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adthedarkcowboy · 23 days

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Fallen Muriel AU(renewed version):Part one

Authors Notes: After getting better at writing by writing a book I’m working on, I’ve decided to renew this AU. I’ll be trying to get an account on Ao3, but for now, it’ll be on Tumblr for all of you to see first.

(Old) Fallen Muriel AU here!

Crowley sat in his car, with his plants in the back. He tried to keep himself sober enough so he could miracle enough water on them by setting an alarm twice a day. They kept him company-or at least tried to-, having no resentment towards their god for tormenting them all these years. The plants reminded him way too much of humans-the ones that followed her endlessly no matter how much she hurt them. After the flood, they still loved her. After allowing the guard of her garden’s eastern gate to be-almost-executed, he still loved her. Crowley wondered just how much the other humans-the satanists and atheists of earth-angered her. But then he thought if they truly did anger, wouldn’t she have done something? People sin all the time without confessing to a priest, Crowley should know. He’d see someone drunk on the streets, barely able to walk,some married man cheating on his wife with a prostitute or a woman betting all of her money at a casino, and see those same three in parks or in cars. If she truly was made at the humans for sinning or not believing in her, the Almighty would’ve done something about it. But yet again she gave humans no warning that she would wipe each and every single one of them out and make them pay even if they were innocent children.

“What exactly are you planning,hmm?” Crowley stared at the empty night sky, as if God was right there. He wished he was drunker. “Not just with the humans, but with everything. Your plan was to make angels and demons fight, yeah? Wipe everything and everyone from earth and have the battle here, but that was almost five years ago,and you’ve made no attempt to do that again.” He straightened himself and chuckled. “What? Me and him really scare you that bad? You’re god!Your little principality and the serpent of Eden-your ex-star maker-have a little rebellious moment against you, and you do nothing?! ‘All mighty’ yet you haven’t been in a conversation with any of your angels in several millennia!” There was no one around Muriel’s Book-Shop besides him and the Bentley to hear him yelling.“…..Ya’ know, a conversation would’ve been nice. Better than being told to take a hike by your speaker, The Metatron. That’s sort of childish, isn’t it? Having someone speak for you. Your really childish, ya’ know that?” He held the ‘e’ in really for a minute.

Now that he was hearing himself talk perfectly, he figured he was just tipsy and not actually drunk. He didn’t remember the last time he drank any type of wine. That was what he drank with Aziraphale. He tried to convince himself he was truly over Aziraphale, considering it’d been months. The last time he saw him, the air was much warmer than it was now, so Crowley had stayed in his car for most of the time from December to February. Maybe once it got warmer he’d visit Muriel again. It was like walking through a snow storm just to get to the door, and he’d have to wait for their approval for him to cross the barrier.

His alarm went off on his phone and he flipped it up from the seat across from him. As he went to press the stop button and schedule another alarm, he saw the time.3:59.

He tried to leave the plants with Muriel some time in August and sleep for a few millennia, but found that he had some form of insomnia that he thought only humans could get. It didn’t make him feel tired during the day, but sleep was like floating in space again, feeling numb and weightless. Sleep made him think about nothing. Not Aziraphale or the fact the almighty was a childish prick. Without any sleep he felt to many things and when he was drunk his head hurt afterwards. So he constantly felt to many things and it overwhelmed him. He wanted to cry but he begged his eyes to not do that. Anything but that. His eyes began to betray him, so he tilted his head down to the floor so they wouldn’t hit his face. Forgetting to open his legs so they’d fall directly to the floor, his holy water tears stung his thighs, going through his black jeans.The holy water wasn’t as strong, being a demons tears, so they didn’t sizzle his skin off, but instead burned. It’s like drizzling hot water on your skin. He didn’t care. He let the tears fall , just so he could have the chance of not feeling anything.

Once he finally stopped crying he opened his eyes and stared at his legs. There were several little pink circular scars, some small, some big, some creating lines down his legs as the holy water dripped off. His pants were torn up like some poked holes through them. He sighed, putting his head on the wheel. He needed to sleep for more than a millennia. The world,his world, was too much for him to handle at this moment. He’d have drank the rest of the holy water already if Muriel hadn’t taken in it. Probably for some sort of investigation they were doing. Snapping his fingers, the holes closed, and the holes in his pants were sewn back to normal, but the small little scars remained.

Sighing again, Crowley began to put the Bentley into drive, but it wouldn’t start.

“Oh come on, I’m barely drunk!”

The car didn’t comply with his wishes and just stayed put. Crowley was about to yell again until a disposable demon spawned out side of the Bentley, just waiting for the car door to be opened. The serpent, getting tired-and fairly disturbed- by a random demon staring idly and blankly into his window, grabbed his glasses and stepped out.

“What?”

“There’s a random fallen angel asking for you. It won’t tell us its name, or anything. Could be a spy from heaven won’t stop asking for-“

“Name doesn’t really matter now that they’re fallen, does it?” Crowley his back leaned on the Bentley for support against the fatigue and alcohol.

“…well….no, I suppose not. Think you know it?” The disposable demon teleported them both to hell. Crowley followed, swaying his non-existent hips as he walked down the dirty, crowded corridor. Hell was dingy as….well, hell. The screams of the damned could be heard,as well as the barks of hell hounds,waiting to be let out into the world. Demons and sinners alike crowded a single door, some even trying to pick the lock, but failing helplessly. Others tried scratching at the door with their claws. A demon working in the damnation department had to step in and take a pair of sinners with gunshot wounds back to their rightful area. The crowd caught his attention-or rather the familiar red hair of a demon caught his attention- and he began moving through the crowd towards the long haired ginger demon.

He grabbed Crowley’s shoulder.“You and that little angel pet of yours made a complete fool of me in 1941!”

The serpent didn’t look back at whoever had mentioned Aziraphale. “1941….oh! You’re…..”

The demon only got more furious. “Furfur!We’ve worked together for several millennia! We even worked on the same stars once!” The random, somewhat familiar, demon followed as Eric and Crowley pushed through the crowd, several demons swearing and clawing at them, so much so that the two had to fight not to be scratched or hit.

The mention of stars twisted the knife in Crowley’s everlasting wound. “Which-Oh,go take a swan dive off into boiling sulphur again!-which ones, exactly?”

The unknown demon gasped. “We worked on two whole constellations! How can you not-“ His voice instantly faded when a sinner in a cassock caught a hold of him and began to attempt some sort of ransom,demanding to be sent to heaven, calling himself a man of the lord.

“Eric-that’s it right?You’re name,I mean.”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“Okay,good-very important thing to remember- do you know him? His voice is ringing some bells but not loud enough.”

Eric instantly caught to what he meant, admittedly and impressively quicker than any other demon or supernatural entity for that matter. “I don’t actually know..I think I remember Dagon talking about him once. Hey! We need to get through, move it!” The demon he yelled at, grabbed him quickly and shoved him into a hell hounds cell. Crowley winced as he screamed, and the demon just snarled at the staring serpent.

Morphing into a snake, Crowley slithered through the crowd of humanoid shaped things,narrowly avoiding some attempts to stomp him and into the room through a bullet hole at the bottom. The room was surprisingly bright and empty, yet so full of rusted filing cabinets that Crowley didn’t recognize. Morphing into a humanoid form, he looked around the room, hearing buzzing from the overhead lights. Dust particles flew around as Crowley slowly walked through the room. The silence was deafeningly loud, so much so Crowley began to actually breathe so he could hear something other than thoughts, smelling mold and moss and other organisms,but the only sounds were produced by him and the lights.

It didn’t take long for him to find a door and the slight smell of boiling sulphur burned his nose. The smell was too familiar to make him draw back, but it wasn’t pleasant and he stopped breathing. He opened the door and saw…more filing cabinets…

“Oh,come on! I don’t have time for this!” He quickly began to turn back, and had his hand on the handle before he heard a familiar voice.

“Mr. Crowley? Is that you?”

He didn’t want to turn around. He wanted to just go with his thoughts that told him he was hearing things and move on with his life, but he couldn’t;he cared too much to just leave. He cared more than he’d like to admit, so he turned slowly.

“Oh good…” Muriel stood there, with their usual clothes stained black, as well as their wings,he assumed…but he couldn’t see them. He brushed it off, thinking they had them hidden. He remembered being ashamed of his wings and his eyes at first too. “….Wait…where’s Mr- i mean the Supreme Archangel?….Mr Crowley…?”

Crowley couldn’t move, all he could do was stand there, staring widely. On their left shoulder were bandages that wrapped on their arm and across their chest. Their eyes,filled with confusion, shock and hope, striped of almost all innocence, made the knife in his chest go deeper. He felt dizzy, like he was the one who just fell, and stumbled into a filing cabinet.

“Mr Crowley! Are you okay-“

He put a hand up,signaling them to stop, and got up even if he barely had the ability to stand up right. His sunglasses were now in his hand,and he just stared at Muriel-or whatever new name they’d want to pick for themselves-with watery, serpentine eyes.

Muriel’s eyes,that resembled those of a pigeon, went wide. “Your….” They looked to the ground,thinking. “Eyes! Yes, that’s right! Your eyes are leaking! Is that a demon thing? I never saw that happen much in Heaven, so it must be a demon thing.”

Muriel continued talking, and Crowley let them. They seemed happy, like they never fell. Did they fall? Where are their wings? Are they hiding them because they hurt, or did something happen to them? His mind raced with questions that he could ask later. He was going to ask them later, when this euphoric rush they felt was over. When they could focus on what happened and any questions he had. But for now, he let them talk and talk and talk as demons continued clawing and screaming at the door, then it connected that a demon had scratched them and they were the explanation for the bandages. Crowley would deal with them later, so for now a simple miracle to help drown out the sound would suffice.

“Oh. That’s much better now. You can hear me. We’re in hell, right? Is that why they were screaming? They shouted some….things….but not all demons are bad. I’m not bad…I don’t think…you’re not bad, because you’re friends with Supreme Archangel Aziraphale. I saw you two put your faces together through the window, is that a human thing?”

Crowley didn’t know how to respond. He blinked, tried to talk and failed, finally resorting to a simple nod. His answer was the truth, it was a human thing, but in that instance, in the time Muriel was referencing, it didn’t feel like one. People kiss for love. Crowley’s kiss was for …..also love, but it didn’t feel like it. He felt angry about it. How could Aziraphale not see that it was love, when it most clearly was?

….

The stress Heaven gave its new archangel was making him frantic. They’d been planning to bestow a child to a virgin, and Aziraphale had to go down and tell her. Aziraphale didn’t know how to handle any of that, he wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t made for that! The original Archangels were made to handle such responsibilities, not principalities that managed to get to the top! What was he to say exactly? Oh, sorry to bother you in the middle of the night miss, please don’t call the authorities. I’m here to tell you that you’re pregnant with the lords child, isn’t that such good news! There truly was no way to casually say something like that. It wasn’t like the old times. Women today had a choice, and what if she doesn’t want to have a child? What then? Aziraphale wasn’t going to force her to have a child. He knew how painful and risky and traumatic it could be for the mother and the child. There were too many things to think about, all of which was pinned on him.

“But,people today aren’t like Mary and Joseph were.”

“There has to be someone who wants to parent the Second Coming,Aziraphale. Why would you not want to?!” Micheal responded.

“But there’s so many risks and dangers! The mother and the child could die, or have complications!”

“Then we’ll make sure that doesn’t happen!….Just go down there and tell her! It’s not that hard Aziraphale.”

Uriel and Micheal both treated him like he was still just the principality guarding the eastern gate of Eden. Aziraphale wanted to protest, but thought it’d be good to go a day in advance so she could get a full nights rest before the news-

“It’s not going like last time.” The Metatron was suddenly beside Aziraphale’s desk.

“….what?” Micheal said.

“It’s not going like last time. We actually have the Second Coming here with us, and we’re going to send it to earth as an adult human.”

“What, why?” Aziraphale looked at the Metatron.

“The humans were too reckless with the last one, so it’d be best to keep it here for the time being.”

Aziraphale, Micheal and Uriel sat there puzzled. Yes, the humans were reckless with Jesus, crucifying him, but that didn’t mean anything. Him dying was beneficial to the humans, wasn’t it? So why not do it again?

“And….the almighty said to do it this way?” Uriel asked, confused.

“Yes.”

Aziraphale put his hands together and put them to his mouth, his elbows on his desk. There was a weight off of his shoulders, but why would they do it differently?

“-and we’ll teach it how to properly judge humanity by looking at what they’ve done. And ,Aziraphale?”

He snapped out of thought quickly. “Yes?”

“If you could educate the child on what’s defined as worthy of heaven or hell, that’d be better for us all.” Micheal couldn’t help but scoff at the Metatron.

Aziraphale sighed and got up. “I’ll do it. One moment, I’ll be right back.”

He needed to get away from everything. It was too much and began to give him a headache. He approached the giant globe and hesitated for a second. “You’re Supreme Archangel, act like it.” Micheal had told him a few days ago. She was right. He did need to act like it.

He touched the area on the globe that was the right spot. It must be late at night there by now, so no one would care if he randomly teleported there, right?

Before Uriel could stop him and say something, Aziraphale quickly teleported to Earth, directly outside of his bookshop.

#fanfic #good omens #ineffable divorce #angst #aziraphale #crowley #renewal #AU #alternate universe #FallenMuriel

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fansoftheoccult · 9 months

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how i imagine good omens season 3

Aziraphale learns of the plans to be executed by Heaven for the Second coming. And they're not good. At first he attempts reason and bargain, but soon realizes that still, even with being in such a high position of power, Metatron in the end, calls the shots.

So Aziraphale chooses his next tactic: lying. He pretends to go along with the plans, a change fooling nearly everyone but Metatron, who realizes Aziraphale is not as gullible as he thought, and suspects Aziraphale's time on earth has completely corrupted him after all.

Aziraphale gathers as much intel as he can, in hopes he could get it to the only person he can trust(the persons who's trust he's betrayed): Crowley. He tries to come up with a plan to thwart the second coming, sneaking around heaven, planting the seeds to make this happen. This starts with stopping the starting catalyst for the second coming: a falling angel.

Metatron requests(threatens) he'll choose someone to fall if Aziraphale doesn't. The plans are already in motion, on X day, Heaven will open a portal down to Earth. Hell will simultaneously open a portal directly beneath connecting Earth to a great bath in the center of Hell filled with burning sulfur. As the angel hits the ground, Hell and Heaven together will rise all from the dead, and second coming will commence (note: never read the christian bible in my life so nothing written will be accurate to this).

Crowley, still on earth, finds this all out through other means. Muriel, who now runs the bookshop, cheerfully informs Crowley of the second coming and of the devastation that will be wracked upon humanity (Crowley forgives her naivety and corrects her on the matter). Not knowing what else to do, he turns to Anathema to see if he can gather more info. He learns of Agnes' prophecy continuation, and against Anathema's wishes, miracles it back into existence. A line sticks out to him.

When heaven nears sulfur all will come to unrest

Crowley returns to the bookshop to inform Muriel of his findings. The bookshop is in disarray, as if there was a struggle. Sensing trouble he immediately exits the shop to search for Muriel.

On the day of the fall, Aziraphale dawdles deliberately. He tells Metatron that there is no way he can pick anyone for such a thing. As Metatron and Aziraphale talk, from beneath his desk, Aziraphale writes down the coordinates that the portal will open to, and miracles it down to earth, to Crowley.

Metatron informs Aziraphale that he figured Aziraphale would not be able to complete this task, and introduces the chosen scapegoat. Aziraphale widens his eyes to see its Muriel, handcuffed. His calm persona betrays him and he gets into an angered frenzy, telling Metatron he cant. But he does. What aggravates Aziraphale further, is that Metatron tells him Muriel deserves it, for deceiving heaven and working with demon Crowley.

Crowley is meanwhile driving to the coordinates that have suddenly appeared into his hands. The penmanship is messy, as if hastily done, but he recognizes Aziraphale's writing all the same. He's spent weeks feeling betrayed and angry, but all he has now is this terrible feeling of dread in his gut. Worry for his friends, for his angel.

Muriel's wings are revealed into corporality. But before their wings can be tied to then be unceremoniously tossed in the portal, Aziraphale magics the handcuffs away and pushes Muriel into the hole, yelling at her to fly. There is a struggle. Aziraphale gets knocked in the head. He's dizzy, he thinks he's bleeding, and he realizes he's falling out of the portal too. Instinctively, his wings materialize as well, but he's too stunned to use them, and their weight propels him down.

Aziraphale is falling, Muriel is chasing after him but he's falling too fast. Crowley sees the portals from his car and curses. He's too far. He wont get there in time. He opens the door and black wings sputter into existence and he takes off. He's never flown so fast in his life. He's desperate. He won't lose his angel again. Crowley nearly reaches him, just as Aziraphale falls through the second portal right down to hell. Crowley dives right in, the portal closing behind him, which prevents Muriel from following.

He barely manages to grab Aziraphale in time before they'd have hit boiling sulfur, and crashes them straight into a very startled crowd of anticipating demons. Crowley doesn't know what to do, Aziraphale is barely conscious. He miracles a cloud of dust to cover them, and a pile of cement to crash down on the other side of the room as a distraction. Their wings dematerialize. He slaps Aziraphale awake and drags him down a hall. Aziraphale clings to his side as they make it into a small crevice to briefly take respite in.

Aziraphale is still disoriented from the fall. Crowley notices the blood on his forehead and wipes it away. Before Aziraphale can say anything Crowley does first.

"Angel, I'm going to get us out of here. I promise. But we can't have you looking like this. Make yourself useful and turn into something... more fitting? Just until we get out of this place."

Aziraphale looks at Crowley, nods, and then closes his eyes. His already tattered suit turns black and gray, and his white hair, already thoroughly dusted grey from the fall, becomes darker. He rummages through Crowley's right pocket and finds an extra pair of shades, which he puts on.

"Is this alright?" Aziraphale asks.

"Beautifully demonic." Crowley replies.

They leave the crevice and venture through the hallways of hell. They slink to the side, avoiding the gazes of other demons, lest they look too long. Crowley leads and Aziraphale follows, a hand clinging to the back end of Crowley's jacket. They turn left, then right, then right again, making all these twists and turns until they eventually make it to a backdoor entrance to Earth. In great relief, they make it out. They end up a ways from the now closed portals, close to Crowley's car. Muriel isn't to be seen, so they get in the vehicle to try and find her. Crowley looks through the prophecies and finds a clue that would lead them back to Anathema. As they ride Aziraphale informs him about heaven's plans and they formulate some ideas to stop the second coming. Midway through their conversation, Crowley speaks up.

"You really hurt me, Angel."

Aziraphale pauses. His eyes lower in guilt. He apologizes, and asks Crowley for his forgiveness.

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felix-likes-to-write · 8 months

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Rethinking life - Felix_likes_to_write - Good Omens (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Aziraphel doesnt know if he's a "good person" he doesn't think he is anymore, he really doesn't

Fanfic here too

Aziraphel stared into space again, he's been doing that alot these past days. Just staring into nothing, letting his thoughts run free, like an uncaged animals escaping from a zoo.

He sighed. He did that too now. More than usual, or even ever. He used to never sigh. Though now he does. He doesn't know why.

As he continued to bore his eyes into the unfortunate plant he continued to let his thoughts roam around.

Is he a good person? Aziraphel sighed once more. He doesn't know. Right then the other day he rolled his eyes. Rolled. And grunted as he had to get up and help.

Help....

That's what angels were to do.

Angels.... He chuckled dryly. No, not anymore, not after he backed down from being Archangel, not after he refused to set out more floods, after he fought for humans. For earth. For everything he loved.

Heaven didn't like that. No. And so sent him away. He didn't even fall. They didn't want to cause an uproar. Apparently one falling was a story. Another was poor management.

He sighed. Again. They didn't do anything at all. They just simply cut off contact. Which is okay. Yes. Okay. Cutting off contact, yes. That's okay.

A single tear ran from his cheek. Gosh. All he wanted to do was fit in. Was it that hard? Just for them to see him as an equal. As another angel. Share their memories. Share their laughs, but alas no. No one shared Aziraphel's thoughts, views, nothing. Nothing at all, and so contact was cut off. After all, he tried. It was maybe meant to be.

He's not a good person. He's made mistakes. He rolled his eyes! He huffed and puffed! Goodness thankfully not directly at people! Gosh! He's been annoyed at people and tempted to curse!

Another tear fell. Though, even if these were minor details, nothing can beat what he truly did. What he truly hurt. Crowley.

It was strange how Crowley still accepted him. Still opened his arms at a crying angel. Rubbed small circles into his back. He didn't deserve that. Aziraphel didn't. He got it nonetheless. Why didn't Crowley yell, shout, kick him out, banish him away?!?!

Why...?

Why did Crowley help him instead? Truly, Aziraphel thought. Crowley was a good person. The only one that truly was pure of heart. Even if he was a demon. He was a demon with a heart.

Why couldn't Aziraphel be kinder? Why did he start sighing, grunting, getting frustrated even? It was like that though. It will always be like that.

#good omens aziraphale #good omens #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #good omens fic

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virtualcarrot · 3 years

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GO Human!AU Flower shop Delivery relay not!fic...

...that nobody asked for, yadda yadda

A stream of consciousness not!fic I inflicted on @goodduckingomens, and attempted to give a readable shape to so less practiced souls could still understand it.

Human!AU Crowley has a flower shop. A fandom classic, right? only well, it's not like flower shops are particularly in vogue, so he also doubles as a delivery relay point. Due to a misunderstanding with that blasted internet, Aziraphale messes up an order and gets it delivered to the nearest relay point.

On that morning, Crowley gets a smushed cardboard box, but by the time he notices and yells after the infernal delivery men, the small lorry's already left the curb. He shrugs, grumbles, and gets back to business.

When a strangely dressed man steps into his shop, his first reaction is to assume he’s finally found a spender. Oh ho ho, he thinks, a flower customer if I’ve ever seen one. This one's gonna get a bouquet!.

And indeed, the customer's all Oooh and Aaaah at the flowers. Crowley's doing his best schmoozing, hoping to push for a sale, except, to his surprise (and not quite an unpleasant one, even), far from being a pushover, the guy politely - but firmly - declines. He's here to pick a delivery, he says.

It's the smushed box. The man looks offended, until Crowley lifts his hands defensively--"not me, that's how i got it"--and then he becomes crestfallen.

"You can decline it," Crowley reminds helpfully.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to be a bother..." the man says, wringing his hands and giving the saddest eyes to the crumpled box.

"Not being a bother, that, s’just customer rights, innit?"

The man visibly steels himself out of his disappointment, ready to soldier through. Seems a bit of a shame to Crowley, all that stiff upper lip nonsense, but what can you do. Still, he can’t help but suggest:

"How about you open the box here, hm? then I can be a witness. Don't worry, whatever's inside, I won't judge. I've seen things." He gives an encouraging smile.

The man smiles back, a bit distractedly. "Oh, so have I, we do live in Soho."

Crowley watches him start to pull on the tape keeping the cardboard closed and hums. "You should take a picture before, though. Proof of the state of the parcel and all."

Bringing his attention back to Crowley, the man shakes his head. "I'm afraid I didn't take a camera with me."

"I'm sure your phone... will do?"

The mere idea seems to baffle his weird customer, who blinks at him in silence. "My--? Oh! Oh, no, I don't have any of those portable phones, I'm afraid."

Which is how Crowley finds himself taking a picture of the parcel for his customer on his own cell phone, and obtaining the man's email to forward it to.

The content of the box turns out bruised too (and the eyes turn so sad at the sight that Crowley feels the urge to pat his arm; he doesn't act on it) but the customer gets a glint in his eyes that speaks of enjoying a good challenge.

"Well, it was supposed to be a restoration project after all. Still I'm very glad for the picture, dear boy, because this still warrants a very stern talking to."

And doesn’t that paint quite the picture.

Seeing as the man’s about to leave, Crowley can't help but weakly call out: "So, no flowers?"

Parcel under his arm, the man turns to him, raises an eyebrow. "I'm afraid not, though they're very lovely. Thank you for the help."

It could have stayed at that.

Only. Only, even when Aziraphale manages to order things to his actual bookshop, the local delivery men appear to have decided to simply drop his parcels at the relay point, blaming the bookshop's opening hours. "How were we to know there was someone eh?"

(Incidentally, the delivery men are Hastur and Ligur)

And so Crowley starts seeing more of him.

And every single time, Aziraphale refuses to buy any plants. Aziraphale, who is a very frugal (CHEAP) frugal person for anything he hasn't ascertained DESERVES spending into, like food or clothes or books.

It becomes a game between them.

Eventually he buys the cheapest potted plant in the shop. He kills it in 2 weeks. Following that, he may or may not storm the flower shop to not-so-seriously complain about the quality of the plants. Crowley is at once baffled, offended and extremely entertained by the utter bad faith arguments of the man. Who, it turns out, drowned his plant because: "Well, aren't they supposed to need water?!"

After that, Crowley starts recommending plants Aziraphale could manage (Aziraphale who, by that time, decides spending at the flower shop is an acceptable endeavor). And, since the bookshop is so close by, and because he's a PROFESSIONAL, Crowley also drops by the bookshop to see how attempt 14 is doing in the dusty, badly lit environment.

Crowley also sends plant memes to Aziraphale's email.

(“This is a professional address Crowley!”

“That excuse might have worked if you also had a personal one.”)

Hastur and Ligur's terrible delivery ethics cause Aziraphale a world of grief on the day he orders a gift (“It's not a gift, Tracy, I'm just... showing my appreciation of his efforts to help me keep a plant alive, stop smirking at me dear, it's unbecoming”) for Crowley and the delivery duo drop it at the flower shop.

Which means he has to go pick it up. And no matter how much he reminds himself that the parcel hides what it contains, and Think of it as an espionage mission, old chap, well, Aziraphale is a terrible actor. Crowley picks on his nerves the instant he steps inside the flower shop. Like a shark at the scent of blood, his attention narrows in on his friend. He foists whatever customer he was busy with onto his assistant Newt, just so he's free to make his way to Aziraphale.

''Hellooooo Aziraphaaaale.''

Aziraphale sends him a look of sheer distrust. ''Fiend.''

''Sooooo, I see we have a parcel for you today, hmmmm?"

Aziraphale squirms more and more. Which is a delight because he has the best reactions.

Though Crowley quickly tones the teasing down a bit, because Aziraphale doesn't give back as much as he usually does, and his squirming is dangerously close to distress.

Still, he can't help one last gentle jab when he slides the parcel over the counter.

"I thought you'd seen everything Soho has to offer. What's all this about then?"

"I don't... what- The nerve! Of asking! What right have you- I don't answer to y-!"

Aziraphale keeps sputtering in indignation all the way out of the shop. Crowley watches him go, for the first time understanding the meaning of the word befuddled.

"Well, that was a thing."

(the gift is a vintage astrolabe, and when Aziraphale finally gathers the nerve to give it to Crowley weeks later, Crowley is too overcome with emotion to pick on the opportunity for some well-spirited ribbing. They’re both emotional and terrible at being emotional and deserve each other)

One of the first plants Aziraphale manages to keep alive for a noticeable amount of time is basil. Until, high on his success, he almost kills it straight away by taking too many leaves to cook a dish. While he wrings his hands in distress and lets out small oh dears, Crowley takes note of the plant with no small amount of dismay.

Aziraphale hovers anxiously. "Can you save it?"

"Nothing to do but wait, angel. Give it a break, make sure the soil doesn't dry, leave it by your cleanest window for some actual sunlight and let it rest."

"Oh dear, are you sure there's nothing els-"

"Nope. Rest." And then, to make sure Aziraphale doesn't fuss the poor plant to death, he steers him by the shoulders--and uh, they do feel pleasantly full and wide under his hands--to the bookshop entrance. "Let's get dinner, eh?"

The basil survives. Aziraphale buys two other pots so he can alternate their use in the kitchen.

Turns out, the plants Aziraphale gets best along with are the d r a m a t i c ones. The ones who'll droop and swoon and crawl the moment they feel a hint of thirst, significantly enough that even Aziraphale's distracted self will take notice, but also who'll sit up straight a few hours after being watered, giving Aziraphale the satisfaction of a job well done. Making him feel like he matters. Like his pampering is well received.

Anathema, a bookshop regular, once takes one look at a droopy peace lily, then at the club armchair Crowley’s dropped himself into, bemoaning the horrors of customer service, and says "Guess Mr Fell has a type, eh?"

#good omens #ineffable partners #not!fic : good omens #my scrawl #my not!fic #fanfic : Good Omens

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diredove · 3 years

Text

Curious Fool

My first time attempting to write anything longer than headcanons, please note I’m going off of this AU! I’m in love with Crowley so I see this as an x reader story, but it can easily be interpreted as something else!

Warnings: Very Mild cursing, Crowley being scary (as in, threatening and a hand squeezing a throat), Me grasping at straws to make Potentially Evil!Dire make sense! Gender Neutral Reader as well!

You wondered about Dire Crowley more than you would like to admit. He was an enigma that your brain for some reason was terribly invested in solving. It started small, maybe because you were holding back your suspicion out of guilt, the man had given you a roof over your head and food to eat in this strange new world, surely he deserved better than you concocting conspiracy theories about him? But gratitude should not inspire stupidity in someone, and it didn't inspire in you.

Why exactly was he being so gracious? For all the pretty words he spoke to you, he certainly didn't act guilty. Every sympathy he offered to your plight felt like it was meant to silence you, "Shush, no more of that." he seemed to whisper between the lines. Yes, it was all too bad you were stuck in a world not your own and that poor, poor Crowley was working himself to the bone to find a way back for you to no avail, but what would you have him do? He's already being so kind.

And that was another thing, wasn't it? He wasn't all that kind at all, or if he was it was only in a backhanded way. Wasn't he just the sweetest thing alive for giving you a place to stay? As if you weren't breaking your damn back every single night sleeping on the couch of the teacher's lounge and waking to the racket of your dearest headmaster starting up that monstrous coffee maker at the crack of dawn each morning! Well, what about the food you were provided every single meal time? Quite generous, he'd say. And you would beg to differ because you had a diet of convenience store sandwiches and children's snacks and sodas! Everything you ate was from Sam's shop and didn't cost that old crow a dime!

And maybe, just maybe, you would have been more understanding and grateful for it given your circumstances, if Dire Crowley wasn't absolutely loaded. He could easily afford to buy you actual meals, put you up some place that wasn't a glorified common room, pay you! But for all his guilt and graciousness, he didn't. It felt like he was trying to trick into being grateful to him when he hadn't actually done anything for you to be grateful for, in the grand scheme of things.

But that's not all. If that had been it then you could have convinced yourself you were being dramatic and gone on with your topsy turvy little life. But no, Dire Crowley simply would not let you rest (on a proper bed or otherwise).

Why did he act like that? You were not someone to turn your nose up at an odd personality, considering how well you were handling being in a potential alternate universe, one might say you have one yourself. But there was just something... off about him. He always seemed a bit too happy, he laughed just a tad too hard, his stares were too intense, he went silent after whatever spiel he'd been on so quick you'd think he had a switch inside him. Alone, those were just the quirks of being human (though you didn't even know enough to call him that either), but they stacked up quickly.

And you had really fought with yourself on this, worried you were being prejudice against him out of paranoia, but then you saw him get angry.

Everyone gets angry, everyone yells sometimes, it's a fact of life and you're an adult who can accept that. But seeing the headmaster shift from harmless eccentric man to inflicting backbreaking labor on teenagers who didn't get to explain themselves at all was rather... jarring to say the least. He yelled in his oddly charming accent and his mask hid whatever anger would have shown on his face, and maybe you were being overprotective of the young ones and forgetting that that type of punishment was far more manageable in a world of magic. But you couldn't shake the feeling that he was holding back, like he was seconds away from sounding like a different person beneath the quirky act. Like a parent putting on a goofy voice to scold their child to keep themselves from letting their frustration show.

But, and maybe you're just dense from here on, all that did was make you squint a little. There was just as much of a chance of him putting up a front as there was of you misunderstanding things and reaching too far. But the seed had been planted, and now you were curious.

So, instead of coming up with crazy ideas you had no backing for, you thought: "Let's just ask."

Not Dire, of course, as if he would tell you the truth or appreciate you prodding him. Thankfully though, there were people close to him that you could interrogate instead.

And then you started hitting walls, thick ones.

"What's Dire's deal?" Seemed like a pretty clear question, so why was every single answer you got so convoluted?

Sam had tried to act unbothered, but you saw how his hand froze as he stocked the shelves of the Mystery Shop. He looked at you with his bright smile and waved his free had dismissively.

"He's something alright, I'll give him that! He's an odd one, I guess you could say! What's with the interest, Starlight?" He answered, though a question for a question hardly satisfied you.

Crewel had outright ignored you, even after you had repeated your question several times he kept maneuvering around you and acting like he was busy. He absolutely wasn't, he had moved the same four beakers back and forth between lab tables three times. Once he realized you weren't going to take his hint and scram, he looked down his nose at you as if you had ruined his entire week.

"You know, puppies that never stop yapping are troublesome. But do you know what's even more troublesome, Little Scamp? Puppies that sniff around where they don't belong. You'd do well to train yourself out of that habit, and quickly." He'd told you coldly, which shocked you into a stupor because you had thought him overzealous but friendly just moments before.

You had hoped Trein, with his unflappability and no nonsense policy, wouldn't beat around the bush and would be the one to change your luck so far. Instead, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat uncomfortably. He seemed to be taking extra care to choose his words, as though they were fragile as glass slippers. Even Lucius looked still in his arms.

"He is a man, as am I, nothing more and nothing less. It is best to leave it at that, My Dear." He implored you gently, you couldn't help but feel this was as close to a plea as the stoic man would ever get. Lucius stared at you unblinkingly, as if trying to determine your answer through your eyes alone.

You hoped the cat couldn't actually tell, because your answer was no.

You still had one more shot. Vargas was loud and a bit much at times, but his love of his own voice would work in your favor. However, you had learned from your mistakes and decided getting straight to the point wasn't in your best interest. If everyone wanted to play with you, it was only right to join the game.

"Please, tell me more about your school days, Ashton! Were you really the star of the Magic Shift team?" You asked in an awed tone, eyes wide.

The coach was eating it up like it was his last meal, you had been stroking the man's ego for over two hours already and if he tells you about the goal that turned the playoffs around one more time you think you'll snap. But his defenses are down, and his lips are loose, so you'll grin and bare just a little longer.

"That's right! I was king of NRC, undisputed! There wasn't a soul on campus who didn't want to be mine!" The man boasted, "Well, except for Beth. She wasn't all there though, not that I cared! She wasn't all that, I'm not bitter about it!"

He's definitely bitter about it, but you don't have time to unpack that when your opening is right in front of you.

"Right right, I totally get it. Hey, speaking of the past, when did you meet Crowley?"

Okay, you lied. There wasn't an opening at all, you burst in with a sledgehammer. But your cutesy act was getting hard to keep up!

Vargas takes the sloppy bait though, " Oh, that guy? He just kinda popped up and offered me a job to be honest. The pays good, so I deal with the old coot being a weirdo."

You have to stop yourself from lighting up, "Weirdo?" You question dumbly, finger on your chin and all.

Vargas looks both ways and then gestures for you to come closer, you can't tell if he's being playful or not with that glint in his eyes.

"Look, don't tell anyone I told you this, okay Dolly? Crowley's got some crazy going on around here, I swear. I don't know details but I've got suspicions." The coach whispers, you nod eagerly for him to continue.

"There's this... room. I don't know what's in it, it's always locked and not even the staff master key opens it. He goes in there every Friday, and I don't see him come out, he just appears again Monday morning. There's this bright light that shines under the door whenever he goes in, and after a few seconds, it stops." Ashton explains, and it's more than you had hoped for.

Creepy locked room, disappearing act, unexplained happenings? This is exactly the dirt you've been looking for!

"He thinks he's being sneaky about it, but I caught on, see? I was following him to ask about a some paperwork and I saw it. I know somethings up, Crowley is up to no good and I don't care how crazy I sound." Ashton stresses, as he goes on he seems more serious, you can't take time to be happy about your findings because he looks so pale.

"Vargas, are you oka-"

"Listen Dolly, I know you're curious, but you don't want nothing to do with this and neither do I. Freaky shit is going down, and if you're smart like me you'll act like you don't know a thing."

You stare at him. H-Had he been on to you the whole time?

"I'm trying to help you, stay away from the west wing and don't-" He stops. His eyes are on something behind you.

"V-Vargas?" You call, shakily.

"I've said enough. Stay outta the west wing, Doll. For your own good."

You don't stay out of the west wing.

In fact, you deliberately seek it out. Ace gives you a funny look when you ask him, but he points you in the right direction anyway. You wish you were more embarrassed about being a member of staff asking students for directions, but you've got bigger fish to fry.

You know this isn't smart, no matter how harmless the headmaster may seem, no one likes being found out. But your life is in his golden-clawed hands and you'd feel even less smart following him blindly and hoping you're safe with him.

The west wing isn't what you expected (though to be fair you had been expecting a torture chamber), it's an entirely normal hall like all the others in school. It's so mundane your face falls. There's also no way to tell if anything is amiss from a glance alone, so you'll have to use less tact than you were hoping to. Making your way down the hall you turn each knob one by one to see which won't turn.

After about twenty or so doors, curse the long hallways in this college, you see one that's quite out of place. It's at the very end of the hall, how cliché, and while it is the same size and color as all the others, it's surrounded with a ridiculous number of portraits. There are big ones above the doorframe and little ones squeezed into the narrow spaces along the sides of it, and if that wasn't enough, the ones that wouldn't fit in either spot were enchanted to float nearby. And the portraits themselves are nothing like the silly but sweet ones that gossip as they watch over everyone who passes in the main building, these are painted with snarls and angered eyes. Both human and nonhuman beings are depicted, each one staring straight at whomever would stand in front of the door. Their eyes seem to be looking in every direction at once even though their pupils are painted straight ahead, it feels like they can see everything without shifting their gaze. You can't even tell if they're alive like the others, they're so... cold.

You take a deep breath, that must be it. You've come to this far, and you'd planned everything so carefully there was no reason to be afraid. The students were having Magift practice today, so that meant Vargas was busy, but it also meant that Crowley was doing his rounds and would stop to "give the players some good old fashioned encouragement ". He would go on forever, there was plenty of time for you to investigate and cover your tracks before he ever even wondered where you were.

You could admit the only person you were convincing was yourself, but it helped you forced your legs to move toward the end of the hall. Even as you walked closer, you knew you shouldn't, the air around you seemed like it was trying to force you back, oppressively pushing you with every step you took towards that door. You wouldn't be able to open it, Ashton had told you already, what exactly were you gaining, being stared down by the lifelike yet lifeless portraits as you neared the door? Nothing, and yet your hand grabbed the knob impulsively, you hadn't realized you'd been holding your breath until it left your lungs in a rush at the touch of icy cold iron in your clammy grip.

You shouldn't have touched it, you shouldn't have, now what? Your plan was to turn back after your curiosity was sated, but you couldn't. The force that was pushing back against you before was now pulling you forward, beckoning you. The portraits no longer looked like a warning, but an invitation. You've come so far, now come a little closer, something that wasn't a voice nor a thought breathed around you.

You twist the doorknob, like a fool.

It turns.

Your heart leaps with excitement and fear, and you feel a surge of adrenaline run through your body. You can go in, you can go farther!

You feel yourself smiling widely even though you're sure you're not happy, you go to push the door open just a little further.

You stop as four pinpricks upon your throat flare with pain, your eyes go wide like a deer and you freeze.

"Crewel was right, you're truly nothing but trouble."

The voice sounds familiar, and yet nothing like the person it belongs to. But you'd know those gold-tipped fingers anywhere.

"I really am getting on in years, to make such a mistake." Dire sighs, his voice does not lilt and his tone is low. He sounds like an actor who's given up on staying in character.

You catch a whimper in your throat when the hand upon it slides up the front of your neck to grip under your chin and rear you head back at a terrible angle. You meet the dead-eyed gaze of Crowley's mask as he looks straight down at you.

"But you've made an even bigger mistake, Youngling, by testing me."

You want to apologize, or plead for your safety, because the man looming over you is not the one you've grown reluctantly fond of. But because we have established that you are a fool, you say instead:

"Your vest is a mistake. There's sequins on it." You snark weakly, you sound pathetic, half because of the grade school insult and half because you're gasping for breath.

Dire stares down at you blankly. Then he grins, not his usual one full of jolly cheer, but a wide toothy one that is just a few degrees off from a sneer.

"Oh, you really think you're just the cutest little thing under the sun, don't you?" He asks, he chuckles halfway through but it's dry and dark.

Why are you so foolish, why do you speak?

Abruptly, the pressure points on your neck are released and you fall to your knees, gulping sweet sweet air.

"Well you're right! You're just adorable, thinking you could catch me out!" Dire shouts cheerfully, hands on his hips and accent back in full swing. His façade is back in place like it was never gone.

You stare in disbelief.

"You know, anyone else would have to be put under a curse of eternal silence for snooping around like you did." He continues, "But I am so very kind, I'm going to let you walk out of here without laying a finger on you."

You shakily get to your feet, leaning against the wall for support and as something to curl in on to cower from the overly happy man before you.

He stares at you smiling for many moments too long, you know he's trying to scare you and you're angry at yourself for being so. Abruptly, he nods.

"I'll be off then, I'm sure you get the message? Of course you do! Make your way back to your room then, off you get! Goodbye!"

The man walks away quickly, waving his hand in farewell.

He left you without a fight, with the door left unlocked and you still in position to reveal what was on the other side. You balk at the obvious show of his power over you.

He knew you were too terrified now, he knew you would obey him like a dog told to stay, the smug bastard.

You bite your lip in frustration and confused tears fill your eyes. You just want to know what's going on, you just want to go home! Nothing makes sense.

You look at the door that's slightly ajar.

Then at the exit of the west wing across the long hall.

You can no longer hear Crowley's footsteps.

And because you are a fool, and because you are defiant, and because you want some semblance of control, you make a mad dash through the door before you can change your mind.

#dire crowley x reader #Dire Crowley #twisted wonderland #twst

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itsclydebitches · 5 years

Text

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first:

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense.

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go.

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish.

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it.

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit.

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world.

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

#good omens #ineffable husbands #air conditioning #good omens fic #guess who spent 48 hours doing nothing but writing and formatting #can I get a wahoo

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anathewierdo · 4 years

Text

Call of the Ocean Chapter 6: Dangerous Flirt

Pairing: CEO!Mechanic!Dean Winchester x Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 6592

Chapter summary: With every passing moment, Dean’s regretting just a little bit more his decision of coming back to Kansas. Luckily, amongst the bad and the ugly, there’s still some good things around him. Reality ain’t exactly rockin’, but his dreams are definitely something else.

Series summary: CEO of Winchester Auto Dean Winchester has had enough of the office life. With his father keeping him from what he wants to do, which is work on the plant floor, Dean decides to leave for a quiet life. In Matagorda, Texas, he finds something he never thought he would, a chance encounter with a mythical creature.

Call of the Ocean Masterlist

A/N: Next chapter will be posted this saturday (september 5th)! :D This series is a collaboration with @flamencodiva Text dividers madde by @talesmaniac89

Dean cleaned his hand of grease as his Grandfather Samuel was talking to Benny. Dean never noticed Castiel behind him when he turned and jumped after seeing the blue-eyed man.

“Damn it Cas!” Dean cursed. “You need to stop fucking getting close to my ass!”

“Sorry,” Cas took a step back. “So what’s going to happen? Are you coming back?”

Dean shook his head, “I only came for pop’s birthday.” Dean sighed as he began to remove his coveralls. “I’m going to start my own garage in Matagorda. I asked gramps if Benny can come along. And well— was wondering if you would come too?”

When his friend didn’t answer, Dean turned to look at him, seeing Cas’ apologetic eyes. “I have too much here, Dean…”

“Cas,” Dean ran his fingers through his hair. “I need you there, man. I need people I can trust working with me. Please?” Dean looked at one of his best friends with pleading eyes.

“Dean, you know I- I’d love to come with you, but-” Dean didn’t blame his best friend for the hesitation. As far as Cas knew, his project in Matagorda may not even pick up, and Dean knew that asking him to move all the way there for him was a lot.

“Just, think about it, please?” Dean adjusted his tie before placing his hand on Cas’s shoulder. “I’ll see you at Pop’s birthday party right?”

At this, Cas did smile. Grateful at not being more pressured. He pulled Dean close in a quick hug. “And miss the opportunity to spend more time with The Wayward Winchester? You know I wouldn’t miss it.”

Dean gave him a smile as he walked with his Grandfather towards the elevator leading back to the offices.

“I take it Castiel is giving you a hard time?” Samuel smiled looking at his grandson.

“You can say that,” Dean sighed. “Pop’s are you sure you’re okay with me making my own garage out there?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Samuel let out a chuckle. “This only proves that you’re your own man. You’re not scared of getting your hands dirty and working hard.” He placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Son, your dad just wants what’s best. But I think he’s forgetting that you want what makes you happy. And working on cars, using your hands, that makes you happy. Not sitting in a stuffy office. I know Sam is not going to be CEO; he loves being a lawyer. But If anything I can find someone internal. I mean there is always Garth.”

“Garth?” Dean raised his eyebrows at his grandfather. “Pops I think you have better chances with Mick than Garth.”

“What do you like about Mick?” Samuel asked as they got off the elevator and made their way towards Samuel’s office.

Dean sat on one of the leather chairs as Samuel closed the door. Dean took a quick look around and smiled at an old family picture, it was one of the few times that he saw his father proud of him. It was when he graduated with his mechanical engineering degree, while Sam got his pre law degree.

“Mick is knowledgeable, has a good report with other companies,” Dean cleared his throat. “And Mick also has close ties to our British branch.”

“This is true,” Sammuel placed his fingers to his lips in thought. “I’ll think about it. Why don’t you get out of here and spend some time with your brother and his girl. You did good work down there. I need to call Crowley and yell at him for trying to swindle us.”

Dean chuckled. “Give’em hell, pops.”

Walking out of his grandfather’s office, Dean thought of going back down with Cas and Benny. Maybe he missed another one of Crowley’s sucky deals, or maybe he could jump into one of the suits again and help out on another car. As he pressed the button, he turned, not noticing the brunette, who was with his father, walk in.

“I was wondering when I could corner you,” her voice interrupted Dean’s thoughts as he turned around. “Lisa Braden,” she stuck out her hand for him to shake noticing his questioning look.

“Uh… Dean Winchester.”

Lisa smiled softly, “I know we are in a very sticky situation. Just so you know, I don’t think your father is treating you fairly.”

Dean huffed, “Great. What’s the gossip, sister?”

“Just that you are running away from your responsibilities as CEO,” Lisa shrugged. “I think there is something more to it than that.”

“Of course that’s the part that is running around,” he looked at the floor number on the elevator. Just a couple more floors… “If you don’t mind me asking, Mrs. Braden, what-”

“Miss actually, I’m not married.” She offered him a soft smile. “I’m sorry, go on.”

“No, no, my mistake. So, Miss Braden, what is your interest in Winchester Auto?”

“Really, it’s just more of a merger really,” she looked at her manicured nails. “My company is Lucifer Industries. We make car parts for different cars around the world, much like you do. Although being under your company would help sales. Especially for our Archangel Engine prototype.”

“Huh, is that so?” Was all Dean managed to say. Lucifer Industries didn’t have that great of a reputation, but they did good. But he couldn’t come up with a good reason as to why they would suddenly want to merge… Or better yet, why his grandfather would agree to consider to merge with them.

“I think we could be very good friends,” she smiled. “You can take me to your grandfather's party, just to keep your Dad happy.” She placed a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Don't you think?”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, Miss Braden. I’m not looking for a date.”

“So you would rather be miserable at a party, and have your father ruin a good night? I’m not so bad. I’m sure if you get to know me, you’ll see.”

Dean was about to come up with a witty answer when the elevator dinged, signaling they were on the plant floor. He stepped out of the elevator, but put his hand on the side to prevent the doors from closing, and gave Lisa a smile.

“Miss Braden, I’m sure you’re not so bad. But parties are not always better with a date. Being with my friends is enough. Have a good day.”

“But…” Before she could finish, Dean was out of the door and removing his tie. Getting into his Impala he revved up the engine and made his way towards Sam’s house. During his drive, Dean couldn’t help but be angry at his father. He knew what he was supposed to do, but that didn’t mean he was going to. As he parked the car he gave a slight groan. His mother’s car was in the driveway.

“Could this day get any worse?” he muttered as he got out of the car.

Walking up the pathway, Dean used his key to open the door and walked in.

“You missed lunch,” his mother said from one of the couches in the living room. She didn’t look upset, though.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” Dean kissed her cheek. “Pop’s and I were looking into the engine Crowley sent in with the guys on the plant floor. Time kind of got away from us.”

“You always lost track of time whenever you got near that floor. Don’t worry, honey.”

“I have some things to sort out in the office. Sign some papers and then head back to Matagorda after the party. Benny’s coming with me…” he trailed off unsure of how his mother would take the news.

His mother only nodded, not surprised. “Ok… and how did things go with your father?”

“The usual,” Dean shrugged. “He expects me to take some exec from Lucifer Industries to the party. But that’s not happening.” Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge. “But, how did you and Jess do in wedding planning? When is the big day for them?” Dean changed the subject, knowing that his father would probably show up just out of spite.

“She actually wants to take it slow,” Mary smiled fondly, “and we already have so many ideas. The wedding is going to take place in about a year, not too many guests. Jess wants friends and family, although Sam might convince her to invite a few more people…” she smiled happily before grabbing a piece of pie and setting it in front of Dean. “We have to start looking for a venue, and think about what color everything’s going to be and the cake and Jess’ dress, but the good news is, since the wedding is not happening ‘til next year, we have time to make all those choices… oh! Darling! Maybe they could get married near your new house in Matagorda! Just imagine! Your brother and Jess getting married with the ocean as-”

“Mom,” Dean gave her a look interrupting her. “You realize this is Sam and Jess’s wedding right?” He winced when she reached out and smacked lightly the back of his head.

“Of course I know that!” she assured, “but when Jess hears about it, I’m sure she’s gonna love the idea.”

“Yeah,” Dean grumbled. The last thing he needed was his father at his new house picking it apart and causing trouble where he was going to set up his new business. “Mom, you know that I’m going out there to get away from Dad, right?”

“But imagine how happy Sam would be if he got married so close to his big brother… and Jess, don’t you think she deserves a beautiful wedding near the sea?”

“Oh mom,” Dean groaned. “Don’t guilt trip me into this, please! I’m already here sucking it up when he tries to stuff me in an office and --”

“Dean,” Mary’s tone left no room for argument now, “I’m going to pitch the idea to Sam and Jess. And if they decide to have the wedding there, even if you and your father still have issues by the time the wedding rolls around, I’m sure you can control yourselves for a day. Especially at Sam’s wedding.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean raised his hands in surrender. “If Jess and Sam want to get married at the beach house they can. I give up.” Pushing the unfinished pie away he got up and grabbed his beer. “I lost my appetite, I’ll be out back if you need me.”

Without looking at his Mother, Dean made his way out to Sam’s backyard. He sat in one of the lawn chairs and stared at the pool. He heard the door open again, and it wasn’t long ‘til he felt his mother sit next to him and put her hand in his.

“Honey,” she began softly, “I understand why you wouldn’t want your father to go to Matagorda. I really do… I just… I got excited. Your brother’s getting married, for god’s sakes.”

“And I’m happy for him, Mom,” he sighed. “I really am. But I also don’t want Dad to ruin the one piece of happiness I have. He already pulled me away from you guys and it sucks.” he scoffed, “why can’t he see that I love working and I’m not some trust fund brat who will run the company to the ground?”

This time, Mary stayed quiet, and gently took hold of his chin to make him look at her. When she was sure she had his attention, she spoke.

“He does see it, baby.” She held onto his face before he could pull away. “He does. And that’s exactly why he wants you to take the job… But, you don’t want it. And you know he’s not used to people telling him no,” she tried to joke with him, “I won’t tell Sam and Jess about Matagorda. There are plenty of places around… I’m still going to visit you sooner or later, though.”

Dean sighed as he looked at his Mother, “Tell them. Just… make sure you keep Dad on a short leash until then. I’m okay with the wedding there. But I won’t stand for him pissing all over my new business.”

“Alright,” Mary smiled softly at him, then leaned to give him a kiss on his forehead “I have to get going… I love you, ok?”

“Love you too, Ma,” Dean kissed her cheek. “You’re welcome anytime at Matagorda. Dad on the other hand might find himself being thrown off the cliff by my house.”

Dean watched as Mary waved goodbye just as Sam walked out. Dean turned towards the pool, chugging the rest of his beer. The brothers stayed silent with Sam grabbing a beer for himself and Dean from the outside fridge.

“You okay, Dean?” Sam handed Dean the bottle of beer he had grabbed for him from the patio fridge.

“Define okay, Sam,” Dean sighed as he took a big chug. “Am I okay that you’re getting married? Yes. Am I okay that Pop’s is happy with me starting my own garage out in Matagorda? Yes. Am I okay with Dad using me as a way to have Pop's company merge with Lucifer Industries? Absolutely-fucking-not.”

Sam took a sip of his own beer “Okay, so okay is too general.” Sam turned to his brother, “I’m not happy with the merger either. I don’t trust Ms. Braden.” Sam breathed. “There’s something about the contract that doesn’t sit right with me.”

“What?” Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m pouring over the contract and my eyes hurt. But I need to make sure we aren’t getting into trouble here. I don’t know what dad was thinking.”

“He probably wasn’t,” Dean rolled his eyes, “Lucifer Industries is, at best, not very trustworthy. Why would Dad and Pops even consider doing business with them?”

“Beats me,” his brother shrugged, “hopefully I can convince them not to do anything if I find something fishy.”

“I have a feeling Pop’s doesn’t know anything about this,” Dean looked at Sam. “If he did, he would have mentioned it on the plant floor.”

“You think Dad’s doing it to get you to come back?” Sam took another sip of his beer.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dean shook his head. “But it’s too late. Benny’s coming with me to Matagorda. And if I can convince Cas to come, I’ll be set to have business rolling.” he looked down at his hands. “And… I was wondering if you…”

He definitely had his brother’s attention with that. It wasn’t everyday that Dean asked for help, or anything at all, for that matter. Sam arched an eyebrow, suddenly looking nervous.

“If I…?”

Dean took a long sip of his beer, practically chugging it before closing his eyes and turning to his brother. “Be the lawyer for my start up?” Dean breathed. “You won’t have to move and you won’t have to leave the plant. But I don’t trust anyone else Sam.”

Sam just stared at him for a couple seconds, blinking. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “I don’t really trust anyone else. And you’re the best lawyer I know.”

“Dude, of course I’ll do it! You don’t even have to ask!” Sam chuckled, relieved. He took a sip of his beer and turned back to his brother. “Speaking of doing something for the other…”

“Yeah, Sam? You know I’ll do anything you ask. You’re my brother.” Dean smiled.

Sam smiled. And Dean knew that smile. The jackass was about to pull off something stupid.

“Dean Jerk Winchester,” Sam began, stepping in front of his brother and actually dropping on one knee, the stupid smile getting bigger and barely containing his laughter, “would you do me the honor of being my best man at my wedding?”

“You want me to be your best man?” Dean looked at his brother. He wasn’t sure he deserved to stand next to his brother on his big day. “Do I get a special ring and a big celebration?” Dean gave Sam a shit eating grin. “Yes I’ll be your best man, Bitch! Get up and come here!” Dean pulled Sam up for a hug.

Dean pulled back and placed his hand on Sam’s cheek giving him a smile and a small slap.

“Proud of you Sam,” Dean muttered. “You definitely have everything figured out.”

Dean pulled away and looked over the pool. The moon reflected over it’s water as the two brother’s stood side by side.

“Ya know… it’s been a while since… since the whole issue with Cassie… maybe you could go back in the field…”

“Maybe I’ll find someone out there,” Dean took a deep breath. “Maybe I won’t. I mean… I don’t mind being a bachelor.” Dean’s relationship with Cassie ended up with a drunken night, and a small trip to jail. Just a few hours after Cassie turned down his proposal. “I mean, I guess I just was meant to be alone you know? Everyone always did say I was a big playboy.”

“Cassie’s a bitch,” Sam growled. “If I had known you were going to go after the guy she cheated on you with, I would have joined you.” Sam finished his beer and grabbed his brothers empty beer bottle. He made his way to the small bar that was by the pool, and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Grabbing two glasses he filled it two fingers full and walked over to Dean.

Dean just shrugged, and took the glass of whiskey from Sam before giving him a cheeky smile. Taking a swig of his whiskey, face turning serious, his eyes focused on the water again. “It hurt a lot. Still hurts a little bit, if I’m honest. That’s time I’m not getting back. And it sucks… But it’s in the past, Sammy. And I think I’m better off without her. At this point, if it happens, it happens. And that’s it.”

“Yeah, fuck her.” Sam agreed. “But, let’s celebrate! I’m getting married, you’re moving to better things! And no matter what, we’re always going to be brothers Dean.”

“I mean, I’d be worried if we suddenly weren’t-”

“Shut up! You know what I mean, Jerk!” Both men laughed.

“Jessica is lucky to have a guy like you, Bitch,” Dean raised his glass for Sam to toast. “To you and Jessica,” Dean smiled. “I hope you guys have a life filled with love and happiness.”

Sam tapped his glass against Dean’s, “And to you. I hope you find what you’re looking for in Matagorda.”

“It’s weird, man. But I have a very good feeling about it.” Dean hissed after taking a sip of the whiskey. The amber liquid leaving a slight burn. “When I saw that house and that town, there was something just pulling me there. I just know it.”

“Well, let’s hope for the best.”

Finishing his whiskey, Dean licked his lips and sighed. “I should head to bed. I have to head in tomorrow and I’d rather try to avoid Dad at all costs.” Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Send a copy of the contract to my office. I’ll take a look and if anything I’ll show it to Pop’s.”

“Sounds good to me”

As Dean was walking away, he stopped by the patio door and smirked. “Just so you know, I’m thinking about a circus theme for your bachelor party. Night, Sammy.” Dean rushed inside running up the stairs to his room.

“You better be joking about that, you asshole!” Sam shook his head as he finished his whiskey and headed inside and to bed.

Dean chuckled hearing Sam call out. Running a hand across his face, he sighed. It was really late and he was starting to realize just how tired he was. With a sigh he began to undress and stayed in his boxers. Lifting the covers he climbed inside and settled in. Turning to his side, he closed his eyes. His mind drifting to his house in Matagorda and the possibilities it held.

The sea breeze caressed his face as he looked out at the horizon. The sounds of the waves crashing against the cliff gave him a sense of peace. He looked down and noticed he was dressed in a pair of khaki slacks, a white button down shit, and (color Jess is using for her wedding) vest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and he turned to look at the scene.

The house was decorated beautifully. Right by the shore was a gazebo with a white carpet leading up to it. He could see Sam nervously pacing as the guests began to arrive. Dean was about to say something when a splash and a call for help turned his attention towards the ocean. He could see a woman with Y/C/H hair that had streaks of lavender and gold intertwined in it.

The scene changed as Dean found himself staring at a young woman as she walked along the shore. Her Y/H/C hair flowing in the wind behind her. Something about her made his heart pound in his chest. He couldn’t stop himself from walking towards her. It was like two magnets being pulled together.

“Who are you?”

“My name is--” the wind began to blow heavily.

A large storm cloud seemed to appear out of nowhere. He watched as the woman’s face gave a look of horror.

“Don’t let them take me, please,” she tried to reach for him.

“Wait!”

Dean watched as a large creature used it’s tentacle to grab at the woman. He tried to reach out to her, only to find his hand being grabbed by someone. Turning around, he found himself face to face with Lisa

“You two can never be,” Lisa pulled him farther back away from her.

Dean pulled against Lisa as he tried to make his way to the woman. He had to help her. She had to stay. He couldn’t reach her as the creature pulled the woman into the water. He gasped as he saw her body change and she had a familiar lavender tail.

That morning, all Dean could think about was the dream. Why was he having them? Did they have any deeper meaning? He remembered reading about Matagorda having a legend about mermaids, but he always thought them to be childish.

“Morning Dean,” Jessica’s chipper voice cut through his thoughts.

“Morning Jess,” Dean smiled at her. “I need to head to the office. Tell Sam to just drop the contracts on my desk. I’ll be holed up doing some last minute stuff before Mick hopefully takes over.”

“Okay,” Jess walked up to him. “Dean, you know you can call in sick if you want to.”

“It’s okay Jess,” Dean offered her a soft smile. “I have stuff I gotta do. Although it might be a half day for me.”

Giving Jess a kiss on the cheek, he made his way to his car and drove to the office. On the drive there, he tried to come up with a way to keep from seeing his Dad. Reaching the office Dean took great care to stay out of sight as he made his way to his office. He even decided to look at the secretary and ask her to get his coffee for him just this once. He never really liked ordering anyone around. But he didn’t want to bump into John either. He even made sure to let the secretary know he was going to be holed up in his office.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester,” she smiled at him. “I will make sure no one disturbs you and just let me know where you’d like me to order your lunch from and I can have one of the interns retrieve it for you. Your coffee should be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Has Pop’s come in yet, Andrea?” Dean looked at her.

“I will call his secretary and find out for you, Mr. Winchester.” She smiled at him. “Mr. Winchester?”

“Yes, Andrea?”

“I--” she bit her lip and played with her fingers a bit. “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Of course you can,” Dean nodded, “shoot your question”

“Benny mentioned that you are opening a shop in Matagorda, Texas,” she paused and took in a deep breath. “And I was wondering if I could please join you in your new venture. I am more than willing to take a pay cut if needed. I can assist with appointments and take calls as well as order anything needed for the garage--” she rambled.

“Woah! Andrea, slow down for a bit, will you?” he chuckled, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes, smiling softly, “You didn’t actually think I was going to separate you and Benny, did ya?” he took his hands back, and gave her a cheeky smile as he shrugged, “figured you guys are a package deal.”

Andrea smiled shyly. “I just had to ask… you know, just in case.”

“Andrea,” he began, “you are more than welcome in Matagorda.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “I’ll go ahead and call Mr. Campbell’s secretary for you and see if he’s in.”

Dean smiled and nodded before entering his own office and closing the door. Walking to his desk he sat down and looked over what was needed for the day. It wasn’t long before he called in Mr. Mick Davis into his office.

“How are you, Mick?” He smiled.

“Good, thank you, Dean,” Mick said as he took a seat, “heard you caused quite the havoc yesterday with your old man.”

“It was the usual Mick, you know how he is,” Dean chuckled. “I want to thank you for stepping up. But I have something I want to tell you.”

“You know it’s not a problem, my friend. And we all know, if John Winchester has ever been anything, is a force of nature,” Mick smiled, before rubbing his hands together, “now, tell me, what have you got for me?”

“I was talking with Pop’s and I have a proposition for you,” Dean placed his elbows on his desk and rested his head on his folded hands. “I want you to take over for me here. You are going to get a pay raise and you will be assistant CEO getting paid as CEO.” Dean looked at Mick.

“How would that work, exactly?”

“Well…” Dean leaned back. “I’m going to open up a shop in Matagorda, Texas. I need you here over seeing the contracts and keeping our clients happy. I will be testing out some new specks in the new shop as well as run a regular auto shop.” Dean took this time to stand up and pace in front of his window overlooking the city. “Look, you are going to get paid as a CEO, to everyone else, it will seem as if you are CEO under me. But really, you are CEO.”

“Wow,” Mick laughed, “so basically- oh wow, Dean. Are you sure about this? About me?” a look of uncertainty appeared on the british man’s face. “Please don’t get me wrong, lad. Thank you so much. But,” he paused, looking at Dean with awe, “are you absolutely sure that I’m the right guy for this job?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Mick. You have a good relationship with clients and you know your way around the tricky contracts.” Dean sat on his desktop and smiled at Mick. “Just know that for a while people will still think I'm the CEO. Pop’s will make an announcement soon but it might not be for a while. We’re trying to sort something out with Lucifer industries.”

“Alright.”

“Sam is bringing me the contract to look over today,” Dean ran a hand across his face. “Something doesn’t sit right with me about it.”

“Yes, Nick is as slippery as an eel,” Mick sighed. “I will make sure that things run smoothly. Will I need to talk to Mr. Campbell today?”

“I have to call him and we need to iron out the details tomorrow. Will you be going to the party, the day after tomorrow? Dean asked as he went back to sit behind his desk.

Mick took that as his chance to leave. “I will most definitely be there.” Mick smiled at him. “I never miss a chance to have fun at one of the old man’s parties”

“I’ll talk to you later Mick,” Dean smiled as he gave Mick a wave.

With a few moments of silence Dean began to pour over the work he had to do. By noon, Andrea had come in with his lunch and he was grateful for the double cheeseburger and fries. But Dean couldn’t stay in the office all day. Eventually he needed to use the restroom.

Carefully opening the door, Dean looked around to make sure the coast was clear. He was grateful that he was able to relieve himself in peace. His father seemed to be out of the building. With a smile he washed his hand and began whistling ‘Ramble on’ on his way back to his office.

“Well, hello there, Dean,”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed as he jumped at the sound of the voice.

He turned around to come face to face with Ms. Braden. Adjusting his tie he cleared his throat and smoothed out his hair.

“Ms. Braden,” he greeted dryly.

Based on the smile she was giving him, she had either decided to ignore his tone, or she was clueless at his nonexistent will to interact with her right now.

“I take it you thought about my proposal for your Grandfather’s birthday?” she placed her hands behind her back as she got closer to him. Her breasts brushing against his arm.

“Hmm,” he smiled, containing himself from rolling his eyes at her, “As a matter of fact, I did. Your answer is still ‘no’, Ms Braden.”

Lisa gave him a small pout, “Dean,” she gave him a flirtatious smile. “Why won’t you give me a chance?” she followed him into his office and closed the door behind her as he made his way to his desk. “You never know. We might have a very,” -- she walked up to him and let her fingers dance along his chest-- “Good time.”

Dean looked down at her fingers as they danced along his chest. He chuckled to himself as he looked at the woman before him. Licking his lips, he couldn’t help but appreciate the way she was flirting. He smiled up at her, a small inkling to try and play with her filtering in his mind.

“A good time, huh?” Dean grabbed at her wrist and gazed deeply into her brown eyes. “What is your idea of a ,” -- he leaned in to whisper in her ear -- “good time.”

“Well,” she tossed her hair back as she climbed on top of his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck, “you’d have to say yes to find out…” she leaned in close to his ear. Lisa smiled as she heard Dean’s breath hitch, “But I can guarantee it’d be worth your while…”

“Oh?” Dean chuckled slightly as his hands began to caress her thighs, her skirt hitched up to her waist as he felt himself get hard. “And is this how you close deals with other companies?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

Lisa began to move her face dangerously close to his. Her lips were barely touching him when the door to his office burst open.

“Hey Dean? I think something- Oh jesus fucking christ!”

Lisa jumped off of Dean and adjusted her skirt. Dean cleared his throat and fixed himself up just as Sam was giving him a bitch face.

“Knock next time,” Dean replied cockily. “Ms. Braden, my answer is still, a very hard no.”

“We’ll see,” she whispered for him to hear before she made her way to the door. “We’ll speak more on the matter tomorrow.” she looked to Sam and Dean. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”

As Lisa walked out, Dean adjusted his tie and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What?” Dean shrugged at his brother. “A little harmless flirting never hurt anyone.”

“Really, man!?” Sammy’s bitchface stayed in place, “fucking really? What made you even think that doing some ‘harmless flirting’ with someone from Lucifer, of all industries, was a good idea?”

“Hey, man,” Dean walked over to his brother and took the contract from him. “She’s the one who started it, I just decided to play the fame.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I mean, If I end up getting lucky,” he shrugged. “Why not? I mean I am a free agent.”

“I am literally begging you here. Of all the women you can think of, don’t put Lisa Braden in that list of options.”

“So a quick blow job at Pop’s party is a bad idea?” Dean gave Sam a serious look.

“I fucking hate you so much right now for that cursed image.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Like I said Sam, she’s flirting and I’m playing the game,” Dean shook his head and laughed. “I don’t want THAT in my bed. I have standards.”

“I would say something, but the image you provided earlier is still in my head and I just need some goddamn brain bleach right now.” Sam groaned.

“All right, I need to look over this contract and you can probably just ask Jess to send you some nudes,” Dean grinned and ducked as Sam tried to hit him.

“Fuck off, asshole,” Sam groaned again.

“Bitch, get out of my office,” Dean laughed as he sat behind his desk and took the contract in his hand.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam shook his head as he made his way to the door. “You’re going to need all your brain power, Jerk.”

Dean flipped him off and chuckled to himself. Once Sam left he looked at the contract and began to pour over it. By the end of the day, Dean had been successful in avoiding his father. Looking over the contract, he sighed. There was something off about the wording. Something just didn’t sit right with him. Rubbing his eyes he sat back in his chair and closed his eyes.

He could hear it like a bell. She giggled as they lay on the sand, the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore.

“Dean?” her voice was a melody in his heart.

“Yeah?” he looked into her Y/E/C eyes.

“I want to stay with you forever,” she caressed his cheek.

He could almost feel it, as if she was there with him. He reached to caress her cheek. The wind blew softly. As he leaned in to kiss her a loud thunderous crash echoed around.

Dean woke up with a jolt and ran a hand across his face. Clearing his throat he looked over at the door as another knock echoed in the room.

“Come in,” Dean called. The door opened, and his little brother’s head popped in.

“Thought you would’ve left by now,” his brother closed the door behind him, then sat in one of the chairs in front of Dean’s desk. “Normally, you would’ve had stormed out or screamed at someone already…”

Dean looked over at the time, “Shit.” Dean looked at the contract and tilted his head. “There is something in this contract that just doesn’t sit right with me.” Dean took a pen and circled a section of the contract.

“I told ya,” Sam said, “it’s… too vague, but at the same time too complicated to really understand and I want to punch the person who wrote it.”

Dean began to unbutton his shirt and the small pendant tumbled forward. Running his fingers through his hair he noticed his brother staring at him.

“What?” Dean looked at the contract thinking that Sam might have figured it out. Sam pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I thought maybe you would understand whatever the hell this contract actually says, but this just confirms that this deal is fishy,” Sam ran a hand through his hair and face, “As far as I’m concerned, we could be getting fucked up here and we’re not even realizing it, man.”

“Which is why I'm taking it to Pop’s and I’m not signing it,” Dean pointed to a line in the contract. “Says here that the CEO needs to sign.”

“Guess Nick wasn’t counting on you coming back, huh?” his brother chuckled, before the smile faded from his face, looking back at Dean cautiously, “I thought you said you didn’t want to be CEO. What about Matagorda and everything you have planned, Dean?”

“Oh I’m still going to Matagorda,” Dean smirked. “Pop’s and I have a meeting with Mick. I’m thinking Mick does the paperwork, but I okay everything that needs a Winchester signature.”

“Not that bad of a plan,” Sam nodded, “think Pops will be ok with it?”

“I’m going to have a talk with the old man tomorrow.” Dean grabbed his jacket and subconsciously touched the pendant he was wearing. “If it means taking care of the business and making sure that we’re not duped into losing it then I think so.”

“When did you get that?”

“Huh?” Dean looked down at the pendant that hung on his chest. “I found it on the seashore by the house.” Dean smirked, “something just told me to take it. I mean…. There’s just something about it.”

“You sure one of your flings didn’t forget it the next morning?” Sam joked.

“Don’t,” Dean smirked. “Besides, Mom thinks you and Jess should have the wedding there.” Dean thought back to the dream he had last night. “If you guys want. It’ll save you money, and it’s a nice location.”

“Wow!” Sam smiled, “I mean, I’m sure we’re gonna want to check it out at some point and Jess would totally love a wedding near the ocean…” he rambled before turning to look back at Dean, “are you sure about it man? I mean, having the wedding there would mean Dad being there and I know that, that’s your place now… We’d love to, but we don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re my brother Sam,” Dean placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I want you two to get married there. I’m not going to let Dad chase me away because I’m not following his plan.”

“Thanks, Dean… Really.”

“Besides,” Dean smirked. “You and Jess should come in a couple of weeks. Just the two of you to visit. Get to know the place.” Dean held back a yawn and shook his head. “We should head back to your place. I’m tired and starved. Think we can have steak tonight instead of rabbit food?”

“Forget it, man,” Sam laughed, throwing his arm across Dean’s shoulders, “tonight, we are buying you the greasiest, most delicious burger we can find. Think of it as your best man present.”

“Oh, Sammy,” Dean pretended to wipe away a tear. “A man after my own heart. I am so glad I said yes!” he placed a hand on his chest and batted his eyelashes at his brother.

“Don’t get used to it. You’ll definitely be eating rabbit food tomorrow and at my wedding” his little brother laughed.

“You better be joking,” Dean laughed. “Cause even Dad would have a bitch fit about that.”

Any and all types of feedback is greatly appreciated :D

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My requests are also open, in case you want me to write something specific.

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aziraphales-library · 2 months

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Hi mods, first of all thank you for your service, I was looking for a human AU fic where Crowley is Jewish and Aziraphale is a University Professor, He invites Aziraphale for Shabbos, that's about what I remember, I read it probably right after season 1 came out so a while ago.

Hello. I could only find a couple of Jewish Crowley and professor Aziraphale fics. Could it be one of these?...

Pretty flowers for pretty angels by Sani86 (E)

Doctor Azirpahale Fell takes a job at Tadfield University, looking for the recognition he deserves. Instead, he finds a sexy-as-sin botanist who yells at plants and grows the prettiest flowers.

Coffee, Wine, and Textbooks-Verse by shaniacbergara (G-M) (Series)

They're professors. They're ridiculous. What more could you want?

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #human au #jewish crowley #jewish omens #professors #mod d

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prettybirdy979 · 3 years

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Fic: Aziraphale/Crowley - ‘Plant’

Feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here Prompt is my own making.

‘Angel, what is this?’

Crowley puts a hint of a growl into his voice as he examines the brown little plant, sitting innocently on Aziraphale’s windowsill like it isn’t a complete failure. It has brown leaves for Someone’s sake, looking sad and pathetic as if that is going to help it do anything.

‘What’s what?’ Aziraphale mutters as he wanders into his backroom. ‘Oh! I quite forgot that was there.’

He wanders over to the plant and picks it up gently, cradling it like it is a baby instead of a disappointment. ‘Oh no,’ he whispers looking at the plant. ‘I’ve killed it.’

‘No you haven’t,’ Crowley says, taking the plant from Aziraphale as roughly as he can without hurting the angel. ‘This dramatic thing is just being an attention seeking piece of filth.’

The plant starts to shake, trying to perk up. But there’s not really enough water in it to do much more than improve a leaf or two. Which is unfortunate for the plant, really.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale pulls the plant out of Crowley’s grasp and hugs it to his body. ‘You do not talk to my plant that way! I know what you do to yours and this poor thing doesn’t deserve it. I’m the one who didn’t water it in...’ he frowns and looks around the room. ‘...well a while. Some time.’

‘It didn’t have to upset you over it,’ Crowley says, snapping his fingers to summon his plant mister from his apartment. ‘Put it down, I’ll give it some water and we can see if that helps the ridiculous thing.’

Aziraphale looks between the mister and his plant. ‘You’ll apologise for yelling at her?’

Crowley rolls his eyes. ‘You’re coddling her - it.’ He sprays the plant, not caring that Azirpahale hasn’t put it down.

‘Crowley!’

‘What? ‘She’ needs watering and the sooner she gets it, the more likely she’ll live.’

‘Oh.’ Aziraphale puts her down and turns her slightly. ‘How much should I water her?’

‘I’ll handle her until she’s acceptable,’ Crowley says, finishing the watering. ‘This sort of work can be delicate and it’s easier to do that than explain. After that though, daily, especially if it is hot out like today.’

Aziraphale looks at him with eyes that almost need literal hearts in them. ‘You’ll help me?’

Crowley tries not to melt under the force of those eyes. ‘Kghdnkg,’ he manages before clearing his throatt. ‘Yes. I can help, but only you not this thing.’ He growls a little at the plant and she shakes, though it seems a little half-hearted.

More concerned with drinking up the water she’s missed. Crowley can practically see her gulping it down. A cold part of him feels a touch of something that might be sympathy... dehydrating in this stuffy room is not exactly a pleasant way to go.

‘Crowley please. She did nothing wrong, it’s all on me.’ Aziraphale steps forward and puts a hand on Crowley’s shoulder. ‘You shouldn’t punish her for my actions.’

Huffing as something uncomfortable lodges in his throat, Crowley lowers his head to touch Aziraphale’s hand with his cheek. ‘I won’t,’ he says softly.

Aziraphale beams. ‘Thank you my dear. With your care, I’m sure she’ll be right as rain in no time.’ He moves his hand so it’s cupping Crowley’s cheek. ‘My darling gardener.’

...Okay yeah, Crowley’s not going to let this plant ever die. He looks at her with determination and is pleased when she only shakes a little.

A good start.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #My Story #My Scribbles

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ellenripleysbelieveitornot · 4 years

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After seeing the reaction on my last fic with Nanny Ashtoreth, Brother Francis, and Warlock, I decided to make a special post for all three. Because I love that dynamic so much, and it deserves it’s own post.

All three fics, in their entirety, are below the read more. In order, they are

Warlock catching Nanny yelling at the garden

Nanny and Brother Francis take Warlock trick or treating

“I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

They’re marked clearly with headers. Enjoy!

Warlock catching Nanny yelling at the garden

Brother Francis, during the course of his employment for the Dowlings, always seemed to be on the very cusp of being fired.

Looking back on his childhood, Warlock would wonder how he ever managed to have a job at all. The flowerbeds always seemed to be flooded, the bushes were trimmed to within an inch of their life, and instead of using any sort of pesticide, he instead fawned over whatever caterpillar or rabbit decided to have lunch in the garden.

Despite all this, however, the plants always seemed to survive, somehow. When he was six, he realized that a sort of pattern had emerged. The plants would be near death, when he went to bed at night, but by the time he got up in the morning, they would be looking so lush and green that you couldn’t even tell they had ever been sick. Then, every four to five days, the process would repeat itself.

He didn’t have any clue as to why this would be happening until he was seven. He woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of shouting coming from the garden. When he rushed to the window to see what all the commotion was about, he saw Nanny Ashtoreth standing in the middle of the yard and screaming at the plants. This went on for several hours, until finally, she seemed to run out of things to say and stalked back inside the house.

The next morning, the plants were thriving again.

Brother Francis seemed very pleased, as Warlock watched them while kicking a ball around. He was close enough to hear as the gardner leaned over to the Nanny and said proudly, “you see my dear? Anytime they start to look unhealthy, I make sure to spend the entire day giving them love and praise, and come morning, they always look beautiful again!”

Warlock was pretty sure that it wasn’t ‘love and praise’ that brought the plants back to life. Strange as it sounded, he was pretty sure that it was Nanny’s shouting that had gotten them to straighten up. After all, had he been a plant, he would certainly do his best to look presentable if Nanny screamed at him the way she had at the plants last night.

No, the garden’s vivaciousness was definitely Nanny’s doing, and Warlock expected her to say as much to Brother Francis.

Instead, Nanny’s face softened in a way Warlock had never seen on her before as she smiled at the gardner.

“Yes, Angel,” she said, an alarming sort of fondness in her voice. “You’ve certainly got a knack for this. I should never have doubted your abilities.”

Brother Francis positively beamed in response, and for a second, he looked much younger.

It was as the gardner picked up his water can and began to drown the flowers again, that Nanny Ashtoreth caught Warlock watching them.

While Brother Francis’s back was turned, she smiled at Warlock conspiritorally and raised one gloved finger to her lips. Warlock grinned back and nodded.

This would stay their secret.

Nanny and Brother Francis take Warlock trick or treating

Nanny Ashtoreth was an angel. Not just because she gave up one of her precious few nights off to stay with Warlock after his parents got invited to a last-minute party, but also because, on that particular night, she just so happened to literally be dressed like one.

“Alright, now, dear, when they answer the door, what do we say?”

“Trick or treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat! If you don’t, I don’t care, I’ll pull down your underwear!” Warlock shouted cheerfully at the top of his lungs.

“Very good! A little troublemaker after my own heart!”

“Do you think people will give me lots of candy, Nanny?” the five-year-old asked excitedly as he bounced back and forth from foot to foot

“Oh, I’m sure they will,” Nanny said as she straightened the crown balanced precariously on Warlock’s small head. “And if not, we’ll simply have to destroy them when you come into your power.”

Of course, it was right then that Brother Francis decided to join them. “Now, now, there’ll be no need for all that. Remember, Master Warlock, you’ll get plenty of sweets so long as you say ‘please’ and 'thank you.’”

Nanny would have scoffed, had she not been utterly distracted the moment she laid eyes on Brother Francis. “Ang- Azir- Brother Francis, what in Go- Sa- Somebody’s name are you wearing?!”

Brother Francis grinned and spun around to show off the full scope of his costume. From the bright red, plastic horns on his head to the cheap toy pitchfork he held in one hand, his cartoonish devil costume was about accurate to the real thing as Count Chocula was to vampires.

“You like it?” he asked.

The scowl on Nanny’s face indicated that she, in fact, did not. “That’s horribly offensive!”

“Me?” Francus gestured to the white Marilyn Monroe style dress and sparkly angel wings Nanny Ashtoreth had donned. “What about you?”

Nanny smirked and did a little twirl that made her skirt flare out. “What about me?”

Brother Francis blushed but didn’t get a chance to reply as Warlock mustered up all the drama that only a five-year-old could and threw back his head with a groan. “Can we gooooo, already?!” he whined.

“One moment, dear, just let me grab the eggs and toilet paper.” At the appalled look on Brother Francis’ face she laughed, a beautiful, joyful sound. “I’m kidding.”

Brother Francis studied her suspiciously before his face softened into a fond smile as she took Warlock’s hand in her own. On a whim, he offered his own arm out for her to take, his heart thudding loudly in his chest as she blinked at him in surprise.

Gently, as though afraid she would break it, she rested her hand in the crook of his elbow and smiled at him in return. “Shall we, then?”

“I didn’t realize they made Antichrist costumes,” he murmured softly in her ear as they set out.

Nanny Ashtoreth self-conciously rubbed her thumb across the many band-aids wrapped around the tips of most of her fingers. “They don’t,” she said proudly. “…Do you suppose it’s a little too on the nose?”

Brother Francis hummed in consideration as he watched Warlock excitedly run up the front steps of the first house to ring the doorbell. “…The hooves are a nice touch.”

“I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

It was a cold night, and the world was quiet and still, yet, little Warlock Dowling still couldn’t sleep. After all, tonight was a very special night. He had been both on his very best and his very worst behavior during the weeks leading up to it, helping Brother Francis out in the garden, pulling all the kids books off the shelves at the local library under Nanny’s approving gaze.

Brother Francis had said that he would definitely be on the nice list, and Nanny had said that extra naughty children receive extra special toys, so he was sure to find lots of presents from Santa under the tree come tomorrow morning.

Which was why he was still lying awake in bed, too excited to sleep, when he heard the sound of jingle bells coming from downstairs sometime around midnight. Carefully, he climbed out of bed and crept down the hall to the top of the stairs, where he had a clear view of the sitting room where the tree had been set up.

Santa didn’t look quite how Warlock had expected, his hair closer to a light blonde than white with a pair of blue eyes that looked almost familiar somehow. But, he still had the bright red suit, and the big black boots, and the hat with the pom-pom, and he was pulling brightly wrapped gifts out of a large brown sack, and that was enough for Warlock’s curiosity. It was, after all, quite a lot of gifts.

He had almost finished when a voice across the room startled him and he spun around. “Angel, what are you doing?”

When he saw Nanny, Santa put a hand to his chest in relief. “You scared me,” he accused, his voice soft and light.

“My apologies,” Nanny said, not sounding very sorry at all. “I was just bringing out the milk and cookies.” She walked around the tree to stand in front of Santa. “Won’t you have some? I made them myself.”

“Ooh!” Santa wiggled his fingers over the plate before picking up the largest cookie and taking a bite. “Oh, my dear, they’re absolutely heavenly.”

“How dare you,” Nanny said. But she said it in the same way she said ‘you horrible little hell spawn’ to Warlock, the way Brother Francis had told him meant ‘I love you,’ though he wasn’t supposed to tell Nanny that he knew.

Santa only chuckled and finished putting out the rest of the presents.

Nanny put the milk and cookies down on the coffee table and looked at the pile under the tree, raising one delicate eyebrow. “It’s quite a lot.”

“I… may have gone overboard,” Santa said sheepishly.

“You don’t say,” Nanny remarked dryly.

“Oh, I forgot one!” Santa reached into the bag and pulled out one last, small present. Instead of putting it under the tree, however, he handed it to Nanny, who looked at the gift in her hands with wide eyes.

“For me?” she asked, her voice sounding suddenly strange. “Angel-”

“Open it,” Santa encouraged.

Nanny took her time carefully peeling back the paper to reveal a plain looking box. She gasped as she opened it and dropped both the box and the lid, clutching a single white feather in her hands.

“Merry Christmas, dearest,” Santa said gently, wiping away what looked like a tear (but couldn’t be because Nanny never cried) from her face with his thumb. In a swift movement, Nanny grabbed Santa by his red coat and pressed their lips together.

Ew.

The next morning, Crowley and Aziraphale, who was there by Warlock’s request, sat around the tree with the Dowlings, watching Warlock eagerly tear open his presents. The feather was tucked into her breast pocket, close to her heart, and she found herself feeling perfectly content.

That is, until she was sent into a coughing fit by Warlock excitedly yelling out, “I SAW NANNY KISSING SANTA CLAUSE!”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #nanny ashtoreth #brother francis #warlock dowling #my fic

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a-fluffer-nutter · 4 years

Text

Forgiveness

A/N - Hey y’all, here is a Good Omens fic I’m incredibly proud of. I really enjoyed writing it and I think it’s one of my best in a while. I hope y’all enjoy!!

Word Count: 1,451

“What did I do wrong?” Hot tears streamed down a contorted face, lips whimpering in a cocktail of many emotions. The demon didn’t have the slightest clue what he had done wrong this time, it wasn’t like his love to yell at him.

The room he retired to was dark, only the cloud covered moonlight shone through the windows and sparkled off his teardrops. Large leaved plants with brilliantly green foliage, raised by fear and anger, quivered in sorrow for their master’s current state. In the past, most emotions never came easy to the poor man, only anger and frustration seeped through his veins. Now, after assisting in the prevention of Armageddon, after racing time to find the Antichrist, after thinking his best friend had been ripped from him in the most painful way possible, Crowley was full of all sorts of emotions.

“Why is he mad at me?” The demon whispered to no one, everyone. Perhaps God was listening to his questions, perhaps no one’s god was listening to his cries. Someone was listening though, with his back against the door and his knees tucked into his chest. The angel listened to the poor man’s cries, hand muffling his own quiet whimpers. Crowley’s angel listened and Aziraphale’s demon cried.

Aziraphale wanted to reach out, to open that door, and to hold his shivering lover, but he couldn’t. He was afraid. In the past, most emotions never came easy to the poor man, only joy and love seeped through his veins. Now, after assisting in the prevention of Armageddon, after racing time to find the Antichrist, after thinking he had been ripped away from his best friend in the most painful way possible, Aziraphale was full of all sorts of emotions.

“I don’t hate you,” A single tear slid down his soft face as he whispered to his love, carrying his words on the silent draft slipping beneath the doorway and into Crowley’s ears. Flame licked hair rose on the back of Crowley’s neck as his pupils narrowed, the snake sensing a presence.

But, no. Why? Why would he forgive an unforgivable creature such as himself? Crowley was the one that fucked up, that made his dear angel hate him. It was him that had pulled such devious pranks, he that said such vile things, he that did such devilish deeds. Why wouldn’t his angel yell at him after all of that? But, why did Crowley have to take such offense to it? This is what caught the demon in his spiral.

“Of course, you do,” Crowley spat, staring at the door, wiping his cheeks clean as more tears rolled down his reddened face. Aziraphale shuddered against the door, feeling the yellow eyes piercing through the wood and into his back, his wings twitching beneath his skin with unease. Fear wrapped its cold fingers around the angel’s neck, forcing him to remain silent as the demon screamed. “I know you hate me. All I have ever done has deserved your hatred and nothing else.”

Fear’s fingers tightened as the floor shook, shoes stomping the ground as the demon stood. Every inch of Aziraphale’s vessel prickled with terror, but he knew he had to fight it. He had to do something before his best friend, no, the light of his world, did something terrible.

“Stop!” Aziraphale stated firmly, having swung open the door hard enough for it to ricochet off the wall and bounce back at him. Doorknob tightly in hand, his eyes flared with nothingness. Crowley slowly shut his agape mouth, another fiery tangent interrupted by the arrival of the angel, his angel. Aziraphale felt so much larger as he approached Crowley, backing the demon against a wall, despite a door being right there for Crowley to escape through. Even in such a state like this, Crowley knew not to run from his angel. Shutting his eyes as tightly as he could until it almost hurt, his knees wobbled and faltered, the demon found himself back on the floor, crumbled into a distraught ball. Crowley’s dark wings twitched beneath his flesh, readying themselves to take flight at any second, but both the angel and demon knew the dark plumage wouldn’t make an appearance tonight.

“Angel?” Crowley’s voice was soft, frail, as Aziraphale lifted his chin lightly. Aziraphale had dropped to his knees and held Crowley’s face up to look at his, the demon’s glowing golden eyes still tear stricken. Aziraphale didn’t entirely know what to do next, but something inside his mind clicked and before he knew it, he had locked lips with Crowley.

“I love you, Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s lips, sending a shudder down the other man’s spine. All the gears in Crowley’s mind had screeched to a halt and burned like an engine about to explode. His tongue flickered in his mouth, searching for something, anything to say, but found absolutely nothing. “I’ll never not love you.”

“Are you sure?” Crowley squeaked out, shattering Aziraphale’s entire being. Running his hands through Crowley’s flaming hair, Aziraphale tightened his lips into a sad, authentic smile and nodded.

“I promise,” Aziraphale ran his hands down Crowley’s cheeks and traced his neck and arms until he had captured his hands within his own. “And I promise to never yell at you ever again to lead you to this horrible conclusion of yours.”

“Even if I’m being an absolute pest?” Crowley asked, finally donning a thin smile for the first time in hours. Aziraphale shared this smile as he stroked Crowley’s hands with his thumbs.

“Especially if you are being the most wicked pest of them all,” Aziraphale hummed as he felt Crowley relax beneath his touch at long last. “Instead of yelling at you, I will do something else to you. Something that is viler and more devious than you could ever do to me.”

Eyes narrowing, Crowley tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, puzzlement painting his face like a canvas. Brows furrowed; Crowley mouthed one single word. “What?”

“This,” Aziraphale said upon attacking the demon. While Crowley was distracted by his own puzzlement, he failed to notice Aziraphale unwrapping his fingers from Crowley’s and trailed them down to the demon’s wrists. With one strong tug, Aziraphale pulled Crowley forward just enough so he could trap the demon’s hands beneath his knees, leaving both hands free to attack Crowley’s sensitive torso.

Crowley cackled wildly as his ribcage was prodded gingerly. In his unfortunate position, all Crowley could do was rest his head on Aziraphale’s chest as his angel scratched along his sides and hips. While Aziraphale did indeed love the closeness of this position and how well he could hear Crowley’s bubbly laughter, he was not entirely happy with this. He wanted to see Crowley’s smiling face and he definitely couldn’t from his current vantage point. In a swift maneuver that Crowley could barely comprehend, the demon was flat on his back with his legs above Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Kinky,” Crowley growled playfully, enticing Aziraphale to play some more. Having full access to the back of Crowley’s thighs, knees, and belly, Aziraphale made quick work of the demon. Not minding the kicks to his back when his nimble fingers squeezed Crowley’s kneecaps, Aziraphale soaked in the magically laughter that was Crowley’s.

“Aw, does this tickle, love?” Aziraphale teased while raking his fingers down the backs of Crowley’s thighs, causing him to flail and lean forward, trying frantically to swipe at Aziraphale’s hands. To counter this, the angel would simply worm his hands under Crowley’s shirt and send one devious finger on a mission, a mission to render the demon paralyzed via belly button. Crowley would fall back and scream with laughter, with an occasional snort to be heard.

After a few minutes of brightening Crowley’s mood, and yes Crowley did very much enjoy being tickled, though he would never admit to it, Aziraphale withdrew his devious fingers and unhooked Crowley’s legs from their resting place. Curling up into a tight ball, Crowley breathed out the last remaining giggles and snorts he had left then sighed in amusement. Aziraphale watched him as he struggled to sit up right, leaning his back against the wall and rested his head in content. Deep chuckles resonated through his chest as he shook his head, scratching his scalp and smooth his hair back into its proper place.

“How can a demon like me get so lucky to be with an angel like you?” Crowley stated slyly, extending his arms with a hint of disbelief, leaving his body open for Aziraphale to fit perfectly into a hug.

“I love you,” Aziraphale hummed, touching the tip of his nose against Crowley’s.

“I love you too, Angel.”

#tickle fic #good omens #crowley #Aziraphale

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