#written in crowleys pov

[romanceisfuel]

and because love is forgiveness

you tell it to me

giving one last remark

before you have to

leave.

[shades-o-grey]

' Rain '

Excerpts from a Fic Not Yet Written. [01]

by- ' Shades O' Grey '

- It was a Nice Day

Or it might've been. Lately, it was difficult for Crowley to tell.

It was a day-

   Clement, with a slight breeze. The sun making intermittent appearances from behind clouds grey enough to suggest the possibility of a shower at any moment. It is England, after all.  Sudden rain is always possible.

For Crowley, the chances of an unexpected drenching increased significantly. Depending on his state of mind.

While for humans, It's often the case that the weather holds an influence over their moods. For a demon, or more specifically for Crowley, it's the opposite. He has this habit of letting his moods affect the weather. A mental spiral too deep, and even the most pleasant day could suddenly turn. [and that's putting things mildly]

Presently, Crowley has managed to spare the rest of the Country from his "tempestuous mood swings" [Previously? Nothing but monsoons for three months in a row]. However, He could still expect a good drenching for himself and anyone unfortunate to be within a five-mile radius,

Well, at least he's managed to stop it from happening indoors.

He didn't mind rain before.

-Had fond memories of rain. He still complained obviously. He never liked getting wet and soggy, cold and damp. Who does? But Crowley always complains about the things he secretly fancies, often complaining about them more than the things he truly despises. [He could even go so far as to defend things he dislikes, provided doing so leads to an entertaining argument].

[wordsinhaled]

ox rib

I watched you unfurl as an opening flower towards all the possibilities of hunger giving your starved heart in part to gristle and bone to feeling less alone (to the secret of stolen pleasure newly shared) and you found a need you didn't think you were made with (I'd seen it in you before you ever saw it in yourself) love, it was in your hand-wringing in the brackish taste of your yearning silence which complemented my loud longing perfectly love, it was in the glances you thought you hid but didn't (never and always could you hide anything or everything from me) I have asked questions you couldn't and together we are more than the sum of our disparate desperate parts but the asking is one thing the answer is you'll find quite another

[foolishlovers]

for the secret santa au: why did you decide on writing crowleys pov??

he's grumpy and anxious and underneath it all actually really kind. i find that relatable ngnfhdh

[ineffable-suffering]

INEFFABLE META MASTERPOST

Because I'm slowly losing count and need to organize. So, here's all my self-written metas or ones that I reblogged with my own added theories and commentary! In rainbow colours, naturally.

1 – Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why. My most lengthy and proudest meta about the Final Fifteen and why I think Aziraphale lied on purpose. (Also: The absolute darling @esthermitchell-author bravely fought their way through it and wrote up some more interesting points and different takes on what I came up with. If you want to go down a S2 rabbit hole with us, go read it here.)

2 – Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator (links below) A three-part meta in which I try to analyse and explain that all of the minisodes in Season 2 are not objective narrations but actually Aziraphale's memories.

Part 1: The Story of Job

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

3 – The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie A meta in which I go into unnecessarily great detail about how the Whickber Street Meeting Cotillion Ball was meant to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley.

4 – Crowley & Aziraphale were never free (reblog) A reblog of @baggvinshield's post in which I explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

5 – In Defense of Aziraphale (double reblog) A double try at explaining why I think Aziraphale's POV in the Final Fifteen is just as horrible as Crowley's and why I don't think him "choosing" to go back to Heaven was the only point of his character journey.

6 – The Art of Miscommunication: Ineffable Edition A meta in which i once again explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

7– Season 2 Bookshop Shot Meta A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a single bookshop frame in Season 2.

8 – What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle? A mini-meta in which I propose the theory that Jimbriel helped with the miracle to hide himself away from Heaven & Hell.

9 – Things in Good Omens Season 2 I still find weird (reblog) A reblog of @ok-sims and many other great OPs' thoughts on the weird loose strings in Season 2 and what unanswered questions I still have myself.

10 – The Deleted Bookshop Scene (reblog) A reblog of @skirtdyke's video and @i-only-ever-asked-questions' smart thoughts on it, with my own overly-excited 'what that could have meant for the "It's too late" line'-theroy.

11 – The Bentley Handle Easter Egg A meta I can proudly say has been liked by none other than Mr. Neil Gaiman himself about Crowley's Bentley handle that might have existed before the Bentley ever did.

12 – The F*cking Eccles Cakes A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a pastry. (Addendum: People said very smart things in the comments of the post!)

14 – Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley" A meta in which I make myself sad by connecting that infamous line to Aziraphale assuming Crowley wanted the Holy Water as a suicide pill.

13 – Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles A meta on why Crowley treats his plants the way that he does.

14 – Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post In which I talk about why I want to get Crowley a therapy voucher.

15 – The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens A meta on why the Flaming Sword has no deeper meaning. Or does it? (Updated: here's a reblog from @queerfables who did a wonderfully exellent job at calmly explaining all the swordy questions I was yelling about! Consider this meta solved.)

16 – Ceci n'est pas une plume A meta in which I'm a bit of a nerd for language and also explain why learning French and magic the human way says so much about Aziraphale as a character.

17 – The meaning of "I forgive you" A meta in which I explain what both "I forgive you"s mean and why Aziraphale will always fight for what is right until he wins. Also, the lovely @sharksbeerr translated it to Chinese on Weibo!

18 – Memory, or the lack thereof, in Season 2 A little reblog on how memory is a big and unresolved, leaky-bucket theme in Season 2.

19 – „It‘s always too late.“ (ft. Crowley‘s watch)

A short meta about that lines from Season 2 that won‘t leave my brain (and also Crowley‘s mysterious watch).

Addendum:

The one non-spoiler-y ask I could come up with about S2 that was actually answered by Neil, yay!

Also, this wholesome little post I added to that Mr. Gaiman also reblogged. :‘)

*** This is a work in progress and will get updated every time I post a new meta! ***

[somehow-a-human]

Whose POV is it Anyway?

A Companion to Owls.

DO NOT ASK NEIL ABOUT FAN THEORY

Job 30:29-31 I am a brother to dragons, and a companion to owls. My skin is black upon me and my bones are burned with heat. My harp also is turned to mourning, and my organ into the voice of them that weep.

Continuing my analysis of the narrator/POV perspective of Good Omens season two with a look at the episode 2 minisode set in 2500 BC, Uz. God, I love this minisode.

For reference & context, I recommend reading these posts:

Whose POV is it Anyway? - Introduction

Lens Filters

POV "Your 'Something's Wrong' Voice"

POV a Trip to Hell and a 25 Lazarii Miracle

We open our journey into the land of Uz with Crowley giving Job's goats a speech that sounds awfully similar to his own troubled relationship with The Almighty. Crowley is alone here. The episode cold-opens and we've had no lead up to suggest otherwise, so this is Crowley's POV. His hair is short and more vibrant, I'd say this is likely the Black Diffusion FX filter.

Yes for the sake of this post I am doubling down on the fact that there are TWO SEPARATE WIGS. See more here.

Aziraphale arrives, he looks cute and silly, the permit is long, the goats are "destroyed" and they part ways.

The next scene we get is Aziraphale in heaven checking with Muriel and the Archangels that the permit Crowley has is in fact legitimate. This time, we are seeing Aziraphale's POV. Heaven is a stark white office building but the golden hue is almost overwhelming in this flashback. The Bronze Glimmer Glass filter is clearly being used here.

Aziraphale decides he's going to confront Crowley about saving the children, little does he know Crowley wouldn't harm them to begin with but regardless...

When we re-enter the minisode, we do so via a subtle zoom in on Crowley's face in modern day. We then enter the scene through Aziraphale's illustrated Bible and see Crowley asking Job where his kids are. We've again lost the golden glow of the BGG filter, moved back to the BDFX filter and into Crowley's POV. Crowley's hair is still short, Aziraphale isn't present here, he's alone, so these are his memories.

When we see Crowley walking up to the house to find the kids we have switched back to Aziraphale's POV. The scene is extremely warmly lit, it's soft and yellow, and Crowley is now in a different wig. His hair is much longer, softer and more attractive looking. In one of the X-Ray behind the Scenes videos I even caught a screenshot of the film slate from this scene and you can clearly that they've written in BGG as the filter used, so we have confirmation.

We continue through the Job minisode in Aziraphale's POV. The reveal of the goats, saving the kids, the ox rib temptation, the first conversation about loneliness, it's all from Aziraphale's POV. until after he "comes to" in the bookshop in present day.

When we revisit the minisode, and for the remainder of it we are seeing it from Crowley's POV which was an interesting thing to realize. We see Crowley and Aziraphale witness Job speaking with God, saving Jobs children, deceiving the Archangels, and having their emotionally revealing conversation overlooking the beautiful sea all from Crowley's POV. His hair remains short and more vibrant red throughout all of it, we don't see the return of his long long gingery waves. The lighting when the angels are present for the children's "resurrection" is very warm but I'm going to chalk that up to the Heavenly Hosts presence.

It makes sense that this reaction is Crowley's POV. Silly silly angel, did a good deed and thinks he's a demon?! But then he realizes how upset Aziraphale is, how scared and he comforts him. He tells him he isn't going to do anything that would hurt him, that would get him in trouble. Then, something about the fact that what follows is also from Crowley's memories, his perspective...

"That sounds..."

"Lonely? Yeah."

"But you said it wasn't."

"I'm a demon. I lied."

NEXT POV The Dirty Donkey & I think I Found a *Clue*!

[captainblou]

Drive me to the Moon - A Good Omens AU, now complete.

To Build a Home

Summary:

After competing in a rally race for charity and claiming victory with now life partner Toni Crowley, Aziraphale, also known as The Angel, continues to surprise us with his dance exhibition Leaving the Garden, blending together classical and modern dancing. The show offers a vast variety of costumes and references in a breathtaking staging, and Aziraphale’s own closing performance steals the show entirely, leaving the audience dazzled.  Aziraphale, born Ezra Fell, offers a beautiful, sincere and harrowing ode to resilience through two hours of code breaking dancing.  Leaving the Garden is without doubt a must see on the West End stage this winter.  West End Review ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Hello my dear readers!!!

This chapter is the last one for this fic (if you're good, I might post some saucy NSFW extra scenes that I wrote, but it'll be in a few weeks)

And it's very very special.

Why? Because half of it (the entire Crowley POV at the beginning) was written by my good friend @searchingforakeythatdoesntexistand and translated by yours truly!! So, yeah. Not only does she make stunning illustrations, she's also a very skilled writer (go check her AO3, it's worth it!!!)

This chapter also comes with carefully selected musics so don't hesitate to click the footnotes (I broke my own head making them so...)

I want to thank one last time @fearandhatred, @mamamissy and @crowleys-bentley-and-plants for betaing this and cheering me up during writing!

Happy reading!

Tag list: @itsscottiesstark @moralsofanalleycatsposts @gallup24 @beerok23 @handyowlet @eybefioro @naturallyteal @sparklyshinymagpie @hellsgardener01 @goodwomanbadlady @daisygrayce @tigerowltattoos @addledmongoose @gaiaseyes451 @goodomensafterdark

[ineffable-rohese]

Neil's picks for Aziraphale & Crowley's Angelic Playlist were Cry Me a River (Julie London), The Book of Love (Peter Gabriel), and The Show Must Go On (Queen).

Three songs. Two about the aftermath of a break up, and one about coming together in love. So very clearly, we can infer a Crowley POV song, an Aziraphale POV song, and a song for the two of them and their happily ever after. (Song lyrics for all three after the cut for reference.)

The Book of Love is a perfect wedding song. It's a song to play under two people declaring their desire to spend eternity together. With lines about dancing and reading and it's perfect. It's originally a Magnetic Fields song that was released in 1999. Peter Gabriel recorded a cover in 2004 for the movie Shall We Dance about which I know nothing but the Wikipedia summary. But since we know how movies are important here... It's a standard rom-com with a bored Richard Gere secretly taking up ballroom dancing after following a pretty lady from the train (J-Lo). His wife (Susan Sarandon) thinks he's cheating, turns out nope, just dancing, drama ensues, he gives up dancing but eventually his wife becomes supportive and he realizes he loves his wife. And dancing. And they live happily ever after, with both of them getting what they want. Maybe we can draw some parallels here? But I think the song speaks for itself better than its connection with what sounds like a standard early 2000s romcom.

The individual songs are where it gets interesting.

Cry Me a River was first released by Julie London in 1951, but became popular after she sang it in the 1956 film The Girl Can't Help It starring Jayne Mansfield as an aspiring rock 'n roll singer. Again, relying on Wikipedia here, but there is an interesting bit about a blossoming forbidden relationship, wiretapped phones, and someone editing the recordings to keep the love affair secret. But again, it's probably a stretch to look too deeply into the movie.

The song has a very classic jazz feel. It's from a decade and a half later, but if you were, say, an angel who enjoyed Moonlight Serenade or A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square, it has a similar feel. You definitely wouldn't say it's bebop. The lyrics are about someone who was in love and had their heartbroken. Their former love (who never shed a tear over the break up) has returned and wants to make up. The singer essentially says "you love me? Prove it. Cry me a river like I cried when you left." Which, fair, but in our context, ouch.

The Show Must Go On is a Queen song, and we know how much Queen we hear in association with Crowley in particular. But this just isn't any Queen song. It was written by Brian May about Freddie Mercury's struggles as he neared the end of his life, and it was recorded in 1990. (Coincidentally or not, the year Good Omens was published, a book co-created by friends, one of whom would die too soon, and the other of whom would reflect on his friend's end of life struggles as the story was told more fully. Yes, I'm crying about this.)

In the song, the singer is fighting to reach a place of freedom, away from empty spaces and heartbreak. They are fighting with pure will, and even though their heart is breaking they smile and carry on because the show must go on.

What I really appreciate here with the POV songs, is that they are cross-coded. Queen is Crowley-coded, but the song about someone fighting through heartbreak to achieve something vital, while forcing a smile for the audience? That's absolutely Aziraphale in Heaven. And the 40s/50s jazz ballad is absolutely Aziraphale's style, but the jilted lover who may be willing to give their love a second chance but needs to see proof that the lover cares as much as they do is Crowley all the way.

It's almost like... Well it's almost like even in their separation, they are each carrying a piece of the other. The book of love has music in it, indeed.

The Book of Love

The book of love is long and boring No one can lift the damn thing It's full of charts and facts, and figures And instructions for dancing But I I love it when you read to me. And you You can read me anything.

The book of love has music in it In fact that's where music comes from Some of it's just transcendental Some of it's just really dumb But I I love it when you sing to me And you You can sing me anything

The book of love is long and boring And written very long ago It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes And things we're all too young to know But I I love it when you give me things And you You ought to give me wedding rings

Cry Me a River

Now you say you're lonely You cry the whole night thorough Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you

Now you say you're sorry For bein' so untrue Well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you

You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head While you never shed a tear Remember, I remember all that you said Told me love was too plebeian Told me you were through with me and

Now you say you love me Well, just to prove you do Come on and cry me a river, cry me a river I cried a river over you

The Show Must Go On

Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places, I guess we know the score, on and on Does anybody know what we are looking for?

Another hero, another mindless crime Behind the curtain, in the pantomime Hold the line Does anybody want to take it anymore?

The show must go on The show must go on, yeah Inside my heart is breaking My makeup may be flaking But my smile, still, stays on

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance Another heartache, another failed romance, on and on Does anybody know what we are living for? I guess I'm learning I must be warmer now I'll soon be turning, round the corner now Outside the dawn is breaking But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free

The show must go on The show must go on Inside my heart is breaking My makeup may be flaking But my smile, still, stays on

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies Fairy tales of yesterday, grow but never die I can fly, my friends

The show must go on The show must go on I'll face it with a grin I'm never giving in On with the show I'll top the bill I'll overkill I have to find the will to carry on On with the show Show Show must go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on, go on

[mrghostrat]

gonna be another 2 chapters before we see crowley pov* again. rereading it over and over again to stay sane until the rest is written

[im-this-kind-of-girl]

Aziraphale and Crowley's unhinged character analyzis (pt2. Crowley)

Controversial opinion:

Aziraphale and Crowley at the end of Season2 managed to accomplish the main goal they each had since the beginning of time. Only to realize that what they wanted no longer made them happy.

Disclaimer: I have no idea about what is going to happen in Good Omens. This analysis could clearly be considered a theory since I'm not Neil Gaiman, but as someone who knows about narrative and character structure, I'm going to elaborate. Also, English is not my first language, so sorry in advance.

I've already talked about Aziraphale's possible transformation arc in the Good Omens story. In here I've also written important definitions such as what's a transformation arc. I highly recommend it to read it first.

Now it's time to talk about Crowley.

Crowley, the co-protagonist and love interest.

In our role as audience, Crowley is the character with whom one tends to empathize the quickest. By the end of the second season, most would be tempted to think Crowley was right. However, this is a lie. Not only is Crowley not right, but he rejected Aziraphale just the same, choosing his principles over love.

Now, why in the first instance do we not see it that way? Well, because we have Aziraphale's point of view. We always get the angel's reaction first, we always see the way Crowley shows up again and again and again to rescue him unconditionally.

Very rarely do we have a moment where Crowley is alone in crisis because his beliefs are challenged. No, everything he does is in function of Aziraphale and we see the story from his perspective, that is, from the perspective of someone who is in love with Crowley. Because of this, Crowley is equally liked and attractive to everyone equally: we are inside Aziraphale's in love POV.

By the time Crowley proposes Aziraphale to run away together, we as the audience are seeing a proposal that is incredibly tempting to us: we want Aziraphale to accept it because it's what Aziraphale really wants. That's why the fight hurts so much, because we know internally that the two of them had the chance to be together but didn't because they're not ready yet.

Crowley's Objective

Crowley, unlike Aziraphale, was happy in Season 2 with his current situation. Having cut ties with both Heaven and Hell pleased him, because Crowley always sought only one goal throughout his entire life: freedom.

The one thing Crowley has always desired is to be himself with no excuses and no strings attached.

Since before the beginning of time, Crowley came to the conclusion that he didn't fit in Heaven. He thought he would fit in Hell, but soon realized that it was like a deteriorated version of Heaven, so he didn't fit in there either. On Earth he doesn't quite fit in either. Sure, he likes humans, has a certain admiration and curiosity for them, but he still considers them a species far different from his own. He is not human and never will be, so he can't really identify with them at all. He enjoys the advantages of humanity, but he is not one of them.

The Job episode is an indicator of this, he himself says so "I am a demon who goes along with Hell as far as I can".

In this same episode, however, the major problem he has with this is also expressed. Azira tells him "that sounds lonely". The counterpart of freedom is loneliness. To be truly free, you need to have nothing and nothing to bind you. That's why Crowley is someone who is unsympathetic and even disinterested in dealing with third parties. He does not remember faces or names, he does not get significantly close to anyone because that would compromise his desire for genuine independence.

This characteristic is the only one that is present in absolutely all versions of Crowley: the book, radio drama and even in the cursed script of the movie that never was. That's why whenever he sees danger, his first reaction is to run away.

Being free he has nothing to lose… or does he?

Crowley's dilemma

Well, Crowley never fit in by being different and so he always felt somewhat an outcast. However, it wasn't long before he noticed that Aziraphale was also different.

Clearly the angel was not like the other angels in Heaven: he enjoyed Earth, he fell into temptations, he lied to other angels. Also, it is obvious that he would not fit in Hell, and while he is more empathetic to humans, he is still innocently aloof. Aziraphale has a pure goodness that Crowley admires, the goodness that made him be kind to the demon in the first place.

Moreover, no matter the time, no matter how little they knew each other, Aziraphale could always see through Crowley's evil masquerade. The demon could burn goats and murder people, and yet Aziraphale has always held a blind faith towards him. Crowley, the Serpent of Eden, who had been his entire existence told that he's doomed to be a crawling tempter, finds in the angel an unexpected possible friend who's never been afraid or bothered by him.

Crowley eventually feels they are both the same: two supernatural entities left on Earth who learned to enjoy life on their own terms. Crowley sees in Aziraphale the companionship he never thought he'd find, the friend he thought at the moment he fell he'd never have. And that feeling of companionship and admiration slowly morphed into something more until it became love.

The season finale isn't the first time Crowley has considered leaving Earth. Probably not even his fight in Season 1 was the first time he considered it. Yet he never did. He never could because, without Aziraphale, running away would doom him to a life of solitude. Free, sure, but completely alone since no one except his angelic friend could understand him.

However, I think Crowley is not aware of what he feels. Or at least, he hasn't been for a long time. I'm sure his moment of introspection about his feelings was when Nina confronted him about it. Up to this point, Crowley considered Aziraphale his best and only friend, obviously. Crowley is loyal to a fault and always thought his relationship with Aziraphale was perfect just the way it was, but suddenly someone put it into words and he realized that yes, that's what he really wants with Aziraphale.

Crowley's decision

Crowley wants his freedom. That's why he never asked Aziraphale for explanations (because at the end of the day they were just friends), that's why he never told him that he was living in his car (because he would end up depending on him), that's why he never talked about his fall (because that would be opening up too much).

The most ironic thing about the whole ending, is that just like Crowley did with Aziraphale… Aziraphale proposed to Crowley the one thing he wants more than anything: to be together, for good, but sacrificing his freedom.

Crowley is capable of doing anything for his angel, even without acknowledging that what they had was love. He's capable of driving on fire, capable of killing Gabriel, capable of walking inside a church. Of everything except one thing.

It's the one step Crowley didn't dare take. He is not a martyr like the angel, no, he is not willing to sacrifice himself to be together. So, the obvious happened: Crowley chose his freedom over Aziraphale just as Aziraphale chose Heaven over Crowley.

The end of his arc and Aziraphale.

As I said before, I don't think Crowley will have a significant change comparable to Aziraphale's. His personality and beliefs will not be changed in a momentous way, as Crowley no longer has ties to Heaven or Hell by pulling the tab on both sides.

His side is already picked: Humanity.

His biggest change is likely to be one of purpose. Crowley is no longer going to be satisfied with his freedom. And the latter is a fact: Crowley is officially free. Without Aziraphale in the equation, he no longer has anything or anyone tying him to do anything or be any other than who he truly is. Crowley can go to Alpha Centauri and never come back; he can sleep for 3,000 years; he can go around the world in the Bentley. He can do whatever he wants. This might seem ideal to the Crowley of 300 years ago, but today's Crowley is completely consumed by loneliness.

Crowley never cared about building a home or having material things because he never wanted to be tied to anything earthly for the sake of doubt. He was always aware of the destruction of the Earth.

Love is not something that can be prevented though, and in the absence of having a home, he found it in Aziraphale.

Aziraphale: trustworthy, sweet, warm, funny, a bit of bastard but always irrevocably good. Everything Crowley lost when he fell he almost automatically found back.

To this day I wonder what Crowley is going to do now that his angel is gone and the possibility of him fleeing to the stars is becoming more and more possible. It's going to depend a lot on how much time passes between seasons, but I don't think it will be much. For not only he was his anchor, no, without Aziraphale, he doesn't have someone to cause him to want to do better, he doesn't have someone to be vulnerable with, he doesn't have a goal anymore, nobody else to impress.

He isn't evil. He isn't good. And now, he is alone.

First Crowley lost the love of God and now the love of Aziraphale. And it is then that Crowley will realize that what he really wants is not to be free, but to be loved. And this desire can only be fulfilled by the love of his life, Aziraphale.

The thing is... Crowley has always wondered why.

Why falling? Why becoming the cursed Serpent? Why could he never be truly free?

At the end of his arc, he must come to the conclusion that the answer was always in front of him:

Love is the only answer he needs.

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

This week I have mostly been reading...

May 20-26th, 2024

Hooray, I’ve managed it for the second week in a row! *If you have written/illustrated one of the works I've mentioned and I've not tagged you, please let me know!*

Completed works I've read this week:

Under Construction by @summerofspock Rated E – Honestly, this one can be summed up by the rather excellent tags ‘there was only one wifi’, ‘weaponized coziness’, ‘erotic woodchopping’ and ‘emotionally significant flannel’ (as in the shirt, not the miniature towel for cleaning one’s self…). It’s cosy, it’s Hallmarkian, it’s disaster puppy Crowley, and Aziraphale has a beard. 10/10 no notes.

Temporal Adjustment by @ukcalico & @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E – Written by Calico to accompany the ever-wonderful vavoom’s art, it’s a Post S1 Ritz scene which plays with time and some *very* spicy scenes. Three chapters of mild D/s content – mind the tags if you’re new to that world.

Sweet Dreams: A Companion Fic by @sixbynine-da & @vavoom-sorted-art Rated E – went down a vavoom rabbit hole, which is truly a delightful hole to go down…pun erm…not intended? But perhaps it was. Anyway. The tags initially had me hesitant to read this one (blood drinking, blood as lube) but it was a much more minor point than I was worried about and it ended up being a beautifully accepting, tender, loving story. I shed a couple of tears at this one.

You Can Stay At My Place, If You Like by AstroGirl Rated T – A lovely, touching piece about the moment A & C switch corporations/bodies and get to experience each other’s thoughts and feelings. Both POVs are written throughout the story, which adds a richness and emotion to it.

If It Looks Like A Duck, And Buzzes Like A Duck, It’s A Sex Toy by @quefish77 Rated M – Look at me bring the tone down after the last recommendation, but ho hum. This one had me weeping with laughter. Once again, the tags tell the story for me: ‘Look if you’re here for medical advice I got bad news for you’, If you don’t say WTF and laugh at least 3 times I’ve failed’, ‘Tags Are Fun’, ‘How many will you read before you roll your eyes and read the fic?, ‘Congratulations! You made it to the end of the tags’, ‘I lied there are more tags’. Yes…there were more tags. I laughed continuously throughout the entire fic, so I’m not sure if that counted as more than three times, and I read all the tags before I started reading, but I can guarantee this does not disappoint, but then none of Quefish’s work ever does if you’re looking for humour.

Aziraphale’s Diaries series by azzfell & @fellshish Rated T – This is a four-part series of humorous, fluffy diary entries written by A. 1. Empirical study on the principles of snake care – A tries to look after C as you would a snake…be ready to cringe and facepalm and giggle 2. Experiments of an angel who has read entirely too much fanfic – A finds fanfic. Tries some of what he’s read on C. Yikes. 3. How to be a demon: a brief history of the Arrangement – I can’t describe it any better than the authors’ description: “The Arrangement: the hard and challenging life of an angel who tries to make a demon do good deeds, and in turn has to perform temptations and wear devilishly sexy outfits.” 4. Adventures of a mystery shopper in the bookshop – this was by far my favourite. A puts C in charge of the bookshop…and then mystery shops. I laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Lit by @fellshish Rated T – C decides to take a Uni course on literature (for absolutely no reason whatsoever…definitely not because he wants to impress a certain angel with his literary knowledge, nope, nuh uh)…but it turns out to be slightly different to what he was expecting…and they’re discussing Good Omens. Shit.

If You Touch Me You’ll Understand What Happiness Is by locketofyourhair Rated E – It’s no secret I like a bit of angst. You need only read what I write to get smacked round the side of the head with it. This one’s got it in spades. C confesses their love for A – repeatedly – through time. To keep them safe, A erases the memory of the confession each time. But A never forgets. Ouch. It does have a happy ending, though. Phew.

Lace And Gold Braid by @elsajeni Rated M – After rescuing A from the Bastille, C went to bed for 70 years. He never actually said he was sleeping. This fic goes into lots of delicious detail about A’s slutty, slutty outfit. The imagery is really well written and it has a podfic!

WIPs which have updated this week (which I devour as soon as I get the update!)

There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out by @phoen1xr0se Rated M - A is a researcher (puffins!), C is a lighthouse keeper on the island where A has run away to to escape his problems and do his research. The author has recently spent a week studying puffins - which is the ultimate dedication, if you ask me. Ch 9/26 posted this week

Find The Light by @klikandtuna Rated E - Headmaster A and Rockstar C. The story teases out a fraught history between them whilst keeping a tension between them in the modern day. Ch 6/? posted this week.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley Rated T - Astronaut A is guided back to Earth by controller C after 92 years in space. There are many difficulties both of them have to face and they develop an amazing rapport. Ch 16/17 posted this week.

Oddity by @tsyvia48 Rated E - Actor C is contracted by (useless) Gabriel to guest curate an exhibition at the museum where A works. After getting off on the wrong foot, can they work together to pull off this show? Ch 23/26 posted this week (note increased chapter count!)

Under The Summer Stars by @pannotbread Rated E - This wonderful fic has taught me more about physics than school ever did (mostly because I never did any physics, but...well). A & C have to share their time at an observatory because there is Only One Telescope. Not only will you learn about astrophysics, astrobiology, and astroecology, you'll also read some of the most poetically, beautifully written masturbation scenes I've ever seen. *ahem* Ch 7/13 posted this week.

Exodus2 by @tismrot Rated E – Human AU set in a dystopian future. The summary says it best, really: Ezra studies programming at the University of ha-Gan. He’s as determined as he is damaged, as fastidious as he is precise, and likes to believe he'll stop at nothing to achieve his goals. His beliefs are challenged when a new student appears late to the first Ethics module lecture - and his life is changed forever. It's the future, it's dystopian, it's cyber and it's punk. It's political, grimy and slick with tears, lube and chemical snot. TW: Sex, drugs, trauma. Ch 28/35 posted this week.

Free by well, me: imposterssyndrome Rated E - A & C meet (again?) in an acute mental health ward after both having had mental health crises. A runs a bookshop but is very much under his parents' control. C has been homeless since childhood and has struggled his entire life. They do not trust each other when they first meet, but feel strangely drawn to one another all the same. Where will this lead them? This is a passion piece for me. There is a lot of lived experience in it, and extensive research from both professionals and peers. It has been a real journey for me to write it, and as I'm coming closer to the end it's becoming very emotional for me. Ch 45/? posted this week

Want more recommendations? This is last week's list.

[eybefioro]

Random fic rec, by yours truly...

okay have you noticed I changed the "weekly" for random? yeah... LMAO. My mind is bad with deadlines. i got nervous near every Saturday, even though i had something to recommend and write about. Anyways. Now it will be random, in the hopes i can do this more often 💛And this time, I come with another special edition:

PODFIC GALORE!

I've been absolutely crazy in the past few weeks over podfics. Yk, one of the saddest things to me was that I couldn't read fanfiction and work at the same time. I had to spent 8 hours of my day off the marvellous world that is Ao3, and it made me sad... but then... then I discovered that there are AMAZING people out there recording fics and that my level of English was already good enough that I could totally understand it and still be focused enough in whatever I was doing (that is an exciting news for me XD) aand then I discovered that it was even nicer to get home and lay in the dark, letting my eyes rest after spending the whole day in front of computer, and still listen to these amazing fics... ANYWAYS suffice to say in the past weeks I've been listening non stop to everything i can get my hands on.

Flaming Hair, Stardust In His Eyes - Rated T, ~2,2k words, ~15 min

Fic by @waitingtobebroken , podfic by devilwithabirddress

Ouch. This fic is just so... poetic and sad and soft. I love how the story is told, how the it fits in the space canon left behind. I love the awe in Aziraphales pov, I love him asking about the starmaker. The descriptions of the breakroom are so fun, the characters are so well written. And the narration is AMAZING. The acting in some lines from got my heart all melted 😭 the pacing is very nice, and the feelings really hit.

Factory Settings - Rated T, ~107k words, ~8 hours (on going)

Fic by Anonymus , Podfic by @nosferatini

I feel like everybody knows at this point about the fic, so i won't say more about it besides that I LOVE THIS FIC AND BINGE READ IT BARELY SLEEPING UNTIL I FINISHED IT, obviously, like many others. And the podfic is soooooo good!! the art that go with the chapters are all so good, the music is so good, the narration is so good. I LOVE the Raphael's voice. It's absolutely perfect. Every time that I read a fic with the starmaker in it (or any before the fall Crowley) is that voice that pops in my mind.

Protect and Serve - Rated E, ~84k words, ~9 hours

Fic by Snae_b , podfic by @outrageousring5655

hmmmmmmn this fic... Look if you ever read anything by Snae_b yk what I'm talking about. The smut there is always breathtaking! and the plot in this one, DEAR GOD. I was on my toes. I love the tension, how the story is unveiled little by little... the twists. gosh it's so good! AND HEARING IT. Damn. ok. look there were parts that made me questions if it really was the best idea to listen to it at work, bc well *ahem* *points at all the smut* but it was soooo worth it. I learned that i have a GREAT poker face. Anyways. Outrageous voice acting is so good, I love it! all the voices, all the feelings. Amazing narration!

I'm always in awe with this fandom. All the podfics I've listened until now are golden. When i read now i have VOICES in my head LMAO

I also have so MANY more podfics I could rec. I think I've listened to almost podfic by Outrageous and Nosferatini already, and then there's also podifixx and so many others I'm finding on Ao3... I HIGHLY recommend everyone to give podfics a go. They're so good 💛💛💛

[dragonfire42]

Jiggery Pokery

Aziraphale: I bet you're all thinking, "What's that man doing up there, on the stage? Is he here to amaze and befuddle us all with his prestidigitation and jiggery-pokery?"

So excited to share this collaborative story as part of the Good Omens Theatre Bang!

(Fun fact: I'm a magician and puppeteer in real life, and both my stories for the Theatre Bang feature magic and puppetry!)

Teen+, 6k words, No Archive Warnings Apply

Event by @gomens-theatre-bang

Written by me

Beta by @andromeda4004

This MARVELLOUS art below by @bjs4bildad (shared with permission)

A deep dive into two magic books from Aziraphale's collection, and a deeper dive into how the angel spent his time after his fight with Crowley in 1862, as told from the POV of his mentor in magic, Professor Hoffman:

"The way he fumbles through all of his tricks is unmatched in any I have witnessed. He frequently alternates from an articulate conqueror with a powerful stage presence, to a bumbling clown in the next moment, frequently dropping his cards or gimmicks and apologetically picking them up, while still trying to finish the trick even after it is revealed.

It truly boggles the mind.

He is certainly giving me plenty of material for my book on trying to teach other beginners the art of magic.

The entire last chapter I am dedicating specifically to him, even though he may never realize it."

[ripeteeth]

Self-rec time! What are your favorite five fics that you've written and why? After replying to this ask, feel free to pass on to five other writers to spread the love. 💗"

Thanks, @danpuff-ao3! You’re always a treat to see on the dash and I hope you’ve been having a lovely break <3.

I’m always a bit awkward with these, both from an itching sort of discomfort with staring my own artwork in the face, and I think from a lifetime habit of denying compliments out of a feeling of guilt or fear. So! I’ve had a glass of wine (and an edible) and I’m going to try to kinder to myself. I might be in the mood to talk right now. (Honestly, that’s a good sign. One of the big elements of my recent writer’s block has been an inability to express myself in any written way, even tumblr posts and comments. Maybe this is why I hit twitter so hard.)

My five favorite fics. Not my five best fics. Not my five most popular fics. My favorites. Hmm.

5. blood, bones, and butter | MDZS/The Untamed] SongXueXiao | E, 12,443

“A relationship, deconstructed. Served three ways.”

Ah, Yi City, that deliciously painful Shakespearean tragedy echoing Wangxian’s romance. The specific notes of obsession, revenge, love, and grief that run through these three make me completely unhinged. I love the quiet service and stoic devotion of Song Lan, the otherworldliness and power of Xiao Xingchen, the unchecked brilliance and cruelty that fill up Xue Yang. The Yi City fandom is easily one of the most incredible fandoms I’ve ever been a part of, full of uniquely talented and deranged writers and artists who love to really explore the dark edges and nitty-gritty of these character and let them be their fucked-up selves. The appeal of SongXueXiao isn’t to make it better for them, it’s to see how much you can make it worse.

It’s two pretty classic tropes: a first time after meeting at a bar, and also a story told from alternating POVs. I really wanted to focus on trying to carve out distinctive interiorities, like their motivations, their assumptions, their fears, their memories, and allow the reader to draw their own conclusions without spelling these all out outright. I’d recently rewatched Rashomon, and I love how the understanding of an event can be so differently shaped by each person’s POV and I wanted to show their first night together in that way, moving the lens over the night a few times, before it gets clear. It was a really fun process to focus on and I think it’s one of my best pieces of recent writing.

4. in search of the wind | Good Omens | Crowley/Aziraphale | E, 27,112

After the World Doesn't End, Aziraphale is not returned to his body. Crowley tries to find a way to get to Heaven's fast-shut gates. Aziraphale tries to find his way back from the sky (and back in time).

I remember writing this almost immediately after the show aired, in that heady summer of 2019, when I feel head over sweaty heels for that charming demon and his delicious epicure of an angel. This is essentially how I saw canon going on, this is the headcanon of my soul. Maybe that’s why I haven’t seen season 2 yet? It was a pleasure to write, almost like knitting together different scenes, different pieces of history, like an extended version of the s1s3 cold open. It’s Aziraphale without a body, unmoored in time, turning up at different points along his and Crowley’s history, and realizing that his friend is in love with him. That his friend is heartrendingly in love with him. I love stories that play with structure, striking different chords each time.

I couldn’t write this kind of story again. This belongs to a very specific time.

3. White Light, White Heat | Harry Potter | Snape/Harry | E, 32,107

“In 1347, Benedictine monk and scholar Severus Snape goes to fetch a young man joining the abbey. In 1347, rumors come of a strange and unrelenting plague from the east.”

An AU set in a fourteenth-century Benedictine monastery in Britain during the period of the Black Death where the two men develop a bond through a special sort of crucible. Snape, as always, falls in love with all the grace of a cat being given a bath. As dark as the material is, this was a pleasure to write. I had so much fun describing the setting, peppering fun little facts like a Pop Up Video of Medieval History. I wrote this in a fever-fueled three weeks, absolutely obsessed with getting it down exactly as it was in my head. I loved writing the monster theme and using it as almost a leitmotif for Snape. There’s probably a literary term for that. Is there? Anyway.

2. the body as anagram | The Terror | Crozier/Fitzjames, Crozier/Ross] | E, 3090

“In the dark, it doesn't matter which James is in his bed. As long as Ross doesn't speak, the illusion holds true.”

I took the title from a passage on J.G. Ballard’s Crash by Baudrillard in Simulacra and Simulation: “Technology is never grasped except in the (automobile) accident, that is to say in the violence done to technology itself and in the violence done to the body. It is the same: any shock, any blow, any impact, all the metallurgy of the accident can be read in the semiurgy of the body — neither an anatomy nor a physiology, but a semiurgy of contusions, scars, mutilations, wounds that are so many new sexual organs opened on the body. In this way, gathering the body as labor in the order of production is opposed to the dispersion of the body as anagram in the order of mutilation.”

There’s something a bit haunting about the parallels of the two men who held the intimacy of Francis Crozier’s friendship. The name. The confidence. The bravery. The charming manner and handsome face. I love the idea of a Francis who sails out pining for one man and returns home loving another, switching between true love and placeholder. And I’m notoriously a slut for both proxyfucking and Gremlin!Francis, who just can’t stop pressing on the wound of his grief. It’s not the drink but it may as well be, for all this is good for either he or Ross, but Francis is a fool in love with a dead man and he does what he does to get by.

Something about this came together, from concept to finish, in a way I’m quite happy with. It was fun to play with concepts and free associate from them, focusing less on plot, but more on the vast empty grief in Francis’ chest. Everyone here knows this is a bad idea. No one is having a good time.

1. Revachol Calling | Disco Elysium | Karry/Kim | E, 35,321 [WIP]

“Somewhere in Jamrock, a church burns. A study in Kim Kitsuragi.”

Sometimes you just feel the next part of the story in your bones. When I first played Disco Elysium in 2021 it hit me in an incredibly familiar, emotional way. There’s something somber and hopeful about it. The writing is sardonic, dark and humorous. It’s nearly cynical but it’s cynical with a sad old smile, because cynicism is born through disappointment, and through not quite being ready to give up. I think we can all find ourselves in it, in one way or another and, like many, I’m hopelessly in love with Kim Kitsuragi, a wild creature who’s built himself within thousands of rules. I can’t play the game without craving his side of the story, his interiority, his history, so I grab at the little crystals of information, such as his secret love of Speedfreaks FM and his past with Eyes, and I try to imagine it might go. This is my sequel to the game and, more than anything, this is my love song to Revachol, a character of a city, and one that echoes vastly in all those of post-Communist country and family.

For some reason, this fic is extremely visual for me and usually in a Wong Kar-Wai sort of fashion. Think the saturated aquamarines of a neon diner sign. Think a studio apartment with cheap wallpaper and the yellow-orange flicker of sodium lights. It comes alive at night, when Kim is left alone with his thoughts, running out of rules to keep him safely in. I love that Disco Elysium has such a vast world to explore. It’s an endless playbox.

And this is also, in a way, a bit of an elegy to a belief I’d once held in a motherland, and do not anymore.

I’m almost done with Chapter 8, so hopefully it will be up soon <3

Tagging! @jaggededges123 @soft-october-night @wildcard47 @rcmclachlan @brawlite @zaxal @pearwaldorf @kiingbooooo @darcylindbergh @et-in-arkadia @itsevidentvery @iodhadh @iamwestiec @mia-ugly @laurashapiro-noreally @pinehutch and anyone else who wishes to!

[supernaturalscribe67]

Favors

Words: 6,851

Pov: 3rd Person

Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader

Warning(s): Language, SMUT (18+), Rimming, Teasing, Male on Male penetration, brief orgasm denial, Bottom!Reader, Top!Crowley

Summary: (Y/N) is a well-known researcher and hacker in the hunting industry, dedicating his life to protecting innocent people all around the United States. What happens when the King of Hell comes to him with a problem he needs help solving and a deal that (Y/N) cannot turn down?

Request:

Hope you are having a good day/night

Omg I absolutely love the Crowley x older Winchester brother reader fic you did for me

I was wondering if I could request Crowley x Male reader smut

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I haven't written smut in so long, I hope you like it! Plus, this is my first time writing male/male smut, so feedback is really appreciated! MINORS DNI!!!!! Much Love!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

It was beautiful that morning. Light barely shone over the treeline, the warm colors faintly casting a reflection across the lake that sat outside of the small house. The ground was littered with red, orange, and yellow leaves, decorating it like some cheesy floor pattern on a Welcome Mat. The wind whipped through the branches, conducting the trees in a synchronized dance. Morning Doves sang their harmonious tune. 

It was 8:30 AM. (Y/N) sat peacefully in the rocking chair that was nestled in the corner of the aged porch. A blanket draped over his lap, and a warm cup of steaming coffee in his grasp. It was mornings like that that gave him a sense of serenity, that reminded him of the world outside of his profession. That was why, in the mornings, he had one rule. One simple rule; 

No phone calls before nine. 

Granted, lives were at stake. Hunters all across the United States were taking on various jobs as he sat there, and some needed information quicker than others. He made an exception to the rule in case of an emergency, but nothing more. Most of his life was consumed with research and phone calls while he sat in a stuffy room near the back of the house. He knew that, when his reputation in the hunting community became well-known, he would need to set some rules and boundaries to allow himself some personal time. Some time to relax and reflect. 

Not everyone followed those rules, however. 

A buzz from his phone sounded next to him. It sat on a small, rusted round table next to the rocking chair. (Y/N)’s gaze turned towards the phone as it shifted with each violent vibration across the metal. He could feel the vibrating under his feet against the wood. Across the screen, Sam Winchester was written. A heavy, yet somehow content, sigh escaped past his lips as he reached over and picked up his phone. A part of him said that he should ignore it, but the other was telling him that it could be urgent. The Winchesters rarely got in contact with him before noon. 

“Hello?” He answered, his voice deep and calm. 

“Hey, (Y/N)! Dean and I were wondering if you could look something up for us?” Sam’s voice rang through the receiver, a little too cheery first thing in the morning, in (Y/N)’s opinion. They must have been up for hours by then. 

“Is the information urgent?” 

There was a long pause. “Well…”

“Mr. Winchester, what is my rule?” 

Another long pause. “No phone calls before nine.”

“Exactly, unless there was someone actively dying and we were under a time constraint. Are we on a time constraint, Mr. Winchester?” 

“Please, call me Sam.” 

“Are we on a time constraint, Sam?” 

Pause. “No. We just wanted to get whatever information we could before we headed to the police station to talk to the officers.”

“You and I both know you’re going to gather even more evidence about the case after the fact, so I think it would be wise to just go ahead and make your way to the police station. They might answer some of your questions, they might not. Hell, you might have even more questions for me by the time you’re done.” 

“You’re right, you’re right. Uh…I guess I’ll…give you a call back when we’re done.”

“After nine, of course.” (Y/N) nodded slowly. 

“Right. After nine,” 

“Thank you, Sam. You know, I always love talking to you. You’re easier to communicate with than your brother.” 

Sam chuckled deeply. “Thanks, I get that a lot,”

“Well, it’s true. Anyway, go talk to the police, and then let me know of anything you might need, alright?” 

“Alright, bye,”

“Bye,” (Y/N) ended the phone call and replaced the phone in its original position. 

He brought the cup of coffee up to his face, blowing cool air onto the surface. Steam curled around the mug as he took a sip. There were some people he didn’t mind receiving phone calls from in the morning, during his off hours. Sam Winchester was one of them. Always so polite when he had to remind him, he almost didn’t mind having to repeat himself over and over again. He knew how stressful the physical aspect of the hunting life could be, but Sam was one who never let his anger appear evident when they conversed that early in the morning. His brother, on the other hand, seemed to hold all of the anger for both brothers on his sleeve. (Y/N) had many unpleasant conversations with the older Winchester, but he also had some satisfying ones. In the end, he didn’t mind working with the Winchesters. They were the ones that called him the most. They were the ones who kept him busy and were appreciative when he was able to give them the information that they were in search of. That much he was grateful for. 

“Hello, darling,” a scratchy, baritone voice broke the placid silence. 

(Y/N) showed no physical reaction, yet he felt as if his heart had lept into his throat. It raced rapidly and he felt the familiar sensation of gooseflesh appear on his arms. He couldn’t necessarily blame it on the cool breeze. In front of him, Crowley stood, hands deep in the pockets of his black peacoat. A smirk was placed on his lips, covered by the beard that had grown out since the last time (Y/N) saw him. 

He had met Crowley some years ago through the Winchesters. It was then he had gotten his first taste of the types of connections Sam and Dean had. When they originally told him about one of their contacts being the King of Hell, he was rather skeptical at first. Rumors travel fast in the hunting world, and (Y/N) knew all of them, especially the ones that star Sam and Dean Winchester. Yet, when he had initially met Crowley, he was pleasantly surprised. He never expected an individual with a clean, lavish appearance as he. He never expected the accent either. It had shocked him at first, but not negatively. In a way, he had always assumed that the King of Hell was going to be some grotesque monster that would seem as if they dwelled deep in a humid cave. He could blame that on his ignorance. 

Since then, the handful of times he had interactions with the King of Hell, he would not say they had been horrible. Quite the opposite, they had been fairly pleasant. Crowley was cordial towards him, speaking to him in, what (Y/N) had first assumed was, a respectful tone, but later concluded that it would be more accurate to call it professional. Crowley was charismatic, a businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted out of people, and (Y/N) could see why they fell for it each time. Crowley knew exactly what to say and when to say it. That accent of his could put anyone in a trance. 

(Y/N) sat the cup of coffee down on the side table beside his phone before he placed both of his hands in his lap, his fingers folded over one another. “Good morning, Crowley. How…unexpected of you to pop in this early in the morning.” 

“Quite,” Crowley paused as he looked around, studying his environment. “I must say, I never expected a man such as yourself to own a place with such beauty.” 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. “While I appreciate the backhanded compliment, I am currently off the clock. That is if you needed anything in the first place and didn’t just stop by for some idle chit-chat.” 

“I never ‘chit-chat’. I did come by to ask for your…assistance with something.” 

“As I have said, I am off the clock. If you need my help with anything, you can come back at nine o’clock.” 

A smirk appeared in the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Check the time, darling,” 

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted over to his phone. Hesitantly, he reached over and clicked the screen, illuminating his background of deep purples and blues. 

9:01 A.M.

As he looked back over at Crowley, he noted that the smirk was still there. Crowley shrugged, the ruffle of fabric filling the silence. 

“It’s time to clock back in.” 

(Y/N let out a sigh as he slapped his hands onto his knees, standing from his seat. He caught the blanket before it was able to fall off and folded it thrice. He then turned and laid it over the back of the rocker. He placed his phone into his pocket, then grabbed his coffee mug, the steam having dissipated since Crowley had arrived. 

“Let’s head to my study, then,” he mumbled. 

He walked past Crowley towards the screen porch door. Before he had the chance to grab it, Crowley opened it for him, startling (Y/N) for a moment. (Y/N) nodded his head. 

“Such a gentleman.” He murmured and walked into the house, Crowley following soon after. 

The foyer was small but tidy, so it seemed bigger than it was. The new floors glimmered in the morning light, and the walls were decorated with various pieces of artwork. (Y/N) took pride in renovating the older house, making it a place he was happy to call his home. 

When he had found the house for sale, he was surprised, initially, by how little it cost. Seeing the state upon purchase made him understand the drop in price almost immediately. It took several months for him to turn the once run-down house into a livable place, one where he wasn’t afraid of catching asbestos poisoning every night. Since he completed the remodeling, he has made sure that the house is well-decorated, comfortable, and clean. 

To the right of the foyer was the entryway into the kitchen. It wasn’t that large, but with one person occupying the house, he found it unnecessary to include more counter space in the renovation. To the left was the living room, well-lit with natural light in the morning and even brighter with the overhead ceiling fan at night, comfortable enough to seat many different people if he ever decided to have guests over to mingle. Ahead of Crowley and (Y/N), down the hallway, sat three doors, all of them ajar. Directly ahead was his bedroom, to the left was the guest bathroom, and to the right was his study, the one place where (Y/N) found he was spending most of his time throughout the twenty-four hours of the day. 

(Y/N) kicked off his slides, placing them next to the front door, before replacing them with a pair of slippers. He then gestured down the hallway with his head. 

“This way,” he said as he began to walk down the hallway. 

The study was a masterpiece in it of itself. The walls directly beside the door and adjacent were lined with built-in bookshelves, courtesy of (Y/N) himself. On the shelves sat various centuries' worth of lore, categorized by decade, topic, and alphabetized by the last name of the author, if the author was known, that is. On the other wall sat large windows lined side-by-side, the curtains pulled back to allow sunlight in. Sitting at an angle in the middle of the floor was a heavy mahogany desk, similar to one that would be found in a lawyer’s or politician’s office. A rolling desk chair sat behind it, something cheap yet comfortable. On top of the desk were different books that were opened to certain pages that (Y/N) had left off on, a notebook with a ballpoint pen, an LED keyboard with a matching Bluetooth mouse, and a large, curved monitor with two smaller monitors on either side. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, a place where hunters had sat multiple times when visiting and discussing business with him. 

(Y/N) rounded the corner of the desk and sat down in the office chair, the cup still grasped between his hands. He took another sip of his coffee as he scanned over the cluttered surface of his desk. As he moved books out of the way, his tongue poked into his cheek. Finally, with a triumphant ‘ah’, he pulled the brown coaster from underneath one of the book spines. He placed his mug on top of it, bent down, and turned on his computer. 

“Alright, if you want to have a seat,” (Y/N) gestured to the chair. 

“I prefer to stand.” 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and typed his passcode rapidly into his keyboard. 

The three monitors lit up with work he had been focused on the day before. Carefully, he saved documents and exited out of files. When the files were all tucked away and his screens were cleared, he turned his attention back to Crowley. 

“Now, what is this problem you’re having? And, please be quick about it, I have some hunters that are going to be calling me back to gather information for them as well.” 

“The Winchesters can wait,” Crowley said as he stalked forward. 

(Y/N) fought back the urge to ask how Crowley had known the Winchesters were the ones to call, for he knew the answer already. 

“Now, I seem to be having a bit of a rogue demon problem.” Crowley began to pace around the room, his eyes seeming to study the different texts that lined the walls and the scenery outside. 

“Don’t we all?” 

“Mine’s a little different.” 

“How so?” 

“You see, I control the demons, right? Specifically, I control the deals that come in when humans summon us to the crossroads. I expect demons to persuade these people in some way to get these deals by possessing family members, friends, and the like, while others are sent when they are summoned to take these deals. It’s a rather layered process, too many demons, too many steps, but it works.” 

“I see,” (Y/N) hummed as he folded his hands on top of the desk, back slouched. 

“Recently, however, it has come to my attention that there have been several demons who don’t necessarily, well, like me.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” (Y/N) mumbled, his words dripping with sarcasm. 

Crowley ignored him. “And I’ve found out by a rather reliable source that a handful of demons have been rebelling against me. Some are just not persuading people as they are supposed to and running rampant in the street while others, the ones who are summoned, are taking these individuals' souls without giving anything in return. They mess with the deal.” 

“Do you not see that as a win in your situation? You get their soul no matter what, Crowley.” 

“Ah, you see, I do, but I am a man of my word.” He stopped and placed his hand on his chest. “When deals are made, they are not meant to be broken. They are taking their souls and sending them right back to the pathetic life that they came to fix. I don’t like humans as much as the next demon, but a deal is a deal, and it should not be messed with.”

“How…noble? What does this exactly have to do with me?” 

Crowley reached into his peacoat, pulling out a sheet of folded white paper. He walked over and placed it on (Y/N)’s desk. On it was a list of locations and dates neatly written in calligraphy. Most of the locations were paired with a date from a couple of days ago, some a couple of weeks, and some were marked from that very day.

“This is a list of all known demon locations and times that they were last seen there. The crossroads demons I can deal with on my own, they will be harder for someone like you to find, but these are the demons that were supposed to be possessing family members and the such. They’re lower-ranked demons than others, so they lack the necessary powers to teleport, makes them easier to find.” 

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” He gestured to the paper with his hands. 

“Find the demons on that computer of yours, tell me where they are, and I will take care of the rest.” 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. There had been many instances where he had been able to find the location of a monster for different hunters by hacking into various CCTV cameras across the country. Some places had more cybersecurity than others, but overall, it was a simple task, something he had picked up the first month or so after he started learning the art of hacking and coding. It wouldn’t take that long for him to track some of the demons. 

“Why should I help you?” 

“Think of it this way, darling,” Crowley walked over, stood behind the desk chair, and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

The violent buzzing interrupted anything Crowley was going to say. (Y/N)’s legs vibrated in time with the buzzes. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. Sam Winchester flashed across the screen. He held up a finger to Crowley. 

“Hold on, I have to take this,” he said. 

Just before he was able to accept the call, however, Crowley snatched the phone from his hand. 

“Hey!” 

“Ah ah ah,” Crowley tsked and wagged a finger. “We are in the middle of a deal.” He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket. 

(Y/N) clenched his jaw. He held out his hand. “Give it back, Crowley.” 

“Not until we finished our deal, darling,” 

“I never said we had a deal.” 

“Then it appears you’re not going to be getting your phone back.” 

“Crowley,” he growled. 

Crowley chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling. “So tense,” he smirked. “It must be hard. Being out here all by yourself. No ring on your finger, which means that you haven’t got a wife or husband. I’m guessing you don’t have a partner either, considering all you do is sit here and help other hunters.” Crowley slowly ran a finger over (Y/N)’s shoulder blades, eliciting a shiver from him. “How about this deal, then,” Crowley leaned down, his face merely inches from (Y/N)’s. “I get rid of some of your tension and you find the demons for me, deal?” 

Crowley’s breath was hot against (Y/N)’s face. The closeness caused his stomach to churn. (Y/N) wouldn’t deny that Crowley was an attractive man - demon, he corrected himself. He had thought so since the first time they met, yet he knew the dangers of getting involved with demons. That was why a small part of him was weary of the Winchesters, seeing how easily they got along with the King of Hell. ‘Got Along’ wasn’t necessarily as accurate as ‘tolerated’. He corrected himself again. When Crowley spoke with that accent, and when his voice was deep and gravelly, it was almost as if (Y/N) was hypnotized. 

That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.

“Crowley,” he breathed, unaware that his heart had begun to beat faster. 

“The demons get killed, I get what I want, and I leave you more satisfied than you have ever been before,” Crowley’s hand slowly moved up and began to trace along (Y/N)’s jawline. His fingers stopped when he got to (Y/N)’s chin. He tilted his head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes, their noses brushing against one another. “Have we got a deal?” 

Crowley’s eyes were just as hypnotic as his voice. It was as if (Y/N) was staring into an iced glass of whiskey. It was hard to believe that, behind those eyes, stood a dark entity who controlled the deepest, darkest depths of Hell. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, telling him that it was a bad idea, that he should retreat and reject the offer. 

(Y/N) was completely mesmerized. 

“Yes,” he whispered faintly. 

The corner of Crowley’s lips curled upward. “Then let’s kiss on it.” 

(Y/N) didn’t have a chance to respond before Crowley’s lips were on his. 

It was heated, hungry, and (Y/N) was slightly ashamed to admit that it had taken his breath away. Ashamed to admit just how engrossed in Crowley’s charismatic attitude he had been. Swiftly, (Y/N) stood from his chair and he was pressed against the desk in an instant. Crowley’s hands worked their way underneath (Y/N)’s t-shirt. It wasn’t long before Crowley’s coat and (Y/N)’s shirt were on the floor. As Crowley reached behind him to grab at the backs of his thighs, (Y/N) pressed his hands firmly on his chest. 

“Not here, not here,” he pulled back from his lips, panting from the lack of oxygen. “Let’s go to my room.” 

Crowley smirked and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Lead the way, darling,” he pulled back. 

(Y/N) was quick to pull himself away from the desk and turn to walk out of the room. His strides were long and silent, almost as if he was floating out of the room and towards his bedroom. Crowley followed behind him, moving just as fast if not a little bit faster. He tore off his tie and dropped it onto the floor as they entered the room. Their lips slammed into one another once more as they fell back onto the bed unceremoniously, their bodies bouncing. 

(Y/N) was incredibly hard, he felt like a teenager on prom night. He tried to think back and remember the last time he had sex. Had it been two, maybe three weeks? Months. No. Two or three years, it had been. He had lost count. Crowley had been right, he had been so absorbed in his work that he had neglected the wants he never knew he had. The needs. He had found himself to be so uptight as of late that the lack of sex hadn’t been something he considered a factor with such a change of mood. Maybe the sex was just what he needed. It seemed that Crowley knew more about him than he realized. 

(Y/N)’s primary goal was getting Crowley’s clothes off. He wanted to see him, wanted to take in every inch of him. Before he was able to grab at Crowley’s belt, however, Crowley pulled back and lifted a hand to stop him. Again, (Y/N) was breathless. He stopped and looked up at him with a questioning gaze. 

“Let’s skip the stripping, shall we?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker. His voice alone should have sent the sirens blaring and the red flags waving in (Y/N)’s head, telling him to stop, telling him that it was a bad idea, but all it did was deepen the lust and make his cock twitch in his boxers. 

With the snap of his fingers, their clothes had vanished. Immediately, (Y/N) noticed the temperature change, causing his nipples to harden into stiff peaks. He wasn’t worried about his own body, however. His attention was all on Crowley. 

He took his time to examine his lover. His eyes trailed. He noted the hair that was meticulously placed over his pecs, the curve of his stomach. Crowley didn’t have a six-pack, but he was nowhere near fat. A slight pudge was probably the best adjective to use. He spotted the tattoos almost instantly, something that came as a surprise to him but wasn’t unappreciated. Crowley’s happy trail started right below his belly button and trailed down to his pelvis, and the mere sight of Crowley’s cock made (Y/N)’s eyes go wide. 

Crowley was huge. 

Bigger than he had ever seen on a lover before. 

To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. He never expected Crowley to be sporting a cock of that size. (Y/N) felt inept next to him. Yet, despite his unbelievable length, (Y/N) felt his mouth water and cock twitch at the thought of it being inside of him. Crowley chuckled. 

“Like what you see?” He questioned. 

“Yes,” (Y/N) breathed, although he knew the question was rhetorical. 

Crowley’s chest rumbled as he leaned down and began to leave kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, down towards the valley of his pecs. He stopped at his nipples, giving each of them attention with small licks and a suckle. A gasp fell from (Y/N)’s lips as his hands occupied themselves with exploring Crowley’s body. (Y/N)’s mind was fogged over, the feeling of being that close to someone already so intense. He really did feel like a teenager. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Crowley purred as his lips traveled further down his body, ghosting over his stomach. “Almost disappoints me that I’m going to leave you a whimpering mess by the time I’m done.” 

“Crowley, please,” 

“Begging already, I see.” 

Crowley’s lips moved down until they reached (Y/N)’s own happy trail. Just before he reached (Y/N)’s cock, he pulled back, earning a disappointed groan from the man below. The smirk on his face told (Y/N) that Crowley loved the effect that he was having on him. That it was boosting his ego, and if he had been in the right state of mind, he would have stopped right there. The King of Hell didn’t need more of a complex than he already had. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

(Y/N) complied, legs parting as Crowley moved onto his stomach. He left kisses on (Y/N)’s inner thighs. 

“Have you had anything in this pretty little hole recently?” Crowley asked. 

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to open you up, won’t I? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

It was an oddly sweet sentiment, coming from a demon. Something that a part of (Y/N) didn’t really expect. Yet the other part of him told him that it made sense with Crowley’s character. He was a businessman. He made deals and he kept them. He wanted him to feel good, and (Y/N) wouldn’t be satisfied with his part of the deal if he was in pain. 

“I have lube in my nightstand,” (Y/N) spoke up. He could feel Crowley’s hot breath hovering over his exposed hole. 

“I’ll get to it, darling,” 

Crowley’s tongue lapped at his hole, and (Y/N) swore that he would come from that single lick. He couldn’t hold back the moan as Crowley’s tongue worked around the pink muscle, almost teasing it. The tip of his tongue slipped past the ring for a moment before retreating. Crowley’s arms wrapped around both of his thighs and seemed to pull him closer with godly strength. Then, when he was closer, Crowley’s wet tongue finally slipped past the tight muscle and wiggled its way into his hole. 

A deep moan escaped past (Y/N)’s lips as one of his hands shot down and gripped Crowley’s hair. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, thankful for the pillow that was underneath him, thankful that he had decided to move to the bedroom instead of the study. He had concluded that the lack of sex didn’t make him feel like a teenager again, he was a teenager. Rather, it seemed he had a teenager’s lack of control. His cock was twitching, begging to be touched, begging for Crowley to wrap his hand around it and stroke. (Y/N) was too lost in pleasure to do it on his own, and it was just foreplay. Crowley was only preparing him for what was yet to come. If Crowley had him seeing stars already, he knew that Crowley’s prediction of him turning into a ‘whimpering mess’ would be accurate. 

Crowley’s tongue was skilled. He reached places inside of him that (Y/N) didn’t even know existed. All too soon, he felt the familiar jerk of his balls, the tensing muscles begging for release. The knot in his stomach was forming. 

“C-Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. I-” 

Crowley hummed against him and pulled back as soon as the warning came to be. Visibly, (Y/N) relaxed, but his face expressed disappointment, much to Crowley’s amusement. 

“Already close to release, and I haven’t even touched your cock yet,” Crowley teased, and the words caused (Y/N)’s cheeks to darken with blush. “Can’t have that. I want this to last. I want you to break.” 

Crowley hovered over (Y/N) again, their noses inches apart. (Y/N) could feel Crowley’s cock brush against his, causing his cock to twitch violently. Again, Crowley chuckled. He turned his head and reached over to the nightstand, opening the small drawer. It wasn’t as cluttered as the top of (Y/N) desk, but he had to admit that it needed to be cleaned out. It didn’t take long to find the bottle of lube, though, barely used. When Crowley moved back, he kissed him. That kiss was softer, sweet, the complete opposite of the others they had shared. 

He pulled away and sat up, leaning back on his heels as he uncapped the lube. He squirted a generous amount onto his right index and middle finger before he set the lube to the side, open and ready if he were to need more. He rubbed his fingers together to spread out the liquid before lowering his hand to (Y/N) wet, needy hole. His index finger began to circle it and he saw how (Y/N)’s cock twitched again. The smirk remained on his face. 

“Are you ready?” He asked softly. 

“Yes,” (Y/N) barely gave him time to finish the question. “Yes, Crowley, please,” 

“I’ll never get over how sweet that word sounds.” 

Crowley pushed one finger into him and the stars promptly returned. (Y/N)’s mouth hung open as if he were to say something, but nothing came to mind. Words didn’t exist anymore, only Crowley and his fingers. It didn’t take long for Crowley to begin to pump his finger into him, his dark eyes focused on (Y/N)’s face, intensely taking in every reaction he gave. Sweat began to glisten on (Y/N)’s brow, dripping down the side of his face and onto the sheet below. His hands were fisted at his sides, straining the bedding. When Crowley felt his hole loosen even the slightest, he added his middle finger. 

After several seconds of having Crowley insert his second finger, the knot was back and forming inside (Y/N)’s stomach. It was tight and just kept getting tighter with each stroke. When Crowley’s fingers curled ever so slightly, (Y/N)’s body violently jerked and he had to hold onto the bed as he fought back the orgasm that was quickly approaching. He went to say something, but all that came out were moans and whimpers of pleasure. He didn’t trust himself to stop Crowley before his impending climax. 

Of course, Crowley was observant himself and knew when to back away. 

Crowley pulled his hand away from him, leaving his hole empty and his mind screaming for release. Crowley brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping them around his digits as he suckled the leftover lube and flavor off of them. He quirked a brow as he took his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Strawberry flavored?” He questioned. 

(Y/N)’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. His chest and face gleamed with sweat, ever more apparent because of the morning light that filtered past his blinds. 

“It was all they had left.” He was able to mutter. 

A deep chuckle rumbled within Crowley’s chest as he grabbed the lube from beside him once again. That time, he put some into the palm of his right hand and capped the bottle, setting it back onto the side table. He wrapped his hand around his cock and lathered it up with the lube. He hissed, jaw clenched at the cool temperature. 

“You don’t mind raw, do you, darling?” He asked as he shifted in the bed so that he hovered directly above (Y/N) writhing body. 

“No,” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “No, I don’t mind just, please, please Crowley.” His desperate cries would have normally made him embarrassed, ashamed of the mess he had turned into, but he couldn’t care less. His brain didn’t belong to him anymore. It belonged to Crowley. His body wasn’t his, it was Crowley’s. All of him belonged to Crowley. 

And he was fine with that. 

“I’ll go slow,” Crowley said. “Let me know if it’s too much for you to handle.” 

It was too much to handle when Crowley was eating him out, but (Y/N) knew what he meant. He gave a quick nod of understanding. His hands immediately moved from the sheets to Crowley. One hand was placed on Crowley’s shoulder, while the other reached back, fingers entangled in the mess of brown hair. 

One of Crowley’s hands was placed on the bed, holding himself up, while the other hand reached down and grabbed his cock. He guided it to (Y/N)’s hole and, when he felt comfortable with the positioning, he moved his hand and placed it on the other side of (Y/N)’s body. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of muscle with some resistance before he entered him. 

(Y/N) wasn’t seeing stars anymore - he was seeing a whole galaxy. The slight painful strain mixed with bliss as Crowley pushed the head of his cock inside of him was almost too much to bear at first. He felt like his balls were going to explode with pleasure. His nails dug into Crowley’s shoulder and scalp as he continued to inch his way inside. Crowley studied (Y/N)’s face, the way his mouth hung open and eyes closed. When half of his cock was engulfed in his warmth, Crowley pulled back out a couple of inches before he thrust back inside. (Y/N) couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping his lips. Equally, as such, Crowley let out a deep, guttural groan. 

“So tight, darling. So…fucking tight,” he growled out, sounding almost feral. 

“M-More, Crowley, please, more,” (Y/N)’s voice had gone up in pitch and the need was laced throughout his tone. 

Crowley didn’t need any more indication. His hips began to pick up in speed, slowly at first, but after a while of making sure that his lover wasn’t in any pain, he went faster. While (Y/N) wasn’t able to take all of Crowley’s length inside of him, what was able to fit resulted in a cacophony of moans that echoed throughout the room. The bed rocked, the frame squeaking underneath the pressure as Crowley rhythmically snapped his hips. 

When (Y/N) had gotten used to the pleasure - ‘used to’ wasn’t the right phrasing, but rather adapted to it - he was able to open his eyes long enough to reach up, cup Crowley’s cheeks, and bring himself up to kiss him roughly. Crowley returned the kiss. Their tongues danced with each other. (Y/N) could taste a mixture of himself and the strawberry-flavored lube on Crowley’s tongue. 

Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, Crowley’s cock brushing against his prostate. (Y/N)’s cock and balls jerked and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He pulled away, one of his hands falling to Crowley’s chest, which was equally as sweat-covered as his. It was difficult to find the strength to speak, at first, but he mustered up what little control of himself he had to do so.  

“Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. Please, can I come?” 

“Not yet,” Crowley sounded breathless. “I want to come with you.” 

“Want you to come inside me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” He moaned loudly as Crowley’s cock stroked his prostate again. 

Crowley growled as his lips dove down towards (Y/N)’s neck, littering it with small kisses, teeth scraping over his skin. 

“I can’t wait to fill you up. Can’t wait to make you mine,” Crowley growled. 

(Y/N) did everything in his power to hold back his orgasm, the one thing he had been trying to reach all this time. It became harder and harder the more they went on. Finally, he felt Crowley’s thrusts start to sputter, and Crowley’s grunts and moans were getting higher in pitch. Crowley reached between their bodies, his hand finding (Y/N)’s cock and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts. 

“Come.” 

And that was all the permission he needed. (Y/N) came hard, cock spasming violently in Crowley’s hand and balls convulsing as he shot his load onto his and Crowley’s chests and stomachs. Planets, stars, galaxies, universes, it was almost as if (Y/N) was lost in time and space itself. If he didn’t know any better, he swore he would have passed out from the pleasure had it not been for Crowley keeping him grounded. 

Following his orgasm, he felt Crowley still inside of him and, soon, felt the warm sensation of his load deep within his hole. They stayed there, interlocked with one another, their bodies completely frozen in time. What felt like ages later, Crowley slowly pulled out of him, a wet pop echoing throughout the room, before he collapsed beside him on the bed. (Y/N)’s arms fell beside him, his chest moving rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure. 

As he lay there, post-orgasmic clarity set in. 

He had fucked the King of Hell. 

More importantly, he had fucked the King of Hell and liked it. 

God, he was such a terrible hunter. 

His eyes trailed over to Crowley, who was still recovering from his own orgasm. He could see faint, red scratch marks across his face, chest, and right shoulder. (Y/N) didn’t even realize his nails had dug into him until then. Crowley turned his head towards him. 

“Well you weren’t the whimpering mess that I assumed you would be,” Crowley began. “But I’ll take begging any day.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll his eyes and he had found the strength to speak to be gone by that point. What was he even supposed to say to him? Thanks for the sex, I’ll go find your demons now? With one-night stands, he would always just get up, grab his clothes, and walk out of the motel room, but this was a little different. He was in his own home. Was he just supposed to kick Crowley out? That would seem a bit rude, wouldn’t it? 

“Care for a cuddle?” Crowley’s words broke his train of thought.

“A what?” His voice had returned. 

“A cuddle.” 

(Y/N) snorted. “The King of Hell wants to cuddle.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question.

“I take care of my lovers, (Y/N). Aftercare is just as important as foreplay.” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but found, again, that the words were lost to him. He just gave a simple nod and the two of them moved closer together. Crowley wrapped an arm underneath his shoulders and over his waist, pulling their naked bodies close. (Y/N) placed one of his hands on Crowley’s torso, his head lying against his chest. A part of him was expecting to hear a heartbeat echo in his ear, but the lack thereof only reminded him of his sins. They sat in silence for a while, embracing one another. Crowley’s hand slowly rubbed (Y/N)’s hips, and it made him realize just how sore he was going to be for a while. 

He didn’t care. 

“You know,” Crowley finally spoke up. “If you ever become too tense, you can always give me a call. I have no problem giving in to your needs.” 

“I’m not that desperate,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

Crowley chuckled, and (Y/N) could feel the vibration against his fingertips and cheek. “I beg to differ, darling, with the way you were just begging for release.” 

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated up. He knew what he had done was wrong, but whoever said that hunters had to be perfect? Or right, for that matter. No one had gotten hurt - maybe he would hurt for a while after this, but that was beside the point - and demons were going to be hunted down as a result of their deal. Crowley wasn’t a selfish lover, quite the contrary. He was the best that (Y/N) ever had. He was only human. Despite the moral aspect of it all, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have someone like Crowley just a call away. 

For his needs. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

[addledmongoose]

Good Omens Fanfic Friday (01 Nov 2024)

Heavenly Bodies (70K; Rated E) by @nicetryfed

Human AU. Crowley a yoga teacher at a gym that Aziraphale joins with his cousin, Archer (Gabriel). The attraction is immediate, but naturally, the two fight over the one working brain cell they share. The author has a fantastic, dry humor, and all the characters are so fun to read about. There's no serious angst here, and I really liked the way Archer and Bee are written. I've recommended this like twice already this week.

A sample of the humor:

He had to face the potential unpleasantness of the situation he found himself in, and that could only be dealt with by having an open and honest conversation. He decided to face it as directly as he could- by asking a series of seemingly non-related questions in a roundabout way until he had enough partial blurbs of information to formulate what he was sure was the entire story in his head and then never confirm it.

***

An Angel and a Demon Walk Into a Therapist's Office (16K; Rated T)

Outsider POV. Aziraphale and Crowley attend couples therapy to work through their issues, and after the therapist insists she can't help them if they keep lying to her, they reveal what they really are. What follows are months of therapy in which she helps them work through 6,000 years of trauma. This isn't a story heavy on the angst, but she does help them see how they've been affected by their respective sides' treatment of them (and points out you can't undo millennia of behavior in just a few months), and there are sad and angry moments.

She takes the news of Heaven/Hell/angels/demons and an averted apocalypse pretty well (though I expect she went home to her wife and in response to "How was your day, dear?" said, "Well, I know for a fact Heaven and Hell are real now.")

***

Return of the Living Dead (12K; Rated E)

Set during the years when Aziraphale and Crowley were raising Warlock, the Nazi zombies want their torture on Earth to end and come up with a plan, crashing a Dowling Halloween party in the process.

***

The next two are part of the DIWS Silver Screen Bang.

Under My Skin (36K; Rated E)

Human AU. An AU based on Pretty Woman, with sex worker Crowley and businessman Aziraphale. Fairly low angst, and the two have an instant connection. Has moderately NSFW art.

***

Couples Therapy - Jurassic Park Edition (42K; Rated M) by @rainwritings

Human AU. It's what it says on the tin: Jurassic Park but make it Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley are recently divorced exes who find themselves working together on Isla Nublar after a storm and power outage shuts off the electric fences.

If you've seen any of the Jurassic Park movies, you have an idea of what to expect. During the course of their adventure, the two finally talk about their marriage. There's a happy ending, and while the story is rated M, I honestly think a T is more accurate. It's basically the same PG-13 rating of the movies: lots of peril; very little on-screen violence.