#sensitivesiren

[sensitivesiren]

really hate that stage of writers block where you're reading your old writing and going wow i wrote that? why can't i do that right now? why can't i words? i've done words before! why can't i words!

[indigovigilance]

indigovigilance meta index

blue marks my must-reads for meta theory, bold are recommended just for fun/feels/fanfaves

A Nightingale Sang in 1941 Maggie is Possessed Aziraphale, Nina, and Identity Miracles Don't Work Like That I’m honestly very glad that they went with two middle-aged men. Baraqiel and Azazel Lament of the Metatron The Erasure of Human!Metatron Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley Angel Pinky Rings Before the Beginning is Doctored Aziraphale Knew that Crowley was Living in his Car When They Became Their Own Side Falling Up: Jimbriel, Satan, the Book of Life, and what it means for Crowley pt2 Every single minisode is Aziraphale's memory, and why that's [not?] important It will be a line, but not between the two of them. Why Aziraphale Wears Reading Glasses Homoerotic Pistols at Dawn (a conversation with @queerfables) Tarot Symbolism in 1941 Why Crowley Rescues Aziraphale Honolulu Roast: the story of a coup One more note on Time Muriel is a Paralegal, and Crowley is going to need her help Aziraphale punches Jesus in the face

Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop Why Crowley is "blind" to his Yellow Eyes Bildad the Shuite in Edinburgh Their Canon First Date Sodom and Gomorrah: A Speculative Meta Anthony, Anthony, Anthony The Final Fifteen is about Terry Pratchett's Death Neil Gaiman's 3 Cameos Mr. Brown Comforting Crowley Continuity Errors Book of Job - gamma-edit of @sensitivesiren Closeness They won't get married The Astrologer that Fell into a Well Why Crawley renames himself Crowley The Hornet in the Beehive The Child in S2E5 What's Up with Maggie Aziraphale, Kermit the Frog, and Fraggle Rock Season 2 Episode 6 ruined me Snake Vision Miraculous Energy Did God Forgive Aziraphale about the Sword? Restoring Angel!Crowley was Aziraraphale's Hope for 2,000 Years What Will Make Aziraphale Snap Aziraphale will go looking for people in Heaven Reusing the Cast Crowley's Dream Bullet Theory

You can also subscribe to my meta series on Ao3 to have new metas sent directly to your inbox, if you like.

~

General Post Index: contains links to others' meta and add'l resources

Support the community, read voraciously!

[thisbisexualbrainrot]

I Know Places We Can Hide

Rating: E

Summary: Aziraphale sneaks out of Heaven to visit Crowley. This fic is my version of a third season!

Tags: Post Season 2 Finale. Canon Compliant. Aziraphale POV. M/M. Sexual but plot driven.

Author Notes: NOW ON AO3! I just want more fic from Azi's perspective so I did it myself. Partly based on this post by @sensitivesiren cause I thought it was a great theory. Full first chapter is under the cut! :)

“Baby, I know places we won't be found and

They'll be chasing their tails trying to track us down

'Cause I know places we can hide.”

-Taylor Swift

—

He wasn't supposed to be here. 

Earth, that is. He wasn't supposed to be on Earth. And certainly was not supposed to be visiting a certain demon who, for all he knew, did not ever want to see him again. 

The Supreme Archangel took a breath to steady himself, absentmindedly pulling on the stiff collar of his pressed, white suit that he knew he could not show his face in. A hint of a buzzing sensation in his fingers and he was back in his familiar earthly attire. 

It's a small miracle, they won't notice…I hope Aziraphale bit his lip and wondered if he was pushing his luck too far this time. He had slipped out after his weekly management meeting, when the weight of the discussion had been overwhelming to no one else but him. He didn’t understand how they could talk about such things, their eyes dull with apathy, like they were discussing budgeting and not the destruction of the human race. 

These last few months had been a torment. He knew Crowley was right, he was not like the other angels. He didn't care about war or great plans. Well, he did care in the sense that he didn't understand why the earth needed to be destroyed at all. If I'm the one in charge, I can make a difference. Some difference he’d made, indeed. In the months he’d been in heaven, the only difference he’d made was restructuring the scrivener recording schedules due to Muriels absence. In all other regards, he had found the job to be lacking in the “making decisions for heaven” department. It was more of a mouthpiece role, mimicking whatever The Metatron told him to command of the lower angels. He realized rather quickly that he had been manipulated. That heaven had offered him the job to get him away from Earth. Away from Crowley. Away from actually making a difference. 

So, his wary eyes scanning the room near the elevator, he hastened his steps toward it and made his escape.

–

“Nope, not doing this.” 

Crowley shot up from the bench like it was made of holy water. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you, Angel.” He turned to leave Saint James park, but not before throwing a spiteful “You can go ahead and change your clothes back. I know that's not what you're wearing up there.” 

Aziraphale breathed out sharply through his nose. Of course, Crowley was going to be difficult. He’d hurt him, he knew that but he had hoped the demon would at least be a little pleased to see him.

 “I changed for my own comfort, if you must know.” Not a complete lie. “Crowley, we need to talk. I-I’m terribly regretful of how we left things and-”  “You need my help.” He interrupted,  “That's why you’re here, right?” Aziraphale said nothing. He understood he had hurt him but the demon had hurt him as well. And it wasn’t fair that he was being so cruel. Crowley clearly noted the silence and snarked, “Well, unfortunately for you, I'm out of the business of helping angels.” 

“Crowley, please.” Aziraphale said softly, “I- if you would just hear me out.” The angel felt a pang of fear, pursing his lips and hoping that he would at least be allowed to explain himself. He couldn’t read Crowley's expression since he wasn’t facing him but his shoulders looked… tense.  He finally heard Crowley mutter through gritted teeth, “Fine.” 

“Oh, thank you.” He could feel a slight warmth of relief sing through his bones. “You see, I made a terrible mistake and The Meta-” He stopped himself, this should be discussed more privately. He stumbled over his words, “That is, Could I-...would you be willing to come back to the bookshop with me?” It was the first place he could think of but not the most ideal place either, he realized. 

Crowley paused and Azirphale hoped he hadn’t ruined his chance. “We can meet at my place.” 

“Oh you're um- you have a new one now?”  Crowley seemingly ignored the question. He took out a slip of paper that looked like a receipt, scrawled an address on it and handed it to him, still not turning fully to meet the Angel's eyes. “Meet you there.” And with that, Crowley quickly shoved his slender hands into his tight pockets and walked away.

Aziraphale watched Crowley leave, the slip of paper still clutched between his fingers. Hearing the anger in his voice made the angel wince. Oh how I've made a mess of things.

-

He still stopped by the bookshop briefly to check on it. Muriel was delighted to tell him all about their interactions with the humans and how they had read almost every book in the shop already. He smiled kindly to them, his mind distracted by the events in the park. He did not mention any of it to the young scrivener. He gave them a quick farewell, thanked them for watching over things and exited the shop. Anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach. Right, the address. He pulled it out of his pocket.

 How would he ever explain all of this? Where would he start? Had heaven realized he was gone? What if they found him? He glanced around anxiously and waited for a feeling of Michael or Uriel appearing but saw no none. He wanted to stop and see Maggie and Nina but couldn't risk any more time. He would have to catch up with them later. 

He glanced back down at the sheet of paper and could make out the address even with Crowley's terrible handwriting. Aziraphale couldn't help but smile. It turns out, the flat was just a few blocks away. Maybe Crowley didn’t truly hate him after all.

The doorbell rang, a hollow chime echoing through the flat. Aziraphale waited not so patiently for the black door to swing open, yellow eyes finally meeting his gaze.

 “I knew they would be purple.” Crowley mumbled with what sounded like annoyance to his voice.

His eyes. He had forgotten. “Oh- I would love to do away with them, however, I can't seem to change them.” He fiddled with his ring and gave Crowley a half hearted, nervous smile.  Crowley smirked, “I know the feeling.” 

He stepped aside, a gesture that pulled Aziraphale in and he was hit with the familiar comforting scent of amber and brimstone. I know what you smell like he remembered the demon telling him once, and well…likewise. The door shut behind him and Crowley headed over to a bar counter, pulling two wine glasses from a rack and pouring each of them a glass. A fire crackled in the hearth, and the room was cozy despite being mostly decorated in sleek black furnishings. Crowley handed him the glass and Aziraphale managed to say thank you with a steady voice. He was incredibly nervous. “So?” Crowley cleared his throat, knocking Aziraphale’s racing mind back into the room. “Are you going to explain what the purpose of this holy appearance is?” He settled in a large armchair, swinging one leg over the other. He leveled his gaze on Aziraphale, taking a sip of his wine. 

Aziraphale felt the panic that had been swelling inside of him threaten to bubble over. He had no idea where to begin, just as he had feared. He ran his finger nervously over the rim of his glass. Staring down at it, he centered himself and pulled together what he needed to say, or at least it was a start. 

He admitted quietly, “I've made a terrible mess of things. I should have never taken the job.” 

Crowley was silent. Aziraphale continued after a pause, his eyes still downward. “It appears The Metatron’s intentions were to separate us. I have been all but useless as a leader, I'm afraid. They don't actually let me decide anything. Not anything of real importance. And, worst of all, they plan to initiate the Second Coming in a matter of months? Years? I'm not entirely sure but it will be soon.” 

Crowley let out a frustrated sounding sigh, shaking his head, “So that is why you’re here, to get my help then? Cause if that’s all you want you can shove o-” 

“No.” Aziraphale looked up then, and he hoped Crowley could see the pain in his eyes as he confessed, “I am here to apologize and beg for your forgiveness.” Silence. A long awkward pause. Aziraphale didn't know what to say next, so he waited. 

“Well then Angel, go on.” Crowley gestured his glass toward him. “Beg.” 

Aziraphale huffed, “If you are going to make a mockery of it, I’ll just as soon leave.” 

Crowley looked amused, “Oh come on, you really can't expect that I wouldn't give you a hard time. With you rejecting me and all, it's only fair.” 

“I would appreciate you taking this seriously.” Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. If Crowley was going to make his feelings a joke, then he wasn't going to even bother trying to mend this- this…

“Oh I am,” Crowley’s tone shifted, “and you better start talking, Angel.” 

“Fine.” Aziraphale straightened, setting his untouched glass on a nearby table. He looked at Crowley, “You were right.” “I want the dance.”

“No.” Bastard.

“Then apology not accepted” Crowley took another swig of his wine. It was almost like he was having fun with this. Looking Aziraphale up and down he remarked flatly, “You’ve lost weight. No crepes in heaven, I suppose.” 

Aziraphale felt his frustration growing, “Crowley, will you please focus on what I am trying to say?” 

“So far, I haven't really heard you say anything.” Crowley shot back, his eyes were dark and angry. 

Aziraphale had enough. He moved toward Crowley’s seat, kneeling in front of him firmly but gently. He locked their eyes together, hoping that Crowley wouldn't see how scared he was and mistake it for something else.

“Then I will say it now.” Aziraphale’s voice wavered but he pushed on, “I have never regretted something more, in six thousand years. For choosing to leave you. The truth is…” He swallowed nervously, “I love you Crowley, no matter what you are. I will always love you the same.” He took a breath, “A-And you owe me nothing in return, except I would prefer for you to still consider me a friend. You don't have to kiss me, if it's not genuine.” If Crowley would agree to still be his friend, that would be enough. He didn't want Crowley to feel forced to love him the way he wanted. That would not do. And he couldn’t bear to hear Crowley speak to him with such disdain and anger any longer, even if some of it was deserved. He had placed his hands on the demon’s knees sometime during this admission, the warmth of Crowley's legs sending a jolt of adrenaline down to his gut. Now, it seems, he was unable to remove them. He was frozen in place, his eyes following Crowley’s expression. The demon said nothing, at first. Aziraphale watched as he slowly set his wine glass down, 

“You think it wasn't genuine then.” Not a question. 

Aziraphale looked back at him with slight confusion. “You- you surely know how I feel about you, Crowley. Certainly your kiss was a cruel temptation, was it not? A last effort to try to change my mind? I-I forgave you for it but it did hurt, you see, so I was angry and I-...I am..” 

“ARGH!” Crowley stood up, pushing past Aziraphale and spinning around to face him. “Did you really not hear a word I said?!��

Aziraphale, startled by the sudden movement and aggression, stood and turned to face Crowley with confusion now etched into his features. “I-I was listening. You didn't want to come with me, you didn't want to be an angel with me, you- you said you didn't need heav- “ 

“Argh, not that part Aziraphale!” Crowley rarely said his full name anymore. He loved how it sounded rolling off the demon's tongue. Very distracting. 

“What part then?” Aziraphale asked quietly. He had clearly been wrong about the kiss, but that meant- he felt his heart beat faster in his chest. 

“I refuse to believe you dont know.” Crowley’s expression hardened, but tears welled in his eyes. He didn't have his sunglasses to hide them and Aziraphale could see then that the anger and disdain for him was actually just…heartbreak. 

Crowley was heartbroken. Oh. OH.

He had been wrong in Crowley's intentions for the kiss.

Crowley had been trying to tell him his feelings the last time they saw each other. Aziraphale had just not been listening properly, or at least not been really hearing him properly. The kiss was a last ditch attempt, but it was to show Aziraphale how he felt. What they could be if he did stay. We could have been us. 

“Oh I…Crowley.” He stepped closer instinctively, reaching his arm out to grasp Crowley's hand. He thought for a moment Crowley would pull away, but he didn’t. “I've been such a complete fool. Please forgive me.” Crowley cursed quietly as a tear slipped down his cheek, looking away. Aziraphale pulled them closer then, his free hand reaching up to turn Crowley’s face back to him and wipe the tear away. His hand remained, gently rubbing his thumb on the demon’s cheekbone. Aziraphale’s heart could not have been beating louder in his ears as Crowley leaned in until their foreheads were resting on each other. A breath of silence and then quietly he heard,

“I’ve missed you, Angel.” 

“And I you, my dear. Desperately.” Aziraphale closed his eyes and brushed his nose against Crowley’s, cautiously. Slowly. With his eyes shut, the sensation of the demon’s breath was so close. His warm face was so unbearably close and the Angel pushed in further until his lips were barely caressing the demons, testing his boundaries. 

Testing to see if Crowley would push him away.

He didn’t. 

Aziraphales heart fluttered as Crowley wrapped his hand around the Angel’s neck, his fingers curling into the nape of the white curls and pushed in to deepen the kiss. It felt like fire. Warm, crackling and intense. Nothing like before, no feeling of humiliation or pain. Aziraphale sunk into it, letting out a small moan as Crowley licked against his lips. Crowley must have taken the moan as an invitation. He began to push off Aziraphale’s jacket and it fell to the floor. 

Aziraphale pulled back slightly, “Crowley, I- shouldn't we talk about this?” 

“I think we’ve done enough talking, don't you? Always talking, us.”

Crowley moved back in to claim the angel's mouth once more and Aziraphale agreed, they could talk after. After they- oh mother in heaven, has Crowley always smelled this incredible? He breathed in deeply, pushing his tongue in and getting a satisfying groan in return. He wanted all of him then. Wanted to touch every unholy inch of him. He felt Crowley start to push him backward and clung to him as they toppled onto a black velvet couch. He felt the weight of Crowley's hips as he settled onto his lap, one leg resting on either side as he straddled over him and cupped his jaw, kissing him feverishly. Aziraphale used one hand to pull the demon closer to him. The other gripped Crowley's neck, fingers gliding into perfectly soft red hair. He felt Crowley slip off his shoes and he did the same, all while not breaking their joined mouths even for a moment. Crowley chuckled affectionately as he broke their lips apart, “You sure you’re alright with this, Angel?”

“I don't know what you mean,” Aziraphale chided, “I have been around just as long as you. I know perfectly well what this is.” 

Crowley wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, “but have you ever...” he waved his hands and the rest trailed off. Implied. “I haven't had the desire until now.” 

“Oh is that so?” Crowley teased, “Well well, Supreme Archangel...” 

Aziraphale blushed hotly and sputtered “Well I- I wouldn't say I didn't have the desire till now but I just- oh you know what I mean you impertinent demon!” Crowley rolled his hips then, and Aziraphale forgot to keep scolding him. 

“S’what I’m good at after all” he whispered, his breath hot in Aziraphale’s ear, “flustering you”. 

He then watched the demon's eyes go wide as he grasped Crowley's thighs and flipped them over on the couch. The angel was now resting on top, his legs splitting Crowley's apart. Aziraphale began running his nose along Crowley’s neck, his voice a bit deeper than usual. “You know my dear, I think you underestimate just how adept I am at flustering you as well.” He then pressed a number of light kisses along Crowley’s long neck, and was quite pleased when he heard a low growl. He had never felt quite like this. There was an unleashing of desire at seeing Crowley laid out so desperate for him. He nuzzled lovingly against Crowley's mouth, his eyes half lidded, as he asked “Where is your bed?” Crowley swallowed, noticeably. His voice was rough. “Down the hall to the left.” 

“Show me.” 

Crowley pushed Aziraphale off of him enough to stand and hastily lead him down the hall, their sock-covered feet sliding smoothly over the hardwood floor. He had reached out and grabbed the Angel's hand without another word. And Aziraphale’s heart was in his throat as they entered the bedroom. Crowley pushed him back to lean against the doorframe and kissed him achingly and intentionally. The angel barely noticed the undoing of his bowtie as it dropped to the floor. They broke apart and Aziraphale sucked in a shuddering breath,

 “Crowley…” he exhaled as he lifted the silver tie over the demon’s head. The black leather vest came undone next and he captured the demon's lips in his again as Crowley set to work on his velvet waistcoat. With hungry confidence, Aziraphale pushed against Crowley until he was stepping backward toward the king size bed. The demon was finally sliding off the waistcoat and working his way down the buttons of the undershirt when he muttered with frustration,

“Too many layers....” and proceeded to rip the rest of the shirt off, the buttons clattering against the wood floor. Aziraphale, shockingly, did not object. He pulled the white undershirt off over his head and climbed on top of Crowley as they settled onto the black duvet, soft and inviting against their bodies. He ran a hand down the demon's side and Crowley hissed with pleasure as the angel ducked down and pushed the black t-shirt up to run his mouth along the demon’s stomach. The shirt was pulled off and got lost somewhere on the bed in the process. 

“Aziraphale...” Crowley breathed, and a vulnerability slipped out of him. He said the angel's name like it was a prayer. He brought his mouth back up to Crowley’s lips and felt the demon wrap his arms around him. When their lips met again it was a moment of devotion and reverence. He savored Crowley's mouth, trying to give him the worship and love he deserved. Please always say my name that way. Please always want me as you do now. He begged silently and he hoped Crowley could feel how much he adored him. The demon kissed back with as much affection, rolling them so he was now laying on the broad chest of the angel. He sunk his head down and began kissing his neck and down his chest. Aziraphale moaned and grabbed at the red disheveled hair of the demon, bucking his body upwards to bring himself closer to Crowley’s pleasuring mouth as he moved downward. 

“So naughty…” Crowley teased and Aziraphale let out a small huff of annoyance. But Crowley kissed his body tenderly, nipping and smoothing over the bites with his tongue. And slowly moved downward. Until Aziraphale sucked in a breath at the sensation of Crowley’s mouth on his cock, only a thin layer of fabric in between. He needed that fabric to be gone. Thankfully, Crowley was one step ahead and pulled the boxer briefs down the Angels thick thighs. 

The feeling was overwhelming, incredibly good but almost too much. His vision went blurry and all he could think was how he needed more. Every movement of Crowley's hot, wet mouth pushed the Angel further into utter oblivion. It was no surprise that humans found this so enjoyable, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it until now. He gasped as Crowley's tongue flicked out to pleasure him and lost all sense of anything but the demon's touch on his skin. 

If this was sinful, Aziraphale made a mental note to sin often in the future. 

_

It was some time later when they collapsed, the tension in their bodies melting away with the release. Aziraphale laid next to Crowley, his breathing a little ragged as he caught up. He rolled over and smiled into the crook of the demon's neck and Crowley smiled too as they both broke into a shared laughter. There was no denying what was between them. There was no going back now. And somehow, after everything, they found that it was incredibly funny. Crowley sighed pleasantly. He rubbed his hand on his forehead, pushing his sweaty red locks away from his face, 

“Well, now that that coming is over with, do you want to tell me more about this Second Coming then?” Aziraphale gaped with dramatic disgust, and nearly shoved Crowley off the bed. Crowley sat up laughing, “I'm going to grab the rest of that wine.” 

Aziraphale pulled him back down to sit on the bed, sitting up himself to wrap his arms around him from behind and plant a kiss on his cheek. He savored the feeling of intimacy as his bare chest warmed against the demon's back. 

Crowley laughed warmly, “I’ll be right back.” 

He got up and pulled on a black silk robe he had hanging on his door, and reached into his closet to toss an oversized Velvet Underground t-shirt to the Angel. 

Aziraphale tucked up his nose at the shirt, “Don’t you have anything a little more stylish?” Crowley rolled his eyes, “It's just us, you’ll survive. I’ll go grab you some new clothes tomorrow.” 

Azirphale watched him slip the robe on, wanting very much to rip it off later. Partly to wear it instead of the t-shirt, if he was being totally honest. He could miracle something, he supposed, but he’d already risked enough doing the small one earlier. And Crowley wasn't doing miracles either, he noticed. He thought back to the handwritten slip of paper. 

But he couldn't deny that he enjoyed the pleasing silk covered view that sauntered down the hallway and out of sight. 

–

It turns out he had lost a little weight and the shirt did fit. Albeit a little tighter in the arms and shoulders than it would on Crowley but it would do. 

When Crowley returned, Aziraphale was wearing the offending t-shirt with his boxer briefs back on, blonde hair disheveled and flipping through the records Crowley had on a small shelf in the corner of his room. He noticed Crowley staring at him, a look of arousal in his eyes and he suddenly felt very self conscious. He was sure he looked like an absolute mess, but apparently the new look was appealing to the demon. 

Aziraphale walked over to meet him and accepted the glass of wine he had neglected to drink earlier gratefully. He felt so content it was almost dizzying and he heard himself say without thinking,  

“I hope you know that I am very much in love with you.” And he couldn't very well take it back, and realized he actually didn't even want to. He leaned in for a kiss before sitting on the edge of the bed. He felt the weight of it shift as the demon joined him. 

“I caught on, I think,” Crowley teased. “Seeing as you left your very important heavenly post to pop down here and seduce me.” Aziraphale’s blush deepened and he caught Crowley smiling devilishly, clearly enjoying it. 

“T-that wasn't the plan! Initially.” Aziraphale fussed absentmindedly with the bottom hem of the shirt, “Oh I don't know, perhaps it was. I just couldn't stand being there anymore. They are all so dreadfully dull and awful. I needed to see you. I couldn't leave it as it was and- oh dear,” Aziraphale remembered, “Do you think they’ve realized I'm gone?” 

“Probably.” Crowley shrugged, stilling the angels' fussing hand with his own. Aziraphale was grateful for the secure touch. “But they have no idea where you are.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I warded this place after I moved in, against angels and demons. No one enters here without my permission and no one can see it or who’s inside. We can hide here until we sort this out.” 

“Impressive,” Aziraphale sipped his wine, “How did you come up with such a thing?” “Muriel has been reading a lot of your books, the ones in the back. Spell books. And, I had my own ideas. I wasn't sure it would work but I tested it on Muriel, they couldn't come in until I let them. I don't know for sure about the second part of it. So we will see what happens, I suppose.”   

“Fascinating.” Aziraphale smiled fondly. “You really are such a clever demon. I’ve always thought so.” Crowley blushed, and it did not go unnoticed. Aziraphale let Crowley pull his face in and give him a long, affectionate kiss. His mouth was warm and supple from earlier, a hint of wine on his tongue. 

“I'm in love with you too, Angel.” Crowley stated, like it was as obvious as the stars in the sky. “And I thought, maybe, you would come back so I- I, you know, came up with a plan. Just in case.” 

Aziraphale beamed at the confession. He wasn’t sure if he ever would say it out loud and honestly didn’t need to hear it. But, actually hearing it was like finally releasing a breath he’d been holding for years. But that initial meeting in the park, if he’d wanted him to come back then why-

“You didn’t seem to want me back at first.” It was more a question, and he looked at Crowley to see how it landed. Crowley was staring straight ahead at nothing. Lost in memory.

“I did,” he said finally. “But missing you and actually seeing you again were very- it was hard to know for sure why you came back.” 

“Ah,” Aizraphale felt a small twinge of guilt, “Well, I hope it’s clear now.” 

Crowley chuckled, “Just a bit, yeah.” And for the first time, Aziraphale felt truly forgiven. 

They talked through the night, among other things that distracted from the conversation. By morning light, they had the beginnings of a plan to save humanity and each other. Again. 

_ It had been a few hours after Aziraphale had left the bookshop. Muriel was busy cataloging books when Michael stormed through the doors seething, Uriel following behind. “Where is he?” 

Muriel smiled, “Oh hello! Where is who?” 

“Aziraphale.” Michael snapped, “who else would I come here asking about?” 

Muriel winced, “I don't know actually. He was here for a moment but then he left. He didn't say where he was going.” 

Michael let out an aggravated groan. They had been tasked by a very irritated Voice of God to locate the second missing Supreme Archangel and bring him back immediately. 

The only problem was, there was no trace of him anywhere. Or the demon Crowley. 

Ugh. 

Michael was going to get so much shit for this. 

_

Author Notes: Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like me to continue this story. :)

[sensitivesiren]

okay so what i love most about this scene is that Blitzø was TRYING to pick a fight. verosika has always been easy for blitzø to rile up and get a reaction out of and it's a way blitzø can process his big feelings without having to be emotional. fighting is like fucking for him - it's a release without having to face his feelings. he went to verosika looking for SOMETHING - and she said absolutely not. you don't get to fight or fuck your way out of this. you made this shit pile - now sit in it. and it's EXACTLY what needed to happen.

THIS! THIS WAS EVERYTHING! THANK YOU VIVZIE FOR LETTING THIS BREAK-UP CONTINUE! IT SO AWESOME! IT WAS SUCH A GOOD EP! It's also nice to hear Verosika's full perspective. I loved this interaction so much

[aziraphales-library]

hello! thanks for all the work you do. i was wondering if there are any good mermaid AUs out there? maybe with one of them being a mermaid and the other a human? a long-ish word count would be great. thanks!

Hello! We've recced some before so please check our #merfolk tag

Some more newer ones:

Strange Tides by Caedmon [G]

Aziraphale has been keeping the lighthouse at Eastgate Harbour for many years, since the Great War, and he's been content with his life - solitary though it may be. But when a storm blows up and knocks him into the sea, he's sure he's drowning... until he's rescued by a mysterious creature who seems to know him.

Fathoms Below by sensitivesiren [E], WIP

"Crowley closes his eyes and begins to sing. He starts out low, weaving his intent into the melody, pulling from deep within the ancient well of finfolk power until he can feel the Trance take hold. The overtones of his voice drip with venom, slithering up the sides of the ship and searching for that which it can constrict and devour. His temptation wraps itself tightly around the sailors above, poisoning their minds, promising them what they desire most. The call beckons them into the dark water, whispering in their ears that all of their dreams will come true if they only let go and follow him into the deep."

What lurks beneath the deep (is a friend) by AnnaTheHank [T], WIP

Naturalist Aziraphale is excited about his new home. All the way on the other side of the sea he'll find more new things to research than he can count! But his most exciting discovery comes in the form of a mermaid, and one who might just hold the secrets to a grand treasure.

But Half a Fish by MelayneSeahawk [E], WIP

Aziraphale is the lighthouse keeper for a small town, when a mysterious stranger arrives

~Mod N

[jessarioferebor]

Fanart for sensitivesiren’s Aziraphale/Crowley mermay fic, “Fathoms Below.” I printed off the drawing the author made and tried to bring it to life with color :)

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Fathoms Below

Fathoms Below

by sensitivesiren

With audacity and the number of times I've watched the Little Mermaid and also Good Omens as my only credentials, I've decided to write the fic I wanted to see in the world. This is my first fic and I'm VERY excited about it. (Inspired by @RiseofTheFallenOne)

Words: 5638, Chapters: 2/?, Language: English

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

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Hastur (Good Omens), Ligur (Good Omens), Dagon (Good Omens), Beelzebub (Good Omens), Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Anathema Device, Agnes Nutter, Gabriel (Good Omens), Michael (Good Omens), Sandalphon (Good Omens), Uriel (Good Omens), Adam Young (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Humor, mermaid au, Angst with a Happy Ending, siren au, Mermaid Crowley, Prince Crowley, Prince Aziraphale, Fluff and Smut, eventually, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Posessive Crowley, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens)

From https://ift.tt/ZuRXs4q https://archiveofourown.org/works/39778443

[sensitivesiren]

(if someone has these screencaps please add them to this post - i'm technologically challenged)

I simply cannot get over the look that passes between Aziraphale and Crowley in s2ep2 when they restore Job's children and all of the angels turn to Aziraphale and ask if they're his new children, and we can see him squirm a little and dodge the question with "they certainly seem to be!" and then a few lines later the angels turn to him with an "Aziraphale, who are they?" an inescapable question, time is limited, he can't hesitate, but he LOCKS eyes with Crowley who is leaning against a post with his eyebrows raised in a whose side are you on stare.

And then it pans back to Aziraphale who hesitates, "They . . . are . . ."

and then he has this LOOK on his face, of acceptance, of resignation, and he makes eye contact with Crowley again, and says "They are . . . his new children."

He was ready to risk it all. Fully believing that he would fall for this. That look is a surrender. And he was ready to do it too.

He holds eye contact with Gabriel, blinking a lot, but not looking away. His smile doesn't reach his eyes. There's a brief moment of relief on his face when Gabriel claps him on the shoulder and believes his lie, but he knows that God will know what he's done. He fully believes he's going to fall for this.

And he looks to Crowley again, who applauds him. Aziraphale looks like he's going to be sick.

He's had several earth-shattering revelations in the last 24-ish hours.

Crowley (the demon) is good, and he believes it with his full chest.

God plays games for fun at the expense of others, and it's wrong.

Gluttony (he ate that entire ox)

Aziraphale believes that Crowley believes that blurring the lines between Good and Evil by questioning God and thwarting the will of heaven are exactly what caused Crowley's fall. (see you in hell)

Crowley and Aziraphale are on the same side, if temporarily, holding onto each other like a rock in a storm, with Aziraphale constantly looking to Crowley for reassurance, trusting him to have his back.

he's going to fall

I just feel like its overlooked that this was the FIRST TIME EVER that they teamed up (as angel and demon) and Aziraphale was fully ready to accept the consequences of that. He found something more important than choosing sides.

[sensitivesiren]

writing is crazy because you can sit there for hours, going through the entire human spectrum of emotion, all five stages of grief and then some, and literally nothing happened. it's all in your head. you made it up.

[sensitivesiren]

s2 ep 6 - OOPS

I NEED TO KNOW WHAT BLITZØ WROTE FIZZ FOR HIS BIRTHDAY WITH THE LITTLE FLOWER AND I NEED TO KNOW NOW

[sensitivesiren]

anyone else have an innocuous book on-deck just in case people ask you what you're reading so you can say something other than the toe-curling 650k explicit filthy homoerotic fan fiction that's kept you up for three days?

"oh! what are you reading on your phone?"

"uhh .... Jane Austen. Love her."

[sensitivesiren]

whenever i'm overwhelmed by something it's like i have sleeping bees in my brain

like, i'll be fine and then my loving, wonderful friends/family will ask me about something and suddenly there's bees

[sensitivesiren]

Oh. Why is writing different from my other hobbies? Why can I engage in it more easily than others sometimes? Especially if I'm feeling out of control and overwhelmed? That's easy. When I'm writing, my brain is completely occupied in another world, I can lose hours to it, I am completely engaged in my creative zone and none of my real-world problems can touch me.

My other beloved hobbies, physical hobbies, like arts and crafts allow my brain the space to wander into dangerous territory where I can think about all of the things that my brain is trying to run from.

It's an entirely different form of escapism where I'm in complete control and I'm writing the kind of story that I want to read. A world I can build where I control the rules. My characters are depending on me, I'm needed there. I can make everything beautiful there, I can process healing there, I can express grief there, I can unload my exhaustion, my frustration, my hopes, my desires, and my endless need to create there.

I've always lived in my own world, and as I've grown up I've realized just how important it is for some of us to nurture our creativity and imagination as a coping mechanism. I write because I need it. I need to feel like there's more, and I have the ability to do something about it.

That's why it's different. To me.

[sensitivesiren]

"Now, you can behave while I finish my work, or I will have you removed."

found myself nostalgic for the days before GOs2, where we had all of those cheesy, fluffy oneshots from their time post armageddidn't. So I wrote one! Enjoy.

-------

[NIGHT - Int. Bookshop]

"Angelllllll, you are killing me. You know Beethoven is still one of Hell's right?"

Aziraphale does not smile, eyes trained studiously on the original Brandenburg Concerto scores he is restoring.

Well, attempting to restore.

He now has all six of them! He couldn't be more delighted. Worn down by time, but with just a touch of angelic love the pages illuminate and breathe beneath his gentle gloved fingers, the music rising to meet him sweetly as he lovingly mends its pages.

The music halts with a clang as an off-key groan sounds from the sofa. "Angel, when I agreed to come over I didn't think I was going to have to literally watch paint dry." Crowley is immaculately sprawled across the length of the sofa with one foot on the floor, a pilfered glass of Aziraphale's private reserve scotch hanging lazily from his fingertips. He tips the liquid into his mouth, miraculously spilling none of it on his tailored suit.

Aziraphale clears his throat primly. "If you remember, it was you that invited yourself over." Aziraphale deliberately turns a page, earning another groan from Crowley. "Now, you can behave while I finish my work or I will have you removed."

"Please, I would love to see you try." A sharp burst of laughter nearly upends the inkwell on Aziraphale's desk, the precious scores spared an oily demise only by the grace of a hasty miracle. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, rolling his neck, a small smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

"Goodnight, Crowley." Aziraphale says in a clipped tone, peeking at Crowley from the corner of his eye. He just barely sees Crowley's smug grin shatter.

Millennia of self control will not fail Aziraphale now. He lets Crowley squirm.

Crowley swallows, his throat bobbing with the movement. "What?" His voice is achingly small. "Angel I'm - Fine. If that's what you want. I'll go." He hears Crowley's glass hit the table with a sharp clink.

Aziraphale slowly turns to face Crowley then, one eyebrow raised, pressing his lips together to hide his triumphant smile.

Understanding and terror dawn on the demon's face.

"You!" Betrayal and relief fight a bloody battle on Crowley's expressive face, ending in a draw as Crowley drops his head back against the arm rest with a long, drawn-out hiss, his eyes slipping shut. He drains the rest of his whiskey in one go. "That'sss wicked, Angel."

"Ah, but you asked so nicely. It would have been rude to refuse the challenge." Aziraphale smiles fully then, ignoring Crowley's grumbling, removing his gloves and setting them gently on his desk. He rises, moving quietly across the floor until he can gaze down at his demon, the silly, silly serpent.

He lowers himself and climbs over the wiry body beneath him, earning him a small yelp of surprise as Aziraphale settles between his legs and wraps his arms around Crowley's middle, resting his chin in the middle of Crowley's chest.

"Is this what you wanted, my love?" Aziraphale says in a low voice, blinking innocently up at his big, tough, very scary demon.

Crowley scoffs, turning bright red to the tips of his ears, and Aziraphale could swear he saw the tiny snake tattoo squirm. "S'not funny." He growls, his fingers already carding gently through Aziraphale's curls, a soft smile forming at the corners of his mouth.

Aziraphale drops a chaste kiss on Crowley's sternum before nuzzling his cheek against his chest.

"I proved my point, though, didn't I? That's what you get for interrupting me while I'm working." Aziraphale sighs, breathing in the familiar tang of smoke and brandy, pulling it deep into his lungs, surrounding himself in Crowley.

"This is what I get, eh? I should never let you work again." Aziraphale can feel the smirk in his tone as Crowley's lips brush his hairline.

"I would love to see you try." Aziraphale challenges, a smile pulling at his lips.

Crowley huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his arms around his Angel before planting a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering like a single violin note, the music sweet in Aziraphale's ears.

Perhaps the Brandenburg Concertos can wait.

[sensitivesiren]

i'm in the kitchen let me know if i'm cooking

[Blitz gets cursed by a witch on a mission and goes feral and the team can't find him when they return to hell. where does he go? uh-oh he's headed for the palace.] (storyboarded pre ghostfuckers but feeling VALIDATED and posting post ghostfuckers)

[sensitivesiren]

the post-nut clarity after a writing sprint is so embarrassing. like. girl what are you even talking about.