smoochinela



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  1. Public Bookmark 56

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    Aziraphale decides to tease Crowley a bit, since the demon seems to think angels are incapable of making dirty jokes on purpose.

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    16 Jun 2019

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    There are many times Crowley comes a little too close to saying—or doing—something about how he feels. Plenty of times he finds himself dangerously close to getting too close to Aziraphale, stepping into his personal space and waiting to see how he reacts before getting even closer, so close there's not enough space between them even for God—that damned ineffable bastard—to interfere.

    Language:
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    16 Jun 2019

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    It’s dark. Too much wine has been drunk and un-drunk and Crowley is tired. He is flopped over on Aziraphale’s barely used bed, stroking his palm over the stitching of the quilt and wondering if he should take his clothes off before he passes out. He could do it with a wave of his hand, or even just a hard think, but that’s not what he wants. What he wants is… ah, yes.
     
    Crowley wants. There is nothing Aziraphale will not give him. Basically 2.5k of Crowley wanting and Aziraphale giving it to him.

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    16 Jun 2019

  4. Public Bookmark 86

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    The thing about Aziraphale is that, for all of his airiness, he’s not actually forgetful. He has an impeccable memory and has meticulously kept tally of his and Crowley’s various miracles over the last few millennia. Which must mean that Aziraphale is leaving things behind on purpose, though for what purpose Crowley can’t fathom.

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    Crowley thinks the Angel is plotting something. He is wrong.

    Language:
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    16 Jun 2019

    Bookmarker's Notes

    OAODBCIS THIS MADE ME SOFT

  5. Public Bookmark 84

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    The day had begun perfectly sensible, not too bright and not too dim, just the exact thing you expect from your English summer; a sure sign Adam has got the hang of this Antichrist thing.

    Which is why, perhaps, Aziraphale should have known it could only go downhill from there. It’s just how these things go. But alas, he did not and therefore did not pick up on the vague sense of impending doom that loomed by the door when the knocking began.

    “Oh, Crowley,” he gasps once the demon comes into view in the sidewalk outside. He’s soaking wet from head to toe, hair plastered to his forehead, and his wings– oh, his wings! They’re torn in some places, a few primaries hanging loose, and his left wing is definitely bent awkwardly. “What have you done?”

    *

    or, Crowley hurts his wings through a definitely not stupid accident and Aziraphale insists he stays in the bookshop for observation. It goes less than smoothly.

    Language:
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    16 Jun 2019