Snz blog | I am don't share any personal identity information about yourself on the internet years old | Inbox is open for prompts both fic and art however they may be delayed due to my bad habit of getting distracted by shiny objects Ko-fi
A fic that ignores the 1941 flashback continuation because it was my least favourite of the ones we got for S2 and since there wasn’t follow up in the finale as I believe there was originally supposed to be I’m going to continue ignoring it. As a fan who goes along with canon as far as they can.
Crowley looked over at his passenger who sat huddled in his seat. His hands clasping the book bag tightly and didn’t seem to realize the Bentley had stopped.
“Aziraphale?”
The angel started and looked up at him.
”Yes?”
“This is your stop.”
Aziraphale glanced out the window to see that they had indeed arrived at the bookshop.
“Suppose it is.”
He put his hand on the door, but didn’t open it.
“You forget how to use a door, Angel?” Crowley asked, amused.
“Yes, well no I…I was just thinking that I haven’t thanked you properly.”
“I don’t do it for the thanks,” Crowley said, with a light sniff.
“Still I should do something… could I interest you in a glass of wine?”
Crowley gripped and un-gripped the steering wheel as he mulled it over.
“Yeah, sure, but just one.”
The wind had picked up Aziraphale noted as they got out. He also easily noticed how it affected the demon as Crowley wrapped his arms instinctively around himself to fight off the chill. As he unlocked the door Aziraphale gave a slight snap of his fingers to make sure the inside of the bookshop was warm and inviting.
He could tell it worked as Crowley’s shoulders sagged in relief and he easily put his coat and hat on the rack by the door. He also wiped his nose quickly with his handkerchief when he thought Aziraphale wasn’t looking.
“Snf! You’ve re-arranged,” Crowley said, as his eyes wandered over the shelves and he tucked the handkerchief away.
“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale answered, with a smile as he pulled out a bottle and glasses. “If people can’t find things they don’t buy them. Also I managed to get a whole shelf cleared for William Faulkner’s latest works.”
They sat down on the couch and Crowley looked over the bottle.
“1776, good year.”
“I quite agree,” Aziraphale said, as he popped open the bottle and filled their glasses, making sure to put a bit extra in Crowley’s.
***
They went far beyond one drink as the growing collection of bottles on the table proved; along with the stack of cylinders for the gramophone.
“I really should get going,” Crowley said suddenly, as another song ended and he hauled himself upright knowing the he’d let himself get far too relaxed.
“Oh, must you go so soon?”
“Angel, it’s been…” Crowley squinted at the clock the alcoholic haze making focusing more difficult, “more than a while.”
“Well yes, but you really shouldn’t drive like this.”
Crowley gave a dismissive sniff, which seemed distinctly wetter than before. “I can sober myself up just fine, Angel.”
“Of course you can, my dear fellow, but I meant that it’s snowing.”
Crowley looked out the window to see that he was right. Flakes were now falling thick and heavy, already blanketing the road and sidewalks.
“I’ve driven in worse.”
“I suppose but I…well I wouldn’t feel right to let you go out in such nasty weather and-oh your feet!”
“What about them?”
“I haven’t even looked at them. I mean all that time hopping around in a church can’t have been good for them.”
Crowley flushed red enough to match his hair.
“S’not a problem,” he mumbled.
“Please,” Aziraphale asked, with wide eyes he could never say no to.
“Oh, all right.”
Aziraphale smiled and quickly removed the demon’s shoes, making sure to place them just a hair out of reach and tended to the reddened, but thankfully not blistered skin.
“Angel, really I…”
“Oh, it’s no bother I’ll set them right as rain just give me a moment, my dear.”
Knowing better than to try to dissuade Aziraphale when the angel had a bee in his bonnet about something Crowley kept focus on the buzzing in his nose that had been nagging him since they’d left the church instead. He’d managed to hold it off so well until now, but the wine and the company were proving a great distraction.
He shifted slightly one finger pressing under his nose to try and block the sneeze he felt coming on. His other hand clutching the handkerchief tightly in his pocket.
“Crowley?”
No answer save his uneven breathing.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No, no it’s the d-du-duhh-IGNTCHh! heh-IGNXTChu! Ugh snf! The dust,” he groaned as the last of his concentration was lost.
“Oh,” Aziraphale said in surprise, glancing to his books.
“Not here the church, whole building going to rubble had all of it fluttering though the a-airahh-air and makes me…ehh-hehh,” he sighed as the sneeze backed away, leaving him so stuffy. “False alarm snf!”
He still held his handkerchief to his nose for a moment for insurance before tuckering it away as Aziraphale covered his feet in fluffy slippers.
Crowley tried to focus back on the wine, but a few urgent sniffles had him pulling out his handkerchief yet again.
“Think there might have been some in-ihh-hh’IGNTChhu! Snf! Incense too.”
Aziraphale merely nodded in agreement and got up to put another cylinder on the gramophone.
As he came back to the couch he could tell Crowley needed to sneeze again. His eyes unfocused and his nose quivering even with his fist pressed tightly against it, and the handkerchief in his other hand had clearly growing quite damp.
“Sorry now that I’ve started it keeps tick-heh-tickle-hh’GNTCH! IGXNTCHUu! Tickling.”
“Crowley-”
“I’m not sick I told you it’s the-”
“Dust yes I know, and I don’t doubt that, my dear, we were quite in the thick of it as you said, but…well I would say that it still does seem to be at least exasperating something else with it and…and I’d liked to help you with it if I may.”
Crowley was silent at that for a while as he looked outside where the storm was still raging, and rubbing at the burning itch deep in his nose that was growing impatient with his constant stifling. Not to mention the fatigue the leached into his bones from the last few years of the humans finding new ways to annihilate each other. He sighed and leaned back into the soft cushions knowing that the bookshop safe and none of that mattered. Not even their respective sides as Aziraphale clearly didn’t to want to fight their connection right now so why was he?
“Suppose I don’t need to risk making anything worse and have to start filing paperwork for a new body, they have enough going on with the war and all. Probably take them at least a century to get around to it.”
“Of course.”
Aziraphale conjured a blanket and wrapped it around both their shoulders.
“And you know m'sure it helps you meet your good deeds quota for the year. We wouldn’t want upstairs to get suspicious,” Crowley said, as he drew his legs up and tucked them under the blanket as well.
“Naturally,” Aziraphale agreed, waving his hand as Crowley’s wine glass was replaced with a hot toddy.
He even raised it to Crowley’s lips to help him drink it. Crowley would have protested that he could do it himself, but was loath to come out from under the warmth his angel had so thoroughly wrapped him in.
However that proved to be a bit of a problem when his nose started to run and with that the return of the familiar teasing itch that quickly went right to the tip of his nose. An urgent sniffle only allowed the annoying itch to blossom into a fierce need that Crowley knew there was no holding back this time.
“A-angel,” he tried to warn, “I need to-heh-to sneeze again.”
As the sneeze built Crowley struggled for his handkerchief as Aziraphale set the drink down and conjured a handkerchief of his own and covered for him.
“It’s all right just let it come,” he said as felt Crowley’s hitched breathes and saw his teary eyes flutter closed.
“Hang on it’s heh-heh…gonnahh-gonna be bigghhuhh…HUHH’ESHUUh! IEASHHuh! ISHHhh! Heh-Hehh-sorry I-I can’t…ehh-can’t- ehhh’ASHUUhh! AERSHUhh! Huhh’ERASSHUuhh! ugh…snf! ‘Scuse me.”
“Salud.”
“Thank you,” he answered tiredly, as his angel kept his handkerchief in place and allowed him to blow.
“My pleasure.”
“Sorry about all this.”
“Don’t be. I’m happy to help and…and I’ve missed you, Crowley.”
Crowley didn’t answer, but Aziraphale knew that letting him see him in such a vulnerable state at all that Crowley had missed him too.
So, over the coming days of Crowley’s illness, they worked together on adjusting their new dynamic and even when he was well again Crowley never did get around to taking his hat back.
For the month of July, I'm hosting a snzfic writing challenge.
Rules:
Choose one word prompt from the list and write a fic based on that prompt. Your fic must include that word.
Your fic can be as long or as short as you like.
Your fic can be either original or fanfiction, but no real person fics.
Please tag 18+ or NSFW content.
If participating, please use the hashtag #snzficwritingchallenge or @ me directly when you submit your story.
I may decide to reblog my favourite submissions, but I won't do that without consent, so please include a note giving consent if you're okay with me reblogging your fic.
The deadline for submissions will be on August 1st to allow an extra day for different timezones.
Most important rule of all: have fun!
I realised I used the word "allergic" twice. Apologies for that
sickie who is super insecure about being sick and looking and sounding gross x caretaker partner riddled with guilt at being so excited about getting to be the one to look after them in this state
I imagine this leads to constant misunderstandings where sickie assumes caretaker is acting shifty and making excuses to leave the room and flinching every time they sneeze because they’re put off by sickie, when really they’re trying to stay collected and not betray that they’re hopelessly turned on.
Culminating in sickie sneezing unexpectedly and uncovered directly onto caretaker, who gasps at the sudden sensation. The sick character feels so disgusting and guilty, compounded by being exhausted and a bit feverish, that they just break down crying and apologizing for being sick. And the only way caretaker can calm them down is by confessing exactly why they don’t find sickie disgusting.
someone who doesn’t normally have big sneezes, catches a cold from their partner, which didn’t cause them to have big sneezes, and yet the moment this cold takes hold they succumb to the biggest, most violent, forceful sneezes they have ever experienced. thank you.
When someone has a really bad cold or hayfever, and even when they're not sneezing, they look like they're about to. Eyebrows constantly pulling together, eyes narrowed with that vacant look coming and going, pink nostrils flaring/quivering, lips parted, upper lip slightly pulled up, showing a glimpse of teeth... they just look so, so sneezy, even as they go about their day.
And no wonder they look sneezy, their nose and sinuses are prickling and tickling nonstop... sometimes they tip over that tickly threshold and they sneeze. And they sneeze and sneeze. But every time they manage to stop sneezing, they still need to.
I’ve stared at the wall, watched the finale again, processed feelings, and made a decision: that ending went down like a lead balloon for me we’re writing fluff to cope.
An overcast day dawned over a cottage in South Downs where a former demon and a former angel were wrapped up together in a thick comforter to ward of the chill of the early morning air.
Surrounded by warmth both figurative and literal Crowley couldn’t remember ever being so content.
If a bit itchy.
He buried his nose in the comforter as his breath hitched hard.
“Hehh’ÌSHHh! ESHHh! Huh’USHhuh!”
“Salud.” Came the warm response from behind him and Crowley smiled.
Aziraphale could have used any of the other blessings they knew that, but this was familiar, it was theirs. Everything was from the collection of mismatched mugs in the kitchen to the mini art gallery of statues and books that made up their living room. They were an ‘us’ and it was wonderful.
“Thanks.”
Aziraphale glanced up to the window where drops of rain were beginning to gather.
“I do hope it clears up later the neighbours invited us to watch the meteor shower tonight.”
Crowley hummed in agreement before bringing the blanket up again to catch another fit of sneezes.
“Ehh’ASHh! ESSUHHh! Huhh..AERSHHUUuh!”
“Though I must say if you keep that up we shan’t be going anywhere.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing, Angel,” Crowley said, turning over, and cuddled in even closer. All the talking was taking away from his valuable nap time.
and as a prompt just something sweet with my babyboy Crowley, and some protective fussy Aziraphale, maybe a walk through the park!
and if you do it i pinky-promise you to make a drawing for it >:3c hehe
- A lizard with a red beanie 🦎❤️
Ohhh, ty for this adorable prompt! I hope you enjoy and please know I welcome any small art you might be inspired to create <3 <3
~ ~ ~
“Shall we sit?” Aziraphale says and nods towards the park bench. “Now that it’s finally warm enough.”
Crowley gives a shrug, but of course he’ll agree. Whatever ability he had to say no to Aziraphale faded decades and years ago. Parks and museums and theatres and quaint tea shops, he’s found himself in all of them no matter how much he knows some part of his demon heart should persuade him to walk away.
“I suppose it is,” Crowley says and glances at the sky, then immediately regrets it when his eyes start to tear up despite his sunglasses.
“After all those days of chilly drizzle.” Aziraphale rests his hand at the small of Crowley’s back, the touch light and brief, and Crowley feels something like sunlight flash through him.
That sensation is light and brief, too, and he knows he’ll say yes to sitting in the park until sunset, and then dinner, and then–
He pauses mid-thought, first because letting that thought remain unfinished has a deliciousness to it, and second because he can feel the faint prickle behind his eyes that tells him they want to itch and water.
Springtime in England takes forever to arrive some years, but when it does, it does with such vengeance. Sun and rain most days, and the pollen. If he focuses his vision just right, Crowley can see how it crowds the air, and how the powdery scent diffuses through it.
Crowley squeezes his eyes shut to quell the itch, then shakes his head when Aziraphale makes a noise at him that’s somehow both curious and worried already. His eyes go soft when Crowley shakes his head again, then sniffles, and Aziraphale looks ready to melt into more gentle touches and sunshine-warm moments.
“We could go back to the bookshop. Oh, I do have a few fine bottles we haven’t even thought about opening.” Aziraphale touches Crowley’s elbow at another sniffle.
“You spend enough t-time–” Crowley pauses, breathy and uncertain, and this time when he squeezes his eyes shut, he angles away from Aziraphale. “uhhh.. hXTch!”
“Oh… already?” Aziraphale says, as if he hasn’t seen this coming for the past hour or so.
Crowley casts him a sidelong glance in reply, not able to say anything with the itch now crowding behind his eyes and sinuses. He’s going to sneeze again and it’s taking all his willpower to not cascade into a dozen at a time.
“hh–GXtchh!” He does let himself sneeze once more, then shudders a little at how very much the tree pollen itches. Not just his sinuses and his eyes, but for a moment, his whole head seems to ring with the desperate urge to sneeze and sneeze.
“There, dear,” Aziraphale murmurs and touches Crowley’s elbow again, guiding him to sit down. He hesitates a moment before sitting himself and rests his hand on Crowley’s leg.
Something inside Crowley shifts, something well-worn and older than days and decades, and he can’t help but sigh a little. He rubs at his nose once, and then again, more firmly, and is about to rub his eyes when he snaps aside.
“uhhEISHH’hh! huhhESH’oo!” The sneezes tumble out and Crowley blinks away the itch and tears from his eyes, almost surprised by how good that felt.
Aziraphale's hand tightens on Crowley’s leg and Crowley just leans right into him. He’ll be a mess all evening, if he lets himself, and now he suspects that he will.
“I don’t know how you still manage to fuss,” Crowley says.
“I’m not,” Aziraphale replies. “But I will,” he adds.
We're having feelings...we're going to take some time to think about those feelings...
Spoilers below
Because there is a lot of stuff where you can see where the original six episode length should be and would help a lot of it feel less rushed and where potentially a lot of fic both fix-it and otherwise could live. The ending fits in a lot of ways and is emotionally unsatisfying in the other ways because we essentially end with whole new characters we haven't been following which I hate, but it also gives us essentially a HumanAU quite literally and those can be fun if they weren't we wouldn't write so many ourselves.
It's a lot and I know I'm going to pulling the WIP folder out to deal with it especially one fic that I was hoping to have done before the finale that kind of isn't debunked by it fully so I'm looking forward to diving back into that, and probably doing things with other characters because I missed Gabriel and the Wickber street gang and I want to explore Miracleless!Crowley in all forms and how that even works and ugh!
I don't know if I love or hate this ending yet I need time
Imagining a sick character coming up to their friend/partner and, rather than announcing that they're sick, simply leaning against them like a cat. Cue the other's exclamation of "wow, you feel warm," and the sickie mumbling "I know" into their shoulder. Bonus points if they're not usually this touchy feely.
