked when he was silent for a long time, thinking about how ridiculous his words sounded and twisting a stalk of grass into a knot because he didn't know what to do with his hands.

“When they're told by you…” Crowley suddenly raised his head and looked directly into her blue eyes, which were almost indistinguishable from the colour of the sky, but actually much more beautiful, because they were full of innocence and enthusiasm. The girl blushed slightly, and now it was her turn to look away for a moment. “Actually, well... Icreatemyownfairytales," he said it so fast that his words strung together, and Aziraphaella blinked a few times and frowned slightly, trying to make out at least one.

“What..?” she asked quietly, still blushing and thinking she should have listened more carefully.

Crowley took a deep breath, realising he'd fallen into a hole he'd dug himself. If he'd kept quiet, he could have avoided all this. Or turned it into a joke, but now it seemed like he was really into it and Aziraphaella wouldn't believe him if he tried to joke about it, saying he didn't really believe in anything.

“I create... my own… well… fairy tales…” he answered very timidly, and would have blushed himself, but the contrast of his red hair with his pale face made it completely unnoticeable.

“Really? Oh, wow! Couldn't you... could you tell me one of them?” The girl even stopped shuffling her feet, ready to catch every word he said as carefully as possible, in case Crowley was shy and spoke again at lightning speed.

The young man opened his mouth, pondering how he could avoid this whole situation and why he had even admitted to it in the first place. If he had remained silent as always, it would have been much better..! However, not only was he influencing Aziraphaella, but she was influencing him as well. Crowley was afraid to admit that all these stories were quite simple and he would not be able to gather a bunch of children around him and tell them in such a way that they would listen to the end. Since he himself could neither read nor write, he often forgot the endings of his own stories, and sometimes they merged into one, and sometimes the names of the characters changed halfway through. In short, Crowley was not the best storyteller, so he decided to get out of the situation as quickly as possible, and fortunately his wits helped him to do so.

“Recently I began to create one…” even a lie like that, told directly to Aziraphaella's face, somehow seemed cheeky to him. “It's not finished yet, so... Well, I can't really tell you all of it yet.”

Aziraphaella nodded, afraid to even interrupt Crowley. The boy swallowed, realising that he was really in trouble now, and began to look around, trying to remain calm. His gaze lingered on the trees, the sea, the sand, the sky... Nothing that could help him think of anything that would be interesting to listen to.

Finally he remembered the grass snake he already had seen and began to think of how to come up with a story about it. Realising that Aziraphaella might not be interested in hearing about the life of the snake and its hardships, Crowley looked again at the surrounding trees. A name immediately came to mind, and the lake finally told him how to begin the story.

“There were three sisters swimming once…” Crowley began slowly, giving himself time to think about what to say next. Aziraphaella seemed to hold her breath, eagerly swallowing his every word and nodding quickly, as if asking him to continue the story. “They were swimming until the sun began to equal the sea…

“At last they climbed out, began to dress, and then... Then the youngest, whose name was Egle, began to shriek... The other two ran up to her and asked her what was wrong. They took a closer look - there was a grass snake in her clothes and it wouldn't crawl away. The eldest wanted to kill it with a stick, but he started to speak…”

Aziraphaella gasped. The young man didn't think that he was telling something interesting, he was afraid that the girl would realise that he was only making up a story now, and perhaps it would become clear when he got stuck in some place and didn't know what to say next, or because or because he was constantly searching for the right words.

“And what did it say?” she asked suddenly, after Crowley had gone silent, maybe for a minute, not realising it at all and just looking down. Why was he ashamed of himself for coming up with such a stupid lie? After all, he usually lied about much more important things.

“The snake, it… it told the youngest sister Egle that if she promised to marry him, he would crawl out of her shirt.”

“And she?..” the girl asked, eyes wide.

“And she... She promised. The sisters said there was nothing wrong with it. In the end, it was just a snake. Whether she promised or not, nothing would change and she won't have to get married. So the snake crawled away, having received the promise, the sisters went home and immediately forgot about that meeting,” Crowley bit his lip, realising how ridiculous it all sounded, but Aziraphaella listened to him anyway, as if he were telling something interesting.

“And what happened next?” No doubt the girl was extremely impressed with what Crowley thought was a silly story, and wanted to know how it ended. Of course, the guy could have said that he hadn't thought of anything else, but he thought he would appear a fool in front of her for making up simple, short, and meaningless stories. He had to think of something else.

“After three days…” suddenly Crowley decided that it was time to really surprise Aziraphaella and show that he really knew how to create tales that could impress with their originality. “Three days later, when Egle was at home with her twelve brothers and two sisters…” Yes, the boy thought, the more the better. “The ground began to shake... When they looked out the window, they saw that in the distance, there were a lot of snakes crawling and wriggling towards them in all sorts of ways, and even the sun seemed to be darkened by their numbers. There were so many of them that it was not clear where one began and another ended. Some big, others small... They started circling round the house, knocking on doors, windows... Her parents, of course, hid Egle, not wanting to give her away.”

“But she promised!..” Said Aziraphaella, surprised at the insolence of the protagonist.

“Would you marry a snake?” Crowley suddenly asked boldly, looking her straight in the eyes again. Apparently his tone was too harsh, because the girl was a little embarrassed, and he quickly added. “I'm sorry. I was just wondering…”

“Promises must be kept…” she said quietly after a while, running her finger over the patterns of her skirt. She wasn't sure if she could marry a snake, or if it was even possible, but if she would promise, she'd keep her promise, because she felt she had to be responsible for what she said.

Crowley only raised one eyebrow in response, but he couldn't say anything. It seemed Aziraphaella really was the kind of person who would marry a damn snake if she had promised it that. He didn't know why he thought that, since the very idea already sounded strange and unrealistic, but the girl was talking about it so freely and openly that it was hard not to believe her.

“So... Of course, Egle's loved ones didn't want to give her to the snakes... So when one of the reptiles spoke up to say that they had come here to take the bride with them, Eagle’s father decided to trick them.” Crowley fell silent, unable to think of a way to trick a group of snakes, so he looked at the girl and asked in a curious tone, as if to give her a chance to guess, at the same time remembering how she used to ask children when she told them stories what they thought about this or that aspect of the story she was telling. Of course in reality he just decided to give himself time to think. “What do you think - how?”

“Well…” she looked off into the distance and pressed her lips together slightly, thinking. “Maybe... her father... took a blanket and hid the lamb in it? And gave it to the snakes…?” - she again looked at him.

Both of Crowley's eyebrows flew upwards, causing the girl to blush even more and stare in the other direction, trying to avoid embarrassment. Aziraphaella had heard a lot of fairy tales, and frankly, she no longer had any issues when fairy tale characters managed to escape some situation in a strange way that wouldn't have worked in reality, such as the one she had suggested.

Crowley realised that his reaction was not quite appropriate (after all, he was the one who had started the story about talking snakes, so the girl's idea wasn't that outlandish), and cleared his throat, trying to think of a way out, because he didn't want to offend the blonde in such a stupid way. He wasn't surprised anymore, but the fact that someone would start hating him because of a simple story he'd made up a few minutes ago made him sad rather than amused.

“Maybe it would have worked, but... the snakes have a good sense of smell, don't they? Or at least they should have... So they'd quickly realise it wasn't Eagle under that blanket…”

“Yes... I think you're right…” Aziraphaella said quietly, smiling with barely perceptible embarrassment. “So how did the father decide to trick the snakes?” 

“Well, maybe he did not exactly trick them… The father told his sons to get pitchforks…”

The girl gasped again, but this time she covered her mouth with her small hand and looked much more surprised, apparently it wasn't hard to understand why the sons had armed themselves.

“Yes, they ran outside and started swinging pitchforks, but it didn't help. There were a lot of snakes in the end… Some curled around the sons' legs, others around their arms, until they all dropped their pitchforks in surrender.” It was obvious that Crowley had vividly imagined the scene of the ‘battle’, so he did not pause and made expressive facial movements, occasionally waving his hand. Aziraphaella smiled, because finally the guy seemed to relax and spoke more freely.

Noticing her smile, Crowley fell silent and cleared his throat, himself smiling faintly. For a moment he rubbed his ear between his fingers, as if thinking, and seemed about to say something, but in the distance he heard the ringing of a church bell - the service was over.

“Oh!.. I must go home…” Aziraphaella rose abruptly from the ground. Unlike the other people who wanted to interrupt her conversation with Crowley, she actually looked sad. “Could you tell me what happened next when we're on our way back?”

“No. It would be bad if you were seen with me," Crowley said seriously, trying to hide how hard it was for him to say it. “Go. I'll stay here a while longer," he added quietly, and leaned his head back, enjoying the warm rays of the sun.

To Crowley's great surprise, the girl sat down next to him again and looked at him expectantly. Confused, the boy stared at her.

“You wanted to continue the story," she reminded him, smiling softly.

Crowley stared at her for a few more moments. Her expression was so sweet compared to the way the others usually looked at him. Even if Aziraphaella was only interested in his stories and not him, the guy was determined to create at least a hundred more for her, and would even try to memorise the names of all the characters so he wouldn't get lost.

“So... Well, the sons have failed... The big reptile spoke again. He threatened that…” Crowley quickly scratched the back of his head and continued. “That they'd kill all their cows and chickens and other animals if... well, if parents didn't give them Egle.”

“Poor souls! But Egle even promised... If I were her, I'd have given up to them by now…” said the girl, even a little worried. It was obvious that she was much more concerned about her family's welfare than her own.

“Really? Would you go outside when there are hundreds... no, thousands of snakes! At least a few would definitely crawl up your sleeve…” Crowley asked with a smile and even leaned forward slightly, reaching out his hand to the girl and moving his fingers, imitating the movement of snakes, so that Aziraphaella realised that he was joking and provoking her.

“They're not poisonous at all!..” she laughed, catching Crowley's fingers and, as if answering his mockery, began to stroke them. “If Egle has enough chickens, she can feed all the snakes with eggs and make friends with them!”

Crowley, even though he was embarrassed by the girl's bold act, didn't want to show it, so he swallowed and took Aziraphaella's hand. It was uncomfortable because he was sitting leaning forward with his arm fully extended, but he liked to see the girl embarrassed and blushing. She didn't seem to be mad or uncomfortable, not at all, in which case he would have let her go immediately and apologised. The blonde probably just didn't expect that their jokes could get to this point.

After watching her reaction for a few more seconds, Crowley moved closer, not letting go of her hand but keeping his distance. He held her fingers as if they were crystal, giving her a choice to let go. Since the girl didn't seem like she was going to answer because she was too embarrassed, Crowley continued his story.

“As you said... Eagle finally decided to surrender on her own so that her parents, sisters and brothers wouldn't suffer… The snakes immediately got out of her way and where the biggest pile of reptiles had gathered, it turned out that they were covering a golden carriage, in which, of course, instead of horses, the grass snakes themselves were harnessed…” That was the first thing that came into Crowley's head, and only when he said it out loud did he realise how silly it all sounded, but it was too late to change anything, especially as the girl didn't seem surprised by this continuation - after all, it was a fairy tale, and in a fairy tale not everything had to make sense.

“And... where did they take her?” Aziraphaella asked after a long pause during which they both stared at their intertwined fingers.

“Erm... this... well... fairy tale, after all, is... unfinished...” The blonde's question threw Crowley off balance a little; he sat back, relaxed and completely forgot that he had to keep thinking of a continuation of a story. He cursed himself in his own head for not being able to think of something else to say to spend more time with the girl. But he wouldn't be called a cunning snake if he didn't immediately come up with a solution to this dilemma. “But, um. I'm gonna keep the story going, right? And that's why we can meet again…”

The girl timidly raised her eyes to Crowley, who looked at her expectantly, afraid that she would refuse, for the villagers might quickly notice that they were both absent and begin to suspect them of the unprecedented. That, of course, would hit Aziraphaella's reputation hard.

“In a week's time. When everyone will go to church again…” she replied quietly, still blushing and averting her gaze.

Crowley nodded. He hadn't expected to meet her earlier. To be more precise, they were seeing each other often, but usually didn’t have a chance to talk, nor that they needed to, but now, at least until he told his story to the end, there was definitely a point in meeting. All that was left was to figure out how to stretch the story out as long as possible so the girl wouldn't get bored.

Crowley got up off the ground and helped Aziraphaella to her feet. She wiped her wet feet on the grass to keep the sand from sticking to them and stood for a moment, spreading her fingers and letting the thin stalks tickle her delicate skin.

“I think we can meet on the same dune… and maybe go the other way," she suggested.

“Yeah, sure…”- Crowley said, a little confused, and tilted his head up, looking up at the sky. Through the small slit between his glasses and his face, the girl watched his squinting brown eyes, which seemed to be searching for something in the wide endless blue. “Well? It would be better if you went back alone,” he said, though he wanted to spend a few more minutes together.

“Yes, I'm sorry... See you later..?” she asked, taking a few steps forward and looking back.

“Yes. Absolutely,” even Crowley himself thought he said it with a little too much confidence in his own success.

[trashboatprince]

I've been thinking on this for a while now, and I decided to rework the beginning of the sea monster wives au.

Especially with the new ideas I have for it.

So, here's a new, updated version of how Aziraphale and Crowley meet.

On with the fic!

--

The letters creased in the tight hold of Aziraphale's fingers as she read them over a fifth time.

They still said the same thing as they had the previous four times, in the two familiar scripts and words of her brothers. It was the same message, one more friendly and apologetic than the one, which was more stern and to-the-point.

'We will not be arriving back to England like we had promised.'

Jim had been kinder in his letter, but Gabriel had written to her as if she were an associate from a partnering company that he worked with.

Her eldest brothers, Gabriel James and James Gabriel (Jim, as he preferred), were in charge of their family's shipping and trading companies, currently doing business in America. They had been over there for over a year now, and had promised they'd return by the time Aziraphale would be reaching the age of twenty-six, which was in a few months.

But Aziraphale should have known better, promises are just words that can easily be broken with the twins. Jim was so sorry, having said that while he would love to return to see his dearly loved sister, Gabriel was not letting him return home for something like this. Business was booming in America, Jim had to be there to help!

And... well... from what he had written in his letter, Jim had met someone. The heir to a very successful meat processing venture, Bea Prince, apparently things were going well with the courting. Aziraphale could not fault her brother for staying not just because Gabriel told him to, but because his heart was full of love.

She was herself a hopeless romantic, she adored romance and such. However, she only really experienced it through the characters in the books of her shop. She had never really felt anything for anyone.

Well.

While love wasn't really in the picture, attraction was. Attraction that her family was very much against. The youngest child, the only daughter, in the Eastgate family, could not prefer the company of women over men!

It was bad enough that Aziraphale was pushing her luck with wearing trousers and clothing more inclined for gentlemen than ladies, if she were even to feed her appetite for the fairer sex, she'd be sent to a nunnery!

Or she'd be forced to marry someone her brothers picked. Michael had threatened her with this when he had spotted her being a bit too friendly to a young woman in town some years ago. And Michael's threats had the power of a military captain behind them, considering that was his rank.

Even if she didn't have feelings for women, the thought of arranged marriage was always looming over her head. Gabriel and Michael had been talking before the eldest Eastgate had left for the United States. They had been discussing Aziraphale's age, and how she was practically a spinster.

They had talked about marrying her off to someone.

She had nearly burst into the drawing room of the family's estate home, nearly screamed and shouted and acted like a child.

But she held her tongue, and continued to eavesdrop.

Until she heard a name of a potential suitor and she left.

Mr. Salt, her brother's main business partner, after Jim. He was smarmy man with gold teeth who liked to be a little too close to Aziraphale's seat whenever he came over for dinner. She hated him more than she had ever hated a person.

He was a constant in her life, especially right now, with her brothers away. He was running the business from its main base here on Tadfield Isle, and he was constantly over at the family home. Practically moved in the day her brothers left the port! Michael and his wife, Uriel, were not thrilled, but put up with it due to Gabriel saying it was perfectly fine.

Aziraphale stopped living at home two months after this, and had been living in the flat above her bookshop just to avoid him. Except for Wednesdays and Sundays, when she was required to attend family dinners at the estate.

Mr. Salt did not like her living at the bookshop, in fact, he was quite vocal about how she shouldn't even own the place.

'A young lady has no need for a job! Her place is at home!' He had told Gabriel, who nearly agreed, especially to the idea of selling it. But Jim had put his foot down, saying that it was Aziraphale's, left to her by their grandfather, who loved books just as much as she did. It was in her name, it was hers.

Jim was always in her corner, he was a good man, even if he could sometimes be a dim as a dying oil lamp.

With a sigh, Aziraphale pocketed his letter. The one from Gabriel was held between her fingers before she let it go, watching it fly away with the wind.

She stood silently on the beach, watching the piece of paper move through the air, as if it were dancing.

The beach was her quiet place, like her shop. Only it didn't have the occasional annoyance of a customer, it just had birds that sometimes tried to eat her nibbles she'd bring. It was a small cove a distance from town, a private place that no one ever came to because it was hidden away, ugly and rocky, but it had a charm to it that Aziraphale liked.

Like the cave hidden in the cliff side nearby, the tide pools, the cute crabs she liked watching.

And the quiet, peacefulness of it, where no one could bother her.

She watched the paper as it landed on the water's surface, near the end of the line of weather-worn rocks that reached into the sea.

And that's when she saw it.

Something red and black, right at the furthest rock. Curiously, she watched it, what was it? Debris? An article of clothing floating on the water? A fish of some sort?

No... it looked like hair, with some sort of strange, black plant coming out of the tangles.

The black things fluttered as the paper drifted closer to it, and then something grabbed a paper.

A hand.

Aziraphale's eyes widened and she found herself moving close to the shore.

"H-hello?" She called out.

She watched as the red thing tore into the paper, then suddenly made a harsh sound. Paper was spat out, and what was still grasped was snarled at.

"Hello?!" Aziraphale called out again, now worried, but her curious nature was getting the better of her.

Could this be someone in danger? The hand certainly looks human, even if the skin seems... strange. And the red stuff does look like hair...

But there was a rumor going around town, told by the salty, old sea captain with a weird hatred and fascination with witches, Shadwell, that he had seen and captured a mermaid. Until this 'mermaid' fought back and escaped his fishing boat some weeks ago when they had that massive storm.

Adam Young and his little group of friends had even claimed to have seen the 'mermaid', but they could just be messing with Shadwell, as they tended to enjoy getting him riled up.

Aziraphale was open minded to the wonders of the world, there was always a kernel of truth to folklore and myths, but a mermaid sounded so... outlandish.

And yet...

The strange thing in the water moved fast when it finally heard her, hiding behind the rock.

"Oh, oh please, don't hide! It's... it's okay!" She said, removing her shoes and her stockings, moving to climb up on the rocks. They were a long line, a bit jagged, but flat enough that she could, carefully move across them. She'd done it tons of times over the years, she'd be fine.

Aziraphale got near the last rock, watching as the red stuff drifted through the water, it was hair, beautiful, bright red hair, darkened by the waters. A hand grabbed the rock, long, black claw-like nails scratched as it. She could see a strange thing between the fingers, a blushing red, it looks like very thin skin.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you." She said softly over the waved, though she felt ridiculous, sounded like she was talking to a scared dog.

Aziraphale got down to sit on the stone, looking at the hand and the hair, hearing something that sounded oddly like clicking and chirping.

The figure then slowly moved, letting Aziraphale see their face.

The figure was a deathly pale, with freckles scattered over their cheeks and nose, a mouth that was frowning, but the thin lips parted just enough to show unusually sharp teeth.

The black things from before were thin, like the skin between the figures, fluttering around what had to be ears hidden behind them and the red hair.

And eyes, golden and snake-like, stared at her in a way Aziraphale had never been stared at before.

Then they moved, and Aziraphale suddenly found herself on her back, staring up at the slightly gray sky, and the stranger.

The beautiful, frightening stranger, who continued to look at her with large, golden eyes.

And the frown became a smile.

A smile of shark teeth.

Aziraphale had found the so-called mermaid.

--

Aziraphale, meet your future wife, Crowley. :)

Yes, Jim is now a character in this, the only brother that actually likes Aziraphale. He'll be in support of his sister being in love with a monster, because Crowley makes her happy. And yes, Jim and Beelzebub are a couple in this.

[dranna]

Blossoming Love through the Ages

2500BC - Prologue

AO3 / Commissions / Links / Chapter 1

Warnings: mentions of death

Summary: How does their friendship and eventually their feelings blossomed through the ages? I'm attempting to rethink the scenes we saw from the seasons, adding Crowle's thoughts and additional segments.

Line art by me:)

After I finished the first chapter, I realised I should've started with a prologue (and the "Before the Beginning", so I'll start that, after I've finished this era).

I'll also stop putting "Crowley’s POV" at the beginning of every chapter, because the entirety of the fic, will be from Crowley's point of view. ( I've tried placing the Land of Uz, somewhere around the Red Sea )

The Demon with the burning hair, 

Was sitting in a cool shelter, 

Watching people’s trading fair.

How crowded was the place, 

Full of life and merry ways.

The Land of Uz was quite a spot, 

To hold a scene for many different folk, 

Because the Red Sea was a few days away, 

Many mortals visited the region there.

He haven’t realised it yet, 

But he liked watching humans’ life, 

How they go by, 

And coming up with new ideas.

How could there be, so many of them already? 

It seems like it was yesterday, 

That all of them was wiped away,  

By the huge ass flooding of the sphere.

Wasn't there only eight of them on that boat,

That carried the animal pairs too onboard? 

Huh.., how weird humans are. 

It will be a real nuisance, 

When they’ll try to eliminate them.

Within the next 6000 years. 

– exhaled interestingly, 

While he was eyeing,

A wine merchant on the street.

Ha! What sprang the plan, 

To take that little fruit they call a grape,

And then juice the meat, 

Turning it into a drink at the end? 

– It was around the time, 

When Planet Earth started it’s wellbeing, 

To host an abode for the creatures of the Supreme Being. 

It’s been quite a while, 

Since They, Up and Down plan something in a style,

I wonder what their future projects are,

Tho I wouldn't mind a little off time,

Now everything seems slow and kind—

– One of the traders’ voice of great wine, 

Started to intertwine,

With a deep, deep cry,

That came from the terrors of the basement's call line.

“Best wine of this land!

Get it only for a– little playfulness, 

A great morning, isn't it Crowley?

I have big news for you!

I’m pretty sure,

You will let out proudly

How lucky are thee,

Because you just got the task,

To kill and consume all the things, 

That God’s pet, 

Job got!

“But the holy management–”

“Do not worry about punishment, 

You just got a free pass!”

And with that, 

A parchment that looked huge and old, 

Appeared in front of the serpent’s foot.

Just when he started to enjoy existence, 

He was sent to cause turbulence. 

None seemed to notice what happened, 

It was only Crowley, 

Who grew cold instead. 

Oh for Satan’s sake!

Couldn't they have sent someone else?

He looks like a good lad, 

Punish him only because of a bet?

– After that, 

You could see the yellow eyed man, 

Standing in the gloom,

Studying the papyrus, like he is searching for a tomb. 

 Everything is written perfectly clear here, 

Demolish all his belongings and children…

Not the children!

But… You and I can't kill kids, 

They’ve done absolutely nothing! 

Why do You beat them, 

For something they didn't act?

A few hours after the exchange of that, 

Crowley stopped reading the parchment of death,

Sorrow, what felt the ruby head,

However he would never admit to that,

He started drinking all the wine, 

The vendors had left behind. 

Isolated what he felt, 

As like being a wall, 

Between him and joy. 

I’m supposed to be overjoyed, 

That I got that job,

Every Demon would be glad, 

To do the deed I have,

So why can’t I?

During the hours, when the Sun was the tallest on the Blue,

A man could be seen walking friendless,

Towards the hills in loneliness.

There was a feeling in the air, 

That didn't promise anything well,

The heat was raging in fury,

While the man was climbing the mountains fully.

No bird song could be heard, 

The figure dressed in black sad no word,

He looked like one in headache, 

Contemplating heartbreak.

˜

Thank you for reading!

Let me know if you would like to be tagged

Tags my beloveds: @giosnape

[yuurei20]

Kalim Info Compilation Part 1: Family

Kalim explains that “the Asims aren’t royalty, and I’m not a prince. I’ve got some relatives in the royal family, though.” Jamil says that the Asims are one of the Scalding Sands’ “most prominent” families. Both Jamil and Kalim were born and raised in Silk City.

Kalim’s father is referenced often: Kalim says he is “the most important guy in the family, and he keeps super-duper busy, but he’s always got a happy smile on his face.” Jamil says that Kalim’s father is “a key player” in the local government and economy and their home is used for government functions, official visits and ceremonies.

Kalim says that his father does business in a lot of different places and used to take Kalim along with him. “All of his customers would leave the meetings with smiles on their faces. Seeing people looking happy has always made me happy, too.”

His father also told him it is important to “work hard, play hard, and know when to do which”.

Jamil thanks the headmage for allowing them to use the Dark Mirror to travel home, and Crowley says that it is the least he could do for the Asims and asks Kalim to send his regards to his father. (“And, naturally, I will graciously accept whatever souvenirs you see fit to bring back.”)

Kalim says that after the festival showcased in the Firelit Sky event, his father will be hosting a party for all the people in their town who helped make the festival happen. According to Jamil, Kalim’s father spoils Kalim immensely.

Kalim says that his mother is “really, really sweet”, always saying nice things about him, barely ever gets mad and she is the family’s only other magic user besides himself.

Kalim has somewhere from 30 to 40 siblings (information that was cut from the NA adaptation) and seems to adore them: Kalim reacts poorly to hearing that Idia skipped out on a promise to spend time with Ortho after performing poorly at a video game, saying that “spending quality time with your sibling is way more important than some game” and offers to hang out with Ortho in Idia’s stead.

Kalim says that he has “a real soft spot” for people younger than himself, and explains in his birthday vignette a time when he spent the better part of a day playing hide-and-seek with his little brothers and siblings but never did find them all.

Kalim says, “When the whole family gets together, it’s always a party.”

Kalim’s family is described as “overprotective” by a ghost chef who learns that, prior to the Culinary Crucible, Kalim had never been allowed to use fire or knives as it was “too dangerous”.

Kalim tells Ruggie that he had never cooked in his life, as his home has its own kitchen staff and Jamil has made his meals since he started living in a dorm. (NA changed this to say “since I started going to college”, but it is canonically a high school: removal of references to middle school/high school/character ages is not uncommon for the NA adaptation.)

We learn that Kalim’s family employs at least one “beast tamer”, that Kalim is constantly trailed by Asim family security and there are “only” around “a hundred helpers” employed at his home.

Jamil explains that Scalding Sand spices and furnishings are extremely popular abroad and House Asim is said to be the first family to trade overseas.

Kalim’s family developed rivers into a network of canals. Kalim says that his family comes from a long line of merchants, and he wants to do as much for Silk City as his grandfather and great-grandfather did.

[angelfirewalker]

When I was 12, I saw David Bowie on Top of the Pops (UK)...he was either singing Fame or Golden Years recorded on America's Soul Train. I don't remember which.

I was totally taken in by this skinny strange androgynous alien creature. It was first step into the strange world of the Theatrical performance.

I can still remember which friends house I was at. They were normal, liked horses kind of person. I didn't say anything to them. By the time I hit 14, I had a friend who liked Bowie too, and we used to lay on the floor of their lounge putting our heads between the speakers to work out lyrics on the vinyl albums that didn't have the song lyrics inserts. I remember going to the local Woolworths near school to buy the Heroes album in 1977.

(I can see Crowley in this image, mind you I see Good Omens everywhere and in everything these days...lol.)

Well, my passion for Bowie led me to many things in my life, including Lindsay Kemp, his ex lover and Mentor. After I went to see The Lindsay Kemp Company in 1983, I had kind of gone off Bowie due to Let's Dance and getting Sunstroke at his gig in Milton Keynes. David Bowie had become popular with normal people at it felt like he had sold out at that point to me. So as most of my favourite bands had disbanded, it became a Theatrical life for me.

Recently I have gone back to check out Bowie, (post 1987... still can't do 1983 -1987. ) I found a video I hadn't seen, I knew the song but not the video. When you tour in Theatre you miss a lot of things, films, TV shows and music videos etc. Now I finally have time to catch up.

This video really feels influenced by David Bowie's time in The Lindsay Kemp Company...... especially when he performed in The Looking Glass Murders / Pierrot in Turquoise.

Firstly the bed... something Lindsay used all the time in so many Kemp Co shows.

David Bowie and Lindsay Kemp.

In the Bowie video.

More Kemp Co beds, first photo Flowers, 2nd The Maids, both based on the work of Jean Genet....as is Bowies song The Jean Genie.

And the guy in the colour screenshot really looks like Jack Birkett, aka The Incredible Orlando who was in the John, I'm only Dancing video...and danced in The Ziggy Stardust shows. The Black and white photos are Jack, who was actually blind. He was in a number of Derek Jarman's films.... most notably Jubilee and The Tempest. It isn't Jack in the video, he was too old to trussed up like that.

More similar scenarios.

Many don't realise that the Ziggy shows at the Rainbow were basically done upon the Kemp Company Flowers Set.

T.L. Bowie on Pierrot set, TR, Jack and Annie Stainer with Bowie during the Ziggy shows, bottom both photos of Flowers set. I am in B.R. photo Me being the Madame the last time the show was performed in Europe in 1992.

The last time David and Lindsay met was the early 1990s in Italy, Lindsay had said to me DB wasn't very friendly toward him...so I wonder if the video and song MIGHT be about that as the video feels that way to me with the imagery.

Strangers when we meet, David Bowie.

You, you, you, you, you, you

All our friends

Now seem so thin and frail

Slinky secrets

Hotter than the sun

No peachy prayers

No trendy rechauffé

I'm with you

So I can't go on

All my violence

Raining tears upon the sheets

I'm bewildered

For we're strangers when we meet

Blank screen TV

Preening ourselves in the snow

Forget my name

But I'm over you

Blended sunrise

And it's a dying world

Humming Rheingold

We scavenge up our clothes

All my violence

Raining tears upon the sheet

I'm resentful

For we're strangers when we meet

Cold tired fingers

Tapping out your memories

Halfway sadness

Dazzled by the new

Your embrace

It was all that I feared

That whirling room

We trade by vendu

Steely resolve

Is falling from me

My poor soul

All bruised passivity

All your regrets

Ride rough-shod over me

I'm so glad

That we're strangers when we meet

I'm so thankful

That we're strangers when we meet

I'm in clover

For we're strangers when we meet

Heel head over

But we're strangers when we meet

Strangers when we meet, strangers when we meet

Strangers when we meet, strangers when we meet.

........

Blimey, I only mentioned Good Omens and Crowley once.... how amazing! A NON Good Omens post...lol

I see Bowie in Crowley all the time and I don't apologise.

[kunikame]

TWISTED WONDERLAND

NATSUME DROPLIGHT (ref. to sundrop flower from tangled)

ramshackle dorm leader, 1st year

dominant hand : right homeland : ? club : gargoyle studies club best subject : astrology hobbies : art pet peeves : grim talking in his sleep favorite food : macarons least favorite food : pumpkin soup talent : quick to pick up skills friends : 1st year gang, kalim al-asim, silver vanrouge, malleus draconia, cater diamond, ruggie bucchi neutral : vil schoenheit, rook hunt, floyd leech (she’s scared of them), trey clover, jamil viper, idia shroud, leona kingscholar

her favorite vest is yellow but she had to give up wearing it because she was mistaken as a savanaclaw resident. mostly wears greyscale clothes now (partly due to ramshackle aesthetic), but she puts red ribbons in her hair since heartslabyul is like her 3rd home.

has a new bandage like every other day. ramshackle is a health hazard (curse you crowley. fix the damn staircase already).

she's on relatively good terms with everyone important, except floyd. the moment she glimpses him in a crowd she's GONE with the wind.

HEARTDROPS !! ace trappola x natsume droplight

#HEARTSHACKLE for life!! (deuce is third wheeling.)

everyone knew it was gonna happen eventually, but nobody knows how exactly it did (natsume asked ace out with a corny pick up line and he doesn't want anyone to know it worked)

nothing really changed between them, except the small sprinkle of additional pda (hand holding ew!!!!! - ace). they still relentlessly bully each other cause it’s fun.

deep down though, ace sometimes worries whether his jabs hurt more than she shows (he’s aware he can be an asshole, but hurting her is the last thing he would ever want to do).

he’s also terrified of the day she gets the chance to leave twisted wonderland. he knows this is not her real home and that she probably misses her family and friends, but he likes to think he and their friends are also essentially like family to her now– he likes to think she belongs here, with him (he doesn’t know she has no plans to leave).

movie nights every saturday, and 1st year game nights on fridays

though natsume constantly complains about them getting her in trouble with crowley, she would not trade their stupid asses for anything in the world.

very common date activity is dancing in ramshackle to songs from her homeland, or stargazing on the roof (ace fell off one time and he has not let her live it down since).

rarely will you find one without the other being somewhere nearby. it's an eyesore. they are banned from most public spaces.

ace offers to be her human canvas out of boredom sometimes and thoroughly enjoys the feeling of the cold paints on his skin, though he will never admit it aloud. when she gives him a painting or sketch of him as a gift he puts it in a hidden box under his bed. he faithfully collects them all to look back on when they're older. he swears up and down every new one he gets is better than the last one. he just loves being her muse

BACKSTORY !!

back at her original world, natsume was a pretty normal kid growing up. divorced parents with shared custody, a couple friends, some after school clubs and niche interests. average teen life basically

on a lovely friday morning, she had a nasty argument with her mother, and her already sour mood at the prospect of having to go to her fathers house later soured even further. she had a surprise math exam and her friends kept throwing jabs at her throughout the day.

safe to say, she’s had enough. after school she immediately rushed home without saying bye to her friends.

she tried to rush home anyway, but then a medieval looking carriage hit her and some magic dark mirror spoke at her. she honestly thought she was dead, but, nope, somehow even worse. some crazy dimensional travel occured and she found herself in the magical land of twisted wonderland. booyah!

ace, deuce and grim being her first friends in this crazed dimension was truly a blessing. despite grim being a talking cat and the other 2 being complete idiots, they were still somehow the most normal beings she's had the fortune to meet.

and, somehow, somewhere along the way, she found her eyes lingering on ace a tad longer than they normally should. found herself thinking about him more than it was socially acceptable between friends.

what joy. if she were alice she could never return now, for love is the strongest magic of all, or however the saying goes. be as it may, she stopped planning her return home long ago. perhaps staying here wouldn't be too bad, after all.

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 24

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 24: The Middle Ages were called the Dark Ages because there were too many knights.

Wessex wasn't really that great a place to be fomenting, honestly, but after getting kicked out of Ireland after that whole debacle with Pádraig, he was in a bit of a pickle. He needed some results and fast, preferably kind of close to Ireland so he could tell Hell he was working on figuring out the "no snakes or demons allowed" thing but far enough away that they didn't expect him to do something stupid like storm Rí Laighín. And King Arthur was doing half his work for him, annexing kingdoms left right and centre and leaving disillusioned and dispossessed sons of nobility in his wake. Whole island of out-of-work knights, just needing some direction.

He took up as The Black Knight mostly because there were already a few Black Knights out there making trouble and he could recruit them and pretend it was all his idea. Before the year was out, there were fifteen Black Knights under him, popping up to harry the Pricks of the Round Table whenever they bothered leaving their pretty little walled city of Camelot. It worked out pretty well for everybody. Crowley miraculously kept the knights and their squires and servants fed and watered and sheltered, the knights were organized so they mostly hit pricks who really deserved it (a twofer for Crowley: making the rich feel pain so they curse God and making a life of crime and sin appealing by smoothing off the rough edges), and relatively few farmers or whatnot got caught in the middle and could be tempted with something else later.

And then Sir Aziraphale showed up, and Crowley realized that any souls he'd secured for Hell had probably been counterbalanced by the angel's securing souls for Heaven. Just lucky they hadn't met at the points of each other's swords, and wasn't that a sobering thought. He didn't even like carrying a sword, mostly had a human do it rather than touch the blasted thing himself. He certainly didn't want to do a replay of the War nearly 5,000 years later with someone he actually pretty well liked and respected. And he definitely didn't want to do it soggy, foggy, damned damp old Wessex.

And it wasn't even like they were having fun, like they did sometimes; their jobs weren't all bad, but they were still jobs. Crowley wasn't exactly a fan of sleeping in fields, and neither was Aziraphale. Crowley might be good at logistics and politics and could wrangle a group of rich angry fratboys and their households, but that didn't mean this was his idea of a good time, and he knew Aziraphale hated the kind of court politicking, child-rearing assignment he was probably on right now. He'd probably volunteered to go hunt The Black Knight just to get away from some wailing kid for five whole minutes.

Really, it would be in their best interest if they called it even and went and took a holiday in Vichèi or something instead. Anything would be better than setting up a tent in yet another sodding field.

But, well. The angel had gone and called him the wrong name, and he'd gone and offended the angel's sense of propriety, and look where they'd landed. Camping in another bloody field, the both of them, and not even the same one. If Crowley'd played it better, maybe they'd at least be trading work gossip and tips on where to find decent lager now that the Romans had gone and taken all their wine with them. But nope: instead he had to babysit some Medieval frat boys, not that any of them would know what the Heaven he was talking about if he called them that, and try to convince them not to launch an attack on Sir Aziraphale in the morning on the strength of "because I said so." Yippee.

Crowley really did not like fomenting. Or Wessex.

[ineffable-endearments]

This is not meta, I'm just venting boringly and feeling very sorry for myself YET AGAIN lol. Season 2 spoilers.

If I'd known for sure. For the past two years. If I'd had a vague idea. "Season 2 will end on a big cliffhanger." "Season 2 will end in a bit of a dark place." "Season 2 is gonna be a tough one."

I'd have experienced some sadness and disappointment on hearing that news, but it would have happened slowly, over time. I'd trade away a few of the deliriously excited moments I've had over the past couple of years in order to soften what I'm feeling now. Of course, that would go against many fans who would have wanted to be totally unspoiled, and it wasn't the way Neil and the rest of the creative team wanted to tell the story, so that's okay. I accept it and can't blame anyone for how they approached it.

Like I said, I did know that act 2 of 3 usually ends with a massive flare-up of conflict. But I'm not a professional storyteller; knowing that fact in the abstract didn't keep me from wondering if maybe you could get around that somehow, or if maybe it could be...mitigated.

Rob did say "it will break your heart." That definitely put me on the alert a bit. But since it wasn't particularly corroborated by anyone else, it was easy for me, in an excited and hopeful state, to wonder if maybe he was talking about something that happens mid-season.

Intellectually, I KNOW how good this development could be for the overall story. I know. I know. But it doesn't fix the uncanny sadness of losing a favorite fantasy - losing something that only ever existed in my head, that is technically still there but feels changed now by this knowledge.

Almost nothing ever seems to get my blood pressure up in a way that I'm conscious of - but this season does. Sometimes, when thinking about it or worrying about the future, I can feel my heart start to pound and the blood rushing up the sides of my throat. Even now, two days later.

What's more, I'm realizing that I am just not very good at catching certain details. I didn't even notice, for example, that Aziraphale and Crowley were on the opposite sides from where they usually are during the ending credits. I completely missed a number of plot threads that were left hanging and didn't even notice a bunch of dialogue that is demonstrably bizarre. I was hoping to do more analysis and probably will continue to do it anyway because I can't help it, but it doesn't feel great knowing that I might be wrong about most things because I am maybe just not that good at analysis.

These characters, Aziraphale and Crowley, really do feel like two halves of me. And I'm stuck with all these massively strong, frankly irrational feelings about where they were left off, fractured.

It's weird having big feelings about this because people in real life don't get it, and they would not be totally unreasonable to wonder why I can't just compartmentalize and let go. My partner and family have been incredibly sweet, have never belittled me for feeling strongly (about anything), and have in fact been very reassuring. But I'm still aware that they would be a bit bemused and maybe concerned if I voiced the continued intensity of my feelings to them.

Anyway. That's what I'm doing here. If you've somehow read to the end, thanks.

[aylacavebear]

Stockroom Antics - Chapter 12

Maria had changed jobs numerous times over the last five years, more to keep herself safe than anything else. Her mother had told her she was a fairy but she thought it was just her mom being weird. Honestly, though, she had no other way of explaining what had happened to her that stormy day before she'd gone into a coma for two weeks.

Please don't take my work. I'll post warnings for each chapter. Will probably be 18+ I haven't decided yet!

Word Count: 1828

Pairing eventually Dean Winchester x OC

Warnings: Angst

A/N: This one's written a little differently than my last one. Let me know what you think. It's the first time I've tried this type of writing. Chapters will alternate viewpoints as well. I also looked into an actual area so this one could feel more realistic. This one is taking on a life of it's own in a turn I hadn't anticipated, so adding a new tag.

----------------------------------------- Stockroom Antics Chapter 12

Sam had noticed that the books had been moved the moment he and his brother went out to the library and immediately suspected her.

They didn’t know much about her, only what Dean had learned during their “date” and what they had found online. It wasn’t much to go off of. She at least had seemed like a decent person. Sam’s other concern was what Crowley had said, that Dean had feelings for her, even if his brother had denied it.

When she came out and brought those two books with her, it surprised both brothers. Dean could only watch her. He had so many questions but didn’t want to cross that line. She was his case, not just some random girl he met on the street for some fun or anything else. He had to stay focused. 

Both of them could tell something was bothering her. Sam even tried to get her to talk, but she was staying somewhat quiet or keeping her answers short. When she asked them if she was just a case to them, he wanted to say something, but he didn’t have an answer for her. His brother's answer wasn’t any better.

And now Dean was mentally berating himself for the answer he’d given her, even if she didn’t seem upset by it. It wasn’t what he wanted to say to her. He wanted to tell her that he did feel something, something he couldn’t explain.

That even with the sigil drawn on him, he still felt a draw to her. All he could do was clench his jaw and grab one of the books she’d set down on the table. Sam had grabbed the other one, which talked about a Pari and its soulmate.

The three of them sat in silence for almost an hour before Dean got up and headed into the kitchen. He needed to do something physically, and she needed to eat, even if she hadn’t even brought up food. His mind was reeling with his thoughts, which only frustrated him further. Before realizing it, he’d made three sandwiches, cleaned up, and returned to the library.

“Eat,” he told her, setting one of the plates down on the book in front of her. Then he gave his brother one. He sat down in his seat and forced himself to eat as well.

She looked over at him, mostly without expression, possibly some curiosity or even some confusion, but didn’t argue. Dean watched her out of his peripheral, making sure she ate. She moved the plate off the book but ate while she read, not looking up.

“Thanks,” she said, mostly quietly, without looking up from her book.

Dean tried to focus on the book in front of him. He’d even come across the chapter about unlocking her powers. If it wasn’t for the fact that Rowena was Crowley’s mother, he might have considered calling her to see if she could do one of the spells in the book. He finished the chapter about the same time he finished his sandwich.

“Sam, check this out,” he told his brother, somewhat gruffly, handing him the book that was opened to the chapter he’d just finished.

“Yeah, same. Trade me,” Sam agreed, handing him the book he’d been reading.

Neither of them noticed her glance at the two of them without fully looking up at either of them. She finished her sandwich, though, and then a cup of soda appeared on the table in front of her book. 

Dean traded books with his brother and started reading where it was open to. He barely kept a straight face when he read the part about the soulmate, then wondered if there was something in the bunker that could explain that further. He looked up at Sam and opened his mouth, then shut it quickly. 

He’d have to wait till she wasn’t around. If she’d read this information, he didn’t want her to think something weird about him. Dean already felt weird or like some creep with the thoughts that kept drifting into his mind when it came to her. None of them were even sexual thoughts. He just wanted to be close to her, hold her, and somehow comfort her through this. 

The brothers both noticed how she got up and went over to the bookshelves, scanning the titles. Neither was quite sure what she was looking for, though.

“Looking for something specific?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something about angel and demon powers,” she mumbled, focusing on the books.

Dean and Sam shared another unspoken conversation through a look, “We know lots of stuff about those. If you want, we could just tell you,” Sam offered, wondering if it had to do with her powers and what he’d just read.

“It would help to read it too, but sure,” she replied, seeming nonchalant about it.

Sam got up and went over to another bookshelf, pulling down around ten books, then set them all on the table near where she’d been sitting, “That’s the best place to start on angels and demons,” he told her.

She looked over at the stack, although she’d been watching him out of the corner of her eye, “Thanks.” They both returned to where they’d been sitting, and she opened the top book. Neither of them realized she was using her powers to find the information she was after, wanting to know what angel and demon powers consisted of.

Sam then proceeded to tell her what he knew of angels: how they possessed people but needed permission to do so, flying, immortality but that they could be killed, how they could locate someone who wasn’t warded against it, how they could heal themselves and others, time travel, how they could put someone to sleep, that they were strong. He even chuckled a little, remembering back to some of their interactions with Cas.

“Oh, and they can enter people’s dreams,” Dean piped in, remembering how Cas and other angels had done that to him on several occasions.

“Huh…” she mused, not looking up from the book.

Why does she have to look so adorable, Dean thought to himself as he noticed how a few strands of her hair fell just over her face as she read. She closed the book and looked at the stack, grabbing one from the middle carefully. He wanted to ask her why she went for that book in particular but couldn’t seem to get the question to pass his lips. He also really wanted to know what was going through her head.

“Demons are similar, just meaner about it,” Sam continued, deciding to switch topics. 

He noticed her nod, seeming to be listening to him. Sam explained that demons, too, could possess people but didn’t need permission. They could also fly, were immortal but could be killed, that they weren’t affected by something that would kill a person even if they were possessing someone; they were extremely strong, like angels; they weren’t required to eat or sleep, and they could throw someone across a room with just a wave of their hand.

“Hmm…” she mused, again not looking up from her book, then sipped the glass of what looked like soda.

“Where’d that come from?” Sam asked as she hadn’t gotten up, and neither of them had gotten her anything to drink.

“I just thought about wanting some soda,” she answered fairly nonchalantly again.

“Have you ever done that before?” Sam asked curiously.

“No. Figured I’d give it a try after I read that book earlier,” she replied casually, not looking up from her book.

They didn’t realize that she was putting the pieces together for herself. Their job was to somehow keep her safe and away from Crowley. The last thing they needed was for Crowley to have a Pari with its powers fully activated in his arsenal. To them, she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would help anyone do something mean or cruel, but again, they hardly knew her.

Near dinner time, Dean went into the kitchen again, starting with getting himself a beer. He needed it at this point. His mind hadn’t stopped. He wanted to talk to her, get to know her, entirely outside the case. Even with all that he had read, he still had no idea how to keep her from Crowley.

He let his mind wander as he cooked burgers for dinner. She was beautiful in a way he hadn’t seen before, and the pull to be near her tingled through his nerves again. When Sam finally joined him in the kitchen, he was almost relieved.

“What the hell is a soulmate?” Dean asked relatively quietly so that she couldn’t hear them.

“I’ve heard of that before. It explains why humans carry that Pari gene, too. I’ll have to go through the lore, see what I can find,” Sam answered, knowing exactly what his brother was curious about.

Neither of the brothers had ever looked into the soulmate thing. It had come up a couple of times, but they just brushed it off, not needing the information at the time. 

“Can you give me anything?” Dean almost pleaded as he flipped the burgers.

Sam sighed, “It has to do with being drawn to someone. I think soulmates can feel each other sometimes. Other times, it’s harder. One of them might not believe in it, and it blocks that connection. Other than that, I have no idea,” he explained, trying to remember back to the little he did know.

Dean furrowed his brows as he looked down at the cooking burgers. He’d never thought about a soulmate, primarily because of his job but also because it was something he never heard about growing up. He wondered if maybe it wasn’t a human thing or just something that wasn’t widely known.

“Let me know what you find out,” Deam mumbled, only partially wanting to know.

Sam just nodded a little, giving his brother an understanding smile before he headed back out to the library and got on his laptop. His main search, soulmates.

When Dean brought out dinner, he set a plate down for each of them, as well as a beer. She thanked him and even gave him a friendly smile, which he involuntarily returned before he sat down. It was frustrating to him that it felt like he had no control over certain things, like that smile he gave her. 

“This is really good,” she stated, sounding almost surprised.

“I can cook, Sweetheart,” he chuckled, unable to help himself.

He missed her rolling her eyes and quickly turned his attention back to not only his dinner but also to the book he currently had in front of him. This lack of control was seriously beginning to bother him. So, he ate in silence, doing everything he could to not even look at her out of the corner of his eye.

----------------------------------------- Chapter 13

Tag List: @djs8891

Link to the series Master List

A/N: If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, leave me a comment, and I'll make sure to tag you.